Humble moments: A bowl and a washcloth

Before I begin, I am wondering whether I should add “moments of humbleness” to the description of this blog. I don’t know if I will ever experience a more humble moment in my lifetime, but a part of me hopes that this may become a common occurrence, which will encourage me to add the category.

A few weeks prior, I had the pleasure of washing a lady’s feet. No, it was not my wife’s feet, although I would be happy to do so. It certainly would not have been as uncomfortable. Who was it, you might ask? Well, she was a complete stranger actually. Her name I will not reveal; one reason is because I only know her first name and second because I am not completely sure how to spell it. That is not important anyways. The importance of the experience is that I was blessed enough to be able to get down on my knees on the floor with a bowl of lukewarm water and a washcloth and perform one of the most humbling acts I can think of. For that very moment, I was able to physically emulate Jesus when he washed his disciples’ feet on the night of the Passover Feast. Now, please don’t think in any way that I am comparing myself to Jesus. I am simply stating that it is not often we get to (or choose to) emulate Jesus in such a way.

As I knelt down and she placed her feet into the lukewarm water, I felt a sense of panic and embarrassment because I didn’t know what to do. Then, I remembered that my normal day doesn’t include feet washing and it makes sense that I may be slightly nervous. So, I took a breath and prayed to God to help me through this because I didn’t want to make her as uncomfortable as I felt at that moment. I could feel my anxiety exuding from my body and I prayed that God would show me what to do. A sense of peace rushed through me in those short seconds and I began sprinkling the water over her feet and rubbing them down with my hands like I was a foot washing pro. I thanked God for the guidance, finished washing one and then the other, placed her feet on a soft, dry towel and patted them dry. Silence resumed, but that was okay. There was not a big need for conversation in those moments, so I let it be. I felt humbled, yet proud of myself for doing such a task. Then, God tapped on my shoulder and we reminisced about our two feet washing experiences.

To put things into perspective, let me set up two scenarios. In one scenario, an ordinary, sinful man kneels with a nice contemporary designed plastic bowl with rust colored swirls (probably purchased from Pottery Barn or somewhere similar), with carpet on the floor to cushion his knees, a nice hand towel, clean water that came from a sink, and a pair of already well kept, clean feet.

In the other scenario a man kneels, but not an ordinary man; a perfect man unlike the world has ever seen since. The Savior of the world knelt down as a servant on a dirt covered floor with a small handmade rag of some sort, water taken from a nearby stream or pond, a wash basin, and washed 12 pairs of the dirtiest, most calloused feet you could imagine. In those days, people wore sandals (if they were lucky enough to own a pair) and worked in the fields all day and walked on dirt roads. A bath was a luxury not everyone had the opportunity to enjoy and soap was not even a concept at that point in time. So, you can imagine the condition that these twelve pairs of feet were in. Beyond the hygiene issues associated with feet in those days, one of those pairs of feet belonged to a man who betrayed Jesus not long after Jesus washed his feet. Imagine willfully getting on your knees to wash the feet of a man you know is going to betray you. And yet he gladly did it, and would do it again without hesitation.

So while I begin to think about my humble experience as somehow virtuous, I try and keep things in perspective all the while thanking God I was able to share this experience with Him.