Ever year, on the Thursday before Easter, the church gathers to hear the account of the Last Supper, and to re-enact the washing of the disciples’ feet.  As priest of the parish, I kneel with a towel in my lap. One by one, people come forward for me to wash their feet. It’s a dramatic moment, spiritually rich, and packed with meaning.

But let’s be honest, it’s also uncomfortable.

I have a sneaking suspicion that nobody really enjoys this event. I doubt people anticipate the celebration of the foot washing with joy and glee. The foot washing is a liturgy that is both uncomfortable to do, and uncomfortable to receive. But the discomfort inherent in this act is part of the point.

In the first century, washing someone’s feet was a duty reserved for the lowest of slaves. To wash someone’s feet was to declare yourself at the bottom of the social order. It was not something a Rabbi would do, let alone the Messiah himself. And so, when Jesus wrapped a towel around his waste, and began to caress the cracked and travel-worn feet of the disciples, he does the unthinkable. No one around that table would have felt at ease.

I wonder what the disciples thought as they realized what was occurring. Did they try to gussy themselves up in that moment?  Did Andrew try to pre-emptively wipe off the dust that clung to his soles? Did Bartholomew slyly drip water on his toes so they would not be as dirty when Jesus approached?  We know that Peter initially rejected Christ’s offering all together. “You will never wash my feet!” he cries. For Peter, the holiness of Jesus was too far above the blisters of his imperfect life.

As disciples of Jesus, we come face to face with our own discomfort. Do we attempt to cover the dirt of our lives before the one who comes to wash us, and make us whole?  Do we attempt to mask the hurts, the mistakes, the sins? Like tidying up before the house cleaners come, do we try to cover over the messiness of our lives lest Jesus see our truest needs?  Do we assume that the dirt on our soles makes us unredeemable, or unlovable?

Washing the disciples feet, as uncomfortable as it may have been, communicated the radical nature of Christ’s love. Instead of a thunderous expression of strength or divine might, Jesus models audacious humility. In love, Jesus reaches down to the lowest place, setting aside his all glory and honor. Just as the divine glory is set aside in the incarnation, here, the glory of Christ’s own humanity, as Rabbi, Messiah, and King, is set aside in an act of humble service. What is more, no one was immune. Christ moved around the table, reaching out to all. He took their dirt upon himself. Even Judas received this act of divine kindness.

The love of Jesus pushes us past our points of comfort. To base spiritual lives exclusively on comfort or ease is to miss out on some of the deepest experiences of grace, forgiveness, and mercy that Christ offers us. Often, it is from the places of our deepest need and discomfort that we find the transforming presence of Jesus. Our dirt does not drive him away; it draws him close.  Whether we identify with Peter (who tries hard but never seems to get things quite right), Thomas (who has a hard time getting over their doubts), or Judas (who boldly turns his back on Jesus), the hands of Jesus reach out to us.

Our life with Jesus isn’t always comfortable or clear. The good news is that Jesus calls us away from the routine and the safe, and into that which is radically new, and gloriously blessed. The question we ask ourselves, therefore, is not whether we are comfortable in our life with God, but whether we are being led deeper into Christ’s love. The foot washing was never, nor is ever, meant to be a comfortable experience, because our faith is never meant to be comfortable; but it is surrounded by love. “He loved them to the end” the scriptures say. To sidestep the former is to potentially miss out on the latter.

Instead of stepping away from times of discomfort, what might happen if you embraced it, or allowed the discomfort to lead you to Christ’s love or healing? Embracing discomfort involves allowing it to occur, letting it breathe within us. True, we may feel that this pushes us to our comfortable limits – but that might just be the place where we are graced to feel the loving hand of Jesus upon our life.