Day 92: the Highest Low

Jesus called them over and said to them, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those in high positions act as tyrants over them. But it is not so among you. On the contrary, whoever wants to become great among you will be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you will be a slave to all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Mark 10:42–45

Not too long ago I had the honor and privilege of addressing a group of several hundred recovering addicts. Most of them were recovering from some type of substance abuse, like alcohol or opioids, and a few were recovering from various forms of sexual addiction and deviance. All of them were unflinchingly honest. And within a few hours, most of them seemed like old friends.

I’ve had an affinity for people in addiction recovery since I first began volunteering at homeless shelters with my Dad Harper when I was in high school. I couldn’t quite put a finger on why I resonated with that particular people group until decades later when I was in seminary and read a book titled, Addictions: A Banquet in the Grave by Dr. Edward T. Welch, which includes the profound assertion and challenge: “Addictions are ultimately a disorder of worship. Will we worship ourselves and our own desires, or will we worship the true God?”18

And that’s when it hit me: I’m a recovering addict too. Because the basic takeaway of Dr. Welch’s thoroughly-researched and superbly written book is that when we don’t put Jesus in the deepest hole in our soul, we will all attempt to put people or substances in a void that was created by God for Christ alone. While I’ve never struggled with an alcohol or drug addiction, nor lost my teeth to meth or been incarcerated, I did spend years emotionally imprisoned by the seemingly innocuous, less-obvious addictions of engaging in abusive romantic relationships and desperately trying to earn the approval of others. The consequences of my addictions weren’t as outwardly devastating or illegal, but at the heart level they were still debilitating. And just like my now sober friends who were once addicted to crack, meth, alcohol or hydrocodone, I too used to act like a sick puppy foolishly licking antifreeze off the garage floor, unaware it had the power to kill me.

Suffice it to say, getting to keynote at that conference for recovering addicts for me was like a peewee football player getting to do warm-up drills with the pros. These warriors had made it through the hardest of challenges—much harder than mine in so many ways—so who was I to speak to them about anything? The experience was both thrilling and humbling. Although I didn’t know just how humbling the experience would be until what happened after I spoke and walked back to my seat in the sanctuary. Because that’s when a woman approached without fanfare, knelt down by my feet, slipped off my shoes one at a time, gently cleaned them with a Wet-Wipe, and then massaged them tenderly with oil from a small vial she pulled out of her tattered purse.

I’ve had my feet washed before as part of an organized group object lesson on servant leadership but that was different. That was a shared activity where all the participants knew each other, and we all knew what to expect. Plus, we took turns, so the humbling element was dissipated by the familiarity and the give-and-take of the exercise. But there was no give-and-take this time and I’d only met the foot-washing lady briefly that morning.

I was so flustered at first that I tried to pull my foot away from her, mumbling something about it being nice but not necessary. However, when she looked up kindly while holding my foot firmly and said sincerely, “Please let me do this for you.” I swallowed the “I’m not worthy” shame that had erupted in my heart and mind and yielded to her nurturing. Before long huge tears were rolling down my face because I was so overwhelmed by how she had minimized herself in order to minister to me.

• When it comes to humble acts of service—whether it’s washing someone’s feet or washing someone’s dishes who’s bedridden with a serious illness—are you more comfortable being on the giving end or on the receiving end?
• Where do you feel inadequate or unworthy to serve?
• Why does God typically use the unlikely or inadequate to minister in His name?