Maundy Thursday

Last night we attended the Maundy Thursday service at our church. Its a celebration of the passover. The beautiful night when Jesus shared with his disciples that He was to become their sacrifice. That they were to use his flesh and blood to mark themselves with, so that God's wrath would Pass.Over.Them.

At our church, we have the washing of the feet, just as Jesus did for his disciples that passover evening.
The priests humbly bow in front of bowls at the front of the sanctuary and whoever wishes to walk up and have their feet washed may do so.

I am perpetually cold natured, and in true form, was freezing last night inside the sanctuary. So, my sweet husband went to the back were they keep some knitted shawls that some ladies from the church have made, and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Shortly after the service started and while the choir was singing so beautifully, a woman from our church walked thru the doors, holding the arm of another woman whom i presumed she found wandering the street. Our church is located in the center of downtown Tyler and although we have many ministries to the poor and homeless, we rarely see someone from the street walk thru the doors for a service.

It was beautiful and refreshing to see one of our members hold this woman up, walk her inside, wrap her arms around her and stand proudly with her. I was thankful to witness such a beautiful act of service, kindness and love. This older woman who was clearly homeless was wearing a dress, no bra, little sandals that had seen better days and had a beach towel draped around her shoulders. She was missing half her teeth and couldn't walk on her own without assistance.

As the service continued and I watched our beautiful clergy serve our congregation, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Overwhelmed with thankfulness for their sacrifices. Somehow, washing others feet is the perfect picture of humility and service. These men and women who work long, ridiculous hours. Who are always giving and giving and giving of their time, they energy, their emotions. I was so full of thankfulness for them.

And I couldn't stop looking back at this woman seated behind me. Watching her disheveled body limp towards the front to get her feet washed by one of the priests, with her beach towel wrapped around her... I couldn't help but realize that her and I were no different. Me, with my shawl wrapped around my shoulders, and all her outward brokenness was just the same as my inward brokenness.

Thinking of the priest who washed her feet. Her dirty feet. Her swollen, disheveled, broken, dirty feet that he washed with his bare hands. How hard might it have been for him to pick up her feet and rub the dirt off with his hands... and yet, that is what Jesus has done for us.

He has picked us up, out of our filth, off of the street, with our filthy garments and beach towels wrapped around our shoulders, and walked us into the knowledge of his love. He sacrificed his perfect self for our filthy, decaying, broken selves. He did it gladly. Lovingly. Sacrificially.

The words sacrifice and service kept swimming around my mind last night. All I can do is meditate on these treasures and let God grow the seeds being planted.

I'm so thankful for the servants of God. For those women. For our leaders. For those broken people who give us peeks of Gods love.  But most of all, thankful this Good Friday for Jesus. I have had my doubts about you Jesus. We have had our battles- I've screamed and cursed you in the middle of the night, scared, confused and full of unbelief. It has been an incredibly difficult journey of faith with You and Me. But Jesus, I'm still here, at your feet. You never left me. Even when if felt like you did. I'm here and so thankful for you.