"Bind us together, Lord"

“Bind us together, Lord; bind us together with cords that cannot be broken. Bind us together, Lord; bind us together. Bind us together with love.
There is only one God; there is only one King. There is only one body; that is why we sing.
Made for the glory of God; purchased by His precious Son; born with the right to be clean, for Jesus the victory has won.  You are the family of God.
You are the promise divine. You are God's chosen desire. You are the glorious new wine.”

Ephesians 4:1-6 "I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all."

What does it mean to be one body?  I’m trying to imagine saying to any part of myself, “I just don’t like you.  Go away.  You’re not part of me.”  I could try to lose a finger, or a foot, or an ear or a nose, but even if I succeeded, I wouldn’t accomplish my mission without terrible pain, mental stress, and possibly infection or even death.  In the event that losing a part of myself were necessary (such as in an accident, or surgery, or illness, to save the rest of me), I would grieve that part which I had lost, and although I could go on to do great things, the loss would change me in ways the outside person could never understand.  In those such cases, after the grieving process, I could grow stronger, and reach higher, and feel a push to do more than I could have done before, but I would always remember—if only in a wistful moment—the part that I had lost.

What about on the flip side of this equation?  Because something is a part of me, do I protect it and refuse to treat it when I find disease; do I imagine that nothing is wrong, and refuse even to pray for my body to feel stronger, again?  Do I leave things “unwashed” because they’re mine, and therefore lovely (even when smelly); do I let my hair grow out until I trip over it as it spills out into the hall; do I let my fingernails and toenails twist and curl because I refuse to trim them; do I say, “Leave those feet alone; it’s just the way they are (that they smell when they run); you should love them in all their smelliness; I’ll possibly wash them next year when they get ready”?

So, why do we refuse to speak up when a part of our Body is in need of cleansing; when at other times we attack, and isolate, and condemn our "less favorite ones" as if those parts had nothing to do with us?  “Bind us together, Lord; bind us together with love.”  When I am bound to something, I have to take it into account for every movement.  I wouldn’t run if my leg were tied to my bed post.  I would need to see how to move with the weight of my bed.  If I tie my arms to a watermelon, the weight of that watermelon would make my movements slower, and I would think twice before jumping up and down and causing that melon to explode all over me.  So, if I am bound to fellow believers in Christ, what they do affects my movements.  I cannot focus on their frailties, and refuse to move if none walk with me, but I keep in mind the reality that if one falls, I will grieve, and do what I can to restore.  I cannot ignore the sin, and say it isn’t there, or become enraged when others try to help that person see the sin (be it anger; lust; fear; pride; abuse, etc., I weigh the fruit by the Word of the Lord and recognize when something doesn’t line up with the way Jesus calls us to walk).  On the contrary, I realize that this sin can spill over and affect others, and with all gentleness, humility and love, I am willing to speak up when someone continually walks in a way that can affect the walk of all of us and don’t become defensive when those “Body parts” are encouraged to clean up.

But neither do I distance myself, and judge as if I am not a part of them; I cannot accuse, and condemn, and criticize, and add burdens that I myself am not willing to bear.  Paul said, “I judge no man nor am I myself judged.”  This is the same Paul who fought with Barnabas over John Mark’s seeming betrayal; who called the Corinthians babies “unready for meat.”  So, then, judging is not cheering one another on and calling each other to keep growing, and keep climbing higher, and to let God have His way in our lives.  Judgment is not taking the “water of the Word,” and gently washing when washing is needing—not our perceived slights or offences, but genuine “dirt” obvious to the eye that can cause an infection if left untreated.  Judgment is saying, “You are not me, and I am not you, and you should be what I want you to be.”  We beat ourselves up, then: wounding our own heart by constantly condemning others.  May God give us wisdom; may He help us clean out the old, dry, caked-on mud of attitudes, and actions, and stale beliefs that only bring us confusion; may we line everything up with what He says in His Word and not hide the “junk” when we see it in ourselves and others.  But may we “wash” with gentleness; may we “clean” with compassion, and may God, truly, “bind us together with love.”