God’s Way

John 13:2-17

March 13, 2022 • Mount Pleasant UMC

When I was reappointed from Brushwood Church to Portage First, we had about six weeks to make the transition. So, as you might imagine, we made several trips from Rensselaer to Portage (about an hour trip) and every time we went, I took a different route. The two churches, at the time, were in the same District, so I had been to Portage for various meetings and knew a lot of different ways to get there. After three or four times of this, Cathy, who was going to continue to work in Rensselaer after the move and so was going to be making the trip every day, finally said to me, “If you don’t stop taking different ways, I’m never going to learn how to get from here to there!” She was right. If you’re going to successfully make it from point A to point B, you need to learn the way.

Unlike the roads between Rensselaer and Portage, where there are actually many routes that will get you there successfully, when it comes to other aspects of life, taking a different way will lead you to disaster. When I’m on a plane and we’re coming in for a landing, I want the pilot and co-pilot to believe that there’s only one way for them to successfully and safely end up on the ground. When a doctor is prescribing medicine and the pharmacist is dispensing it, I want them to check and double check to make sure it is done correctly! I want them to do it the right way. And many other things in life are that way as well.

When we come to the spiritual life, as we always do here (go figure!), Jesus reminds us that, despite what people today try to tell us, there is only one way, and he is it. There are various so-called “spiritual” paths, many of them promoted vigorously by people in the media, but none of them will lead you to the one true God. When the disciple Philip, on the last night they were all together, asks Jesus how they can possibly know the way, Jesus responds, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). Now, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself because we’re going to look at that Scripture next week, as we continue our journey through the last night Jesus spent with his closest friends. But even before that conversation, as the meal was taking place, Jesus wanted to show them rather than tell them what God’s way looks like. As I mentioned last week, on this final night, at least in the Upper Room, Jesus largely gives up on words and he shows them how to live. He shows these rugged, rough, proud men that God’s way is to wash feet.

We're still in the Upper Room, where we were last week. We’re still gathered around that low three-sided table, reclining for the Passover meal. John only mentions the meal which in passing (13:2), but because this was a special meal, a high celebration, they would have bathed (which wasn't an everyday occurrence) and put on their best clothes. Their feet, however, would have gotten dirty on the way to the meal because they wore sandals and walked on on dusty roads. Normally, upon arrival at the meal, each person would remove their sandals and a slave would wash their feet so that they were ready to dine comfortably. Such an act would be done by a Gentile slave, perhaps, but not a Jewish slave. Or within families, the order went like this: wives washed their husbands’ feet, children washed their parents’ feet, students washed their teachers’ feet. So, what should have happened, is that any one of these disciples, these students of the rabbi Jesus, should have volunteered to wash at least Jesus’ feet, if not the feet of everyone gathered in that room. But no one did. Every single one of them walked by the bowl of water at the door and went to their seat instead. They would rather dine with dirty feet than admit that they were somehow “lower” or less important than the rest (cf. Whitacre, John [IVPNTC], pgs. 329-330).

We have to go to Luke to get some context for what John says happens next. Luke 22, to be exact, where after the meal we find this happening: “A dispute arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest” (Luke 22:24). That was not a new argument. Luke tells us it happened at least one other time, right after Jesus told them he was going to be killed. Can you imagine that? “Hey, guys, I’m going to be arrested and crucified.” “Okay, yeah, but Jesus, which one of us is the best? Who is the greatest?” (cf. Luke 9:44-46). I know the Gospels tell us many times that the disciples just didn’t get it, but sometimes I’m amazed at how much they didn’t get it. So now, Jesus has been leading them through this meal which recalls when their people escaped slavery in Egypt, and he has told them the bread represents his body and the wine represents his blood. He has said he is going to suffer soon, and that this is his last Passover meal with them. And then he catches a few of them off to the side, whispering to each other. “I’m the best the disciple.” “No, I am.” “Well, Jesus loves you but I’m his favorite.” Is it any wonder Jesus gives up on words? Words haven’t gotten his message across to them yet (cf. Card, John: The Gospel of Wisdom, pg. 152).

So he gets up from the table, John says, “took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist” (13:4). What he does is remove his robe so that all he has on is a tunic, a shorter garment sort of like a long undershirt. What he has on now is what slaves wore to serve a meal (Whitacre 329; Card 153). And what he does is what a slave would do: he pours water in a basin and washes their feet. He does what everyone else was too proud to do. He does what was needed but what no one would stoop to do. He serves, and the room is silent. No one says a word until Jesus gets to Peter. Bold, brash Peter, who honestly asks a stupid question. “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Well, what did he think Jesus was going to do? He had washed all the other feet, and he was kneeling on the ground with a towel and a basin of water. What did Peter think Jesus was doing? Making soup? Peter’s awkward question is really just a way of getting to the next statement, where this student and friend tells his master, “No” (13:8). Did I mention that Peter is bold and brash? And we could get into all the conversation Jesus has with Peter about this, but that’s sort of secondary to what Jesus says to them all. Listen again to his words here: “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you…If you do these things, you will be blessed if you do them” (13:15, 17)—because God’s way is to wash feet.

