Why Me?

Who, Me?

1 Corinthians 12:27-31

            Who, me?  I’m the body of Christ?  No way!  First of all, I don’t want the distinction.  It’s too much.  I don’t deserve the honor, I don’t want the honor, and I won’t accept the honor.  Just let me be.  Let me be the insignificant little church member I want to be.  Don’t give me too much credit or too much responsibility.  All I want to do is go to church on Sundays, try to be good, and (I hope) secure my tiny little corner of heaven.  That’s all.  No big deal.  Nothing more than that—and certainly nothing less!  Why can’t you just leave me alone?  Forget this body of Christ deal.  It’s not for me!

            Oh, wait a minute!  I’m not the body of Christ; I’m part of the body of Christ?  That’s better.  Yes, that’s me.  I’m a churchgoing, Bible-believing, dyed-in-the-wool body member.  Thank you very much for including me.  Now, let me just sneak over to my little corner here.  I’ll listen to the announcements, the Scripture reading and the sermon.  I’ll really listen!  I promise!  I never fall asleep.  I’ll even sing the hymns—but not too loudly.  I don’t think my voice is very good, and I don’t want to disturb anyone’s worship by singing off-key.  I don’t want to draw attention to myself.

I don’t want to be noticed at all—don’t want anyone to make a fuss over me.  If they become aware of me, they might ask me to do something, and I really don’t want to get involved.  No telling where that might lead.  They might even give me a job to do, and I wouldn’t want that.  Everyone would find out I’m just a no-talent little person with no real abilities.  I have no desire to look like a fool when I fail at some task.  No thanks.  I’ll just come and go quietly, not disturbing anyone—not even the air around me; not bothering anybody, not creating any waves.  All I want is to be a silent partner in this church business.

            God has done what?  What do you mean, God has given me a gift?  What kind of gift?  What’s a spiritual gift?  I may be an apostle? A prophet? A teacher?  I might be able to work miracles? I might be able to heal?  To be a helper?  To administer?  Next thing you’ll be telling me is that I can speak in tongues—and isn’t that ridiculous…what?  Maybe I can?

            Impossible!  I’m no preacher, no teacher, no administrator.  Oh, I might be able to help move the furniture around, or maybe—if really pressed—take up the collection; but then again, no.  I don’t like to be noticed; and someone might get the wrong idea.  They might think I can actually do something useful, that I might want to do something for the church; but I don’t—I really don’t.  I just want to be invisible.

            What’s that?  I can’t be invisible?  Why not?  Why me?  Why do I have to contribute?  Isn’t it enough that I put five dollars a week into the offering?  That’s pretty generous, considering I don’t make all that much.  After all, I’ve got to live.  What about food? Clothing? Rent?  What about entertainment?  What would I do without my TV, my video games, my Ipod?

            But you say God wants more from me?  You say God won’t be satisfied with my hiding in the corner every Sunday morning?  You say, even if no one else has noticed me, God has, and that God has work for me to do?  But, what?  When?  Where?  How?  Most importantly, why?  Why me?

            I can’t get off that easy?  Whether I like it or not, God has given me a gift, and it’s my job to find out what it is and then use it for the good of the church?  I’m not sure I can do that.  I don’t have a choice?  I’ll have to think about that.  I’ll get back to you.

            Now?  Right now? Who, me?