Shauna Letellier

Rest & Relief for Ragged Souls

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Does it Seem Futile?

By shauna 1 Comment

It’s time to leave the beach, and I dread making the announcement.

The beach has become a reprieve for me in the busy days of parenting our three little boys. They were born within three years, so we never had time to store the stroller. I just kept squeezing them in and strapping them on—the youngest in the proper seat, the middle son curled into the fabric basket beneath it, and the oldest straddling the stroller’s canopy.

Aside from a few squabbles over the good goggles and the buckets without cracks, the boys have been happy and entertained for hours. They are slippery with sunscreen. Sand clings to every inch of their skin and sticks in the creases of their chubby arms and legs.

But now it’s time to go. I try to soften the blow, “In five minutes, we’re going to start picking up our toys.”

“Noooo!” They protest and go on digging, scooping, and filling their sandpits with scoops of water, only to watch it seep away.

I shade my eyes and scan the beach for misplaced towels and water bottles. I toss forgotten shovels and rakes into a mesh toy bag so the sand will gradually fall off and stay at the beach. Sweat trickles down my temple, and when I wipe it away, I realize I’ve swiped sand from one side of my forehead to the other.

Finally, I give the fun-squashing direction, “It’s time to leave. Go wash off in the water.”

Shoulders slump. Heads drop. Protests erupt.

I herd them toward the water to wash away the sand. If they weren’t slathered in three applications of sunscreen, the process would go faster. I remember that hogs supposedly use mud as a sunscreen, and I try to make light of this task. “You’re muddy as a little pig. This sand caked on your neck probably kept you from getting sunburnt.”

The joke goes unnoticed, and as I’m dipping them in the lake, trying in vain to flush away oily sand, the fun officially stops. I’m irritated, and I start barking commands. “Stop. Hold still. Stand up.” I wash one son and send him to put on his flip-flops, but the sand is hot and burns his toes.

“Stand on the wet sand and wait for me,” I holler. He does, but not without kneeling in the sand…again.

When I have completed our de-sanding ritual, we pile toys and towels onto the stroller, and I shove it across the beach toward the car.

For the next 30 minutes, my life goal is to keep sand out of the car, as if my salvation depends on it.

If I can just stay ahead of the chaos to stave off my kids’ meltdowns and messes, then (I falsely believed) I was doing well and pleasing God. This manic race for cleanliness reflected the striving in my heart to stay in God’s good graces.

Back then, I didn’t understand that as a believer in Jesus, my standing before God was fixed. Because of Christ’s death and resurrection on my behalf, I was already in his good graces. In fact, I was “blameless in His sight” (Ephesians 1:4) regardless of how many meltdowns I was mitigating or how many pounds of sand I had to vacuum out of my car.

But on that hot summer day at the beach, I didn’t understand that yet.

So I brush off sand, wipe hands, shake towels, and bang flip-flops together.

Then, from under the stroller, I retrieve my most important ally in my war against sand: my ice cream bucket of cool water. I set it on the pavement, and I lift each boy by his armpits and dip his feet in the bucket. They swish their little toes around, and the water turns brown.

After I buckle them in their car seats, it’s my turn to wash my own feet.

The water is dirty, and my feet don’t really fit in the bucket. I stand on top of my sandals while I try to get every last grain off. Finally, I leap from my sandals into the car. I lean out the driver’s side door and grab my sandals to bang off the sand. Then I swirl the bucket’s sludge into a watery vortex and fling it into the parking lot.

Finally finished, I look around the car to discover that somehow, we are all still covered in sand.

I am reminded that foot-washing has always been a futile chore.

During Holy Week, Jesus knelt in that upper room to wash the feet of his disciples. Their feet were covered in dirt and dung left in the streets by livestock. It was a smelly job. By the time the twelfth pair of feet was clean, the water was filthy. The basin was half-empty, and the towel was sopping and gray.

Was Jesus shaking the towel, flinging dirt, wondering how in the world he was going to keep everything tidy?

