"So He got up from the table, took off His robe, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured water into a basin. Then He began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel He had around Him." John 13:4-5
What a matchless picture of humility! At the very moment when His throne was in view—angel-anthems floating in His ear—the hour come "when He was to depart out of this world"—possessing a lofty consciousness of His peerless dignity, that "He came from God and went to God;" THEN "Jesus took a towel, and girded Himself, and began to wash the disciples' feet!" All heaven was ready at that moment to cast their combined crowns at His feet. But the High and the Lofty One inhabiting eternity is on earth "as one that serves!" "That infinite stoop! it sinks all creature humiliation to nothing, and renders it impossible for a creature to humble himself."—(Evans.)
Humility follows Him, from His unhonored birthplace to His borrowed grave. It throws a subdued splendor over all he did. "The poor in spirit"—the "mourner"—the "meek"—claim His first beatitudes. He was severe only to one class—those who looked down upon others. However He is employed; whether performing His works of miraculous power, or receiving angel-visitants, or taking little children in His arms, He stands forth "clothed with humility." No, this humility becomes more conspicuous as He draws nearer glory. Before His death, He calls His disciples "Friends;" subsequently, it is "Brethren," "Children." How sad the contrast between the Master and His disciples! Two hours had not elapsed after He washed their feet, when "there was a strife among those who should be the greatest!"
Let the mental image of that lowly Redeemer be ever bending over us. His example may well speak in silent impressiveness, bringing us down from our pedestal of pride. There surely can be no labor of love too humiliating when He stooped so low. Let us be content to take the humblest place—not envious of the success or exaltation of another; not, "like Diotrephes, loving pre-eminence;" but willing to be thought little of; saying with the Baptist, with our eye on our Lord, "He must increase, but I must decrease!"
How much we have cause to be humble for!—the constant cleaving of defilement to our souls; and even what is partially good in us, how mixed with imperfection, self-seeking, arrogance, vain-glory! A proud Christian is a contradiction in terms. The Seraphim of old (type of the Christian Church, and of believers) had six wings—two were for errands of love but "with four he covered himself!" It has been beautifully said, "You lie nearest the River of Life when you bend to it; you cannot drink, but as you stoop." The corn of the field, as it ripens, bows its head; so, the Christian, as he ripens in the divine life, bends in this lowly grace. Christ speaks of His people as "lilies"—they are "lilies of the Valley," they can only grow in the shade!
"Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God." "Go" with what Rutherford calls "a low sail." It is the livery of your blessed Master; the family badge—the family likeness. "With this man will I dwell, even with him that is humble." Yes! the humble, sanctified heart is God's second Heaven!
"Arm yourselves likewise with the same mind."
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