Two nights ago, our teacher and Lord, stooped to wash our feet. Well, it had been a long journey and we were all very tired and weary. We were wondering where we would stay and it was almost Passover. Jesus told us where to go and what to say and that we would surely have a place. He always had faith.
The water felt good. Clean. And the oils smelled heavenly. Comforting. Jesus took his time, caring for our feet. The feet that walked miles and miles with him. Days and nights, I've tried to listen. I've wandered and wondered. I've done a lot of that nowadays. Wandering. Wondering. What all of this means. I mean, I know what my past has been like. I know how I was raised. I know what Ive always done. And now, I just pick up and leave with Jesus where things look different, sound different, become new. When Jesus washed our feet, he said that this was an example and we must do this, also. We promised him we would. He wasn't specific as to whose feet to wash so I will find people in need. So, I plan to do that. I will clean the feet of those who have been on long journeys. I will try and remember the comfort I felt when Jesus washed mine and give that to others. Well, I was thinking of doing that at the time.
It was a long night after that supper. We went into a garden and our eyes drooped with sleep and weariness. We had just eaten our meal with Jesus and our bellies were full and with all the drama it seemed like Jesus was extra weary, too. Everything he said to us and everything he did was like he was saying goodbye. I just didn't understand what Jesus was saying at the time. He was so frustrated and disappointed that we couldn't stay awake. But it was too quiet in the garden. It was peaceful and Jesus kept leaving us. We tried to keep each other company, but maybe we needed to have insisted on keeping Jesus company. Maybe we could have stayed awake if Jesus stayed with us. He told us to stay and keep watch. Watch for what? It was a garden. If I had only known. Then they came and took him away.
The sun still came up, even though we had been awake all night. Wandering. Wondering. I never thought I'd see the light of day.
Then we saw the crowds and there were those who didn't even know him and they were just joining in. They hadn't spent any time with him and they were shouting, too. Then, I recognized some of those in the crowd. A few people were there on one of those days when Jesus spoke about all those who are blessed. Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who weep and mourn, who are persecuted. So many blessings. And they were now yelling accusations, too. I can't believe it! The end result was not what I had expected. So many hateful people. I've decide that I'm not going to wash their feet. I don't care what Jesus said to do. I saw what they did to him. How can I go and be an example after what they did to him, what they shouted at him?
Then they crucified him. They CRUCIFIED him! What are we to do now? I must still be in shock because I'm just staring at a barred door and the tears are now dried to my face, still with me, but dry. My eyes are swollen and I can barely see. They murdered my friend. I was with him day and night for what seemed like years. I knew him to be kind to everyone. He welcomed everyone. He welcomed me and that was saying something. I never claimed to be perfect, but Jesus didn't want perfect. He wanted me and my brokenness. Because in brokenness and in what seemed lifeless, he always would say something or do something to mend it, to heal it, bring life back to it. He had a new way of looking at how he thought life should be. It was kind of like a clay pot that had been knocked off the table and then put back together. You can still feel and see where it was broken, but you could still use it. Well, after what happened last night...I'm heart broken. I'm spirit broken. I'm physically broken. I'm just staring at the wall wondering what will become of this. Of me. Of us. Jesus isn't here to heal it or mend it. My clay pot is shattered to pieces and nothing can fix this. NOTHING!
The sun still rose this morning and Jesus is in a tomb. He is IN A TOMB! He was right here a minute ago and now he is shut away in a dark, cold, lifeless place. The mobs have gone home. They got what they wanted. We're scared. Will they do the same thing to us? I'm to go out and wash people's feet? I'm supposed to bring comfort? How can I do that? I saw how quickly they turned on Jesus. They could just as easily turn on me.
Again I'm wondering and wandering. Even though it's in a small room with everyone else who was close to Jesus. We're pacing the floor and our minds are soaring with questions, with images of his death. You just can't unsee that. You can't forget that. You can't erase what happened. You can't turn back the clock. What now?
Darkness will come soon today and Jesus will still be in that cold, dark tomb. Tomorrow, I imagine, the sun will rise and I'll think about what Jesus said about being an example. I'll think about all those things Jesus taught us and how I can go out and be an example of how the world Jesus spoke of should be. The world sometimes looks different when the sun rises.
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