We were brand new to the church. None of us knew anybody, none of us had ever been inside before.
“Where do we sit?” Came the whispered question.
I don’t know what possessed me, what inspired me, but it was life-defining. In the second that passed between the question and my answer, I made a decision. I would never be one to sit in the back. I did not ever want to be one that let others be the example while I played at church. I would be one to let people see, I meander really see me.
There has never been a thing of pride in it. I already knew my addictions, my failures, my issues. I was not standing up front so that people would see my attempts at perfection. I only knew that I was going to be fully invested in the one who died to save me.
Since that time, I have not stood up front on many occasions. The shame of who I am, the mistakes I’ve made, takes its toll. I have desired a place where no one would ever see me again.
Ah, but my King, my glorious one, He calls me out. He stands with a hand outstretched, beckoning. “Join me, live the adventure.”
So once again, I stand up. I move to the front where I am undistracted by the eyes that might see me, the ears that might hear me. I am focused on the one I came to meet with, the one I came to worship.
And maybe, just maybe, someone will see a slightly chubby, old man, and they’ll think about how silly I look, how lame my dancing is. They’ll listen for ever every off-key note I hit.
Or, they’ll not see me at all. They’ll sense the Spirit I invite, the Spirit we all invite, and they will be set free.