God Washed my Feet

“Hi, Grace, I’m Steve.  I know this is slightly weird but I believe the Lord told me I’m supposed to wash your feet.”

Slightly?

I looked at him. He looked at the floor. We both spun around to look at the basin strategically placed in the middle of the floor to symbolize the service we would provide that week.

I had never met Steve before. I’ve only met Steve once since that day. In our 2nd meeting, I bought him The Divine Conspiracy book and workbook because I’d begged him for a request and he had finally given it to me.

It was all I could do to thank him for how he had touched my life so deeply, so profoundly. I don’t even know Steve’s last name. In fact, ‘Steve’ may not be his first name. I don’t remember.

Steve was content to let God’s glory be God’s.

I only remember that his hair was blond and his eyes were blue, his face was white and his stature was tall. At the time, his description was the absolute worst combination for someone wanting to have my trust. Add that to the strange fact that a perfect stranger was requesting to hold my bare feet in his weird, creeper, stranger hands…

Needless to say I was nervous.

More than a decade ago, my husband, Dave & I descended upon Madison, WI where each of us were commissioned to lead a small group of new InterVarsity staff through their 10-day orientation to the wonderful world of campus ministry. The forty-ish of us old-timers, the Senior staff had gathered to pray for the upcoming week.

The leader of this prayer time placed a basin of water in center of our prayer circle next to an antique jug.

We prayed. I was distracted. My mind heavy. My heart heavy.

You can read the rest of this story over at Prodigal Magazine.