Maundy Thursday: The Night Jesus Rewrote Power

Maundy Thursday gets its name from the Latin word mandatum, “commandment,” because on the night before the cross, Jesus gave His disciples a new commandment: to love one another as He had loved them. Christians remember it during Holy Week because it marks the Last Supper, the washing of the disciples’ feet, and the beginning of the final hours leading to Good Friday.

There is something quiet about Maundy Thursday. It doesn’t carry the celebration of Palm Sunday or the weight of Good Friday. It doesn’t have the triumph of Easter morning. It sits in between—easily overlooked, easy to move past on the way to what feels more important. But if we slow down, this night reveals something essential about Jesus.

Because on this night, Jesus doesn’t display power. He redefines it.

In John 13, we’re told that during the final meal with His disciples, Jesus gets up from the table, removes His outer garment, wraps a towel around His waist, and begins to wash their feet. It’s hard for us to imagine how shocking that would have been.

Foot washing wasn’t a spiritual act. It wasn’t symbolic at the time. It was a job. And not just any job—the lowest one in the household. The kind of task you gave to the servant no one noticed. And yet Jesus—fully aware of who He was—chose to take that place. John makes that clear. Jesus knew that the Father had given all things into His hands. He knew where He came from. He knew where He was going. And because of that, He was free to kneel.

That’s what makes this moment so powerful. Jesus isn’t acting out of insecurity. He isn’t trying to prove anything. He isn’t losing authority.

He’s revealing what authority actually looks like.

We tend to think of power as control—the ability to shape outcomes, direct people, protect ourselves, and get what we want. But on this night, Jesus shows us something entirely different.

Power, in the kingdom of God, looks like love that serves. It looks like humility that moves toward others. It looks like strength that doesn’t need to be above. After washing their feet, Jesus says, “A new command I give you: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.”

That’s where Maundy Thursday gets its name. “Maundy” comes from the Latin word for command. And this is the command: love like this. Not in theory. Not in sentiment. But in action—low, humble, costly, self-giving love. That kind of love isn’t easy to receive, and it’s even harder to give.

Because if we’re honest, most of us still prefer a different kind of power. We want control. We want recognition. We want to be served, not to serve. We want a King who makes life easier, who meets our expectations, who fixes things on our terms. But on this night, Jesus shows us the kind of King He actually is. The One who kneels.

And this moment doesn’t stand alone. It points forward. The towel leads to the cross. The act of washing their feet is a preview of something deeper. Jesus is not just cleaning dirt from their skin—He is about to give His life to deal with sin at its root. Maundy Thursday reminds us that the way of Jesus is not about climbing up, but laying down.

So maybe the most honest question for us is this:

Where am I resisting the towel? Where am I holding onto control when I’m being invited to serve? Where is pride louder than love? Where am I waiting to be recognized instead of choosing to move toward someone else?

Following Jesus isn’t just about believing the right things about Him. It’s about becoming like Him. And on this night, before the cross, before the empty tomb, before the victory…

Jesus kneels.

And in doing so, He shows us what love really looks like.