I played sand volleyball tonight. Barefoot, naturally. And I got a little competitive. Also expected. Consequently, I came home with feet and shins healthily discolored from the wealth of souvenir sand they had acquired. Eventually, my pale white skin returned to sight after a warm shower with lots of soap. Though much cleaner, my left leg still sports some scraping and a tender bruise, and a few toenails still harbor a trace of dirt beneath. As I brushed my teeth and dressed for bed, I got to thinking: I did an okay job washing my feet, but really not the best. Then I started thinking about Christ, when He took to washing His disciples' feet. I thought of how His cleansing hands and process would far exceed my own. He would not cut corners, He would not settle for "almost" or "good enough." He would attentively ensure that each toe was clean and cared for. That is who He is. I thought about repentance, and how I sometimes want to call it good after a half-hearted effort, or at the first sign of opposition. Maybe I don't have time right now. Maybe I don't have the energy. Maybe I think, "God understands, I can let it slide this one time." But that's me, giving in to my carnal imperfections and settling for dirty toenails. That's not how Christ works. He asks us to give ALL. TO LET HIM CLEANSE US. That's right, He will do the cleansing! He is the Master Cleanser. But we must choose to allow Him. I'm grateful for the Lord's chastisements, and for subtle reminders like this that I am constantly in need of my Savior's divine assistance. Without Him, I am nothing. With Him, I am capable of all. And most importantly, I know I can be made clean.
