The Nobodies: Powerlessness and Power

The nobodies have bodies, just unrecognized, ignored, and without a voice - powerless.  They are considered failures, addicts, shy, ugly, mentally ill, socially awkward,  stupid, diseased, and maybe even disabled. They are people that, for whatever reason, don't seem to fit into society.  Others don't want to claim them as friends or family. The only person who so vocally claims them as a friend is Jesus.

"Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" Matt 11:28. He's the only one who wants these nobodies: prostitutes, tax collectors, widows, fishermen, the lame, and the ill - the rabble of his time.

Sometimes these nobodies gather in churches, but they are frequently ignored.  In a church full of God's people, of Christians who claim to follow Jesus, the nobodies are only somebodies to Jesus. Sometimes they quietly arrive just before the sermon starts and quickly leave just as it ends. I have seen this and sometimes I have been this. They awkwardly stand as if on an iceberg willing it to fall into the sea of mingling, happy faces, willing the conversation tide to flow towards them, yet fearing its waves crashing upon their anxious bodies: what will I say?  And in the turmoil of their minds, they feel the wall of difference rising like an iron curtain, covering their souls. Sometimes they commune with Jesus in whispers, in solitude, but not alone.  Unbeknownst to them, NEVER ALONE.

They believe they have no talent: without eloquent words, mild manners, or acceptable appearance or smell.  They believe because they are convinced by all the things they lack; they too see the vast difference between themselves and everyone else. The embarrassment of proper attire, speech, conduct, mannerisms, and the failure of their lives are as plain to them as it is to you and me.

So like Moses, they retreat into the desert with no-one to judge their inadequacies. Sometimes this desert is a scorching barren land of self-loathing and condemnation, a dangerous and horrible place  of torment.  Sometimes it is a place of quiet solitude with only one voice, the voice that matters most, God himself.

The church is full of broken people: some recognizing their need for a saviour; some wanting adoration; some just wanting to be apart of something; and others preying on the weak. There are wolves among the flock, but this is no surprise. The nobodies belong to this social organization, silent and hanging on the fringe just as they are in the rest of society. The churched may reach out in an effort to be polite, to demonstrate love, they will themselves to say hello, to recognize their humanity, if only for a moment. Inevitably though, they rush back into their busy lives, escaping from the desert of the nobodies. 

Only Jesus stays. Only he comforts. Only he understands so very well the life of the nobody.