I spent a little time at Light City this weekend...that's right...Light City. One of the sketchiest little shopping strips around the ninth ward that's since been converted to a camp for disaster relief workers. Hundreds of college kids are staying there this week, sleeping on cots shoulder to shoulder, using port-o-lets and community tent showers (when they work), and standing in line for hours waiting to get a hot dog and a bowl of crunchy rice. The inside of the building is bare...stripped down to nearly the studs...but amazingly enough, they all just seemed to buzz with excitement...itching to get started on their assignments.
It's been like this since I've been home. Week after week I meet more and more people flooding in to do some sort of relief work. And it overwhelms me every time. But it also makes me a little sad.
Let me just say that I hate for people to touch my feet...absolutely hate it. I will touch their feet with little hesitation, but when it comes to mine, steer clear.
So what does this have to do with disaster relief workers and Light City and why it all makes me a little sad? John 13:1-17...that's what. This passage has been on my mind for a while now, and yesterday my Sunday School teacher focused on it for the lesson. He spoke to these college students about washing feet...being servants...humbling themselves. What he didn't realize was that he was speaking the inverse of that directly to me.
It's a call that's been growing quietly in my heart for a while..."Sarah, let them wash your feet." I already told you...I don't want my feet to be touched...literally and figuratively. You see, I'm usually the one on the other side of that soup kitchen line, hammering nails, cleaning up. I'm usually the one serving...it's what I love to do. But now...now I'm having to learn the other side of that coin. I'm having to learn to let down my guard enough and allow people to do the same for me.
That means being vulnerable. Letting people in further than usual. Allowing them to see the mess. And that's what scares me.
Over and over again in the past six months, people have extended love and grace, and I haven't been able to give a thing back. All I can do is say thank you. And that's a new place for me. But a friend of mine put it in perspective for me the other day. He said that now we can truly understand God's love and God's grace. We didn't do anything to earn it or deserve it...all we did was need. All we do is need. And all we can do is say thank you.
So here are my feet, y'all. Here are the feet of my city. They aren't pretty and they certainly aren't clean...but thank you for washing them anyway.
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