the servant king

The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples (John 13:12-16) is one of those that hits me in the gut every time. Jesus' act of humility throws a glaring light on my own unwillingness to be humble. I have to sit there and watch my Savior and Lord act as a slave and wash feet. Stinky, smelly, dirty feet. And then I have to hear him when he says, "I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

We all know Jesus was not a 'king' in the traditional sense of the word. Jesus did not want power over otherh people. He wanted influence. His desire was to influence us to serve each other. To think of others before ourselves. No one achieves power that way - not even 'benevolent' kings. That's not how the heirarchy functions.

In some ways, top-down leadership is easy for those that follow. You do what the main guy says and that's that. No questions, no nothing. Do it or else.

Jesus' leadership is not like that. He shows the way and then says, my child, it's up to you. I have shown you my example. Follow it or don't. My kingdom is about love.

I think, like the Jews at the time, there's a part of us that wants Jesus to be the knight in shining armor who takes down the enemy with unprecedented skill and aplomb. We love the resurrection because it's victory! Up from the grave he arose, with a mighty triumph o're his foes! Jesus comes back from what seemed like utter defeat to reign supreme!

That is part of the story. What we miss is that Jesus allowed his defeat. He didn't have to sit there and take the accusations thrown at him. He didn't have to let the guards so easily arrest him. He didn't even have to let Judas betray him. He had many opportunities, even apart from being God, to put an end to what was going on. But he didn't. He willingly suffered. He willingly died. He willingly washed his disciples feet. He conquered, but it wasn't by the sword or even an advanced heavenly form of martial arts. It was by submitting to defeat. It was by deliberately losing.

He suffered so that we could never say, 'You don't know what it's like.'

He endured God leaving him so we could never say, 'I feel so alone.'

He accepted defeat so we could never say 'You've never been there.'

He walked the road to the cross so that he could tell us, 'I know what it's like. I've felt that alone, I have been there. I endured for you and I ended up conquering! Put your hope and your trust in me.'

weary

I have been away from this for too long. It occurs to me that the longer I go without making time to sit and be with God, the more tired and weary I become. I start to feel fragmented and pulled apart, never whole.

I have not succeeded in my lenten sacrifice, giving up my need to do things. I started out okay, but I haven't ended well. Now it's the passion week and I'm left feeling more tired than I was at the start of lent. It's discouraging. What is it in me that feels so obligated to people? Why do I feel like I 'owe' so many when, if I were really dealing in a strict sense of debt and recompense, there are far more people that 'owe' me than the other way around? I don't know.

Caring too much about what other people think of me and wanting desperately for everyone to like me are my bigger flaws. Flaws I'm usually able to gloss over with the sheen of 'selflessness' and 'helpfulness'. When these flaws become exposed for what they really are - selfishness and a lack of reliance on God - I feel very vulnerable and broken.

Today's passage in Isaiah 50:4-7 at first glance looks like an argument for Christians being doormats for others. Read it a little more carefully, however, and you begin to see that it's more of an argument for complete and utter reliance on God.

I get stuck on the second half of the passage that talks about Isaiah allowing himself to be abused by others and I wonder...is that what the Christian is called to? To just endure all the abuse hurled at him or her? But then I go back to the beginning of the passage and realize that Isaiah was not a passive bystander who people randomly abused. He was the mouthpiece of God. God taught him, gave him the words to say and the audience to say it to and Isaiah was faithful and obedient to these tasks.

So why, then, the abuse? Well, Isaiah knew how to sustain the weary with a word, but the weary didn't always want to hear it. Sometimes the weary are ornery, frustrated and angry and don't want to hear anything from anyone, no matter if it will sustain them or not. I know I feel weary right now and quite honestly, I don't want anyone trying to 'cheer me up.' I'm quite content to be weary and sullen right now, thank you.

I guess that makes me the abuser rather than the abused right now, doesn't it? Hmm. That's disconcerting.

Looks like I've got a lot of reconnecting with God to do this week...