Peter is so impetuous. “No, you can’t wash my feet!”

We laugh at his audacity to tell Jesus what he can and can’t do.

“Oh Jesus, you’re ridiculous…

There’s no need…

I am able to wash my own feet…

Don’t worry yourself over li’l ol’ me.

Don’t bother…

Don’t get so close…

No, really–back off, man!”

Oh, Peter, why do you have to be so much like us? 

Thank God for Peter and his big mouth and big emotions and the honesty with which he is portrayed to us. Thank God for his humanity.

Truth is, I put up the same protests to Jesus. I might not vocalize them every day, but they’re there. You might recognize them, too, if you’re honest.

Surely we don’t need him to get his hands dirty. He is the Lord, after all. He’s much too important. We’re far too lowly.

Or, really, we’re way too capable. There’s no need for him to do something I can totally do. I’ve got this.

I’ll just will myself to break this habit, or grow that fruit of the spirit, or figure a clever way to keep my feet clean–I know, I’ll get better shoes, that will do the trick, and cover this dirt right up. Then he won’t even have to know it’s there.

We think that he can be convinced to stay in his lane. Oh, Jesus, don’t worry, we should be able to clean up after ourselves. We don’t need a savior for the little stuff. Surely we should be able to handle it on our own. This bad attitude. This inconvenience. This problem that can be solved if we just throw some money at it, or try a little harder, or if that one other person would only [fill in the blank].

We play all these crazy mind tricks to avoid letting Jesus get down on the floor with us, look us in the eye, and intimately deal with the things that aren’t clean.

But Jesus says, “if I don’t wash you, you have no part with me.”

Trying to do for ourselves what he alone can do is the opposite of faith and the opposite of relationship. It is sin, and it is the thing that keeps Jesus pushed back at arm’s length and prevents the power of grace from flowing through our lives.

This washing is needed if we want to walk with him. We must receive him for every need, for every lack, for every grimy spot, and for every inability. There is nothing too ordinary, too stinky, too insignificant, too complicated, or too intimate to be offered to him to be cleaned. The thing is, he wants to have access to every thing.

Peter, again, is a little over the top. “Then wash my hands and head, too!”

Interestingly, Jesus said that he was already cleansed because of the word he had spoken. Faith cleanses from the “big-S” Sin problem–every one in Christ is a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17)–but we still have to come to him with the “little-s” sins that plague us daily. And he is faithful, just, and righteous, and will cleanse us from every last one of them (1 John 4:16-17). Including the fear, control, and hurts that keep convincing us that we are better off if Jesus keeps his nail-pierced hands off of our hearts. But are we, really?

What’s more, he said, “Whoever receives me, receives the one who sent me.”

Can we receive what he offers, today?

Can we let him in that close? Because if we can receive him, we can receive also our Father who sent him.

To the extent we can invite him in, we can extend his grace. But where we refuse the transformative power of his love, we cannot extend love to others. As he is to us, so are we to those around us. (1 John 4:17)

So then, with the love, acceptance, and peace of the Father settling in our hearts, we are prepared to serve and love like Jesus. (John 13:1)

We don’t get out of washing each other’s feet, in the same mutual humility and care. We are not more important than Jesus, who got on his hands and knees to clean his friends’–and betrayer’s–calloused and grubby feet. (John 13:16-17)

What kind of humble cleaning will we accept from Jesus today?

Where have we stubbornly refused his tender washing? How will we receive grace and peace from God our Father, today? And what kind of humble foot-washing will we do in response?