The Serving, Saving Sovereign

Thursday of Holy Week. A day full of lasts: A last day with His beloved disciples. A last breakfast, lunch, and supper. A last morning to wake up, free and surrounded by those He loved most dearly. A last time to teach and pray and encourage His own. A last day of freedom to walk where He desired, to talk with whomever He chose, to use His hands and feet in whatever way He determined. A last day to watch the sun rise, to see the stars dancing in the night sky, to hear the symphony of night sounds--all while still free from the weight of the world's accumulated sin and darkness and despair. A last day to hug a child or laugh with a friend or take a deep, full breath of God's good clean air.

How many of these have we enjoyed the unutterable privilege of experiencing today? As I ate my lunch, hugged my sons, told my husband I loved him, laughed with a dear friend, watched the sun rise and the stars fade from sight, listened to the song of the mockingbird, drove wherever I needed to go, emailed my sweet sisters, listened to music, did I thank Him who gave up all for me so that I might have all in Him?

There were no nails in my day. No spikes of pain and humiliation. Just freedom to live and to love and to worship and to thank. As George Herbert wrote in the 1600's, "O Thou who has given us so much, mercifully grant us one thing more: a grateful heart."

Even as Jesus prepared to bear unimaginable, nearly infinite sin and sorrow, His was a grateful heart. After the last supper with His disciples, after Judas leaves the table to betray His Lord, after washing the feet of His clueless, prideful disciples, Jesus and the eleven prepare to leave the warmth and light of the upper room and go out into the dark night to the Mount of Olives to pray. The disciples had no idea what lay ahead, but Jesus knew. He knew the hours ahead contained wrestling in prayer, betrayal, soldiers, arrest and beating and a crown of thorns and mocking and humiliation and pain. He knew it all. And yet, before they leave the room, Jesus leads them in singing a hymn. (Mk 14:26) A song in the midst of such sorrow. A song in the darkest of nights. Such is faith. Such is gratitude. Help us to be grateful Lord.

And we thank the Lord who not only would save but who served. On this thursday of the Last Supper, we contemplate the Sovereign Creator of the Universe washing the disciples' filthy feet. The humblest of tasks normally reserved for the lowliest of servants.

"Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside His outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around His waist. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around Him... When He had washed their feet and put on His outer garments and resumed His place, He said to them, 'Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you." (John 13:3-5, 12-15)

The Savior serves. The Sovereign sacrifices.

Yet we chafe at our small humiliations or menial tasks or daily calls to put others first and deny ourselves? How easily I fall into pride and the selfish desire to be served or to get my way or to accomplish my agenda and to check off my to do list. And all the while, the sovereign hands that prepared to receive the nails that should have been mine, took up a towel and served.

I'm reminded of a story from the American Revolution. A man in civilian clothes rode past a group of soldiers who were out repairing a defensive barrier. The leader of this group of men roughly shouted instructions but made no effort to help his soldiers as they struggled in the mud. When the man on the horse asked the leader why he wasn't helping his men, he responded with great dignity, "Sir, I am a corporal!"

The stranger quickly apologized for his mistake, got off his horse and proceeded to help the exhausted soldiers. Then when the dirty job was finally finished, he turned to the corporal and said, "Corporal, next time you have a job like this and not enough men to do it, go to your commander-in-chief, and I will come and help you again."

And with that, George Washington got back on his horse and rode away.

While we were busy busy busy with our agendas, barking orders, feeling affronted by the smallest of inconveniences and difficulties, our Commander-in-Chief arrived in civilian clothes. We didn't recognize Him at first. But He left His position at the right hand of God, became one of us, rolled up His sleeves, got down in the muck and mire of life with us, and served. He got down on His knees, washing dirty feet with water and filthy sins with His blood. He is the Savior who serves and the Sovereign who saves. And He calls us to follow Him--to love as He loved and to serve as He served.

On this thursday of Holy Week, might we have grateful hearts that faithfully follow and sacrificially serve our Risen Lord. To our Sovereign and our Savior, who took up a towel--and a cross--for us, be all the glory.