Be the Appendix: Faithfulness in Christ’s Body When You Feel Useless

My Bible sat where my husband had placed it on a hospital table. Following a devastating postpartum stroke, I’d experienced nearly two weeks of unconsciousness and delirium, in which I was convinced I’d been left by paramedics in our laundry and that breakfast Still Hadn’t Come (calling my husband at 10 a.m., 11 p.m., and 2 a.m. until he confiscated my phone!). I lay helpless, useless, and reliant on others for everything—from feeding, changing, and comforting my baby at home to cutting my food and assisting with my own toileting. 

Now, as the hospital bed rose, bringing me nose-on to my Bible, I was eager to open God’s Word. Fumbling one-handed, I quickly prayed, and my eyes fell across this passage:                

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ . . . For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body . . . But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose . . . The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable . . . Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it. (1 Corinthians 12:12-27)               

I wondered, “How does Paul’s analogy hold up when one’s genuinely about as useful as the appendix?” It seems the body hurts exceedingly when this tiny part malfunctions, but does just fine without it, when required. 

Every Part Essential

Subsequent months of intensive inpatient rehabilitation helped me relearn to walk but were without success for my left arm and hand. I’d envisaged motherhood involving serving at church and school; discipling my kids with music and art; braiding hair, ironing, cleaning, gardening—all the normal things. Now I couldn’t even hang clothes to dry. I couldn’t sing. I couldn’t hold my baby. Often, the grief was overwhelming.

Have you been there too? Hyper-aware of your inadequacy, desperately longing to be other than what you are, unable to serve as you’d anticipated, feeling useless? In that moment, insidious lies can creep in: “Why are you here? You don’t deserve to be part of the body, part of your family, part of this life . . . ” 

But I believe God let me read that passage in the hospital for a purpose. Just because the left side of my body ceased acting as part of me didn’t mean that it ceased to be a part of me, nor that I became any less a real part of the body of Christ. Believers were made for interdependent relationships with each other, reflecting the perfect, purposeful unity of our Triune God. The fall brought division, hostility, and isolation to our experience that Jesus mended through the cross, to be fully realized when he returns. As we wait, we need each other, and we are needed by each other. Every Single Part. 

The trauma and grief caused by my left-sided defection helped me to reflect on the sorrow that arises when believers amputate themselves from the body. Friends, let’s not contribute to this kind of wounding. Let’s not perform spiritual appendectomies. 

A Meaningful Role

Medical professionals now suspect that the appendix does actually have a small but meaningful function in the immune system—providing something to be missed when it’s gone. Similarly,        fellow church members have said they’re encouraged by my continued presence and perseverance amidst suffering. While my heart has sometimes cried in response, “I don’t want to be an encouragement; I just want my life back!” I’ve come to value the opportunity God has given to serve others in this way.      

Perhaps, at least for a season, some of us are called to be the appendix, to contribute in truly tiny ways to the immune system of our families and churches—to help them resist the infection of doubt, disobedience, and self-sufficiency. To encourage our husbands, children, and brethren to stand firm in Jesus; to disarm the lies of the enemy, resist the pull of the world, and hold to Love that never fails. As in 1 Corinthians 13:13, faith, hope, and love are what endure far beyond any good works or eloquent words . . . how might we live that out today? It could be as small as praying faithfully here, affirming God’s truth and hope there, being gracious as others seek to meet needs we desperately wish we didn’t have, or simply remaining amidst the storm.           

Growing in Grace

Living as the appendix will grow us in humility. We may feel our contribution is insignificant, but we can trust that it benefits both the body and our families when we faithfully carry out the good works which Christ has set before us, no matter how small.[1] Rather than becoming unduly introspective about the size of our role, we can instead joyfully focus on being part of the body under the headship of Christ. 

And in those seasons when we may be able to contribute nothing, we can remember that our loving Father has placed us in the body as he has purposed, regardless of what we can “do.” We don’t have to earn or prove our value to belong. God is the all-sufficient one, imparting mercy and grace as we come to him.[2] Let’s rely on his goodness and rest in his kindness.

By God’s grace, my left arm and hand can now perform some tasks, albeit awkwardly and imperfectly. I thank him that I can contribute to my family and church in some of the ways I’d hoped and had lost. But even as things change and, God-willing, continue to improve, may he help me continue as an appendix of faith, hope, and love.

[1] Ephesians 2:10

[2] Hebrews 4:16