Cutting Toenails for Christ

            This Sunday, I am preaching from John 13.

            A few weeks ago, I was reading Tim Archer’s blog http://www.timothyarcher.com/kitchen/?p=5537 and I came across this story he was passing along from Richard Beck and his blog, Experimental Theology. Beck shares about his experiences teaching John 13 in his prison ministry. I could think of no better illustration of John 13:

            After reading the story I returned to our prior conversation. I asked, “Can you serve people like Jesus did here in the prison?”

            As before, there was general skepticism. The comment “kindness in prison is mistaken for weakness” was repeated. But I pushed a little harder this time and waited a little longer.

            “How can you find moments to serve in this place?”

            There was a long silence.

            Then one man, Norberto (not his real name), raised his hand.

            I was intrigued by what Norberto would say. He is a big, intimidating man. He could snap me like a twig. You can tell he commands a lot of respect from the other men.

            I called on him and, given his intimidating presence, figured he’d stay with the “you can’t do that kind of stuff in here” consensus.

            He began, speaking softly.

            “Well,” he started with his heavy Hispanic accent, “I don’t know if this is what you are looking for but I help my celly [i.e., cell mate].”

            “How?” I ask.

            “Well, my celly isn’t too bright. Something is wrong with his head. He was in an accident so he’s not too smart.” Guys who know Norberto’s cellmate nod in agreement and elaborate. Apparently he’s borderline mentally retarded and needs a lot of help taking care of himself and navigating prison life.

            Norberto continues. “Well, when my celly first got put in with me I noticed that he never took off his shoes. He always left them on. So one day I finally asked him, ‘Why don’t you ever take off your shoes?’ He wouldn’t tell me. Finally I got him to tell me. He was embarrassed. He didn’t know how to take care of his feet. So his toenails were all overgrown, smelly and ugly looking. So I asked him to take off his shoes and socks. And his nails were awful. But he didn’t know how to cut them.

            So I sat him down and had him put his feet in water. Then I took his foot in my lap and cut his toenails for him. I don’t know what people would have thought if they walked by, his foot in my lap. And I would never have thought I’d be doing something like that.”

            There was now a deep silence in the room. The image before us was so unexpected. Here was this huge, intimidating man taking the time, almost like a mother, to gently wash the feet and trim the nails of his mentally retarded cell mate.

            Breaking the silence Norberto looked up at me and asked, “Is that an example of what you were talking about?”

            “Yes,” I said. “Yes, that is an example of what I was talking about.”