The last time I was in Bethlehem, one of the things I purchased is a small statue of Jesus washing Peter’s feet. It is a reminder of this important moment on this last night, but more than that, it’s a reminder of my calling as a disciple of Jesus. It’s easy to sit here, to sing here, to fellowship here and feel good about our faith. But this story reminds me that “the Gospel is a life to be lived and not just an ideal to be contemplated” (Whitacre 332; cf. Wright, John for Everyone—Part Two, pg. 46). Earlier in John’s Gospel, Jesus said that he only did what he saw the Father doing (5:19), and he doesn’t say this footwashing is an exception. This is what God does; this is who God is (cf. Whitacre 328). But he doesn’t instruct the disciples, and by proxy us, to do what he did, but to do as he did (cf. 13:15). It’s an important distinction, especially for those of us who are tempted to enshrine the actions of Jesus. This action is an “example” (13:15), not a model. What Jesus wants is not for us to wash each other’s literal feet (though that’s not a bad thing). What he wants for us is to have an attitude that says we will serve others in whatever way we can. We will help others see Jesus in our actions as we live God’s way.

Dr. Maxie Dunnam suggests three questions that help us get to the heart of what Jesus is teaching his disciples, and Peter in particular, in this incident. There are good questions to write down, by the way, as we move forward in our Lenten journey. The first question is this: “Will you make my will your will?” (Dunnam, With Jesus in the Upper Room, pg. 46). Now, of course, we claim we want to do and follow God’s will for our lives. But whether we do or not is actually revealed by our prayer life. Do we honestly ask God for guidance and wait for his direction or are we more likely to tell God exactly how things should be, asking him to bless what we have already decided to do? I know in my own prayer life, at one time I would pray long prayers and I would outline to God exactly how he should and could fix things. Somewhere I got the idea that we have to tell God what to do because obviously, God doesn’t have time to figure it out on his own, right? We even sort of hide it with false humility by saying, “Well, God, if it’s your will, you should really do this or that.” That’s still telling God what to do and then blaming him if he gets it wrong. I’ve tried, over the last few years, to leave a lot more room in my praying for God to do what God wants to do. As Jesus washes feet, as he does something completely unexpected, he’s asking, “Will you make my will your will?” Is there room for me to work in your life?

I’ve been reading a book called A Burning In My Bones, which is the authorized biography of Eugene Peterson. Peterson is probably best known as the author of The Message, a well-respected paraphrase of the Bible. I heard one speaker describe Eugene Peterson as “the man who wrote the Bible.” Well, not quite. But Peterson, in his heart of hearts, was a pastor, and through his writing he became a pastor to many pastors, myself included. The biography reveals a man who was a reluctant pastor in the beginning; he intended to become a scholar and a teacher. But God called him and he answered. And as I was working on this message, I was also reading about the time when the church he planted, Christ Our King Presbyterian Church in Bel Air, Maryland, had moved out of his basement into a building they had built. They occupied the building with great fanfare and excitement, and then a month later, people disappeared. They would be absent for weeks at a time, and the energy of the congregation dropped off drastically. Peterson was discouraged and started looking around, even applying at another church. It came down to him and one other pastor, and in the end, the church and the governing body selected the other pastor. As it turns out, the other pastor was someone Peterson knew, someone who was currently serving a church about ten miles away from Bel Air. It was a blow to Peterson, but in the end he wrote to his family, “Of course they would choose the other pastor. He’s a much better fit” (cf. Collier, A Burning in My Bones, pgs. 135-140). Eugene Peterson came to the point where he was willing to make God’s will his will, and he went on to serve Christ Our King for twenty-nine years. Jesus asks: will you make my will your will?

The second question Dunnam suggests is this: “Will you make my style your style?” (Dunnam 48). Now, to me, “style” sounds a bit odd here. I think of fashion, clothing, and I’m just not ready to take on the whole tunic and sandals thing. But that’s not what this question is getting it, thank the Lord. Maybe this question could be phrased this way: will you do things the way Jesus does them? Will you live the way he lived? This is a hard question in a culture that seems 100% set against the Jesus lifestyle. Jesus said, “Blessed are the meek,” and we say that the brash, the arrogant, the rude are the ones who rule the world. Jesus entered Jericho and rather than staying with the influential and powerful people in town, he went home with a tax collector, an outcast, someone who was despised by all the “good people.” He refused to condemn a woman who was caught “in the very act” of adultery, but he did call her to “go and sin no more.” He showed us that the world is upside down and inside out, and that he came to make it right by loving those the world despises and valuing those the world casts out. It was not beneath him to kneel and wash feet. And he showed us that the true spiritual danger is in thinking more highly of ourselves than we ought (cf. Romans 12:3).