I don’t think so because Jesus’s main goal wasn’t clean feet. “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand” (John 1:37), he told them.

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.” All of Peter’s bold-acting, fast-talking, hard-driving devotion to Jesus couldn’t keep him in God’s good graces. Peter didn’t understand that Jesus wasn’t as concerned about his feet as he was about his heart.

Friendship with Jesus requires a clean heart, but only Jesus can clean it up. Only he can brush away the oily sludge of angry insults we lob at people we should love. Only he can provide the solvent that cuts away the gritty sin that chafes, causes infection, and eventually brings death.

But Peter didn’t understand that yet because the cross was still to come.

Jesus would wash all his disciples’ feet that night as an example of service in a degrading and futile chore. Jesus would love them to the end. But they would still flee, deny, and betray him because a foot-washing, even when given by Jesus, doesn’t permanently cleanse the heart.

In a few short hours, Peter’s feet will be soiled again. He’ll kneel in a mudpuddle made with tears over his denial of the only Savior who could make him spiritually clean.  

At the cross, Jesus endured the punishment that Peter—and you and I—deserved. He felt the burning wrath of his Father against the sin that injures the people he loves. The futility of scrubbing away dirt to make oneself appear holy will finally be revealed for what it is: a symbol, not a solvent.

God will wring from his Son the true solvent—the only detergent that can permanently wash away the sin that clings.

A few weeks later, the Resurrected Christ will invite Peter to walk along the beach and talk. With one question asked three times—Do you love me?—Jesus will assure Peter that his place in God’s Kingdom is secured. He’s been permanently cleansed, even if there is sand stuck between his toes just now.

It’s time for him to leave the beach too. He’s got good news to share. Jesus doesn’t say, “It’s futile.” He says, “It is finished.”


Remembering Holy Week: A 5-Day Devotional

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Filed Under: Bible Stories, Easter, Motherhood

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  1. TINA says

    March 28, 2021 at 8:32 pm

    Thank you

    Reply

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HI THERE!

I’m Shauna, and I help worn-out Christians find permanent rest and relief by retelling gospel stories that highlight Jesus’ kindness toward ordinary people like us.

In my books and on this blog, I weave history, theology, and fictional detail into a fresh retelling of familiar Bible stories. I started writing them because I needed them. When I shared my stories, people said they made the Bible come to life.

If you could use some permanent rest and relief, download my free Bible story devotional.

 

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A first-century tale of disaster, despair and unexpected deliverance.

