Today Jesus washed His disciples’ feet. I have that thought this morning as I bring my tired body to the keyboard. It’s a strange overlay to think that somehow that act leading up to crucifixion has a bearing on me as I wade through another morning.
Two hours from now I’ll drive to work where I’ll serve demanding customers who are hungry (first-world hungry) for fried chicken, cold-cuts and side salads. I’ll spend another eight hours struggling to maintain a good attitude---to choose joy while working a job I didn’t choose. I hope that in my serving I made some small difference in somebody’s day. It doesn’t feel as if I’m living the life of a Christ follower. I grumble more than I give thanks.
Certainly I’d serve differently if Christ hadn’t served his followers. When customers curse, I’d curse back with a better curse. I would simply see people with bumps and bruises. There would be no eye to see them as they could be at their fullest potential. The Son of God served. I struggle with having that heart but I know it’s the heart to have.