I enjoy going on work/mission trips when I can. I’m not terribly skilled but generally if you show me how to do it I can be fairly helpful on most projects. I used to go with a group to a Navajo school out in northern Arizona, and one year our job was to gut a dorm. They gave me a sledgehammer and I went to it. I have to say, I was really good at destroying walls. It took all week but we got the job done and were quite happy with it. The next year, when we got ready to go back, we were kind of excited about seeing the progress on the dorm from where we had left it the year before. And do you know how much progress was made? Absolutely none. It was in the same state we had left it the year before, and even though building walls was not what we thought we were going to do, we did it anyway because that’s what was needed to be able to serve these students. Will you make my style your style? On another trip, I will never forget one gentleman who, midway through the week, began to loudly complain about the physical labor we were doing. “I have all these skills,” he said, “I shouldn’t have to do these menial things.” Meanwhile, Jesus kneels down and washes feet. Will you make my style your style?

Then there is the third question: “Will you make my love your love?” (Dunnam 49). Will you love people the way Jesus loved and loves them? About a hundred years ago, Indian philosopher Bara Dada supposedly said, “Jesus is ideal and wonderful, but you Christians, you are not like him.” That quote is often mistakenly attributed to Ghandi but no matter who said it, it’s still true. We don’t love like Jesus, and the clearest proof of that is what happens here in the Upper Room. You see God’s way is not only to wash feet. God’s way is to wash the feet even of someone who is considering betraying him. Judas has not left the room yet when Jesus washes their feet. When Jesus tells Judas to “do quickly” what he is about to do (13:27), Judas’ feet are probably still a little damp. Perhaps he can still feel the touch of Jesus’ rough hands on his feet. Jesus knew as he knelt in front of Judas that Judas had, in his pocket, the coins of betrayal from the religious leaders. And yet, I’m convinced that if Judas looked into Jesus’ eyes as Jesus knelt in front of him, he would have seen nothing but love. I don’t know about you, but I can’t say the same. It’s hard for me to love people who have hurt me. It’s hard for me to love those who have turned against me. And yet I see Jesus, on the floor, washing the feet of Judas. Will you make my love your love?

It may sound trite, but I don’t know that there is anything more needed in our world today than true, genuine love—love like Christ offers to everyone. So many of our struggles are because we don’t know how to love others the way Jesus loves them. For decades now, we in the church have thought that if we can just get power and control over our culture, over others’ lives, then we can force the world to become “what it ought to be.” But I will tell you that historically, every time the church has gained political power, every time the church has been wed to the state, it has not gone well for the church. That’s because power is not God’s way. Or maybe I should say it this way: power in the Christian faith is found through love—loving God and loving others. God’s way is found in love demonstrated through servanthood. The only way this world will ever be turned around is when we start loving the way Jesus loves, when we get down on our knees and wash the feet of even those who hate us. It does not seem to advance the cause of Christ when we rant and rage on social media, when we shame others or put them down, when we gain political, social or even religious power, when we demand that others serve us in some way. What changes the world is when we learn to love others the Jesus way, when we kneel down and wash Judas’ feet. Songwriter Carolyn Arends put it this way several years ago:

So many living for the love of power

Wanting more until their final hour

The day has come for us to be part of

The ones who find a ruler in the power of love

(“The Power of Love” from I Can Hear You, 1995)

I'm not saying any of this is easy, any more than it was easy for those who were gathered in that Upper Room with Jesus. These men had grown up hearing promises and hopes of the coming Messiah, the savior of their people, and they had always believed that when the Messiah came he would not serve, he would not surrender, and he would not suffer. Just this night, they had watched this one they believed to be the savior kneel down and wash feet. They watched him serve. The Messiah was supposed to be powerful, and have people serving him, not the other way around. And in the coming hours, they were going to see him surrender when he is arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane and they will watch him suffer as he is beaten and nailed to a Roman cross. That’s why I believe when Peter is outside of Caiaphas’ house while Jesus is on trial and he says, “I don’t know the man” (cf. Matthew 26:72), I think Peter was telling the truth. He wasn’t sure anymore who Jesus was, and he wouldn’t be sure again until the dawning of Sunday morning when the tomb was found to be empty. The Messiah would not serve, surrender or suffer—so they thought. Here in the Upper Room, once again, they are learning that our way is not God’s way. Then again, they should have known. Centuries before, the prophet Isaiah had spoken for God, saying, “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts’” (Isaiah 55:8-9). God’s way is not our way; it’s better.

Will you make his will your will? Will you make his style your style? Will you make his love your love? As is always a good idea, let’s let Jesus have the final word today: “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you…Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them” (13:15, 17). Let’s pray.