Maundy Thursday

In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean, once a wealthy factory owner and mayor, chooses to take on a humble, low-status job as a laborer to care for the orphaned Cosette. Despite his high status, he sacrifices his comfort and anonymity, choosing a life of modesty and hard work to protect and provide for her. Where is the glory in that?

Likewise, Jesus, the triumphant king who had been exalted with cries of Hosanna by crowds in Jerusalem kneeled before his disciples to wash the grime from their feet. The disciples must have been bewildered. They had followed Jesus for power, not servitude—for glory, not humility.

Where is the glory in this?

Where is the glory in a King stooping like a slave? In the righteous touching the wretched? In heaven bending to earth? Judas, witnessing this, surely reasoned: There is no glory here.

Jesus smelled of royalty, still anointed with costly perfume. Yet He looked like a servant.

Judas saw only a carpenter. No throne, no power, no prestige—only a basin and a towel.

How often are we like Judas, missing Christ’s glory because it does not match our vision? We see humility and call it weakness. We see servitude and call it shame. But Jesus shows us the truth: glory is found in humility.

Jesus washed the feet of His betrayer. Would we have done the same? We might prefer He skipped Judas. But had He skipped Judas, He might have to skip us too.

"You also ought to wash one another’s feet." (John 13:14)

Why? Because a servant is not greater than his master (v.16). True greatness is not in being served but in serving.

So, kneel. Pick up the towel. Wash the feet of those who don’t deserve it. There—on your knees—is the glory of Christ.

Here is the glory!

Prayer: Lord, teach me to see glory where You place it—not in power or praise, but in humility, service, and love. Help me kneel like You did, with a towel in my hands and grace in my heart, even for those who may wound me. Strip away my pride and reshape my vision, that I might recognize true greatness in the low and hidden places. Let me follow You not for status, but to reflect Your self-giving love.