No Small Acts
Summary
On his last night of freedom, Jesus didn't perform a miracle. He did a chore — the lowest, most menial one imaginable. Working through John 13 and Galatians 5:13–14, Dominic Jackson takes the foot-washing story and looks at it from angles that are easy to miss after twenty readings: that Jesus washed Judas' feet too, that the Greek word translated "example" literally means tracer or template, and that the most significant acts of service usually don't make the news or the photo. The invitation isn't to do loving things. It's to become a loving person — one small act at a time.
Questions for reflection
Jesus washes the feet of Thomas the doubter, Peter the denier, and Judas the betrayer — and treated Judas so well that none of the others suspected him. Is there someone in your life you've mentally placed in the "doesn't deserve it" category? What would it look like to serve them anyway?
Dominic describes the moment at Palmer's — holding the door, getting no acknowledgment, feeling entitled to a thank you. Where do you catch yourself dividing people into those who deserve your kindness and those who don't?
The Greek word Jesus uses for "example" in John 13 means tracer or template — something you follow until it becomes natural. What would it look like to treat serving not as something you do occasionally but as something you practice until it becomes who you are?
Dorothy Day: "Everybody wants a revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes." Where in your own life is God more likely calling you to the dishes than the revolution?
The sermon highlights Chelsea standing alone at the door during the grand opening — unseen, unglamorous, essential. Who in your life or community is doing that kind of work right now, and have you noticed?
What is one small act of service you could do every day this week — not something noteworthy, but something faithful?
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Happy Mother's Day to all the spiritual moms and biological moms in the room. We're very thankful for you.
I remember being a kid in elementary school, deeply confused and offended on Mother's Day. I went to my mom and said, Mom, why isn't there a Kids' Day? There's Mother's Day, Father's Day, even Grandparents' Day. Why isn't there a Kids' Day? To which my mother responded: Every day is Kids' Day. She's absolutely right. Almost thirty years later, I still feel that way.
This morning we continue our mini-series on the one another commands — the 59 times in the New Testament you'll find that phrase, each one a practical instruction for how followers of Jesus are to live together. Some deal with unity, some with love, some with humility, and plenty of others besides. Today's one another touches all of those categories at once: serve one another.
The irony is that I'm preaching this on Mother's Day, because in my experience, the moms I know are the greatest living examples I've personally encountered of a servant's heart. So I'm preaching to the choir. Moms, feel free to tune out for the next half hour — but hopefully there's something here for all of us.
[Prayer]
The Passage
Our text is Galatians 5:13–14:
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh. Rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: love your neighbor as yourself.
A lot is packed into just two verses. We have freedom, and we could use that freedom to serve or to sin — depending on where our heart is. We have a call to serve. And we have a connection Paul is making to Jesus' command about loving our neighbor as ourselves. Somehow, all of these teachings are woven together, and they all lead to this: serving.
Rather than just share my thoughts on the passage, I'd like to look at what I think is one of the most beautiful examples of service in all of Scripture — and see how a teaching with words becomes a teaching in action. It's a familiar story. You've probably heard twenty sermons on it. I've preached it many times. But this week I noticed a few things in the text I had never seen before, and I'd love for us to try to read it again for the first time.
John 13: Read It Again for the First Time
John 13:1–5:
It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God.
Pause there. Did you catch that last line? Knowing he had all power, all majesty, all control, all divinity — this is his final night of freedom. Knowing all these things. Knowing that all things are under his authority.
What does he do with that power?
He doesn't ascend to his own galaxy. He doesn't demand that his disciples bow down and worship him. Verse 4:
So he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.
Jesus — Lord of Lords, King of Kings — is washing filthy, sweaty feet.
These guys wore sandals and walked everywhere. This was not a pedicure situation. This was the lowest job imaginable — the job reserved for the lowest servant in a household. And it wasn't just that it was gross, though it was. There were layers of cultural rules being violated here. A man of Jesus' standing, a rabbi, simply did not do this. This was backward and inappropriate by every social standard of the day.
We've read this story so many times that we tend to just chalk it up to Jesus being Jesus — there he goes again, being humble. But that reaction is the problem. We've been immunized against the shock of it.
Think about it theologically. For thousands of years in Jewish faith, God was seen as largely unreachable. His name was unspeakable. One sin could bring his wrath down on you. And then the prophecies come true — God is born as a human to walk among his people. And you might expect this God to show up as an observer, a judge, or a weapon of wrath, as some of the prophets had described.
Instead, this God is on his knees washing feet.
Imagine the second coming — Jesus walks into this room right now. And as he's walking in, someone runs in from the other door: A pipe broke. There's a situation in the bathroom. And Jesus says, I'll take care of it. No gloves needed. We all feel the wrongness of that image immediately. That discomfort — that's what the disciples felt. That's what Peter said out loud.
Peter and Judas
Verse 6: He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?" Jesus replied, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand." "No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet." Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." "Then, Lord," Simon Peter replied, "not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!"
Peter missing the point, as he's been known to do — but this time swinging wildly in the other direction. Wash all of me. Jesus' response is essentially: that's not how this works. Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean — and you are clean, though not every one of you. He knew who was going to betray him.
Which brings me to something I want us to sit with.
A few chapters later in John, Judas leaves right before the disciples take communion. Which means Judas was not at the Lord's Supper. But he was in this chapter. Meaning Jesus washed Judas' feet too.
Have you ever thought about what that moment was like? What it would have been like to be Judas — knowing exactly what you had already set in motion — as your rabbi, your friend, your Savior drops to his knees and washes your feet?
And what it was like for Jesus — knowing full well what Judas had done — to wash them anyway?
