If the church is the body of Christ, what part would you be?
All the good parts are spoken for, right? You’re late to the game so you get to choose from the left overs. Head – gone. Heart – gone. Right hand, left hand – they’re taken. Even the smelly feet got scooped up. After all, those things can take you places.
Er, just what am I looking for here? Something that will work for me? Something I can really put to good use? Or… am I looking for a good fit? A part that suits me, that feels right, that I can snuggle into and make into a home.
Sounds more like a nest than a body, that does. Perhaps the question isn’t what part would I be, but what part would be me?
Daunting. When I drew a figure of a body, it looked more like the tracing at a crime scene. Indistinct body parts, not much you can identify. But wouldn’t you know it, that silhouette of a man turned and started running. Running off the page. And here I am, watching him go.
Trying to get him all proportioned, I drew him with circles for hands and circles for feet. Pretty tough to run that way. Pretty hard to reach that way. Hey man, you need some fingers! some toes! maybe a thumb or two. Good for gripping, holding… There I am again, thinking about me.
Lord, what do you need?
I thought you’d never ask. Here you are.