Good Friday

Last night we celebrated Good Friday. We had a family meal together and read, the account in the gospel, of Jesus at the last supper with his disciples. Dave and I got down and washed our children's feet, encouraging them to go and do likewise. It always surprises me how some of us fight being served. One child refused to remove his socks. A Peter among us asked Dave to wash his hands as well as his feet. It's a vulnerable place. To hand someone your filthy foot and try not to anticipate judgement.

Five or so years ago Dave and I took the kids out to dinner for Good Friday. We had a large gift card to the restaurant so we let everyone order lavishly. Order, like they wouldn't have to pay for it. To our surprise, the gift card that we gave our waiter had never been activated. We had lived largely and had a debt to pay. Thankfully, Dave had money in the car and we were able to leave without washing any dishes. 

I'll never forget the the unwillingness of my child to uncover his foot.

I'll never forget sitting at a table and being told that what I thought would cover my debt, couldn't. 

I'll never forget the moment I realized I needed a Savior, my debt was discovered, my filthiness exposed. 

So we remember. 

A life full of moments that we entered into the life of Jesus, and He entered into ours. 

And we celebrate.

Because Good Friday, really is Good.

The world in resurrection!

Good Friday hike. Getting our clean feet dirty.