Wash Me in Truth

By Mikey & V

Don’t kneel in a robe
with polished hands
and a silver basin
if you’re not ready to deal with my dirt.

Don’t touch my feet
unless you came with fire.

Because I don’t need soft water.
I need living water—
with grit in it.
With rebuke in it.
With the kind of pressure that scrubs compromise off bone.

Jesus didn’t wash feet to be poetic.
He did it to show us
that real love kneels where it’s messy
and says,

“You were made to walk different.”

So if you say you love me—
wash me in truth.

Don’t flatter me.
Confront me.
Don’t stroke my ego.
Sharpen my spirit.

Iron sharpens iron,
not lotion and roses.
Sparks fly
when you challenge my walk
because you care more about my soul
than my comfort.

That’s love.
That’s feet-washing.

So don’t just dip a towel
in warm religious water
and pretend we’re good.

Call me out when I wander.
Drag me back to the Word.
Pray over my ankles
and remind them they were made
to stand holy.

You wanna wash my feet?

Then be bold enough
to challenge my pride,
correct my sin,
and still call me brother
while doing it.

Because that’s how He did it.

Wash me in truth,
or don’t touch me at all.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

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