It was a very strange garden.
It had been planted by the gardener, with each plant lovingly and thoughtfully chosen. The gardener had put a wide variety of plants in his garden—ones of every hue, texture, and height. Some were designed to bear large, showy flowers; others were to provide a restful green backdrop. Some were designed to cover the ground; others to grow high and provide shade. They were all designed to grow strong where they’d been planted, only in different ways.
But these plants, rather than simply growing and being all they were created to be, started comparing themselves with each other. Some of the large, showy plants began holding back their flowers (they didn’t want to look so conspicuous), while others puffed out abnormally wide in pride over their beauty. The background plants felt badly that they didn’t have flowers and thought they didn’t matter. The tall plants began stooping so they wouldn’t look so much taller than the others, while the shorter ones exhausted themselves trying to grow tall. The ones in the shade drooped, wishing they could be in the sun; the ones in the sun drooped, wishing they could be in the shade.
The silly plants didn’t realize that they’d been created and placed where they were placed for a purpose. They were all part of the same garden, and each one needed to do its job.
“But now are they many members, yet but one body. And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you. Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular.” 1 Corinthians 12: 20-21, 27 (KJV)