Hey, Cobblestone,
Some dude has a cooler tattoo than you. I haven’t met the
dude myself, but I saw a pic of his tat lately, and it’s cooler than yours.
“Judas ate too.”
Now before the
Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to
depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were
in the world, he loved them to the end. During supper, when the devil
had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray
him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his
hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to
God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a
towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a
basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel
that was wrapped around him (John 13:1-5).
How many feet did Jesus wash? Twenty-four: the text leads us
to understand Jesus washed the feet of all twelve disciples, including Judas,
the betrayer. Doesn’t it stink that Jesus got snookered into washing the feet
of the very one who would turn him over to his enemies? No, it doesn’t stink,
because Jesus didn’t get snookered: For
he knew who was to betray him… (verse 11).
How many mouths did Jesus fill at the Last Supper? One:
though all the disciples shared in the Passover meal, one was singled out for
special treatment. So when he had dipped
the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot (verse
26). What Jesus did was as close to spoon-feeding as one can get with the
materials on hand. Why would he do such a thing?
This is now the second installment in the “Apprenticeship”
series of letters. Bad stuff happens really fast when we strike out on our own
and make up a bunch of hacks as we go. Far better to serve an apprenticeship
with someone who knows the way. And when the skill to be acquired is
forgiveness, there is no better study than with the Master of forgiveness.
Trust the process, Church. Jesus says forgiveness works.
Watch what he does in the Gospels, what he says from the cross. He forgives on
purpose. He forgives with purpose, to
show us how and why. He picks the very last thing our fallen nature wants to
do, and says to do that very thing. He even taught us to pray about
forgiveness: in particular, to ask the Father to forgive our sins as we forgive
those who sin against us.
The hardest lessons I’ve had from the Lord have been on forgiveness.
The best lessons I’ve had from the Lord… same subject. It’s been a long and
arduous apprenticeship. If I can save some of you a few twists and fruitless
turns in your journey, I will. I can pray for relief from any malady; I can
plead for deliverance from any dilemma; but when I practice actual forgiveness,
it’s like the Lord puts the hammer and chisel in my hands, I pound through the
shackles, and I am free.
If this letter were embedded in a self-help book, this is the
paragraph that would begin to lay out all the necessary steps for accomplishing
forgiveness. Not today. Not ever. Wasted time, wasted words. I could
three-point it, alliterate it, give it a clever acronym, but your flesh would
still struggle, your mind protest, and you would invent a thousand reasons why
anything but forgiveness is called for. Been there, done that. The best I can
tell you is: Make forgiveness happen, in the power of the Holy Spirit.
Knowing who would betray him – knowing it as surely as if it
had already happened – Jesus still invited Judas to the table, washed his feet.
Judas ate too.
Watch the Master. Study him, copy him. Make his ways your
own. You might even ask him what your next tat should be.
Grace and Peace (to break every chain),
John
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