You washed my feet…
…calloused from running away from my responsibilities.
…dirtied by my sins.
…bruised from all my wrong decisions.
…wounded by my unfaithfulness.
Yet the whole time, while washing them, not once did you grimace at my unworthiness. You kept your eyes on my face. You knew my sins, my faults, my mistakes and my future transgressions. And yet you kept washing. Determined, not only to cleanse me of my past, but to also assure me of my future.
That I too might do what you are doing.
To love. Unconditionally. Sacrificially. Eternally.