The Body of Christ: Unity and Community

“When we reach out and share ourselves—our fears, hopes, struggles and joy—we create small sparks of connection. Our shared vulnerability creates light in normally dark places. The lights are small … but an entire strand of sparkling lights is sheer beauty. It’s the connectivity that makes them beautiful.” Brene Brown

I was asked to lead the adult forum class at Holy Cross in November to address this question: How can we build community with those who live outside the United States? Here is my answer in a bit more detail than what I had time to share in 45 minutes on a Sunday morning.

For me, the answer is connection. It’s about relationship. And I believe each of us is called to build that international relationship but in very different ways. Basically, there are two ways: going and giving. Both are very valuable. So let’s talk about what that looks like.

First of all, obviously, not everyone can go—financially, physically. It's a big investment of not only money but also time. But please don't discredit the value of being the body of Christ for our international friends by not ever leaving the United States. Look at what our Women to Women group is doing. Over the past six years, they have sent $22,000 to Haiti. I’m no expert on the work being done there, but I would imagine that money is changing lives.

I’m sure you won’t be surprised to know that I’m going to talk about Ecuador. I think I left half my heart there. In the summer of 2014, Holy Cross sent about a dozen youth and several adults to Ecuador to work with our missionaries, Cameron and Roberto. And without the support of those of you who didn’t go, we wouldn’t have been able to go. We needed your support, your prayers, and your donations. You all helped send not only all those people but also paint brushes, caulk guns, Sunday school supplies, an e-reader, and two brand new laptops. You acted as the body of Christ for us so we could go and act as the body of Christ for them.

And in a beautiful cycle, that going triggered more giving. After we spent that time working at an Episcopal church called Cristo Liberador, we came back and talked about it. A few months later, Noreen Smith and Sue Picker felt called to visit when they were in Ecuador on vacation, and after meeting Mother Lourdes and seeing her church, Noreen and Sue came home and raised about $1,000 to repair and paint Cristo’s moldy kitchen. This not only made the kitchen a safer place to cook and eat and hang out but also provided local jobs. Noreen and Sue saw our group go, and they wanted to experience what we experienced. So I guess being the body of Christ is contagious.

After the July trip, I went back in January on a vision trip with Education Equals Hope. I felt a deep connection and needed to go back to figure out why. This trip changed how I see the world and how I connect with my brothers and sisters in Christ who live nowhere near me and yet have profoundly similar stories. Let me give you one example: there’s this beautiful little girl named Zoila. 

What this video doesn’t show is that while Roberto was filming, Zoila was gravitating toward me. As she started talking, she got closer and closer until she was right under my arm. She knew nothing about me. We’d barely spoken a word. And yet we felt some kind of connection. I kept thinking, “What do I possibly have in common with this girl? Our lives look nothing alike.” But then I heard this quiet, shy little girl talk about her love for school. I thought, “OK. I get that.” I loved school at her age too. It was an escape for me—an escape from a home life that was somewhat less than perfect. I usually felt like the outsider, the quiet awkward girl with her nose in a book. So I started to really pay attention to what Zoila was saying. The other part that this video doesn't show is that she shared how her parents are divorced and she is being raised by her alcoholic mother. Suddenly, her story became my story. Suddenly, connection happened. Relationship happened, even if only for a few moments. I’ll never forget that little girl. However, that connection would never have happened if she hadn't allowed herself to be vulnerable.

So, here’s what I have learned about being the body of Christ: It’s really scary.
On my first trip, I felt vulnerable for many reasons:

• I had no idea how I was going to pay for my daughter and I to go. I didn’t have an extra $4,000. I just felt called. And the first step was to step out in faith that I wouldn’t end up over my head in debt. That was scary scary scary.

• Neither one of us speaks Spanish.

• I had no clue where we were going, where we would sleep, what we would eat, or how we would get around a completely foreign country.

• I felt that I had no real talents for the actual “job” I thought I was going to do. I am a terrible painter. I’ve never made church pew cushions—or any kind of cushion for that matter, unless you count the church kneelers, but they weren’t asking us to come over there and needlepoint.

Relationship and connection are why Cameron wants us to come to Ecuador at least every other year. So here we go again—sending another group this summer. We are stepping out on faith that if it is meant to be, the right doors will open. And I am stepping out on faith that this feeling of being called—this time to go not only with one daughter but with two—is the right decision and not financial suicide.
To sum it all up, here’s what I know about how we build community with those who live outside the United States, although I’m pretty sure this applies to right here and right now: Being the body of Christ means going out into the world, arms flung out wide to receive not only the gifts the world has to offer us put also the pain. And sometimes when we share our pain—or when we are simply present when someone else is vulnerable enough to share their pain—we see that we aren't so different after all. 

Once we arrived in Ecuador, I realized we weren’t the only ones being the body of Christ. Cameron’s short-term mission teams are intentionally about reciprocal giving. The people we were serving also served us. They cooked for us. They worked alongside us. They played soccer with us. They gave every single one of us a gift. Do you suppose they felt vulnerable? Their church is their home, perhaps even more so than for us. For many, the church—in all its rustic glory—is in much better shape than their homes. So for them, the church is a safe place, a shelter, a haven. And they opened their church home to a group of total strangers. Imagine two dozen people coming into Holy Cross—people we have never seen before, painting, making pew cushions, peeling potatoes in our kitchen. They allowed themselves to be vulnerable—vulnerable to our shoddy workmanship, to the fear of us judging them or looking down on them, to the risk of would we even show up to do the work they had asked us to do. Do you think they felt vulnerable?

So for that body in Ecuador and this body here in Simpsonville—which is really one body—being the body of Christ means making ourselves vulnerable to so many unknowns. To not knowing the outcome. To getting hurt. To being misunderstood. To getting lost.

I’ve learned a great deal about vulnerability from a qualitative researcher named Brene Brown, who has spent more than a decade collecting data to study vulnerability, courage, worthiness, and shame. She says the only way we will ever do great works is by taking great risks and that vulnerability is the only way we can have truly intimate, honest relationships.

So I want to share a video with you. Think about what it means to be vulnerable, and think about how being the body of Christ is about not only doing great works but also about having honest, intimate relationships. 

Click here to watch The Power of Vulnerability

Brene Brown says “Connection is why we are here. We are hardwired to connect with others. It’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives.” So that age-old question “what’s the meaning of life?” I believe the answer is this: Life is about relationship building. In order for us to build relationships, we have to allow ourselves to be seen. We have to be vulnerable. And we have to have the courage to be imperfect.

So here’s the plug: please support our 2016 mission team. Pray for us. Come to fundraisers. Donate items when we ask for them. Contribute financially in any amount and at any time. Pray for our friends in Ecuador. Pray that we can all allow ourselves to be vulnerable, to embrace the fear of the unknown, to put ourselves out there to serve and be served, to make Christ known in God’s community, and to see how others are doing the same thing on the other half of the world.

Being the body of Christ is about taking off your suit of armor and being vulnerable. It’s about being God with skin on, not God with a suit of armor on.

  “Life is soul-making.” ~ Alan Jones, former dean of Grace Cathedral, San Francisco