The Laver in the Life of Jesus – Part 1

“He poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet and wipe them with the towel with which he was girded.”

John 13:5

In the court of the temple there were two objects that arrested the eye of the entering worshiper—the brazen altar, and the laver. The latter was always kept full of pure, fresh water, for the constant washings enjoined by the Levitical code. Before the priests were consecrated for their holy work and attired in the robes of the sacred office, they washed there (Exod. 29:4). Before they entered the Holy Place in their ordinary ministry and before Aaron, on the great Day of Atonement, proceeded to the Most Holy Place with blood…it was needful to conform to Lev. 16:4 “He shall wash his flesh in water.”

First, the laver, and then the Holy Place; the order is irreversible, and the teaching of the types is as exact as mathematics. Therefore, when the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews invites us to draw near, and make our abode in the Most Holy Place, he carefully obeys the divine order, and bids us “draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water” (10:22).

In this scene (John 13:1-14), on the eve of our Lord’s betrayal, we find the spiritual counterpart of the laver, and in the following chapters we stand in the Presence Chamber. In order to fully understand this touching incident, it is necessary to remember the circumstances from which it sprang. On the way from Bethany to the Upper Room, in which the Supper had been prepared, and on entering the room, our Lord must have been deeply absorbed in the momentous events in which He was to be the central figure. But He was not unmindful of a contention that had engaged His disciples. They had been disputing one with another as to who of them should be greatest. The proud spirit of the flesh, which so often cursed this little group, broke out in this awful hour with renewed energy. It was as though the prince of this world would inflict a parting blow on his great Antagonist, through those whom He loved best. It was as if Satan said, “See the results of Your tears and teaching, of Your prayers and pleadings; the love that You have so often taught is but a passing sentiment that has never rooted itself in the soil of these wayward hearts. It is a plant too rare and exotic for the climate of earth. Take it back with You to Your own home if You will, but seek not to achieve the impossible.”

It was heartrending that this exhibition of pride should take place just at this juncture. These were the men who had been with Him in His temptations, who had had the benefit of His most careful instructions, who had been exposed to the full influence of His personal character; and yet, notwithstanding all, the rock-bed of pride, that had cast the angels down from heaven, that had led to the fall of man, obtruded itself. This occasion in which it manifested itself was very inopportune. Already the look of Calvary was on the Savior’s face, and the sword was entering His heart. Surely, they must have been aware that the shadow of the great eclipse was already passing over the face of their Sun. But even this did not avail to restrain the manifestation of their pride. Heedless of three years of example and teaching; unrestrained by the symptoms of our Lord’s sorrow; unchecked by the memory of happy and familiar intercourse, which should have bound them forever in a united brotherhood, they wrangled…as to who should be first.

If pride asserted itself after such education, and under such circumstances, let us be sure that it is not far away from any one of us. We do not now contend in so many words for the chief places; courtesy, politeness, fear of losing the respect of others, restrain us. But our resentment to the fancied slight, or the assumption by another of work that we thought our own; our sense of hurt when we are put aside; our jealousy and envy; our detracting speeches, and subtle insinuations of low motive, all show how much of this loveless spirit rankles in our hearts. We have been planted in the soil of this world, and we betray its flavor.

Consider these epithets of the love of Christ: It was unusually tender. When the hour of departure approaches, though slight reference is made to it, love lives with the sound of the departing wheels or the scream of the engine always in its ear; and there is given a

tenderness to the tone, a delicacy to the touch, a thoughtfulness for the heartache of those from whom it is to be parted, which are of inexpressible beauty. All this was present with Christ. He was eating that Supper with them before He suffered. He knew that He would soon depart out of this world to the Father. His ear was especially on the alert; His nature keenly alive, His heart thrilling with unusual

tenderness, as the sands slowly ran out from the hourglass.

It was supreme love. “Having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end” (John 13:1). These last words

have been thought to refer to the end of life, but it surely would be

superfluous to tell us that the strong waters of death could not quench the love of the Son of Man. When once He loves, He loves always. It is needless to tell us that the divine heart that has enshrined a soul will not forsake it; that the name of the beloved is never erased from the palms of the hands; that the covenant is not forgotten though eternity elapse. We do not need to be assured that the Immortal Lover, who has once taken us into union with Himself, can never loose His hold. Therefore, it is better to adopt the alternative suggested by some, “He loved them to the uttermost.” Nothing was needed to fill out the ideal of perfect love. Not a stitch was required for the needlework of wrought gold: not a touch demanded for the perfectly achieved picture; not a throb added to the strong pulse of affection with which He regarded His own.

It is wonderful that He should have loved such men like this. As we pass them under review at this time of their life, they seem a collection of nobodies—with the exception perhaps of John and Peter. But they were His own; there was a special relationship between Him and them. They had belonged to the Father, and He had given them to the Son as His special belonging. “Yours they were and you gave them to me” (John 17:6).

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,

Who never to himself has said,

This is my own. ..

It was because these men were Christ’s own, that the full passion of His heart set in toward them, and He loved them to the utmost; that is, the tides filled the capacity of the ocean bed of possibility.

It was bathed in the sense of His divine origin and mission. The curtain was waxing very thin. It was a moment of vision. There had swept across His soul a realization of the full meaning of His approaching triumph. He looked back, and was hardly conscious of the manger where the horned oxen fed, of His lowly birth, of the obscure years, in the sublime conception that He had come forth from God. He looked forward, and was hardly conscious of the cross, the nail, the crown of thorns, and the spear, because of the sublime consciousness that He was stepping back, to go to Him with whom He realized His identity. He looked on through the coming weeks, and knew that the Father had given all things into His hands. What the devil had offered as the price of obeisance to himself, that the Father was about to give Him—no, had already given Him—as the

price of His self-emptying.

The love that went out toward this little group of men was…the love of the glory He had with the Father before the worlds were; of that which now fills the bosom of His ascended and glorified nature.

He was aware of the task to which He was abandoning these men. He knew that as He was the High Priest over the house of God, they were its priests. He knew that cleansing was necessary before they could receive the anointing of the Holy Spirit. He knew that the great work of carrying forward His gospel was to be delegated to their hands. He knew that they were to carry the sacred vessels of the gospel, which must not be stained by contact with human pride or uncleanness. He knew that the very mysteries of Gethsemane and Calvary would be inexplicable, and that none might stand on that holy hill, save those who had clean hands and a pure heart. Because of all this, He turned to them, in symbol and metaphor, to impress upon their heart and memory the necessity of participating in the cleansing of which the laver is the type. (To be continued)

F.B. Meyers

“A man can counterfeit love, he can counterfeit faith, he can counterfeit hope and all the other graces, but it is very difficult to counterfeit humility. You soon detect mock humility. As the tares and the wheat grow, they show which God has blessed. The ears that God has blessed bow their heads and acknowledge every grain, and the more fruitful they are the lower their heads are bowed. The tares lift up their heads erect, high above the wheat, but they are only fruitful of evil.

If we only get down low enough, God will use us to His Glory.”

D. L. Moody

Oh, Master, let me walk with Thee

In lowly paths of service free;

Tell me the secret; help me bear

The strain of toil, the fret of care.

Help me the slow of heart to move

By some clear, winning word of love;

Teach me the wayward feet to stay,

And guide them in the homeward way.

Teach me Thy patience; still with Thee

In closer, dearer company.

In work that keeps faith sweet and strong,

In trust that triumphs over wrong.

Washington Gladden