Sacrificial Giving Part 4: Give Like Jesus
Part 4: The Right Way
I love Africa and its people. Ghanaians saved my life once or twice, fed me when I was hungry and cared for me when I was sick. It was from them that I learned about true kindness. But Ghana was very poor country in the early 1980s and lacked modern infrastructure. So, I also learned the true meaning poverty, corruption and, to the point of this story, dirty feet.
For the lesser part of five years, I lived in Africa wearing sandals every day. When the pair I brought from home wore out, I bought a set of locally made sandals, fabricated from old car tires. They never wore out.
Everywhere I went, my feet collected dirt. If you’ve ever walked through a West African market in the 1980s, you’d understand exactly what that means. Open sewers, public urination, public were rarely latrines rarely emptied and, when they were emptied, the waste was simply dumped outside, in big mounds. Animals wandered freely, leaving their own contributions to the dirt everywhere. Food scraps and trash littered the ground the way glass is sprinkled around the edges of a car accident scene. In some places, I saw streets lined homeless refugees lying beside dead, bloating animals.And in northern Ghana, close to the Sahara, where I was stationed, the seasonal harmattan winds blew sand, dust, and refuse down from the Sahara, coating everything in a white, corrupting powder. (BTW the word ‘sahara’ is Arabic for desert).
After walking through all that, to say my feet were dirty, would be a gross understatement. They were permanently soiled. No amount of washing them could make them look clean. Among Peace Corps volunteers, we had a name for it: a “Ghanaian suntan.”
When I read the chapter of Scripture where Jesus washes His disciples’ feet, these memories come flooding back. Most people in ancient Israel wore sandals or went barefoot. They had no modern sanitation, no reliable waste management. Roman administrators and the Israeli ruling class were corrupt. Life on the ground level may have resembled what I saw every day in Africa. So, when Jesus, God Himself, perfect and sinless, white as snow, knelt and washed the feet of His disciples, I imagined Him kneeling and washing my feet that even I didn’t dare touch. Jesus committed an extraordinary act. No wonder Peter recoiled.
I’ve come to understand that when Jesus washed their feet, He wasn’t merely cleaning them, He was demonstrating humility and love that no human being had ever seen before. It was a simple act with a profound symbolic meaning.
Why tell this story? Because I believe that the greatest gift we can give is the willingness to humble ourselves and serve others, those we love, and even those we’d try to avoid or find disgusting. And Jesus didn’t stop there, He humbled Himself in far more ways than washing dirty feet.
This is what we should be celebrating, not that Jesus came into the world, but that He came near to us, near to our filth and sin. The Bible says, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14, NKJV). God did not remain in heaven, sending commands or blessings to us. He immersed Himself in our world, our dust and our sin. He did not send a message from afar; He is the message.
That willingness to step into the dirt of human life, is the purpose of His coming. Jesus could have remained safe and clean in heaven, attended by angels, receiving endless praise. Instead, He entered a world filled with the spiritual equivalent of the West African markets I once walked, filled with filth, suffering, corruption, and death. God chose to come close enough to bury his hands in the filth.
Paul says: “He made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant… He humbled Himself” (Philippians 2:7–8, NKJV). Before He performed a miracle, preached a sermon, or healed a person, Jesus first offered Himself. His presence was the gift.
He could have appeared as a full-grown king descending in glory. Instead, He came as a helpless infant, born in a feeding trough among animals. “You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12, NKJV). That is humility, God choosing to enter the world in poverty.
He grew up in Nazareth, a town of low reputation. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael asked (John 1:46, NKJV). The Son of God willingly took on a low social status.
He showed us that the greatest love is not expressed in grand gestures but in drawing near to ordinary people in ordinary places.
His humility defied expectations. He wasn’t the military or political leader that many expected. He didn’t come to oust the oppressing Roman’s. Instead, He came as the Servant who washed feet. And not clean feet but feet that walked dusty roads stained with refuse. When Peter resisted having his feet washed, Jesus replied, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with Me” (John 13:8, NKJV).
He wasn’t only cleaning feet. He was removing shame, raising up the lowly, and setting a standard for believers. “I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you” (John 13:15, NKJV).
True greatness, He implied, is measured in service. (Matthew 23:11-12). In our world, presence is the modern version of foot-washing. When you slow down long enough to sit with someone hurting, lonely, or forgotten, you are doing what Christ did, stooping low to lift someone up.
He took on our sorrow and weakness. Isaiah called Him “a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief”(Isaiah 53:3, NKJV). Just like us, He faced the cruelty of the world. He wept for Lazarus (John 11:35). He grew tired (John 4:6). He was tempted in every way (Hebrews 4:15). He endured experiences that would crush us, so that He could walk with us through them. His presence in our suffering is one of the most profound gifts God has ever given. Likewise, our willingness to be present in someone else’s struggle, without fixing, lecturing, or running away, reflects the heart of Christ more than any material gift ever could.
He submitted to the ultimate humiliation. The Bible says He became obedient “to the point of death, even the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:8, NKJV). Crucifixion was designed to clearly and brutally demonstrate the power of the Roman Empire and the powerlessness of its conquered subjects. Victims were stripped, mocked, exposed, and tortured publicly. But even before He that, He experienced betrayal, false accusation, spitting, and beatings from the Romans and even His own people.
Isaiah wrote, “His visage was marred more than any man” (Isaiah 52:14, NKJV).
No suffering we experience can compare to what He took upon Himself. And He did it willingly, out of love. This is the ultimate act of presence; God entering not just our world, but our death, sin and shame. He proved that sacrifice isn’t a sign of weakness but of the ultimate strength.
The Gift We Give in Return
When we humble ourselves and draw near to others, especially the difficult, the overlooked, or the undeserving, we reflect the One who drew near to us. We don’t need wealth, brilliance, or perfect words. We need a willing heart.
This year, slow down. Look someone in the eye. Listen without rushing. Serve without expecting repayment. Love without expecting to be loved back.
Be present and wash some feet. It may be the most Christlike gift you give all year.
“just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.”
—Matthew 20:28 (NKJV)
