THE TOWEL AND THE BASIN
Dear Father,
How do I let you love me and serve me? I am so conditioned to think that I am the one who must love you and serve you.
I constantly offer to you my works of service as expressions of my love. You ask me for quality time. I choose to do things for you. You ask me just to be with you. I want our time together to be productive. You want it to be personal. I feel guilty about the luxury of such extravagance when it comes to "unproductive" time. You call such extravagance is a necessity, not a luxury.
I treat our time together as a task to be accomplished. You see it as a tryst to be savoured. I want to read your word to fulfill some sense of duty. You want me to reflect upon your word so as to hear your voice. I want to write in my journal so today's page won't be empty. You want to write your words into my life so my heart won't be empty.
Today you come to me with a towel and a basin. "Mike, let me serve you". Now I know how Peter felt in that Upper Room. Everything within me cries out, "Lord, I should wash your feet". This role reversal is more than I can grasp.
From somewhere deep within my longing heart cries out, "Not just my feet, Lord, but all of me. Wash all of me. And I surrender to your ministry as you serve me afresh this day with your love and grace lavished on me.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
