The whole mass of Christians are the physical organism through which Christ acts—
that we are his fingers and muscles,
the cells of His body.
~C.S. Lewis from Mere Christianity
Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.
Christ has no body now but yours.
No hands, no feet on earth but yours.
Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world.
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.
Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands,
yours are the feet,
yours are the eyes,
you are his body.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
~Teresa of Avila
When I am awake in the night to attend to those who are hurting,
some who have been hurt by illness, injury or abuse or
who hurt themselves to escape their hopelessness,
I remember, in my own weariness,
this dear one too is part of His body,
one of the cells
that adjoins the cell that is me,
each of us critical to the life
raised in the body of Christ.
Why have have so many of us Christians forgotten this in the last year?
How can we not care first and foremost for the vulnerable,
for our beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,
as well as those who we don’t know and don’t yet know Christ,
by doing whatever we can,
whether it is the inconvenience of masking
or accepting the low risk of an effective vaccine,
to shield others and ourselves from potential harm
and end this painful time of pandemic history?
Pastor Tim Keller has said:
Christians are called by God to be living so sacrificially and beautifully that the people around us, who don’t believe what we believe, will soon be unable to imagine the world without us.
Thank you to David French, Michael Luo, and Scott Sauls for their insights into the role of Christ’s church during the pandemic and how we can do better in living out our mandate as the body and cells of Christ.
Keep watch, dear Lord,
with those who work, or watch, or weep this night,
and give your angels charge over those who sleep.
Tend the sick, Lord Christ;
give rest to the weary,
bless the dying,
soothe the suffering,
pity the afflicted,
shield the joyous;
and all for your loves sake.
~Common Book of Prayer
3 thoughts on “Waiting in Wilderness: Becoming His Cells”
♥ Just got our first dose last week, so thankful and happy to get it.
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Sadness in the wilderness, when it is opening.
My prayer was and I encouraged my dad often hoping he could hang in there until things improved.
After his second vaccine, I asked if I could have more Compassionate Care visits. The HNA said, “No.”
He was three weeks beyond his second vaccine, when he passed.
And now three and one half weeks after his passing, things are beginning to open.
I must say today I am feeling some anger.
I know he is in a better place…released from his call bell and the wheelchair,
but I was hoping to have some time to again be a part of his caregiving team.
To bring to him some of his favorite foods.
My niece told me not to be sad for him. He’s in heaven.
I told her I’m not sad for him. I’m sad for me.
I have two questions.
How many of the most vulnerable in nursing homes died from COVID?
How many of the most vulnerable in nursing homes died not from COVID,
but from the effects of loneliness, depression, lack of exercise and socialization?
This morning, I went to a graveside service for a family friend one year younger than I am.
She was in an apartment at a CCC when COVID started.
Then she was in rehab and the last time I talked with her, she was in Healthcare.
She died one day after my dad’s funeral.
There were 4 people at the service; her daughter, son in law, sister, and me, a friend.
So sad. So, very, very sad.
Driving home from the service, I heard Tony Evans on my radio.
I usually don’t listen to him. I don’t like the way he shouts his sermon.
But his first words grabbed me…
Don’t let yesterday keep you from tomorrow.
Freedom from Yesterday. That’s where I need to go.
It’s a process. One day at a time.
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I am sad for the time you lost with your dad but I don’t for a moment doubt he knew for certain how loved he was. That was a gift you gave him by grieving him before you actually lost him. What a reunion you will have with him years from now.