Here's something worth noting: Jesus treated Judas so well that none of the other disciples suspected him as the betrayer. None of them looked at how Jesus was treating Judas and thought, something's off. Jesus didn't tip his hand. He didn't treat him differently. Not because of what Judas had done, but because of who Jesus was.
Jesus washed the feet of Thomas the doubter, Peter the denier, and Judas the betrayer. No one in that room deserved it.
Three Takeaways
1. Serving is a sign of greatness.
In the kingdom, authority equals service. Jesus sets aside his crown for a towel. Philippians 2:5–8:
In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage. Rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross.
In church, we often focus on his sacrifice and his resurrection — and rightly so. But Jesus didn't just die as a servant. He lived as one.
2. Serving is not just for those who deserve it.
This is my least favorite takeaway, personally.
Three days ago, I was walking into Palmer's and noticed a guy a few steps behind me. I decided to hold the door — partly because of last week's challenge about hospitality and meeting new people. I stood there holding it, already composing a clever comment about the weather, thinking maybe I'd buy his sandwich.
The guy walked through without acknowledging me at all. Didn't even glance my way. Looked right past me like I was beneath him. Then, as I was starting to get annoyed and forming a sarcastic you're welcome in my head, he popped his AirPods in to take a call.
And the thing is, my frustration wasn't really about him. It was about me. I felt entitled to a thank you. I did this for him, and he owed me at least a gesture. And as I look back, I realize I had divided the world into two categories: people who deserve my service and people who don't. That guy didn't qualify.
But if Jesus had felt the same way, the only person in that room who would have walked away with clean feet was him.
Thomas Merton: "Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy."
I hate that one, Tommy.
3. Serving is an opportunity for discipleship.
Verse 14–15: "Now that I, your Lord and teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you."
That word translated example in Greek is actually a word used for a school supply in Hebrew school — it literally means tracer. Like the tracing templates used to teach cursive handwriting: you follow the example over and over until you no longer need it, until it becomes natural. Until it becomes you.
We aren't called only to do loving things. We are called to be a loving people. Jesus gives us a template. We fill it in with our own acts of service.
1 Peter 2:21: "To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in his steps."
When we serve, we are making an invisible God visible.
4. Serving is best seen in the unseen.
Or another way to put it: serving is best seen in the mundane, the monotonous, the everyday.
When I think of Jesus, I think of the transfiguration. Stars aligning at his birth. The cross. The resurrection. Feeding thousands from a child's lunch. These are the moments that make the paintings. But on his last night of freedom, Jesus didn't perform a miracle. He did a chore. A lowly, ordinary chore.
I genuinely struggle with this. My father-in-law has a quote in his kitchen from Dorothy Day: "Everybody wants a revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes."
I'm all for hopping on a plane and building an orphanage. I'm all for walking the streets and praying for people. In college, Megan and I — we didn't know each other yet — would cram thirty or forty people into our apartments and worship until 2 a.m. Our neighbors probably hated us. So much of my early faith was built around these big, visible, somewhat dramatic acts of devotion.
And then one day I woke up with a mortgage and a dental plan and diapers to change. And I remember telling my mentor Ray that I felt like God was calling me away from ordinary life — I wanted something radical. Ray said: Sometimes the crazy radical thing God asks for is to find him in the normal everyday moments. Maybe faith looks like staying put for once in your life.
Mother Teresa: "Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love."
At our grand opening a couple weeks ago, I was up front cutting the ribbon — looking, based on the photos, like someone who had never held scissors before in their life. But we found out that morning that the doors downstairs were locked, and the people who were supposed to open them couldn't all make it. So Chelsea Hinkle — who serves on our board — stood by herself at those doors for much of the night, letting people in, missing the party upstairs.
She wasn't in the photo. She was downstairs, silently serving, so that others could celebrate.
And I could tell you a hundred stories like that one from just the short time I've been here. Board members vacuuming. Elders hauling equipment. Leaders who could easily say that's not my job and never do. The culture of humility and quiet faithfulness in this community is genuinely rare. Most of it never makes a photo or a social post. That's the point.
From Liturgy of the Ordinary: Alfred Hitchcock said movies are life with the dull bits cut out. Car chases, first kisses, interesting plot twists, great conversations — not the main character brushing his teeth or stuck in traffic. We tend to want a Christian life with the dull bits cut out. Yet God made us to spend our days in rest, work, and play, taking care of our bodies, our families, our neighborhoods, our homes. What if all these boring parts matter to God? What if days passed in ways that feel small and insignificant to us are weighty with meaning, and part of the abundant life God has for us?
It's in the school drop-off line. It's grabbing coffee with a friend who spends 90% of the time talking about themselves — and showing up anyway. It's smiling at the person at the DMV who's been yelled at all day and might not have seen a friendly face yet. It's rolling down your window on the off-ramp even when you don't have cash, just to acknowledge the person standing there.
The Challenge
Last week the challenge was to meet someone new, and work up to sharing a meal — finding ways to treat a stranger like a brother or sister.
This week, the challenge is simpler. Read John 13 every day this week. Just that. Sit with the image of the King of Kings on his knees washing feet. Let it settle. And ask one question each day:
Jesus said to do likewise. How might I do that today?
For a couple of you, maybe it'll be something people notice. Maybe your boss will send an email. Maybe it'll make the news. Probably not. More likely you'll bring your neighbor's trash cans in. Or hold a door for someone who doesn't thank you. Or sit on the floor and play Legos with your kids when all you want to do is watch the game.
Remember: that Greek word for "example" means tracer. The more we practice this, the more it stops being something we do and starts becoming who we are.
Find one small way to serve someone every day this week. There are no small acts in the kingdom of God. In fact, it's where some of his greatest work gets done.