Serving and Loving Like Jesus
The Call at the Heart of the Gospel
There is a moment in the Gospel of John that stops you cold if you let it sink in. The Lord of the universe, the one through whom all things were made, wraps a towel around his waist, kneels down, and begins washing the dirty feet of his disciples. No fanfare. No reluctance. Just quiet, deliberate love expressed through the most humble act imaginable.
That image is not just a historical curiosity. It is a window into the heart of God, and it carries a direct challenge for every person who claims to follow Jesus.
He Knew, and He Came Anyway
John 13 opens with a detail that deserves far more attention than it usually receives. Before describing what Jesus did, John tells us that Jesus knew. He knew his hour had come. He knew what awaited him — the betrayal, the arrest, the brutality, the cross. And John adds something almost unbearably tender: having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
He did not serve his disciples out of ignorance. He did not lay down his life by accident. He walked into it with his eyes wide open, fully aware of the cost, and he did it because of love. Not a sentimental, surface-level love, but a love that was willing to go all the way to death for the sake of those he called his own.
The theologian Karl Barth, one of the most scholarly minds of the twentieth century, was once asked what the greatest theological truth in the Bible was. His answer was not some complex doctrinal formulation. He said it was this: Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. That simple truth, properly understood, is not childish. It is staggering. The eternal Son of God looks at broken, wandering, stubborn human beings and says, this one is mine.
The Towel and the Basin
When Jesus rose from supper, removed his outer garments, and began washing his disciples' feet, he was doing something that no one in that room expected. In the culture of the day, foot-washing was the task of the lowest servant in a household. Guests arriving from dusty roads with sandaled feet needed their feet cleaned, and someone had to do it. But that someone was never the rabbi. Never the master.
Peter's reaction captures what all of them must have felt. Lord, do you wash my feet? It is the sound of a man genuinely scandalized by what he is witnessing. And Jesus tells him plainly that if he refuses to be washed, he has no share with him. Once again Peter overcorrects, asking for a full bath, and Jesus gently redirects him. The one who has already bathed is clean. He only needs his feet washed.
There is a word of grace buried in that exchange. Those who have placed their faith in Jesus are already clean. The work of salvation is not something we repeat every time we stumble. But we do walk through a dusty world, and we do need the ongoing cleansing that comes through confession and repentance. As 1 John 1:9 assures us, God is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us when we bring our failures to him honestly.
An Example, Not Just a Memory
After washing their feet and returning to his place at the table, Jesus asked his disciples a pointed question: do you understand what I have done to you? Then he explained it directly. He was their teacher and their Lord, and if he had washed their feet, they were to wash one another's feet. He was not instituting a new ritual. He was setting a pattern for how his followers were to treat each other and the world around them.
The principle he stated is simple but demanding. A servant is not greater than his master. If the Son of God served, his followers serve. And then he added the promise: if you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. The blessing is not in understanding the concept. It is in living it out.
This is not abstract theology. It looks like showing up every Monday night to serve at a local mission, even when the drive is long. It looks like building a wheelchair ramp for someone who cannot do it themselves. It looks like sitting with children in a nursery, covering a ministry gap week after week. It looks like stopping in a hallway to pray with someone who is hurting. Every act of service, however small it seems, is a reflection of the God who knelt on the floor with a towel and a basin.
The New Commandment
As the evening continued and Judas slipped out into the night, Jesus turned to his remaining disciples and gave them something he called a new commandment. The command itself was not entirely new — love for neighbor runs through the pages of the Old Testament. What made it new was the standard attached to it. He did not say to love one another as you love yourselves. He said to love one another as he had loved them.
That raises the bar to an almost impossible height. His love was sacrificial, patient, persistent, and unconditional. It held on through misunderstanding, through betrayal, through denial, through every failure his disciples would ever commit. That is the love his followers are called to put on display.
And then he told them why it matters beyond the walls of their own fellowship. In John 13:35, he said that all people would know his disciples by the love they have for one another. The watching world is drawn not primarily by polished programs or impressive buildings, but by communities of people who genuinely, visibly, sacrificially love each other.
