Lent #3 – Servant Hearted Love
Series: Lent Love Wins
Preacher: Phil Swain Reading: John 13:1-17
Our Lent journey continues this week as we keep exploring the Easter story through the lens of love. In John 13 we find Jesus kneeling with a towel and basin to wash his disciples’ feet — a powerful picture of servant-hearted love. What does it mean to follow a Lord who shows that love wins not by power, but by serving others?
Sermon Text
Can everyone remember the theme we’re exploring as we journey toward Easter and the cross? Love. (And it’s a little hard to miss now with those giant letters on the wall!)
We’ve been discovering that love cannot be contained. It breaks out — even in the darkest of places. Like with Mary and Martha standing in the shadow of Lazarus’ tomb. A stone was rolled there to contain death… but love and life broke through.
Last week Kevin reminded us that love doesn’t stay sealed. It can’t be contained. In the same way Mary broke the perfume and poured it out over Jesus’ feet, love is meant to be poured out — shared, allowed to spread.
This week we’re still in John’s Gospel. Still with Jesus sitting at a table but the fragrance of perfume has given way to the splash of water in a basin. Last week love smelled like perfume. This week love looks like a towel.
And John begins with one of the most important sentences in his whole Gospel: (John 13:1)
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.
What is John trying to say here? Jesus knows the cross is coming. This whole journey has been about love and Jesus is not going to stop loving now. Jesus will continue to show love right to the end … with his crucifixion on the cross.
It is interesting how different translations have this line. The NIV says, “loved them to the end”. The CEV writes, “he loved them fully”. Others use the phrase, “Now was the time he showed them the full extent of his love”.
The phrase in Greek is even more interesting. The Greek word for end is … telos. Does telos sound familiar? It should… because it comes from the same root word as another Greek word we spent a lot of time on a few years ago — teleios.
Telos means “end”… but it can also mean goal, purpose, or the ultimate fulfilment of something. Ie. Jesus loved us … and continued to love us right to the end, or right to he achieved his ultimate purpose.
Teleios means maturity or perfection or wanting for nothing. We talked about how our goal in spiritual growth was to become teleios … mature in our faith.
Some scholars suggest that John may be hinting at both ideas at once — that Jesus loved them all the way to the end… and that now he was about to show perfect love.
It’s like a growing tree. When the Bible talks about maturity or completeness, it’s not talking about something static or perfect in a frozen way but a much more dynamic way.
A young tree grows year by year. Its roots deepen. Its branches stretch out. Its leaves spread wider and wider. And then one day you look at it and realise it Telos — it has reached its intended purpose … but it is also Teleios … it is mature and has become what it was always meant to be. It is both both telos and teleios.
I think that John is saying something similar in John 13:1. The love that has been growing throughout Jesus’ ministry — teaching, healing, forgiving, restoring — has now reached its fullness. The love that Jesus is just about to show is a complete, perfect type of love … a version of love that encapsulates what love is meant to be.
And what does love at its fullest look like? It kneels and it serves.
It is servant-hearted love … and the ultimate expression of this servant-hearted love is coming — shown in the cross itself. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s jump back to the text…
Jesus, the disciples and the other followers have gathered for a meal in Jerusalem as Passover approaches. The meal was underway and Jesus knew that one of his closest disciples, Judas, was planning to betray him.
Imagine the emotions that would have been in the room.
The tension. The uncertainty. Jesus knows betrayal is coming — and yet the meal continues. It would have been intense.
Now notice what John tells us just before Jesus gets up from the table:
- Jesus knew that the Father had put all things into his hands.
- He knew that he had come from God.
- He knew that he was returning to God.
John wants us to see this clearly:
Jesus knows exactly who he is.
He knows where he has come from. He knows where he is going.
All authority has been placed into his hands.
And what does he do with that authority?
He takes off his outer robe. He wraps a towel around his waist.
He pours water into a basin. And he kneels. The Son of God… kneels and serves.
This is not weakness. This is not loss of dignity.
This is secure identity expressing itself in servant-hearted love.
In our world, insecurity clings to status. When we’re not sure who we are, we protect our position. We defend our space. We guard our title. We demand. We dictate. We do whatever we have to make sure that no-one else is elevated.
But when you know who you are in God…
When you know where you’ve come from…
When you know where you are going…
You are free to kneel and serve.
Servant-hearted love flows from secure identity. And that’s confronting. Because so often we imagine that service is for the less powerful. For the less important. For those with less authority.
Notice something important. Jesus does not deny his authority. He says very clearly:
“You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right.”
He doesn’t deny his Lordship. He redefines it.
Greatness, in the kingdom of God, looks like kneeling.
Love wins. But it wins by kneeling. By serving.
And then there’s Peter. Peter’s reaction is fascinating.
“Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
How do we read that line? Is it shock? Is it discomfort? Is it embarrassment? What is Peter feeling here? Whatever it is, when Jesus moves toward him, Peter refuses. “You shall never wash my feet.”
