More Than A Ritual Series

On the night before he was betrayed, Jesus washed his disciples feet. This was a menial task, a task performed only by the very lowest house slave. And his disciples were shocked. They weren’t objecting to having their feet washed - far from it. It was the sort of courtesy a good host would make sure to provide for his guests. But they were shocked that Jesus would do it.

And then he shocked them even further by telling them that they, too, were going to have to wash each others’ feet. “A servant,” he said, “is not above his master.”

Well, eventually they did understand it, and for the next two thousand years followers of Christ have done what no one had ever done before, that we know of, in the history of the world: that is, gone voluntarily into places of poverty and danger and filth and disease, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, casting out demons, comforting the lonely and the dying, adopting unwanted children left on hillsides to die, establishing orphanages and hospitals and schools, until we take this kind of institution almost for granted. All civilized societies, we think, should provide these things. So it is no longer shocking to be called to serve in these ways. It may still be unusual, but people like Father Damien and Mother Teresa and Albert Schweitzer are admired by Christians and non-Christians alike.

What is shocking, in our day, is to be called to submit. It takes the same attitude that Jesus had, on that long-ago night, going completely against the cultural imperative. It was in the 60's, I think, that the slogan “Question authority” first became popular. Tommy Smothers once quoted it on the O’Reilly Factor - any of you remember the Smothers Brothers? It was really a treat seeing them again, even though their politics aren’t mine. But that idea that no-one has any right to tell anyone else what to do has taken deep root in our society. Teachers are supposed to help children "find their own truth," not guide them along paths of wisdom painstakingly carved out of the moral and intellectual wilderness that undisciplined humanity creates for itself. Pastors aren’t supposed to imply that one way of interpreting Scripture is any more valid than any other. And the idea that God might actually ask his people to do something difficult or dangerous or painful really offends people who assume the abundant life Jesus promises involves sleeping until noon and never having your pipes freeze.

But that’s not how it works. In order to be at peace with God we have to practice submission. We must submit to God, and we must also submit to the authorities whom God has appointed - unless, of course, those authorities are asking you to abandon or disobey God.

Submission isn’t hard to understand, it’s just hard to do. Some of us, like me, will want to do the opposite of what we’re told out of sheer contrariness; it’s ten times harder to take orders when you don’t like the orders we’ve been given.

But James says that the only way to get close to God is to submit. And that submission process begins with confession. “Cleanse your hands, you sinners,” he says, “and purify your hearts, you double-minded.” [v. 8b]

The first step to fellowship with God is to acknowledge our sinfulness, both the sins we commit with our hands, and the sins we commit in our hearts and minds. It’s easy to see and be sorry for the obvious sins, like yelling at our kids or fudging the expenses on our tax returns. But it’s a lot harder to deal with the sins of our hearts and minds. And that is where being “double-minded” comes in.

For hundreds of years it was an annual practice for kings and bishops, people with power and wealth and position and prestige, to set a day aside each year to wash the feet of a beggar or two - maybe even a dozen - to place themselves in the tradition of the Master and to demonstrate that they were really humble at heart. But the next day they would go right back to sitting on their thrones, or wherever they wielded their power, and the beggar at the gate would be forgotten until the next year rolled around.

And, for far too many people, the Saturday night sacrament of confession became just the same sort of thing. The foot-washing wasn’t real service, and the confession wasn’t real repentance. It was a token appearance to keep up membership in the club.

Confession is the first step to fellowship with God. But if it stops there, it is meaningless. “Yeah, God, you’re right, but don’t change me, it’s too scary - or uncomfortable - or something.” Confession has to include being willing for God to change you.