Beatrice and her family had invited us to share a meal in their home in the village. My husband and I gathered around the table. Our orientation leader had told us what to expect, so what happened next wasn’t a surprise. But it was unsettling. 

Beatrice entered the room. In one hand she held a plastic pitcher of water. In the other, she held an empty basin. Draped over her right forearm hung a small towel. 

She stood before my husband, seated beside me. Remembering what our orientation leader had taught us, he held his hands over the basin. Beatrice poured warm water over them as he rubbed them clean. She offered him the small towel and he dried his hands.  

Then, came my turn. I held my hands over the basin and she poured warm water. Beatrice went one by one, to each person around the table. Her face spoke kindness. Her actions spoke love. Her service spoke joy.  

Yet I struggled with wanting to serve rather than be served. 

I couldn’t help but think of Peter.  

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” John 13:8a 

No, you shall never wash my hands, Beatrice! Please, let me wash yours! Let me go to the water pump and wait in line and fill my jerry can with water, day after day. Let me carry it home, straining my neck and back as I balance it on my head. Let me warm the water on my kerosene burner. Let me do all this so I can serve you, pouring warm water over your hands as you hold them over the basin. And let me offer you a towel to dry them.  

Maybe, Peter needed to first learn to accept Jesus’ unhurried, sacrificial service before he could rightly serve others. Maybe I do too?  

I can’t help but think of Jesus.  

“After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” John 13:5