Washing students' feet.

John 13:1-6 The Message (MSG)

Washing His Disciples’ Feet

13 ^1-2 Just before the Passover Feast, Jesus knew that the time had come to leave this world to go to the Father. Having loved his dear companions, he continued to love them right to the end. It was suppertime. The Devil by now had Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, firmly in his grip, all set for the betrayal.

^3-6 Jesus knew that the Father had put him in complete charge of everything, that he came from God and was on his way back to God. So he got up from the supper table, set aside his robe, and put on an apron. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the feet of the disciples, drying them with his apron. When he got to Simon Peter, Peter said, “Master, you wash my feet?”

Earlier this week, I attended our Upstate Team Meetings, a semesterly spiritual formation retreat with the northern half of our NY/NJ region.  During one of the days there, we studied this passage (John 13) together. 

(Yes, it's the Message version.  You're not reading the link wrong.  A rare happenstance in InterVarsity, I know.  Don't worry, we still encountered the Lord.)

One of the big things that stood out to me was the fact that Jesus' identity and authority were not dependent on whether or not the disciples understood what he was saying or doing.  He knew His relationship to God and the authority He had been given to carry out His mission.

This didn't change when Peter clearly didn't understand what Jesus was doing, nor seemed patient enough to wait to understand later.  His identity and authority from God didn't change when Judas betrayed Him.  Jesus continued to love and serve them.  He pressed forward into the tension and confusion.  He didn't compromise his actions.  His authority didn't diminish with the disciples' comments or actions. 

This made me think about two things:

1. While I hunger for a deep sense of joy and compassion for this ministry at RIT, I wonder how much of my lack in those areas is tied to my belief that my authority is determined by how well people understand what I am doing.  It's a belief I know in my head isn't true, but I certainly act on it more than on the truth that my identity and spiritual authority come from Jesus.
   
2. What would it look like to 'wash the feet' of RIT students?  How can I serve them in such a way that would point them to the love of Jesus?

They are still things I am pondering over.  Would you pray with me as I continue to reflect on these thoughts and bring them to Jesus?

Awkward Jesus.

If I only ever did what was comfortable in my life, I'd never get past getting out of bed.  I like my bed.  It's extremely comfortable.  I rarely want to leave my cozy fluffy blanket and hunky husband in the morning, as much as I prefer mornings over evenings.

But I follow a Jesus who stood in the front lines of doing pretty uncomfortable things.  He invited not so special people to follow him that everyone else would have overlooked.  He shared meals with the unpopular, uncool, low-class people of his time.  He touched the untouchables.  He told people what to do, even though they hadn't met or interacted with each other before.  He broke the common cultural rules.  I mean, he even claimed to be the Messiah whom the Israelites have been waiting for for thousands of years?!

Talk about awkward.  I'm squirming in my seat just thinking about doing equivalent things today.

But if I claim to follow Jesus, then my actions need to reflect that belief.  That means talking to new people who don't know Jesus when I don't feel like it.  That means listening well and not getting defensive when students unhelpfully criticize our ministry.  That means confronting conflict, not avoiding it.  That means showing up on campus when I don't want to go.  That means being open and honest with students about how I'm doing and what I'm feeling when it would be easy to fake it.

Pray that RIT students and I wouldn't get stuck in the comfortable.

Something for me and my students to reflect upon.

The spiritual life is not a life before, after, or beyond our everyday existence.  No, the spiritual life can only be real when it is lived in the midst of the pains and joys of the here and now.  Therefore we need to begin with a careful look at the way we think, speak, feel, and act from hour to hour, day to day, week to week, and year to year, in order to become more fully aware of our hunger for the Spirit.  As long as we have only a vague inner feeling of discontent with our present way of living, and only an indefinite desire for "things spiritual," our lives will continue to stagnate in a generalized melancholy.  We often say, "I am not very happy.  I am not content with the way my life is going.  I am not really joyful or peaceful, but I just don't know how things can be different, and I guess I have to be realistic and accept my life as it is."  It is this mood of resignation that prevents us from actively searching for the life of the Spirit.

Our first task is to dispel the vague, murky feeling of discontent and to look critically at how we are living our lives.  This requires honesty, courage, and trust.  We must honestly unmask and courageously confront our many self-deceptive games.  We must trust that our honesty and courage will lead us not to despair, but to a new heaven and a new earth. 

--from Making All Things New by Henri Nouwen