It’s the last meal before the crucifixion. Judas is about to leave to finish arranging the betrayal. Peter is hours from denying he ever knew Jesus, and every man at the table will run before the night is over. Jesus knows all of it.
And here is what he does. He gets up from the table, takes off his outer garment, wraps a towel around his waist, pours water into a basin, and begins to wash their feet.
If you’ve ever wondered about the meaning of Jesus washing feet, and what it has to do with the ordinary work of serving, John 13 is one of the most important passages in the Bible for anyone who volunteers.
How low this was
We’ve lost the shock of it. Foot-washing in the first century wasn’t a sweet gesture. Roads were dirt, people wore sandals, and feet were filthy. Washing them was a job for the lowest household servant, so menial that even devoted students were not expected to do it for their teacher.
So when the teacher, the rabbi, the one the disciples had called Lord, knelt down with a towel, it was a lot more than unexpected. Picture a CEO scrubbing the office floors while his managers sit there and watch. Peter’s reaction makes sense: “You shall never wash my feet” (John 13:8).
Look at what Jesus knew first
Before John tells us what Jesus did, he tells us what Jesus knew:
“Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper” (John 13:3–4).
That unlocks the whole scene. Jesus wasn’t serving because he had nothing better to do, or because he was trying to earn a place, or because someone guilted him into it. His identity was completely secure. He knew who he was and where he came from and where he was going, and precisely because of that security, he was free to take the lowest place in the room.
He served from strength and by choice, and not out of weakness or necessity. The one who held all things in his hands got on his knees and washed dirty feet. Love moved him downward.
Why insecure people struggle to serve low
So why does this matter if you volunteer? Because insecurity makes certain jobs feel threatening.
If you need people to see you as competent, you’ll avoid the jobs that don’t show off your skill. If your worth depends on your role, you’ll guard your role. If you’re still trying to prove something, sweeping the floor feels like a demotion.
Think of a skilled volunteer, good at what he does, who tends to steer clear of cleanup and parts runs and holding the flashlight for someone else. He isn’t lazy so much as protecting something. The low jobs feel like they say something about who he is.
Jesus shows the way out, and it doesn’t involve trying harder to be humble. You get so settled in who you are before God that no job can threaten it. If you’re loved and forgiven and adopted and held by the Father, what’s left to protect? The towel can’t make you smaller.
“Just as I have done to you”
After he finishes, Jesus sits back down and explains:
“If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you” (John 13:14–15).
Just as. That’s a lot stronger than “similar to” or “inspired by.” The standard is Jesus himself.
I see volunteers come closest to that when they stop serving at a comfortable level and start asking what it would look like to give the way Jesus gave. At The Garage at Living Faith, I think of Kevin, who has driven customers home late and come back the next morning to finish a four-day job alone. I think of Chuck, our lead mechanic, showing up to lead a session while carrying pain from home. I think of Doug, with forty years of expertise, giving his skills away for free week after week.
None of them are trying to be Jesus. They’re following him, and following him means taking the towel.
What this asks of you
Here are a few questions to sit with, whether you serve in a garage or a kitchen or a church nursery.
- Is there a role I’ve avoided because it feels beneath my skill level? What would it mean to take it willingly?
- Where does my sense of worth actually come from when I serve? From the job, or from who I am in Christ?
- What does “love moves downward” look like in my specific role?
Then do something concrete. This week, do one job nobody wants, like cleaning the bathroom or taking out the trash or sweeping up after everyone leaves. Do it on purpose, before anyone asks, and don’t mention it.
Pay attention to what happens inside you. If it stings a little, that’s worth noticing. If it feels like freedom, you’re starting to understand the towel.
This is the fourth chapter of Full Service, my book for volunteers. If you lead a team, the free leader’s guide has discussion questions for this chapter and every other, ready for your next team meeting.
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