Naturally Kneeling or Stubbornly Standing?

Holy Week and Spring Break coincide for us this year. I took today off to spend with Joan and the kids. We ate at our favorite Mexican place for lunch and then bowled a couple of games. (If you ever get a chance, watch old people bowl. They may barely be able to walk but they can flat out fling that ball and pick up spares like a road gang picks up litter.) We went to the library while Evan took his drum lesson and then we headed to church for Maundy Thursday worship.

This is our first Maundy Thursday as Anglicans so we didn't know what to expect, but I kept answering the kid's queries with, "Pastor John will preach about the upper room, we'll observe communion, and that'll be that." Pretty safe bet, I thought, right along the lines of every other Maundy Thursday service I'd ever attended. But when we entered the worship room I saw that wasn't the case.

Situated in front of the altar was a chair and a big wooden basin, three glass pitchers of water, and a stack of towels. My spirit sank. Of all things to emphasize from the Upper Room Discourse: the foot washing.

I get the symbolism of the foot washing. I get the idea of the savior who was servant and who seeks followers to do the same. And I believe I could wash feet with the best of them. I'm very flawed but I believe I regularly wash the feet of my family, though not always in ways they desire or understand. I know the story backwards and forwards, but still, like Peter, in my heart I said, "No, you'll not wash my feet." Unfortunately, I don't have to think too hard to know why I felt that way. Having someone wash your feet requires an intimacy and a humility that I'm afraid I don't have much of. As John expounded the scriptures, contrasting Jesus who naturally knelt versus Peter who stubbornly stood, that lack of humility scared me. Pride is a very dangerous thing, and mine screamed at me from that empty chair in front of the altar.

John explained that the invitation to have our feet washed was voluntary, which cracked the door just enough for me to talk myself out of it, but I felt like I'd take a tremendous step backward if I did. So somewhere in the midst of the observance, I slipped off my shoes and socks and walked to the chair.

I understand there to be two scripturally recognized sacraments: baptism and the Lord's supper. But tonight, I experienced a third as Zeb poured out the water of God's grace on my feet.