The Upside-Down God
The God Who Serves Us
John 13
An Embarrassing Demonstration
Jesus shocked his disciples during their final supper together. Before celebrating the Passover Feast, the revered Rabbi knelt before his young students. Confused and embarrassed, they watched Jesus strip off his outer clothes like a common servant and prepare for the dirty work of washing their feet. They protested—he insisted. Death hovered at the door infusing every word and action with final significance. So, Jesus gathered up three years of teaching into the humble forms of a towel and water bowl to perform a final lesson.
“He would take humanity’s dirt upon himself. He would embrace the stain of humankind’s rebellion and dissolve it in the pain of everlasting love poured out.”
The apostle John recalls the scene: “Before the Passover Festival, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” His act of cleansing demonstrated what he would accomplish on the cross. He would take humanity’s dirt upon himself. He would embrace the stain of humankind’s rebellion and dissolve it in the pain of everlasting love poured out.
An Upside-Down Lesson
On that final night together, Jesus moved from disciple to disciple, serving and loving them all. Even the one whose damp feet would scurry off to betray him. Like much of Jesus’ ministry, he reversed the expected. The Creator of the universe, the one who scooped dust from the earth and knit their bodies together, bent down to them. He expressed the kind of love he gave and expected them to give others: the greatest serve the least. An upside-down lesson.
“You will never wash my feet,” Peter blurted out. He revealed the natural human instinct of most religious expressions. Quid pro quo. You give to get. You earn your blessings.
From ancient times, cultures erected gods to obtain their favor. They built temples to woo their crafted images. They enticed their idols with offerings and rituals. In exchange for pious service, they expected protection and prosperity—the economics of religion.
Peter balked at Jesus’ actions because he knew he did not deserve for Jesus to wash his feet. In his heart, he knew he had not, and could not, earn such a privilege—which was the point. “Get ready for grace, Peter”, Jesus might have said, “you can’t earn any of it. I serve you because I love you.” Peter experienced the uncomfortable lesson we all do at some point in our encounters with Jesus. Receiving grace begins with the humiliating realization that we come with empty hands. Grace is a one-way transaction.
Jesus Steps Down, Not Up
Jesus stands uniquely in the pantheon of culture’s gods. He flips the tables in the temple upside down. He initiates serving us. Even before we attempt to bow before his heavenly throne, we discover him bowing at our muddy feet to wash them clean.
Some historians say Christianity simply follows in the footsteps of the other religions—gods exalted to procure their favor. Yet, Jesus stepped down from a throne into the soil of the grave. He is the God who serves his servants and rescues them from death. To me, that sounds like the opposite of a transaction. It sounds like grace…it sounds like love.