The Feet

One of the young people hurt his foot during a kid’s club we recently held.

He took off one shoe and sock for me to diagnose with my limited knowledge of first aid. I was pretty sure that he was fine but thought it might have been a little swollen so asked him to take his sock off the other foot to  compare them. 

I deemed him fit to return to the games and told him he could put his shoes back on, but he said to me “Would you do it?” I thought it a strange request, as in my opinion he was more than capable of doing this job on his own. He wasn’t that young. But, being surprised (Note: Surprising me is apparently the best way to talk me into something) at the request, I replied “sure” and picked up his socks. 

Sopping.

Wet.

Socks.

Sometimes when holding an item of clothing you just know it was not fresh on that morning. That feeling of somehow being both moist and crunchy beneath your fingers at the same time. That was these socks. 

I almost dropped them and made some excuse as to why he should do it himself. But instantly my mind was taken back to the example of Jesus in the Gospels. Sitting at the feet of his disciples, washing them: dirty, stinky, smelly feet worn out from the rigors of Ancient Middle East travel. I’m sure if they had had socks they would have been crunchy too. 

Jesus served them, and my job is to serve young people like He did, not just through the offering of custard creams, games and stories, but loving them when they are hurt, putting on socks and shoes when they are sodden with sweat from Stick in the Mud. Not turning my nose up or thinking myself above the task or service. 

It’s not my natural inclination to serve in this way, but I look to and serve the one who laid aside His own comfort and rights, leading the way for me to follow.