It doesn't begin where you think (Revolution of Jesus, Part 2)

"Look how the whole world has gone after Him!"

The Pharisees fumed in their fear while the people flocked after Jesus, thirsty for a sign. They wanted to be fed. They wanted to be healed. They wanted to be free. 

And here was Jesus, doing the impossible. Raising the dead. Clearing the temple. Saying these preposterous things that made people want to hope. 

Revolution. 

But then. 

A sacred night. A quiet upper room. These friends who thought they knew their Jesus, who thought they were ready to follow Him into death. 

That night it really began. That night Jesus started the revolution that would one day catch fire across the world. 

He knelt at the feet of His friends. His followers. These beloved yet frail and faltering feet. And one by one, He washed them. Touched them in the place of greatest outward shame. Held the mess of them, the flesh stinking with the filth and grime and weariness of earth. 

One by one. Purposefully cleansing. Looking into their eyes. I see you.

And then Peter, the one who had confessed his teacher as Lord, the one who knew he was serving his Messiah. Peter, whose heart burned with righteous fire, who above all things wanted to do. To act.

"You shall never wash my feet." 

Did he say this because he knew it was very God about to do this thing? Did he say this from deep humility? Or was it something else?

"Unless I wash you, you have no part of Me."

Jesus knew that place of deepest pride, the place so hard to reach because it looks like humility. The place that says, I will gladly serve, but I will never be served. I will give all, but I will never receive. 

We focus, rightly, of course, on the selfless act of Jesus in the most humble act of service. We hear His words, "Do as I have done for you." 

Maybe this is where revolution begins. 

But maybe, for some of us, it begins in Peter's place. It begins when someone kneels before us and enters our mess, takes our grime in their hands and says, "Let me help. Let me love you."

Aren't we Jesus-followers often so good at giving? So intent on serving? But can we receive? Can we be served in return?

"Wash one another's feet," He said. "Unless I wash you, you have no part of Me."

You, Peter, so ready to go, to do, to lead the way for Me, you will not know the way until you sit here and lift up your mess. Until know your need to be touched, served, cleansed, and until you allow others in, You will have no part of Me.

This revolution began not with going, conquering, demanding, taking, but with sitting, kneeling, serving and being served. 

This Jesus, he knelt and served. But only a few moments later, He opened His own soul, full of agony, fear, and despair, to His dearest friends. "Pray with Me," he begged them. He invited them into His struggle. He asked them to serve Him. He allowed Himself to need. Even when they kept falling asleep, He kept asking. Be with Me.

I would rather wash a thousand feet and keep my own twisted toes safely tucked inside my shoes. But  when I sit and let someone kneel before me, touching me in a place of great need, I feel my soul open. I see my shame and my sorrow. I am exposed. But here is where hope and grace can enter in. Here, at the place of giving and receiving, is where revolution begins.