I hear a whisper…

I hear a whisper…

by him kneeling at my feet.

“Unless I wash you, you have no share in Me.”

It is his feet that I should be washing, not He mine.

But, yet, I cannot.

It is as it is supposed to be.

A Messiah, a king turned humble servant.

Humility.

Unconditional love.

Can I accept this gift?

Do I take it without questioning?

Can I be loved unconditionally?

Can I be wrapped in that embrace?

Why do I resist?

Washing.

Washing of feet.

Can I take that out to others?

In the world so cold and hard,

can I lie in that embrace

and be

held?

Knowing that in

any

moment

betrayal,

heartache,

and

disappointment

awaits.

Search my heart

and

bear witness to the peace

I so seek.

Simply,

wash my feet.

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