You Are Not a Starfish

Turns out starfish are all head, no body. Jesus had something to say about that.

Fun fact incoming:

Starfish don’t technically have bodies.

Along with sea urchins and sand dollars, their entire physical structure is classified as a head. That’s it. All head. No body.

Which is, depending on how you look at it, is either fascinating or mildly unsettling. Wanna know where my head went to when I discovered this? The church. Dare I say it, are we, at times, in danger of being all head, no body? Or, a bunch of limbs all trying to be the head?!

Consumed with our own thoughts, our own needs, our own narrative. The world as it relates to me, orbiting around me, making sense through the lens of me. Not because we’re terrible people (most of us aren’t) but because self-focus is the default setting of the human condition, and without something regularly interrupting it, we capitalise on all things revolving around ‘me’.

I was chatting with Dan recently about individuals who lack the ability to ask questions or pay attention to other people’s lives (i.e. self-centred). And I realised, I struggle with this. As Dan talked about genuinely kind people being those who make others feel seen and valued, like they matter, increasingly I observed that uncomfortable feeling of conviction rise up from somewhere deep inside.

Being interested in others. Asking questions. Choosing curiousity about the person in front of you rather than waiting for your turn to talk about yourself.

Simple. Obvious, even.

And yet.

If we’re being honest (and it looks like it’s confession week here at G+G HQ), how often do I ask genuine questions and actually listen to the answers? Or how frequently am I so preoccupied with my own internal running commentary — what I need to say, what I’m worried about, what is coming next — that the person in front of me barely gets a look in?

Ooof.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 12 that the church is a body. Not a collection of individuals doing their own thing in the same building on a Sunday. A body. One body. With many parts. “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’ And the head cannot say to the feet, ‘I don’t need you!’” (1 Corinthians 12:21, NIV). Every part is necessary. Every part connected. Every part is dependent on the others in ways it might not even realise.

And newsflash: Christ is the head, not us.

Which means we — the church, the body — are not the ones calling the shots or setting the direction or making ourselves the centre of the story. We are the ones responding to the head, moving as He moves, oriented toward what He’s oriented toward. Which, it turns out, is usually the Father first, and then a close second: other people.

I’m finding the challenge today in verse 25. Paul says the body should have “no division” — and then gives the reason: “so that its parts should have equal concern for each other.” (1 Corinthians 12:25, NIV). Equal concern. Not polite tolerance. Not vague goodwill from a safe distance. Actual concern. The kind that notices. The kind that asks questions and means them. The kind that creates and holds space for others so they don’t feel invisible.

This is not just good social practice.
This is the body functioning the way it was designed to.

And here’s where the starfish observation came back round for me: are we so consumed with being the head that we’ve forgotten we’re the body?

Because a body that only thinks about itself isn’t functioning, it’s malfunctioning. And a church that’s too preoccupied with its own internal world — its own comfort, its own preferences, its own agenda — to actually notice the people around it has, somewhere along the line, got confused about who’s in charge.

Jesus is the head. We are the body. And bodies, when they’re healthy, are outward-facing. They move. They reach. They notice what the head is paying attention to and they go there too.

Practically, that might look like less than you think. It might be the question you ask a colleague on Monday morning and actually wait for the answer to. The friend you text not because you need something but because you were thinking of them. The person on the edge of the room at church that everyone else walked past. The family member you’ve been too busy to really check in on.

Small movements of a body oriented toward its head.

If you can’t tell, I’m genuinely challenged by this. I want to be someone who makes people feel seen — not as a social strategy, but as an overflow of following our Jesus who never once made anyone feel invisible. Who noticed the woman in the crowd who touched His cloak. Who stopped for Bartimaeus when everyone else kept walking. Who asked questions — real ones — and listened to the answers.

That’s the head we belong to.

Maybe the invitation today is simply this: lift your eyes. Look around. Ask a question. Mean it.

You are not a starfish. You are part of something much bigger — and the head knows exactly where He’s going.

1. Is there someone in your world right now who might be feeling invisible — and what’s one small movement you could make toward them this week?

2. Whose story have you been most interested in lately: yours or someone else’s?

3. Think of someone who makes you feel genuinely seen when you’re with them. What is it they actually do and how much of that can you do for others?

4. Where in your life have you been functioning as the head rather than the body — and what would it look like to let Jesus lead again this week?

5. Who has God placed in front of you recently that you’ve been too preoccupied to really notice?

Let’s pray:

Lord, forgive us for the ways we've made ourselves the centre — so absorbed in our own story that we've missed the people You placed right in front of us. Thank You that You are the head and we are not. Teach us to move the way You move — toward people, toward the overlooked, toward the one on the edge of the room. Make us genuinely curious about others. Make us the kind of people who make others feel seen. For Your glory and the good of Your body. Amen.

May we find, in turning our attention toward others, that we encounter Jesus in ways we aren’t expecting.

Cheering you on,

Em 💛

This week from Grow + Go:

Watch on the pod:
’Stress Less’ with Dr. Charles Stone

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