After having lived in my new house for only three days, I didn’t think we could pull off a house party with hundreds of attendants.  And I didn’t think I’d have so much fun preparing for it.

A couple days ago, my roommates and I were anxious and overwhelmed about unpacking, moving in, getting ready for school, and making sure we had food to eat, not to mention getting ready to host our church’s annual fall semester college kickoff.

I had been running on autopilot.  It’s what happens when a big-picture, abstract-thinking person like me gets caught up in the details.  I knew it didn’t feel right.  All three of my roommates and I were doing our own thing, trying to pull our own so we wouldn’t fail.  But it was miserable.  God finally snatched me away from my autopiloted task-doing at lunch, and I told Him how I was feeling.  Overwhelmed.  Weak.  Guilty.  Not good enough.  Tired.

The Church is called the body of Christ.  But judging by how I was feeling, I didn’t feel like a part of a diverse, unified vessel.

The Church is called the body of Christ.  But sometimes we like to run off and be disembodied hands.

Hands are usually pretty happy and healthy and useful, but unless you’re in the Addams family, a disembodied hand just kind of withers.  (Gross.)  It gets no blood supply, it has no tendons to move it, and it becomes cold.

That was me.  But somewhere amidst the past couple days, God sewed me back on.

I confessed to my roommate Michele how I was feeling.  I told her I was tired of just pulling my own, trying not to inconvenience people:

Here in America we spend waste way too much of our time avoiding inconvenience.  It’s something about our culture that’s contrary to the entire concept of grace.  Grace is God’s unmerited favor.  Do you think it inconvenienced God to come down to this wretched planet, be born in a bloody feeding trough, deal with difficult and diseased and greedy people every day, and then catch a grenade for the very people who wanted him dead in the first place?  Heck yeah.  Do you think He wants us to feel bad and try to do it ourselves anyway and put on a good face for Him?  Heck no.  When you give a gift to someone, don’t you want them to simply receive it, be thankful, and be happier and more secure because of it?  Jesus is the same way.

Anyway, later that day, my roommates and I just stopped what we were doing and got together and just talked and prayed.  Michele had us tell each other about our unique personalities, our emotional needs, and the best ways for us to feel loved, accepted, and appreciated.  Tiffany prayed sincerely and with focus.  And when the meeting was over, Rachel told us just to come alongside one another and work on our tasks together.

One room at a time, we decorated our house.  Not only was it faster, but we all added our own diverse flare to each room, and the house started to look unified and even cozy.

The next day, a couple of our brothers in Christ came and mowed out lawn, trimmed our hedges, cleaned our gutters, and made us a bonfire.  We made them breakfast and lunch.  They were some beautiful feet.

Brains organized tasks.  Hearts brought eagerness.  Stomachs brought food.  some brought firewood, lights, chairs, tables.  Others brought fans, a volleyball, a projector screen, a TV, a game console or two.  Still more brought new friends and inclusive, welcoming attitudes.  The ears brought music, the knees brought dancing, and the lips brought laughter.

I wasn’t able to interact with everybody at my party last night, but God put me back in the place where I belong.  I was receiving lifeblood from Christ and His message of love that can’t help but reaching the world.  I felt like I had a purpose, yet I wasn’t burnt out.  I wasn’t ashamed of myself and the fact that I actually had to receive blood in order to feel alive.  Or that I had five fingers instead of seven.  Or that I’m not that good at piano after all.  I wasn’t able to carry weight quite like the feet did, but the good thing was I didn’t have to.

If you’re struggling to feel welcomed into the body of Christ, I am sorry.  I bet you’ve tried to sew yourself on but you just can’t.  You’re only one body part.  Perhaps other body parts aren’t doing their part.  Maybe they’re tired and bedraggled and ashamed, too.  But until God sews us back together, I encourage you to rest.  You have to receive lifeblood before you can feel alive, and no other person or thing or medicine can provide you with the exact nutrients you need.  Don’t see reading the Bible and praying and a work that you’re doing, but rather a metaphorical opening of the fridge to receive food and say grace.

No single hand can single-handedly bring the body of Christ together.  But we can receive blood, and we can serve the rest of the body just as God specially made us.  He meant for this work to be challenging but enjoyable, done with unity but not conformity, chock-full of new ideas and changes and muscles are worked out and grow back stronger.  And we have hope that one day God will finish what He started, but that He doesn’t want us waiting for the afterlife to start truly living.

We’ve got to come together.  And once we all come alive again, we just might see Jesus dancing.