The Focus of Jesus
[Jesus] poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet (John 13:5).
It is the last night Jesus is on earth with His disciples. Knowing that a brutal scourging and the excruciating (from two Greek words meaning “out of the cross”) pain of a Roman crucifixion was waiting for Him, Jesus disrobes, wraps a towel around His waist and washes His disciples’ feet.
If it were my last night on earth, I’d want people to gather around me and tell me how great a guy I am and what a significant impact I made on their life.
Jesus washed feet.
I’d want my family and friends kneeling at my bedside, crying big tears while they sobbed and choked and blubbered about how their life just wasn’t going to be the same without me on earth.
Jesus washed feet.
I’d be looking back over my life, counting and calculating my works and the impact I’d made in people’s lives. I’d be wondering if I could have done more. I’d be worried that maybe God is going to tell me all the different ways I could have obeyed Him better and brought more people into the Kingdom. In other words, I’d be thinking big about Jim and little about others.
Jesus washed feet.
Knowing He had only a few hours left on the earth, Jesus spent a majority of them teaching others what they needed to know to live a life for God. Where Jim would be worried about Jim’s needs at the end of his life, Jesus focuses on the needs of others.
I’ve been wondering just what it would take to respond like Jesus if I knew I was going to die tomorrow. Continue Reading





Until now, I’ve mostly thought of taking the Lord’s name is vain as cursing. When I was barely a teenager, I’d often get frustrated and say, “Jeee-sus Chrii-st,” as if it was His fault I wasn’t getting my way. My dad heard me say that once and he shot me a look that has stayed with me for 35 years, and I’ve (mostly) succeeded in not saying it again.

Last Wednesday, Barbara and I were co-teaching the book of James to a small group. After spending an hour talking about the book, we barely finished James 1:2, which tells us to consider it an opportunity for great joy when troubles come our way. Doesn’t that sound easy and fun?
The phone call came, as they usually do, at an inconvenient time. It was my mom, calling from Mississippi, telling me in Baton Rouge that my dad was in the hospital in California and had cancer. This was definitely not convenient. I called my dad and told him I was flying out in a couple of days to see him. He said he was looking forward to my visit.
A few years ago, a church I attended in Arkansas hosted a Thanksgiving service, which served to raise money for the ministerial alliance. The alliance asked our church to lead in the praise and worship, and I played the piano on the worship team. Looking over the congregation, I noted a pastor from another church who, no matter what we sang, refused to either clap his hands or raise them in worship. He simply sat in his pew with his arms folded. That struck me as strange, because outside of church he was a happy, vivacious, demonstrative man.