“That looked like it hurt.”

Unable to answer, I gripped the counter with both hands and whispered, “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” 

Finally, I lifted my head and smiled at the customer behind me, “It sure did.” He stooped down and picked up the 28-oz bottle of Powerade and placed it carefully on the counter in front of me. 

Just moments before, I had clumsily placed the same bottle on the same counter, only to watch it tumble off the ledge and hit my poor unsuspecting right foot.

Over the next several days I watched as my third and fourth toes displayed vivid hues of blue, purple and black. As I hobbled around, I remembered an illustration made by the Apostle Paul in his first letter to the Corinthian church. 

In the twelfth chapter, he used our physical body as an analogy for the church. Just as our physical body is made up of diverse members, so is the church. Each part of our physical body serves a critical role in our overall well-being: the eyes, the ears, the hands, the feet, etc. In the same way, each member of the church uses their unique talents, gifts and skills to contribute to the Spiritual health of all the members. (1 Corinthians 12:12-27)

Biblical scholars and historians note the Christians in Corinth struggled with comparison and pride with regard to gifts and talents. They esteemed the contributions of the perceived “greater gifts” and disregarded those perceived as “lesser gifts”. 

In using our physical body as an illustration of the church, Paul made the point that each part of the body is essential, regardless of its function. In particular, this part of his analogy came to mind as I reflected on my recent injury:

If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. (1 Corinthians 12:26 NIV)

I almost never think about my third and fourth toes. But this past week, I’ve thought of them a lot. Every movement reminded me of their injured state. These seemingly insignificant toes took on a strange significance. 

A few days after my injury, some friends experienced a personal and unexpected tragedy. As I prayed for their family, I realized I’d become numb to the hardships of the people around me.

Before the social distancing protocols created by Covid-19, I relied on body language and other visual cues to alert me of any sadness in others. Zoom calls, texts, and emails do not convey the same information. It has been easy to assume everyone around me is fine.

But like my bruised and crippled toes, my friends’ pain brought me new awareness. People close to me are suffering. Some of them in silence. 

With the lifting of Covid-19 restrictions, I rejoice in the return to in-person events, like church services. The lessons I learned this week motivate me to respect the significance of each person He puts in my path. I pray to see those in need of encouragement, to show compassion for their pain, and to share their burden. Because when they suffer, I do too.

Wherever the road leads us next, may we seek to honor the One who leads us by showering each member of His body with compassion and respect.