I attended one of these small group meetings one night in the home of radio technician Paul Wyse and his wife Peggy. Also present were Wes and Eva Thiesen, veteran translators with the Bora tribe, and Gene and Marie Scott, translators with the Sharanahua people.

As we gathered that night — two veteran translator couples and a skilled radio technician — in Paul and Peggy’s small jungle house, the only sounds were the night noises of the jungle which wafted through the screened windows.

“What’s the procedure for the meeting tonight?” I asked.

“Tonight,” Scotty said, “we’re going to wash one another’s feet.”

It was the reenactment of the old practice followed by Jesus in the Upper Room on the night before His crucifixion. Seldom had I been in a place where the Holy Spirit was so evident as that night in that jungle house.

“I’m new at all this,” Scotty confessed, as he gently placed his wife’s foot in the basin. “I grew up a Methodist, and sometimes I thought a handshake was pretty intimate. Now I understand that if I am not willing to kneel before my brother — or my wife — and wash feet, I am not qualified to be used of God in other areas.”

The Wyses came from a different background. They were Mennonites. “We used to have an annual foot-washing service,” Paul said. “But this is different. This has more meaning; it is an act of love — of giving and receiving love. It’s humiliating — but oh, it feels good in your heart.”