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📚The Other Side of Us by @mollyweisgram .
📚Remarkable Faith &
📚Remarkable Hope (by me).
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My friend Emily Allen, founder of Kindred Mom, is My friend Emily Allen, founder of Kindred Mom, is my guest on the blog today! Whether you're caring for kiddos, elderly parents, or a neighbor in need, Emily shares encouragement to propel you forward.
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On a Sunday night two millennia ago, two disciples On a Sunday night two millennia ago, two disciples walked away from everything they had hoped for. ⠀⠀
⠀⠀
In “Remarkable Hope: When Jesus Revived Hope in Disappointed People,” I imagined what it might have been like for two downcast disciples on the road to Emmaus to finally realize their guest was not a stranger but their Savior. (For context read Luke 24:13-34. For clarity, I called the unnamed disciple Isaac.)⠀⠀
⠀⠀
“[Their Guest] smiled, lifted the bread from the plate, turned his face heavenward, and began to thank God. He prayed as though conversing with a friend or a father. The prayer was familiar, but different. With the “Amen,” he tore the loaf. Crumbs scattered on the table like manna sprinkled on the desert floor. Reaching across the table, he served steaming pieces to Isaac and Cleopas. Cleopas slid the bread from his hand as if pulling a drawer. He froze. In their guest’s palm, tender skin, freshly scarred, formed an almond shape, as if it had been pierced. Cleopas gasped. Isaac leaned forward. They stole a glance at one another, groping for words. ⠀⠀
⠀⠀
The kitchen fire snapped. Isaac’s father gulped wine. A loaf of bread thumped as it dropped and rattled a plate. He was gone. Cleopas scrambled to his feet. The table jostled as Isaac pushed himself away. His mother stood in the doorway holding a plate of meat at an angle, broth running onto the floor. A goblet rolled in circles on the floor as Isaac’s father stammered questions he couldn’t finish. ⠀⠀
⠀⠀
“It was him,” Isaac whispered.⠀⠀
⠀⠀
{Excerpted from “Remarkable Hope” by Shauna Letellier Copyright © 2019 pp. 178-179 FaithWords} Available at your favorite online retailer.
What we remember on Good Friday and celebrate on E What we remember on Good Friday and celebrate on Easter is the radical demonstration that Jesus has done for us what we cannot do for ourselves. He lived a life you and I are not capable of. He laid in a tomb that should have been ours. And when God raised him to life on what we now call Easter, all the riches of Christ’s perfect life and death were made available to unremarkable people. People like you and me: ⠀ ⠀⠀
People who hold on to things we ought to let go. ⠀⠀
People who worry their worship is a disappointment. ⠀⠀
People whose frantic service can never deserve God’s love. ⠀⠀
People with a life chock-full of rugged rebellion. ⠀⠀
And people who can’t yet bring themselves to publicly declare their allegiance to Christ. ⠀⠀
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Jesus died for people like you and me, and he was raised so we don't have to stay that way.⠀⠀
~Remembering Holy Week⠀⠀
Get your copy at the link in bio.⠀⠀
#holyweek #holyweek2021 #bibfic
The thief on the cross is the perfect example of a The thief on the cross is the perfect example of a dependent sinner. This man, perhaps more than any of us, understood that spending eternity with God comes by believing Jesus and accepting undeserved favor. He had no other choice. ⠀⠀
That kind of unabashed dependence on Jesus is the essence of faith—the link that binds our desperate need with his unlimited grace. Dependence on Christ is our only option. It is also the greatest gift. ⠀⠀
~ Remembering Holy Week ⠀⠀
Free Holy Week devotional here: https://buff.ly/3cuKeJU
Sometimes Jesus miraculously changes circumstances Sometimes Jesus miraculously changes circumstances, as he did for Simon and Lazarus. Sometimes he miraculously changes hearts and minds, as he did for Martha. Either way, we can’t categorically forget the past. Though we have been liberated from striving and sin, we can still remember how we used to operate. ⠀ ⠀⠀
Holy forgetfulness allows those memories to become a memorial to the sacred starting point of Christ’s work in our lives. The contrast of then and now points to the transformation Christ initiated, and we are glad to give him the credit. Whether we honor him with a banquet, a song, or quiet gratitude, a life undeniably transformed by Jesus naturally overflows with love and honor for him.⠀⠀
~ Remembering Holy Week⠀⠀
Get yours at the link in my bio.⠀
#holyweek #holyweek2021 #bibfic
Jesus gladly accepts our feeble attempts to honor Jesus gladly accepts our feeble attempts to honor him, no matter how weak or flawed our worship might seem to us. That kind of acceptance frees us to worship him without reserve. ⠀ ⠀⠀
We might be disappointed with our own attempts. Maybe your efforts were misunderstood. Maybe you missed a note. Maybe the words didn’t come out right. But when it comes to worship and a genuine desire to honor Jesus, he is not grading your performance. He is accepting your love—no matter how embarrassed you might be about what you have to offer.⠀⠀
~ Remembering Holy Week⠀⠀
Get your free devotional at the link in my bio.⠀
#holyweek #holyweek2021 #bibfic
“When we relinquish the wild things to Jesus, we “When we relinquish the wild things to Jesus, we can rest beneath his smile, and we can glimpse what he meant by an easy yoke and a light burden. The end result will be unbridled worship for The One who initiated the exchange." ~ Remembering Holy Week.⠀
Get your free copy at the link in my bio. ⠀
#holyweek2021 #holyweek #bibfic
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