This past Sunday, I preached on the “foot-washing passage” from the end of John’s Gospel (video here).

Just before his betrayal, Jesus takes up the basin and the towel to demonstrate the full extent of servant-hearted love. He washes the filthy feet of those who will soon abandon him.

Yet when Christ comes to Peter, Jesus is rebuked for an outrageous violation of decorum.

After all, foot-washing was reserved for servants, not Messiahs.

            “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet” (Jn. 13.8).

To allow such an embarrassing breach of etiquette would be akin to hosting the Queen of England at your house, and then asking her to do the dishes and the laundry.

But Jesus’ response is clear:

“Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

While there are many lessons to be gleaned from the passage, I chose to focus on this single moment: the embarrassing breach of “cultural decorum.”

My point was that while “decorum” (i.e., a concern for respectable appearances) is often a good thing, it is not always so. And in some cases, it may actually keep us from experiencing God’s grace.

In this way, decorum is the unrepented sin of the “respectable.” It is the sin of the suburbs—because we value appearance over healing.

Thus the strange, and apparently heretical title: “Decorum: the Unforgivable Sin.”

To be clear, I don’t think any sin is unforgivable from God’s perspective. Still, there are certain attitudes that lead to a lack of repentance and forgiveness from our side—because we refuse to set aside a concern for “respectable appearances” (decorum), and give Jesus access to our “dirt.”

To be served and known (and touched!) like this can be embarrassing and awkward.

Yet while Peter thinks he is honoring Christ by withholding his smelly feet, he is actually cutting himself off from grace.

“Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

How often do we do that?

“If I admitted that I have a problem, an addiction, or a hidden darkness in my life… then folks would never look at me the same.  After all, I am a respected member of the community. What kind of message would that send? I’ll work on it alone.”

“If I admitted the extent to which I’m struggling with depression, suicidal thoughts, or crushing loneliness, it would be embarrassing for all of us. And after all, it can be awkward to share such things, even with a pastor or a friend.”

“If I approached someone and asked for prayer—specific prayer—for what’s really going on, they might think less of me.  Or worse yet, they might think that I just want attention. ‘God helps those who help themselves.’”

Respectfully, I call “bull.”

(Even if that violates your sense of pastoral decorum.)

To be sure, there are breaks in etiquette that are problematic–even sinful. “TMI” can be a problem. And there are ways of sharing struggles (publicly, with the wrong person, or in the wrong way) that are inappropriate. Obviously.

But none of that changes the fact that, in some cases, spiritual healing depends upon a willingness to risk embarrassment, to be served, to be known, and to give Christ (and his appropriate representatives) access to our “dirt.”

“Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”

After all, only those who have experienced God’s servant-hearted grace can pass it on to others.

 


<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/284719005″>Decorum: The unforgivable sin</a> from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/user16738618″>Grace Community Church</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

 

Thanks to all those who shared their embarrassing moments to help with my sermon intro! Apologies that I only had time for a few of them.


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