Unibrows and Foot-washings

Sandra is a 5-foot Iraqi American (excuse me... Persian American) preschool teacher. She’s one the toughest, sweetest, and funniest people I know. She’ll put on her “foreigner unibrow” (one finger across the forehead) and say the most ridiculous things. Last week when I saw her she complimented my cooking and bowed to me. I grinned and bowed lower. She went lower. Pretty soon we were laughing with our cheeks pressed against the kitchen floor shouting, “No! You’re the greatest! YOU’RE the greatest!!”

This morning I felt frustrated with my marriage. Mostly I felt frustrated with myself. There was a time last fall when I was able to express deep acceptance towards my wife. It came out of several weeks of receiving deep acceptance from the Father each morning. But that experience didn’t last beyond September and neither did my profound acceptance toward my wife.

In counseling, I had been learning about healthy expectations in relationship and I feel that month empowered me to make lasting changes in my expectations toward Debra. But if I’m totally honest, I still hold on to my judgments and criticisms. And being more honest still, they are rooted in a deep personal insecurity about living a meaningless and unproductive life. And continuing that honesty (these thoughts are just coming to me now)… I think the experience of productivity in ministry (mens group, worship leading, mentoring, etc) has set me up with the pressure to repeat my success and receive more affirmation, more esteem. In other words, pride.

This morning my eyes fell on a scripture depicting the opposite image of pride: Jesus washing the feet of his apprentices. And these words especially: “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher have washed your feet, you should wash one another’s feet.” And along with that, a little voice in my ear: “Do you know how low I had to go for you?” Jesus gets lower than the kitchen floor to serve me. Not because he thinks I’m “really something” but because he loves me and wants to show me the way to destroy pride and live in love toward my wife, my neighbor, even my enemy.

I remember a powerful moment in my young arrogant life when someone I thought lower than me washed my feet. We were at a high school leadership camp and the final night was a foot-washing service. When it came around to me, the person washing my feet was the person I esteemed the least: an unattractive and socially awkward kid whom I had done my best to ignore all week. Worse still, I was deeply self-conscious about a toenail fungus infecting my right foot. I disliked the idea that the lowest man on the totem pole might show disdain for me, thus proving that I was the lowest man. But without hesitation and with total acceptance, he washed my feet. And that’s exactly what Jesus did: he became the unpopular kid and served me in my most vulnerable places so that I could adopt the same attitude toward others. Instead I have adopted pride and the profound pressure that goes along with maintaining one’s popularity and esteem. It’s the pressure to improve my standing by relating only with people more important than me, to get things done, and to gain notoriety with them. Last night I was only half joking when I told Debra, “Maybe I just need to play more video games, accomplish less, rest more.” The truth I was scratching at wasn’t an encouragement to be lazy. It was an encouragement to make choices based the rhythm of “my own drum” (Jesus in me) rather than success and esteem… to be empowered by humility rather than driven to ulcers by self-importance.

I think I know how it feels to be humble enough to wash feet (and to allow mine to be washed) and I know I’m not there now. Jesus, break through my crusty heart to empower real humility, real servant-hood, and real acceptance.