The Invitation
The message woven through John 13 is both simple and searching. Jesus served. Jesus loved. And he calls those who follow him to do the same.
The question worth sitting with is this: what would it look like, in your specific life, in your specific community, to pick up the towel?
That image is not just a historical curiosity. It is a window into the heart of God, and it carries a direct challenge for every person who claims to follow Jesus.
He Knew, and He Came Anyway
John 13 opens with a detail that deserves far more attention than it usually receives. Before describing what Jesus did, John tells us that Jesus knew. He knew his hour had come. He knew what awaited him — the betrayal, the arrest, the brutality, the cross. And John adds something almost unbearably tender: having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
He did not serve his disciples out of ignorance. He did not lay down his life by accident. He walked into it with his eyes wide open, fully aware of the cost, and he did it because of love. Not a sentimental, surface-level love, but a love that was willing to go all the way to death for the sake of those he called his own.
The theologian Karl Barth, one of the most scholarly minds of the twentieth century, was once asked what the greatest theological truth in the Bible was. His answer was not some complex doctrinal formulation. He said it was this: Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. That simple truth, properly understood, is not childish. It is staggering. The eternal Son of God looks at broken, wandering, stubborn human beings and says, this one is mine.
The Towel and the Basin
When Jesus rose from supper, removed his outer garments, and began washing his disciples' feet, he was doing something that no one in that room expected. In the culture of the day, foot-washing was the task of the lowest servant in a household. Guests arriving from dusty roads with sandaled feet needed their feet cleaned, and someone had to do it. But that someone was never the rabbi. Never the master.
Peter's reaction captures what all of them must have felt. Lord, do you wash my feet? It is the sound of a man genuinely scandalized by what he is witnessing. And Jesus tells him plainly that if he refuses to be washed, he has no share with him. Once again Peter overcorrects, asking for a full bath, and Jesus gently redirects him. The one who has already bathed is clean. He only needs his feet washed.
There is a word of grace buried in that exchange. Those who have placed their faith in Jesus are already clean. The work of salvation is not something we repeat every time we stumble. But we do walk through a dusty world, and we do need the ongoing cleansing that comes through confession and repentance. As 1 John 1:9 assures us, God is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us when we bring our failures to him honestly.
An Example, Not Just a Memory
After washing their feet and returning to his place at the table, Jesus asked his disciples a pointed question: do you understand what I have done to you? Then he explained it directly. He was their teacher and their Lord, and if he had washed their feet, they were to wash one another's feet. He was not instituting a new ritual. He was setting a pattern for how his followers were to treat each other and the world around them.
The principle he stated is simple but demanding. A servant is not greater than his master. If the Son of God served, his followers serve. And then he added the promise: if you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. The blessing is not in understanding the concept. It is in living it out.
This is not abstract theology. It looks like showing up every Monday night to serve at a local mission, even when the drive is long. It looks like building a wheelchair ramp for someone who cannot do it themselves. It looks like sitting with children in a nursery, covering a ministry gap week after week. It looks like stopping in a hallway to pray with someone who is hurting. Every act of service, however small it seems, is a reflection of the God who knelt on the floor with a towel and a basin.
The New Commandment
As the evening continued and Judas slipped out into the night, Jesus turned to his remaining disciples and gave them something he called a new commandment. The command itself was not entirely new — love for neighbor runs through the pages of the Old Testament. What made it new was the standard attached to it. He did not say to love one another as you love yourselves. He said to love one another as he had loved them.
That raises the bar to an almost impossible height. His love was sacrificial, patient, persistent, and unconditional. It held on through misunderstanding, through betrayal, through denial, through every failure his disciples would ever commit. That is the love his followers are called to put on display.
And then he told them why it matters beyond the walls of their own fellowship. In John 13:35, he said that all people would know his disciples by the love they have for one another. The watching world is drawn not primarily by polished programs or impressive buildings, but by communities of people who genuinely, visibly, sacrificially love each other.
The Invitation
The message woven through John 13 is both simple and searching. Jesus served. Jesus loved. And he calls those who follow him to do the same.
The question worth sitting with is this: what would it look like, in your specific life, in your specific community, to pick up the towel?
Posted in Guest Speakers