And Still…


'Judas Iscariot' photo (c) 2009, Missional Volunteer - license: hit me on the way into our Maundy Thursday Communion service at the church Thursday night.  I’m sure I’d given it a passing thought at some point, but for some reason last week, it just slammed me.

He knew.

As Jesus was walking into the room to eat the Last Supper with his disciples…his friends, he knew what the next day was going to bring.  And he knew it was going to be hard.

When they laughed and talked and asked questions of each other, just carrying on a normal conversation, he knew.

When he bent down to wash Judas’ feet…

That’s the one that gets me.  He knew that over the next 24 hours Judas was going to betray him.  He knew that his life would be given for a bag of silver.  And he knew that it was already put in motion.

And still…he washed Judas’ feet.

They ate together.  They talked.

And he still loved them.  Treated them with respect and kindness even though he knew.

Peter would deny him.

And still…he loved them.

It’s hard when someone hurts you, and you know it’s likely they’re going to hurt you over and over and over again.  It’s hard when you feel betrayed by someone to sit and wash their feet or even just give them a smile.  I get it.

And I don’t know how to do it.

And I screw it up all. the. time.  But I’d like to think that if I had a chance to sit at the table with Jesus that he would sit there and wash my feet even though he could see the blackness in my heart.  I think his compassion and love for us is way more than the hurt we inflict.  He forgives us.  He didn’t have to.

And still…he carried the cross up to the hill.

And still…death no longer has the victory.

And even with the blackness that can sometimes creep in, I am forgiven.  Once and for all.


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