Dirty Feet: A Reflection
Donna Gabbadon, founder of Jalawelo, shares her perspectives on helping those most vulnerable.
The story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples often comes to mind, particularly during moments that juxtapose comfort and sacrifice. This narrative became especially poignant for me at the Fun in the Son concert in Jamaica, where thousands gathered in a dusty field to enjoy our talented Christian reggae artists. The long dry spell had left the ground parched, and by the end of the night, my feet, like many other women who wore sandals and flip-flops, were covered in dust and dirt. I longed to get home to wash them and make them clean.
Jesus, too, walked the dusty roads, seeking encounters with those marginalized and in need. I stood in that field, enduring the discomfort of dirty, dusty feet, for the joy of listening to amazing Christian reggae music. But I had to ask myself, would I endure the same discomfort to serve the most vulnerable among us?
Some Bible verses are particularly haunting, like Isaiah 3:13-15: “The Lord stands up to plead, and stands to judge the people. The Lord will enter into judgment with the elders of His people and His princes. For you have eaten up the vineyard; the plunder of the poor is in your houses. What do you mean by crushing my people and grinding the faces of the poor?”
If we resist the temptation to cherry-pick verses that comfort us and instead read the Bible holistically, it becomes clear that God stands with the poor. Our consumerism and self-centeredness starkly contrast with Christ’s example—He who left heaven, relinquished all, and walked this dry, dusty earth to engage with those in need.
Many of our “good deeds” to help the hurting and vulnerable are done from the comfort of our air-conditioned homes and offices, our feet clean and well-shod. We have seen the brokenness and despair of those crushed by the selfish actions of the powerful. We have heard the faint whispers of their cries—cries that ascend to heaven from all over the world. These cries come from discarded and forgotten individuals created in God’s image, just like us. And when I try to cast blame on those in authority, I am humbled as I consider my own habits, actions, and prejudices that perpetuate these damning conditions.
Many of these individuals express a deep distrust of people like me, who claim to be God-loving, Christ-exalting Christians. This is truly heartbreaking and convicting. Perhaps when we leave behind our board meetings and impressive reports on organizational spending (much of which goes into salaries and benefits for the non-poor), and when we step out of our comfortable homes and walk the dry, dusty roads, sharing the pain of the poor, we will become credible to them.
I am challenged as I confront my own life of over-abundance. One day, will I be held accountable to answer the question: “What did you mean by crushing my people and grinding the faces of the poor?”