Feet: A Lesson in Humility

I've participated in a couple foot-washings, at Bible study groups and on mission trips, both giving and receiving the washing. They have all been great experiences and I always get the feeling like I'm serving and being served. It is quite a humbling experience.

Tonight, however, I was being served and I didn't even realize it.

Today, after a pair of shoes I haven't worn in a while rubbed my heels raw, I took off my shoes to walk from class to lunch, hoping that I could give my heels a break from the rubbing. Unfortunately, the asphalt between the two said locations was extremely hot. Due to callouses on my feet, I didn't even notice the heat until I found my seat. (Read that last sentence aloud!) Anyway, it wasn't until I sat down in the cafeteria (with my shoes back on) that I realized how much the balls of my feet hurt from the hot asphalt. In fact, I had caused heat blisters to form on the balls of my feet.

Since Band-Aids can only do so much, I asked my lovely roommate to take a look. We have known each other since last year, but we have only been rooming together for 3 days so far. She is very knowledgeable about minor injuries and the best ways to treat them. Despite this however, I was half-expecting her to say something like, "Man, that looks bad. Do you need more band-aids?" But instead, she let me lay down on the bed and she sat in front of me and held my feet up near her face so she could remove the dead skin, apply cream that would kill the germs, and then apply antibiotic. She then put Band-Aids on my heels and studied the blisters on the balls of my feet.

To begin with, I did some pretty stupid things. Of course asphalt is hot at noon in August in the south. It should go without saying. But without criticizing me or berating me, my lovely roommate just got to work, including handling my stinky feet and my whiny attitude (I'm bad with pain). She didn't mind working with me or asking me to move so she could accomplish the task. She took extra precautions so I would hopefully heal faster.

It reminded me so much of Jesus so very willingly and gently accepting our stupidness and mistakes and failures and dirty pasts and freely saving us. It's a process and, through that, there's pain. The cream Lula rubbed on my ankles stung and burned. But it's worth it. Now the area is clean and can begin to heal. And so are the little places in my heart where God has already started to work. Jesus got down and dirty (in fact, he died) so I could live.

And why? Why did he want me? Why does he want to get into our brokenness, redeem us, and restore us?

Love. Jesus literally loves us more than life.

And we are blessed by beautiful people who model that for us more times that we often realize.

Still a Child?

Last night, I was in the bathroom thinking (as I do sometimes), and my eye fell on the brown rectangular bath mat, the one you step on when you step out of the shower. Imprinted onto the thick rug was the perfect shape of a foot. I sat there, marveling at how big and broad that foot impression was. It must have come from a gigantic foot, my older step-brother's most likely.

So I stood and tested the size of my foot against the gigantic imprint. I wanted to see how much bigger it was than my foot.

But sure enough, when I tested the foot, it came back exactly the same size as mine. Suddenly, the childish curiousity I felt was replaced by a calm, adult feeling. It seemed that I was a "big girl" now. My feet were huge! And I patted myself on the back and told myself that I was a lot older than I gave myself credit for.

I'm 18! A college freshman! A legal adult in many cases. I'm old enough to smoke, buy lottery tickets, fight for my country, and buy things online and by phone.

Then I thought about the day's events and didn't feel like an adult anymore. Some accidentally misguided directions left me lost in a new city today. A passive confrontation between two parties left me the unfortunate and reluctant mediator. A friendly, laughable conversation left me wondering if the other person really respected who I am. I felt, suddenly, like a lost child inside the body of an 18-year-old adult.

I think God reminds us that we're young to remind us that we're his. See, the thing about children is that they can't take care of themselves and they need someone to care for them. And the thing about human beings is that we need someone. We need someone (Jesus) to take our place and die for us so we wouldn't have to suffer the consequences of our sins - being forever separated from God and all that is good.

I'm over my emotional rollercoaster middle school days - but I still cry sometimes. I hope it's mostly because of joy, but sometimes I do cry because of sadness, disappointment, fear, and uncertainty. Yes, it hurts to cry. It hurts to feel those deep feelings. But you know what? They remind us that we always need God - he's our rock, our strong tower. And God is always there. Without God, I'd be like an orphaned child. I'd have no hope, no strength, and no small, peaceful voice ringing in my ears songs of joy and verses of guidance.