Honestly….. I know it sounds
strange, but one of my favorite body parts is feet.
My feet in particular.
I mean, they are so handy -er…useful.
They take me places.
They are good for balance and jumping.
Think about all the tiny and
precise movements they have to preform to scamper across a rocky
stream bed. Or to dance?
On this race my feet have been
many new and sometimes uncomfortable places. These things were expected.
There is one experience, however, which I did not foresee.
One day for team time we washed each others feet. This symbolic
experience was a great team bonding time- also …some people were
super ticklish! (I cant tell you who because they all know where I
sleep!) But for me it was also something of a foreshadowing of what
happened sometime later.
We had been playing soccer with
several Vietnamese students. It was a great afternoon, and by the
time we left we were all sweaty, exhausted and hungry.
Partway though the day I figured
out why you don‘t slide tackle on AstroTurf.
In a failed attempt to capture the ball I acquired a nice little rug
burn one one of my feet. It did not look bad, so I did not think too
much of it. However, as I rested between bouts, one of my
Vietnamese teammates noticed the sappy abrasion. Immediately she
went into action. Searing me to a seat, she then bought a water
bottle and tissues to wash my foot. The wound stung as she poured the
clean water over it and wiped it dry with the tissues, proceeding to
cover the worst of it with a band-aide.
Although the wound did scab
up a lot more than I thought it would. What really stuck with me was
not the rug-burn. It was that this girl, who barely knew me, was so
concerned about my well-being that she got down in crushed rock to
wash what to me seamed uninportant. It kind-of stuck with me though
that day. Just the wonder of it. She humbled herself to care for
me, but I
was humbled
by her gesture.
It makes me think of how off
kilter the disciples must have felt when Jesus washed their feet. To
them it would haven been no laughing matter- shocking more like. In a
culture where only the lowest of the low servants were expected to
wash ones feet. It seems like the Disciples were supposed
to be the ones serving– if anyone. but here is this esteemed
teacher, on his knees.
Now I am not equating myself with
one of the twelve, or my friend with Jesus, but that unexpected
reversal shocked,
blessed and humbled me. There is no way I deserved
such attention, my friend did not owe me anything, or
expect to get anything from me. She simply chose to care for
me. That was that.
As I try to walk with beautiful
feat. I am learning that ministry does not always look how you
think it will. Sometimes its feeding starving children or trying to
hash out the origin of evil, or even hacking holes into clay soil.
Other times it is allowing some one to serve you.
Other times it is
learning the awe of undeserved grace.
