Jesus was having His last supper with the disciples. He knew that in the next few hours He would be betrayed, spat upon, slapped, beaten, whipped, crowned mockingly with one inch thorns, staked to a cross, mocked some more and speared in the side. Jesus could have easily decided to enjoy His last few hours in luxury.
If I were Jesus, I imagine a conversation going like this:
“Hey Pete, do you love me?”
“Of course I love you, Jesus.”
“Yeah, but Peter do you really love me?”
“Yes, Master, very much.”
“Do you really, really love me, Peter?”
At which point Peter almost draws his sword in frustration, but instead takes a deep breath and says, “Yes, my Lord. Why do you keep asking?”
“Then grab that bucket and rag and come wash my feet. And John since you’re not busy, come massage my neck. And everyone else keep it down so that Matthew can read some Psalms to me.”
I mean He is God, His name is above all names and He’s about to suffer a horrendous ordeal. Why not treat Himself? He rightfully deserved it.
But Jesus didn’t. He humbled Himself to wash their nasty feet. He exemplified the serving Savior.
We Christians say we follow Jesus. We sing the hymn, “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus”. Really? When was the last time you and I grabbed a nasty foot and washed it? Or did anything sacrificially to help someone? Without being asked?
We say we follow Jesus. Really? His journey led to horrible atrocities. Are we willing to go there?