To first century Jews, cleanliness was a big deal, with practical reasons blended with religious beliefs.

There were detailed instructions for how priests were to prepare themselves and vessels for temple use. There were then those—the Pharisees—who wanted to make those same ritual washing laws applicable to common life. The bottom life being that outward cleanliness was to be a marker of inward cleanliness.

Sometimes we resist the work of Jesus. Whether it’s conscious or not, whether we state it aloud or not, our inner response is, “No.”

Sometimes we expect more of Jesus than is necessary. Or more than he is offering. Our expectations can exceed his good purposes.

For anyone seeking to live a spiritual life is, “What is God up to in my life.” I often ask it to those that I pastor, especially when I get them one-on-on: “What is God up to in your life?” Or, if they are going through some sort of particular rough patch in life, “What do you think God is doing in you during this season?” I find it to be a great, open-ended doorway into some meaningful conversation.

Not surprisingly, the individual I’m talking to doesn’t often have a solid answer. And—if we’re being honest here—neither do I whenever my spiritual director asks me such questions. I don’t ask such questions because I’ve cracked the code, but because I’m always seeking the same understanding for myself.

When you know where you’ve come from, and where you’re going, and what you’re capable of, then you can know what your purpose is.

Origin + Destination + Potential = Purpose

Take Jesus, for example: He knew he came from God. He knew he was returning to God. And he knew that all things were under his power. So what did he do with that divine origin, divine destination, and unlimited potential? He washed his disciples’ feet. Surprising, to say the least!  If we’re being honest, it actually seems kind of foolish, backwards, and ridiculous.

You can just feel it all around you. There is a tension and a breathlessness as you sense that something is coming to a close. There is a sense of shifting weight, as if you’re leaning from one era into another.

A common human tendency in such times is to check out, to begin to withdraw and pull away from others. Mostly, I think, from both my own experience and in observing others, this is largely unconscious. Maybe we’re already so excited that we’re half living in the future. Maybe we’re hoping to lessen the pain of goodbyes. Or maybe to avoid the goodbyes altogether. Maybe we’re hoping for a gentle and slow fadeout, like the end of a movie.

This is common, and maybe not always or entirely bad, but I can’t say that I recommend it as a best practice. Why? Because most of the time our distancing and withdrawal from others is received as unloving.

Sometimes I just want to say whatever I damn well feel like saying.

Why? Because I have thoughts and opinions. Because it feels good to speak my mind. And because I can. Freedom of speech is protected under the U.S. Constitution, and as an American I’ll make the most of that First Amendment, thank you very much.

Jesus didn’t enjoy such freedom of speech under the government of his day. The Roman Empire, notoriously, was not too keen on citizens saying whatever they felt like saying. There were swift and harsh punishments. So for that contrast I am deeply grateful. I feel profoundly blessed to be an American. For this and many other reasons, I’d rather live in no other country at no other time thus far in human history.

As it turns out, isn’t as much of a deal-breaker to Jesus as we might assume. Why is that? I think it’s because he understands how much of what he says is quite unbelievable and hard to swallow. In the gap between what he knows and what we are able to wrap our minds around we experience his great patience.

Like a good father talking to his toddler daughter about how plants grow.

Like a good teacher explaining a mind-boggling mathematical equation to her students.

Like a good economist giving advice to a teenager about principles of saving and investing.

Like a good doctor explaining a course of treatment to a patient.

If you want to know what God Looks like, look at Jesus.

If you want to know what God Sounds like, listen to Jesus.

If you want to know how God acts, watch Jesus.

If you want to know what God loves or hates, pay attention to Jesus.

If you want to know what God’s purposes are, note the trajectory of Jesus.

No, Jesus is not physically present, and that, to be honest, is a complication. It’s at least not ideal if you’re trying to get to know someone. So then, on to the next best thing: Read the Gospels. More than that, marinate yourself in the Gospels. Let them be the primary source of input about Jesus and God and the Spirit and faith and sin and humanity and how it all blends together. Let them be the primary force that shapes how you see reality.

More than once in your lifetime. Why? Because that’s just what happens whenever anyone gets close to Jesus… and then gets even closer to Jesus. Conversion after conversion. Most of them are little conversions, like tiny tremors in the earth that barely register on a seismograph. A handful you will feel rumble beneath your feet. One or two will make it feel like your whole world is about to crumble.

However that may strike you, trust me that it’s all good news.

It’s not always as easy as it sounds. It doesn’t always come as quickly as we would like.

Despite our best intentions and deepest longings, sometimes our hearts are just a bit too hard. Sometimes our eyes are just a bit too blind. Sometimes our understanding is just a bit too dull. Sometimes our whole selves are just a bit too something.

That’s the funny thing about faith: What we need most often eludes us. It is outside of our control. It doesn’t always work to turn trust on and off like a light switch, or to turn love on and off like a faucet. Faith is more of a gift than a paycheck: It can be received, but not earned.