Washing Feet

I haven’t always understood the early apostles’ response to the Savior’s death and resurrection. 

Jesus warned them. 

He taught them. 

He told them He would die. 

And He assured them that He would rise again. 

Every miracle pointed to the infinite nature of His ministry and atonement.

Yet, the apostles seemed surprised at His death and even astonished at His resurrection. 

I didn’t understand. 

How did they miss it? Miss Him? 

Didn’t they know Him? 

Walk with Him?

Heal with Him?

Trust Him?

But death is hard. 

And resurrection had never been done before. 

I think the Savior knew they would not understand. 

Not at first. 

He faced that a lot in His mortal life. 

Misunderstanding. 

So what could He do? 

How could He help? 

When words failed and promises were forgotten, the Savior washed feet. 

When Jake was in the middle of treatment he couldn’t shower alone. I sat on the edge of the bed listening and talking to make sure he didn’t get light headed or fall on the slippery tile. 

At the beginning I had to help. 

Some of the most sacred experiences of my life were washing Jake’s feet as he stood in the shower. 

He couldn’t reach them. 

Cancer made even the mundane painful. 

And in the midst of our difficulty, I didn’t know what else I could do. 

I didn’t always understand. 

So I washed his feet. 

With His final mortal day before Birthright responsibility and the Will of the Father pushed Jesus to the edges of Eternity, Jesus gathered His apostles together, 

and one-by-one,

washed their feet. 

Some disagreed, feeling that they should be washing the feet of the Master. 

But He insisted.

Something about washing their feet made Him part of them. 

Even after He died. 

And while they waited for His resurrection. 

So what do you do when they do not understand? 

When words fail and promises are forgotten. 

How could you help? 

You wash feet. 

Every evening a little one and a half year old that looks like me with all of Jake’s colors insists on “bath time”. 

He lets me wash off the remnants of the day, 

dirt, bubble soap, dinner, and more. 

And then he lets me wash his feet. 

I do not always understand. 

Sometimes, despite the promises and the warnings and the words, I still miss things as Jesus works in my life and in the world. 

But I find when I am washing feet, He is part of me. 

And I start to understand. 

And I feel understood. 

And I am happy.