The Back Pew... or Chair

I sit in the back pew at church.  You’ve seen me there I’m sure. I don’t do it because I want to be disconnected or left alone.  It started with my son, my second oldest and often most challenging. I say that not because he’s adopted, but because he is truly unique unto himself.  You see, he has had a significant hearing impairment since birth. It’s a gigantic life hurdle when paired with learning disabilities and all of the baggage that comes with eight years of life lived in an orphanage.

By this time you are asking, what does this have to do with you sitting in the back pew.  And wait, we don’t even have pews, we have chairs. Just hang in there with me for a quick minute, I’ll get there.  You see, we have an amazing group of people at church, with all sorts of talents just waiting to be put to good use.  Well, one of those gifted individuals volunteered to translate opening words, prayers and songs for my son after we had gone through a handful of sign language courses.

It’s not easy you know, it’s a legitimate language that takes time and dedication to master.  My wife and I weren’t exactly up to that particular task, not at the moment anyway, and my son is not deaf, not by a long shot.  Actually, he understands more things than he likes to admit, but that’s a different story. Back to the pew thing. Well, you see after a couple of weeks of sitting here and there, somewhere near the back, but not the way back, I couldn’t help but notice some other people… noticing.

Most turned and looked briefly out of curiosity, and no, nobody complained, we have a loving, amazing church.  But then there were the kids that turned and stared out of curiosity and yes, even an adult or two that seemed to have misplaced their manners.  So… let’s try out the very back row, let’s see if that solves this little issue of the day. And wouldn’t you know it, it did. No more awkward moments, no more thoughts of “hey, go find your manners” right in the middle of a service that is intended to refocus our attention on what really matters, the love and grace of God.

Well time marches on and our lives changed this way and that.  We went from a family of six to one of eight and then back down to six again.  Life can seem cruel that way you know, but that too is a story for another time.  And being rigidly afraid of being late, thanks to my father and the Marine Corps, we always made it early enough to sit in the back row, and our incredibly generous volunteer never failed to meet us there.  But then things changed further still and with the complexities of living with an adopted child that are nigh impossible to put on paper we decided that interpreting was not needed anymore.  And so now we no longer have a need to sit in that back pew, but yet, we haven’t moved away from it. Why?

Maybe it’s just out of habit.  Or maybe I just like the extra legroom (insert laugh here), legroom, isn’t he that short guy with all the boys you ask.  In honesty it is out of habit, but there is an amazing side benefit that I have just started to truly take note of.  You know what you see when you sit in the back… everything. Those kids that aren’t paying attention, who comes in late every week, who leaves as fast as possible to avoid talking to people, I see it all.  I’m not spying, I swear, I’m just observant, as any guy with four boys should be.

But those things are not what I’m really thinking of.  Those are the mundane that happen everywhere you go. What I’m speaking of are the lives that I see before me.  It struck me one Sunday, there it was.  The sermon was over and we were two songs from the end and a light in me came on.  Everyone was standing and enjoying the musical talents of our church body and there it was. The light that came on was in my heart, not my head.

You see, I’m also one of those guys that doesn’t sing, out of respect for those around me.  Trust me, you don’t want to hear that. So, standing there in attentive silence I looked around at those in front of me.  What I saw was a body of individuals that have suffered and struggled, lost loved ones and jobs and for many, their heart from time to time… and yet, here they stood.  Here they stood in awe and respect for the Lord above. Here they stood, and my heart struggled to contain itself in place. That is God! That is the whole point of life.

To be amongst His fellow believers and feel connected to it all is a feeling that I pray will never grow old.  It comes with time, time invested in getting to know those people standing and praising in front of me. Time spent volunteering and interacting and talking to those that profess the same beliefs that I do.  Now, I don’t know them all, I’m not the most interactive person, I often just don’t know what to say. But that didn’t change the feeling… that doesn’t change the people.

So maybe the way back pew, or chair, is where I belong.  We all have a place in the story if you haven’t heard. And even when the day comes that I change my seat, or even dare I say, open my mouth to sing, I will not forget those around me.  They’re generosity, love and sorrows alike hold a place in me now. Glory to the triune God on high, and praise to Him that allows me even the smallest glimpse of what is to come at the end of my days.


- C