Feet

This morning I read these verses and these verses, and was overwhelmed by the humility that Christ exemplified to save a lost sinner such as I. So, I thought I'd share my journal entry today:

11.6.08

Thank You, my Lord, for emptying Yourself to assume the form of a slave. You, the God who made the heavens stooped so low as to become one of us - a foot-washing slave.
Thank You for washing my guilty feet.
Feet that have gone to wicked places.
Feet that have carried news other than the glorious news of the Gospel.
Feet that are worn and dirty.
Nasty from the filth of the world.
And You stoop down and clean them off, knowing they'll get dirty again. Yet You are patient with my dirty feet. You patiently wash my feet over and over.

Do You ever tire or grow weary from stooping to bathe my scum?
I don't think You do.
You always have that look of love and tenderness in Your eyes, even though I constantly come back to that place of restoration, forgiveness and cleansing.
Continuously tearing my eyes away from Your tender gaze with which You stare as if to say,
"I forgive you!"
Yet You needn't even say the words. Your eyes and Your touch speak it all!
And I sit here guilty, condemned.

But then You remind me that I am in You.
So, I am not condemned.
I am free from the law of sin and death.
Free to walk out of the upstairs room of restoration with clean feet.
Feet ready to once again bear my cross for the sake of Christ and the Gospel.
Feet prepared and ready with the shoes of the Gospel of peace.
Feet that have been cleaned by the spotless Lamb of God.
Washed by the humblest of slaves and mightiest of Kings.
Cleansed by the God of the heavens whose footstool is the earth, and yet He would care about my feet?

O what love!
O what humility!
O what an unfair transaction!
Where is the justice in this act? Why do I allow myself to remain in that seated position with my God bowing to wash my feet? What do I have to offer in return? Nothing.
Yet, I can't move.
I'm frozen.
Knowing I can't repay.
My pockets are empty. But my heart is full.
Overflowing with joy - gratitude - feelings that no words can communicate adequately.

How could anyone refuse this man's touch?
His tenderness?
This love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. That I'll gladly give! Lord, I gladly give it.
Freely You gave.
Freely I have received.
These feet that You have washed and dried are Yours.
Use them as You will.
As You please.
As is fitting for the service of the King!