On Thursday night, despite the Cyclone Tam, I attended the Maundy Thursday service at the church instead of staying home to watch it online. To be honest, my intention was simple—I just wanted to receive communion, since that’s something you can’t experience online.
I’ve heard the story of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet countless times. I thought this time would be no different—just going through the motions. But who would have known that night, my heart would ripple like water stirred by wind? Not because of the wind outside—though it was indeed frighteningly loud—but because of a question the pastor asked during his sermon.
Rev James stood at the pulpit and said, “Have you ever wondered why Jesus didn’t wash the disciples’ feet as soon as they entered the room? That would have been the most logical time, wouldn’t it?”
This question made me sit up straight—both physically and mentally.
It turns out, Jesus was waiting.
Waiting until all the disciples were seated, until the meal was underway, until the atmosphere in the room had relaxed, and even—until they started arguing again about “who was the greatest.” It was at this moment of peak ego that Jesus didn’t frown or roll His eyes. He simply rose quietly, took off His outer robe, poured water, picked up a towel, and knelt down to wash their feet, one by one.
In Jewish culture, foot washing was something only servants did—the lowliest of tasks. Yet the Lord Jesus did precisely this. And He said, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with me.”
At that moment, my heart skipped a beat. It turned out that He wasn’t washing feet according to standard procedure; He was waiting for the moment that could “most deeply enter people’s hearts.”
What Jesus washed was not just feet, but the dirtiest, most shameful, most hidden parts of people’s hearts—the parts they least want others to see.
Lord, I am willing to be cleansed by You. Originally, I only came to receive communion, hoping to draw a little closer to the Lord through this act. I am ashamed, I repent…
With a heart deeply touched by Jesus’ love, I walked to the communion table, profoundly moved.
That night’s sermon, the bread and cup I received, the a cappella singing of the choir, the lighting arranged in the church, and the howling wind outside the window—all seemed to repeatedly remind me: Jesus’ humble and intimate love has never left and has never ceased.