The Last Lesson: Why Jesus Chose to Wash Feet

I've been thinking a lot lately about last chances. If you knew you had just one evening left with the people you love most, what would you choose to teach them? What final lesson would be so important that everything else could wait?

Jesus faced exactly this scenario on a Thursday night over two thousand years ago. He had gathered about twenty people in a rented room—his twelve disciples and several women who had traveled with them throughout his ministry. These weren't sophisticated adults; most of the disciples were teenagers, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, with their mothers among the group.

Jesus knew this would be his final opportunity to prepare them for what was coming. By the next evening, he would be dead, and the future of everything he'd worked for would rest in their hands. The fate of mankind would depend on these twenty ordinary people.
So what did he choose to teach them in those precious final hours?
The art of service.

When the Host Became the Servant
Picture the scene: everything had been prepared to perfection. The table was set, the wine poured, the bread broken, the seating chart arranged. Jesus had spared no expense to create an elaborate feast for these people he loved. But there was one glaring oversight—something no conscientious host would ever forget.

In first-century culture, dinner guests didn't sit in chairs; they reclined on their sides with their feet extended. And those feet had walked the same dusty, animal-soiled streets that donkeys, horses, and camels had traveled. Without modern shoes or paved roads, guests' feet were caked with the grime of the day.

That's why every respectable gathering had a servant stationed at the door with a basin of water, ready to wash each guest's feet before they entered. It was as essential as hanging up coats is today.

But when the guests arrived that night, there was no foot-washer.

I can imagine the awkward whispers: "How could the Son of God forget such a basic thing?" Then came the gasps as Jesus himself took off his outer robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and knelt down to wash their feet.

The Power of Getting Low
Why did Jesus do this? Why did his friend John consider this moment so significant that he devoted half a chapter of his precious Gospel to telling this story?

Because Jesus understood something profound: of all the ways to spend your time, the most effective way is to serve people, because serving people will change their lives.

Even as I get older, I still know my mama loves me because whenever I visit her house, she fixes me breakfast. It's not her words that convince me—it's her service. That's how love works. We don't just tell people we care; we prove it by serving them.

Even a one-year-old figures out that mom and dad love him by watching them bring meals, change diapers, and give baths. A dog knows his master loves him through food, walks, and play. Somehow, even in our dense human brains, we recognize love through acts of service.

Jesus knew this. He knew that since the dawn of history, men and women were meant to serve. It's what we were made for.

Three Reasons to Take the Towel
As I've studied this passage, I've discovered three compelling reasons why Jesus chose service as his final lesson:

First, serving shows the full extent of our love. John writes that Jesus "showed them the full extent of his love" through this act. If I want to demonstrate love to my wife, my children, or even my neighbors, I serve them. It's the most tangible way to show someone they matter.

Second, serving flows from security, not insecurity. John carefully notes that "Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God." Jesus wasn't threatened by performing the most menial task at his own banquet because he was secure in his identity.

Here's something I've learned: the better you feel about yourself, the easier it is to stoop down. And the more you stoop down, the better you feel about yourself. Only strong people serve. Weak people can't handle the thought that others might see them as subservient.

Third, serving bonds us to people, to the cause, and to God. When Peter initially resisted having his feet washed, Jesus told him, "Unless I wash you, you have no part in me." Service creates connection. It builds bridges. It weaves our hearts together with the people we serve and the God we follow.

The Volunteer Revolution
Here's what many people don't realize: Jesus built his entire movement on volunteers. He could have chosen any number of strategies. He could have been a solo act, hired professional staff, or required mandatory service from his followers. Instead, he chose to advance God's kingdom primarily through ordinary people volunteering their time and talents.

This wasn't an accident. From the early church in Acts to Paul's instructions about spiritual gifts, the entire New Testament assumes that ministry happens through unpaid servants using their God-given abilities to bless others.

Yet somehow, many churches today have drifted from this biblical model. They've created a consumer culture where people shop for churches based on what programs and services are offered to them, rather than asking, "How can I serve?"

Paul, arguably the greatest Christian leader of all time, consistently introduced himself as a "servant" or "bondservant of Jesus Christ." That was his fundamental identity. Not CEO, not celebrity, not even "apostle"—servant.

Grace Delivered Person to Person
Here's the beautiful truth I've discovered: God's primary method of delivering grace to his children today is through his other children serving them. When we serve according to our spiritual gifts, we become conduits of God's love to a world that desperately needs it.
The Greek word for grace is charis. The word for spiritual gift is charisma—because we who have experienced grace get to be givers of grace to others through our service.
God uses no backup plan. In our day and age, he has asked his servants to communicate the full extent of his love through serving and sharing. He gives us internal assistance through spiritual gifts, but his delivery system is us.

Taking the Towel
At the end of that Thursday night, after Jesus had finished washing feet and explaining his actions, he wrapped the towel around his arm, looked at his followers, and said, "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you."

He couldn't have been clearer: "I took the towel. Now you take the towel."

This isn't just a nice suggestion or an optional add-on to faith. Jesus expects his followers to serve. He can't imagine the world working any other way. It's the very reason he came—to give life in all its fullness, and fullness involves service.

I think about that often as I navigate my own busy life. Why should I make time to serve others? Because it shows the full extent of my love. Because I'm secure enough in who I am to get on my knees. Because it bonds me to people, to God's cause, and to God himself.
And because somewhere, in the mystery of divine grace, my simple acts of service become God's way of touching someone else's life.

Jesus knew that serving people changes their lives. But here's what I've discovered in my own journey: it changes the servant's life too. Every time I pick up the towel—whether it's helping a neighbor, volunteering at church, or simply making breakfast for someone I love—I become a little more like the man who knelt down and washed feet on his final night.
That's a transformation worth living for.

Of all the ways to spend your time, the most effective way is to serve people. Because serving people will change their lives—and yours.