This one follows the story from Tuesday’s post. The story goes on to tell of Jesus sharing the Passover meal with his friends, and arriving at the dining room to find an awkward social faux pas has been committed.
The Dust and the Bowl All things under him, He looked: The room prepared, The table all laid out, But the bowl for our feet, Awkwardly, Not there. All things under him, He rose, Took the towel – The uniform of one much lower – Wrapped it around his waist, And filled the bowl left, Embarrassingly, Empty. All things under him, He came, To me, as to the others, Gestured Towards my feet As if to wash them, and I rose, Uncomfortably, Protested: No, my lord, you shall not wash My feet. I should Be the one who washes you! But then a flash – a moment in My memory – some water and A ragged man up to his waist: No, my lord, you should be The one baptising me! The answer then, as now, The same, that way he had Of shaking all Our expectations, Showing, shaking all the muck That lay inside our muted pride, Displaying it, for grace to see. And so he knelt, All things under him, And washed My soiled feet And with them all The dust of my misplaced pride.- Comment
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The Consolations of Writing 
Beautiful Matt
Beautiful poem Matt I love the site
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