648. Pastors who forget to tell you to sit back down.

A few weeks ago I went to a worship event. Midway through, one of the speakers got up and told the crowd to get on their feet. The crowd obliged and for a few minutes the speaker talked while we all stood listening.

Unfortunately, he forgot to release us from our foot bondage.

The “go ahead and sit down” never came. We waited patiently and it just didn’t happen. Have you ever experienced that? If not, I want you to be prepared. I want you to be ready. So let’s break down what goes through your head when you find yourself marooned on your feet in the middle of church …

1st minute.

“Awesome, we’re standing up. Time to get the blood flowing again and wake up.” That’s what you think the first minute after someone asks you to stand up at church. The world is really hopeful and bright and new at that moment. Will you be asked to greet the person next to you? Maybe clap or wave your arms in some sort of pew Pilates? Who knows. Anything is possible at this point.

2nd minute.

“I think the stand up part is officially over, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe we’re about to do something else that requires me to be up and out of my seat. Maybe I need to stay standing. I’ll give this another minute or two.”

3rd minute.

“I think this guy just launched into his sermon without letting us know we can sit down now. Doesn’t he notice us? I mean, there are hundreds of us standing up. He sees that, right? Is he already in his sermon? Is it possible he wants us to stand the entire time? No way, there is no way that is happening.”

4th minute.

“I want to sit down, but I don’t want to be the weird guy who sits while everyone else stands. You always look like you love God about 11% less than everyone else who is standing when you do that. I’m not going to be that guy, I won’t.

5th minute.

“What if I sat down slowly? Would that be so bad? What if instead of sitting down at normal speed I just gently lowered myself to the chair over a period of 30 seconds? If I go too fast he might actually see me and call me out from the pulpit. That would stink. He’d probably say, ‘Can you not stand in the presence of the triune God?’ And then I would yell back, ‘The triune God toldeth me to sitteth.’ I don’t know why I’d say it that way, I think I get all King Jamesy when I’m nervous.”

6th minute.

“Would God smite me with a lightning bolt of disappointment if I pretended to be slain in the spirit so that I could sit in my chair? He would probably frown on that.”

7th minute.

“Sweet release! Some bold member sat down and started a tidal wave of derrieres crashing into seats. That, my friend, is a true next generation leader.”

Maybe this won’t ever happen to you, but if it does and we’re sitting near each other at church, let’s make a pact. We’ll hold hands and do it together. And if we get any guff, we’ll sing friends are friends forever and have a sit in just like they used to do in the 60s.

Freedom reins in the place my friend. Freedom reigns.