At first glance, that sounds humble. But I don’t think it’s humility.
I wonder if Peter is just having a hard time adjusting to this new definition of love.
In Peter’s world, there are clear hierarchies. The teacher is above the disciple. The Lord is above the follower. The master is above the servant. And Jesus is messing with the script. Peter is uncomfortable with a love that overturns the expected order.
And then Jesus says something quite strong:
“Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”
In other words — you cannot belong to this new community shaped by love while still clinging to the old power structures. You cannot follow a kneeling Lord and still insist on the old hierarchies.
But there is something else here too. We often talk about the call to serve others. And that’s right. Jesus says, “Do as I have done.”
But before Peter is called to wash anyone else’s feet, he must allow his own to be washed. And that’s hard.
It is often easier to serve than to receive.
Serving lets us stay in control. Serving lets us feel capable.
Serving lets us remain the strong one.
Receiving love is vulnerable.
Receiving love means admitting we need grace.
(and most of us would rather give grace than admit we need it).
Receiving love means letting someone close enough to see the dirt and the weariness and the cracks in our story.
Sometimes the bravest thing isn’t kneeling or serving.
It’s letting Jesus kneel for you. It’s letting someone else serve you.
Lent is not just a season where we try harder to be loving.
It is a season where we let Christ to love us first.
And then there is Judas. John makes sure we don’t forget that Judas is in the room. Before the foot-washing begins, John tells us that Judas has already resolved to betray Jesus.
Jesus knows. He knows exactly what is in Judas’ heart.
He knows exactly who Judas is becoming — and still kneels.
Jesus still washes his feet.
He kneels before the one who will betray him.
He serves the one who will hand him over.
He offers tenderness to the one who will wound him.
This is not naive love. This is not sentimental love.
This is love that sees clearly — and still chooses to serve.
In our world, we are encouraged to divide people quickly.
With us. Against us.
Trustworthy. Not trustworthy.
We calculate constantly. Who deserves my energy?
Who deserves my kindness? Who deserves my time?
Jesus refuses to calculate. He does not say, “I’ll wash Peter’s feet because he’ll try to stay loyal, but Judas — he’s out.”
He washes them both.
Jesus uses the same towel and the same basin.
It is the same act of love that is offered to both.
That is inclusive love
Not inclusive because Jesus loves everyone. It is radically inclusive because Jesus chooses to serve both those who are good and those who are not. Those whom he is close to and those who make him uncomfortable … and even those who wound him.
And that raises uncomfortable questions for us. Who have I quietly written off? Who have I decided is not worth the effort of love? Who have I decided will never change? Where have I allowed betrayal — real or perceived — to harden my heart?
Let me be clear…
Servant-hearted love does not mean we ignore harm.
It does not mean we abandon wisdom or boundaries.
But it does mean we refuse to let bitterness have the final word.
It means we ask, “How might I reflect Christ’s servant-hearted love even here?” This is what it means to have mature love. This is teleios love.
Then as if to drive this point home … Jesus says:
“I have set you an example.”
Not, “Admire this.” Not, “Theologise this.” But “do this”.
Notice — he does not tell them to create a new hierarchy where everyone competes to be the lowest. Jesus is describing a community in which love flows in every direction. A community where we do not cling to our status. A community where we use whatever authority, influence, experience, or stability we have — not to elevate ourselves — but to lift up others.
Amy Butler, a writer from the United States, offers this challenge: “You can admire this story of Jesus washing feet or embody it. Holy Week will not let us pretend.”
The choice is in our hands… What will you do?
Will you grip tighter to your position or authority?
Or will you pick up a towel?
And this is where John’s Gospel takes us next. Because after the towel and the basin, Jesus begins to speak about something else. Next week we lean into one of my favourite passages in John where we discover that we don’t have to do this alone. Jesus says,
“Abide in me.” Love that kneels must also love that abides.
Because servant-hearted love is beautiful — but it is exhausting if it is disconnected from the source. If we try to wash feet out of sheer willpower, we will burn out. If we try to love like this without remaining rooted in Christ, we will become resentful.
I don’t want to steal Kevin’s thunder for next week… but you’ll hear Jesus say: “I am the vine. You are the branches.” Abide in me. The love that kneels must be sustained by the love that abides.
And that’s good news because the point of Lent is not to prove how loving we can be. The point of Lent is to help us grow into mature love — teleios love.
Love that has been formed by Christ.
Love that has been softened by grace.
Love that has learnt the power of serving others
Love that is generous enough to include.
Love that is rooted enough to remain.
So perhaps the invitation this week is simple.
Let Jesus wash your feet.
Let yourself be loved without earning it.
And then — in whatever space you find yourself — ask quietly:
Where is the basin? Where is the towel?
Where is the place where love needs to be shown?
Who is God inviting me to serve?
Love does indeed win.
But this week we have discovered that love wins not by force.
Not by domination. Not by triumph.
But by kneeling and serving. Jesus said, “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you”. May we all follow Jesus’ example of servant-hearted love. Amen.