Before I start I must put forth a gentle apology…even though I care little about your personal feelings on the matter. Most of my writing hence forth, for a while at least, will be on the topic of what has happened this summer. It’s been my blood and breath for so long. I can’t help but scream to the world the incredible adventures I’ve had. These stories, however, are not entirely my own. They are our stories. This summer would have been nothing without God, and the wonderful people he blessed me with during my time in Glorieta, New Mexico. These stories are as much about me are about those I spent my summer with. So without further ado. I will now regale to you, my summer.

“I wonder if Jesus was ticklish. I wonder if Jesus, when Mary Magdalene poured the perfume over his feet and washed them with her hair, squirmed just a bit. I wonder if he tried to fight back the urge to kick, not out of anger or spite of course, but because it simply tickled.”

This is what I thought that night, as Amanda, one of my fellow co-workers, washed my feet. It was Thursday. And Thursday was the night of worship. Part of this night involved various stations that housed different mediums for worship and prayer. One of them, was the foot washing station, where you could take after the example of Christ and wash one another’s feet.

Almost no one ever offered to wash my feet. In fact, I think it was only Amanda and another fellow by the name of Zach who ended up washing my feet this summer. It was probably for the best that I was asked so seldom. Because I, well…to say the least, I have quite sensitive feet. Very sensitive. For example, if someone tackled me, held my foot down, removed my shoes and socks, and proceeded to tickle my feet without ceasing, I would scream like a little girl, laugh, cry, and eventually pee my pants.

But on this particular night, I had been struck with a sense of doubt. Self-doubt to be exact. I pondered my own inability, my own lack of discernment. “How can I take care of these kids” I thought to myself “I don’t understand what they’re going through, I don’t know how to approach them.” I thought over my own loneliness, my desire for companionship in the midst of crushing singleness. I thought of the pain a life of being alone would bring. I pondered my own past mistakes, the things I wish I could have done differently. All of this, was going through my head that night as three hundred people were gathered in worship, singing their hearts out and praying. And in the midst of these thoughts, I cried out to God. I asked for comfort. I asked that he take this pain and uncertainty away. And He quickly answered.

I had my eyes shut. She startled me with a gentle tap on the shoulder. I turned, wiping the tear streak from my face.

“Can I wash your feet?”

I sat in the chair, trying to keep from kicking Amanda in the jaw. As I sat there having water rubbed in between my toes, I pictured Jesus gently washing my feet, trying to keep from agitating my overly sensitive skin. I thanked God for this intimate demonstration of gratitude, this demonstration of love and consideration. “You’ve been such an encouragement these past few weeks, even when I was sick and tired” She told me. “You’re always so full of joy.”

God is so good. It’s incredible to see Him work in such incredible and unexpected ways. It’s amazing the mediums he uses to bring solace and comfort when it’s needed most. This summer, taught me the power of God, especially as He works through willing people. I learned that God gently prods us all the time to perform acts of love for those all around us. One of the youth pastors that I worked with this summer put it quite well. Garret, in talking about the Thursday night experience said “I love how you can just act. If you feel God calling you to do or say something, you can act upon it in that moment.” It’s with this thought that I begin to look at the world a little differently. God isn’t confined to a room, or a building, or a camp. He’s here, He’s everywhere. Why can’t I pray for the old lady sitting next to me at the airport, why can’t I thank the garbage man for taking out the trash, why can’t I offer to clean the toilet for the janitor? Is God really so limited?

Of course I’m being rhetorical.

I still wonder though. Was Jesus ticklish? I imagine no. I imagine he was most likely accustomed to his feet being poked and prodded by the rugged terrain of his day. I imagine he simply accepted the love of Mary in that moment. I imagine that it was a rather beautiful thing that happened.

For when God works, there is an unfathomable beauty in things.