Finding Corpus
Christy
by
R. Cody Smith
I knew
in my gut that something was wrong, but I just couldn’t put my finger on
it. All the studies and sermons somehow just didn’t add up to the promised
life. Since everyone else seemed to be getting it, I assumed that there must
be something wrong with me; after all I was a sinner. One day I overheard
some friends talking about Christian living and one of them mentioned the
phrase, “Fake it till you can make it.” While it didn’t seem very
honest to me I thought, “OK, if that’s how it’s done, I can play too.”
Meanwhile
I studied the Bible, went to conferences, and struggled with some inner
healing; I kept trying to discover what was
keeping me from enjoying the abundant life. I did learn a lot about the
Bible, and quite a bit of doctrine, but the more I learned the worse it
seemed to get. None of this activity moved me
any closer to what I sought, and the yearning deep within my soul would
not be silenced. After a while a reoccurring thought began to plague my
mind—what if it's not me after all? Could
something really be wrong,
could something important be missing? Wait! What did I know anyway?
I was just a beginner at all this; maybe a rebellious spirit or something
was controlling me. “Keep it quiet,” I thought, “this seems to be
the only boat afloat, better not rock it.”
This
reminded me of that fabled emperor who is duped into buying a very fine
suit made of a rare cloth that only the wisest of men could see. He then
marched proudly through the middle of town in his new invisible clothes.
Not wanting to show themselves as ignorant, none of his subjects says a
word. That is except for the only honest person in the crowd, a small
child who laughingly screams out, “Hey you guys, the emperor has no
clothes!”
I
kept hearing about the body of Christ that we all belonged to, but it
seemed to be another one of those theological mysteries well beyond my
comprehension. There were sermons about gifts and functions and how we all
belonged to one another; they usually included were some pretty corny
jokes about disconnected body parts. I understood the concept all right,
but looking around at the congregation, I just couldn’t visualize how
all three hundred of us in that sanctuary were going to become one. It
took an act of congress just to get ten people to show up and pull weeds
in the parking lot once a year.
All
I could see was three hundred fannies
warming the pews, and two hundred ears
passively enjoying the show (the rest were asleep or not paying
attention). There simply seemed to be no connection between the words, and
the reality of my own experience. Worst of all I didn’t really know any
of these people, how in the world could I become one with them? All we
ever said was, “Hi, how are you,” “I’m fine thank you, bless you
brother.” If I ever tried to tell anyone how I really felt they suddenly
were called away to the bathroom, or remembered that they had left their
wife and kids waiting in the car with all the windows rolled up.