I made the decision seven months ago to work at a Christian Camp in Maryland. When the time, I packed up, left home, and drove to a warmer place. There Christians flocked in swarms, like gnats at light poles. There I served as a day-camp counselor, and had countless positive interactions with children and co-workers. I would not exchange the experience for anything.
Something greater happened. The staff would meet once a week for a night of worship. I occasionally went, as this was at night, at the end of a long day (which was every day). There was one night that I walked down to the old, white Chapel building. I entered late, and noticed that it was not the usual format of rowed seating. Instead, cushions and pillows were spread across the ground, and people sat upon them. The light was low.
We had a meaningful time of repentance and confession with the opportunity to fight, write, then light our sins on paper, and watch them burn with a flame and turn to ash. I participated in a similar exercise during training camp for my missions trip, which was a turning point in my life, frankly. The powerful visual demonstartion was not meaningless, but something greater came. Morgan, the summer staff coordinator, introduced the next activity, which was a foot washing ceremony. Slowly people, mostly couples or close friends, rose up and glided over to the small line-up of chairs with bowls of water in front of them. I looked about nervously, knowing I had not made any friends close enough to be willing to symbolically sacrifice/serve them. If it was with a guy, it would be akward. If it was with a girl, it would be suggestive. Furthermore, I am very self-conscious in worship. This would be an out-of-order act for me. I closed my eyes and prayed, keeping a solemn composure to fit with the mood of the assembly.
I eventually looked up and around. Morgan was kneeling on the ground, holding the foot of his wife who sat on the chair. I know not what drew my eye in such a mezmerizing manner, but my heart instantly snapped in twain. I saw an act of selfless love. What was meaningful was not merely the act, but the manner in which it was accomplished.
I know little about their past, only that it has been rough. Morgan said that if he ever met Megan's dad, there would be-I can't remember his words, but imagined Morgan (an ex-football player) beating the living daylights out of a wicked person, or at the very least warding him off with a shotgun. In a way, Morgan was Megan's savior, or deliverer from her brutal (or at least unjust) past.
As Morgan bent his knee and washed her feet, emotion simply overcame Megan. She wept ceaslessly, with head bowed. She was speechless. With measured steadiness and care, Morgan washed those delicate feet with his large hands, containing his emotions. When he was done, the white towel caressed them once more.
Morgan draped his arms over her and began to whisper into her ear. I didn't hear the words, but I could conjure them in my mind, "I am doing this because I love you completely and wholly for who you are. You are my only beloved, and I will treasure you as long as I live. Do you know that? Do you trust me?"
Morgan's graceful head of hair nodded in acknowledgement. This was too much. I had tried so hard to behold this miraculous event, but my tears clouded my eyes and I buried my head in my knees.
An arm reached around my back and clutched my shoulder. I heard a girl's voice begin to pray. I knew her; she was a blessing. She probably thought I was struggling with sin, while it was just the opposite: I was struggling with grace. But she prayed honestly and generically for me and my situation. I blessed her and thanked God. There is comfort in discovering that others actually care about you.
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This is the miracle- that God loved me in my unworthiness; he saved us and will make the church his bride (Rev. 19:7). He said, "I am doing this because I love you completely and wholly for who you are. You are my only beloved, and I will treasure you as long as I live." He asks, "Do you know that? Do you trust me?" I struggle with sin every day. I forget who I am. I forget whose I am.
But God has washed my feet. He has called us friends. He has gone and left the Holy Spirit to testify to us, be with us, and guide us.
For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
(Romans 5:6-8 ESV)
Once again, Tenth Avenue North has a song for this entitled Beloved in Over and Underneath
http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=JCBF9CNU
Blessings,
Andrew
