Several years ago at a dinner with friends, the conversation turned to one of those hypotheticals that surfaces in movies and TV: the doomsday scenario. We wondered if the nation as we know it ended, and we all had to hunker down in little groups to survive, how would our group function? One of our friends had recently completed culinary training so that was an easy decision; he was going to keep us all fed. Another friend was a nurse–she would keep us healthy. My husband has many useful skills–carpentry, mechanical know-how, familiarity with electrical systems. He would keep our little community functioning. Then we got to me. “I could read to our kids?” I offered. I’m an English teacher and a bookworm, and I felt like I didn’t have very many “useful” skills for a situation like this.
Even on an average day, I can feel like my skills aren’t that worthwhile because they don’t help produce anything that a community can eat, wear, or live in, which are the most essential needs we all have. Then I remember that for communities to flourish and not just survive, they need storytellers and artists. They need people who will grow flowers, and other people who can sing. They need people who deliver compassionate care for wounded hearts, and they need people who can play and are good at reminding others to be more playful. We need all of these elements and more in our communities because we each need these elements as individuals. A human life is about more than what it produces.
When I think about the needs of communities and individuals, I am reminded of Paul’s talk about the church as a “body” in 1 Corinthians 12. I am grateful he used this image because it reminds me both how essential every part is and how beautifully each part works together, despite our very human tendency to privilege some parts of the body over others. Paul’s words remind us that just because we aren’t an eye or a hand doesn’t mean we aren’t necessary. Every part deserves honor and gratitude for the role it plays. Paul could have used other images to try to communicate our interdependency, but he didn’t. He chose this very familiar image, I think, because he knew we would get it. We’ve never been so grateful for our ankles until we’ve sprained one of them. We’ve never fully appreciated our noses until a sinus infection sets in and we can’t breathe out of one or both of our nostrils. Maybe we’ve never understood the role of a gallbladder until it starts malfunctioning and causes us great pain. A body and all its respective parts are a living metaphor for God’s Church.
All possible jokes about the appendix aside, none of us are expendable. Whether we write songs for worship or greet people or hold babies or teach a small group or pick up trash or direct cars in the parking lot–everyone is necessary. None of us gets a pass. No one can afford to sit on the sidelines. In the same way that our bodies’ many systems depend on each other and work together, God designed his Body, the Church, so that our individual needs are met, the community flourishes, and he is glorified.
Jessica Scheuermann
Jessica is a part of our Christ’s Church family and serves as Academic Resource Commons Director & English Professor at our Impact ministry partner, Ozark Christian College.
Jessica is pictured here with her husband, Ryan, and son, Josh.
