I clean my kitchen every day. Somehow, it doesn't stay clean, but I constantly clean the kitchen. The bathrooms . . . well, I wait until they are really disgusting or company is coming over. Laundry, on the other hand, is a dreaded task that must be done weekly. Ugh. I'm trying to be better about this so that Andrew doesn't ask me at 4:30 in the morning, while he's getting ready for work, if there are any clean underware in the house (TMI, sorry).
I was reading this morning about how Jesus washed the disciples' feet. I was thinking, "Yeah, I get it. We are supposed to serve each other. It's not like we are supposed to actually wash other people's feet - that's just not what we do now." Then, I started a load of laundry. For the 6,537th time, Andrew left all of his nasty socks inside out or crumpled up. I. HATE. THIS. I rarely gripe at him about it because I try really hard not to gripe at Andrew about too many things, or he will just get overwhelmed and give up. But I really hate nasty, inside out, crumpled socks. Gross.
In the past, I have just washed them all crumpled up, but they come out of the wash even worse - still wet (since they couldn't dry properly) and usually still dirty and getting all my clean clothes dirty as well. So, as I am uncrumpling and turning Andrew's socks right-side out, I realized that this is what Jesus was talking about. I love my husband in a variety of ways, but I have a choice with these socks. I can gripe and wish I could call Andrew and chew him out about the socks, or I can remember that the King of Kings, on the night he was betrayed, set aside His glory and washed nasty feet.
Thank You, Lord, for Your never-ending patience with me and giving me visible reminders of what You have done for me. May I love You enough to love others in the same, nasty, crumpled way.