What's Tony Thinking

Where You Sit in Church

Do you sit in the same place in church every Sunday?

If you do, I’m here to say, don’t feel bad about that. Some might call it mindless habit or even being in a rut. But the people in the know have a really terrific term for this. It is, “reducing your cognitive load.” A decision you don’t have to make. “I sit here.”

Which is what Sharon said to me one Sunday at Joseph United Methodist Church in Joseph, Oregon. I was sitting there in the aisle seat, in the next to the last row from the back, when Sharon walked up and said, “I sit there.” I said, “That’s great, let me move over.” Which I did, and Sharon sat down.

It wasn’t like she was offended that I was sitting in her spot. It was just a statement of fact. “I sit there.” “No worries, Of course, you do. We can sit together (sort of).”

Sharon was an elderly woman who had been through a lot. She was a regular at the local AA group. She wore a brace to keep her back from killing her. She had plenty on her plate without having to figure out where to sit on Sunday morning.

Likely, so do you. So if you sit in the same place, don’t let anyone guilt-trip you about it. You have enough on your plate. “Cognitive overload” is the modern condition.

The other thing Sharon did was always to request #43 during the hymn sing at the start of the service. No. 43 is “On Eagles’ Wings.” Chances are good that you know this one, but in case not or as a refresher, here are some of the lyrics:

“You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord
Who abide in His shadow for life
Say to the Lord, “My refuge, my rock in whom I trust!”

“And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of His hand”

Now, picture Sharon, maybe 85, gnarled up by back pain, arthritis and surgeries, cinched into a brace, and singing, “He will raise you up on eagles’ wings, bear you on the breath of dawn, make you to shine like the sun . . .” And picture the rest of us, most though not all, well into senior years with various cricks and tics singing along, “and he will raise you up on eagles’ wings.”

It kind of makes you believe in the resurrection. We were singing, to the God for whom all things are possible, about our own improbable resurrection. Which was in an odd, really preposterous way, becoming true in that moment, dappled  as we were in the morning light, transfigured by a sung promise of our own transfiguration.

Sharon went home to the Lord — on eagles’ wings I’m sure — some four or five years ago. But whenever there’s a hymn-sing, someone is sure to request # 43, and no one needs to turn to that page in the hymnal.

Which is another instance of “reducing your cognitive load.” Which is sometimes necessary to faith. Less reason, more believing.

There were times, when I was a young pastor, when I thought people’s practice of sitting in pretty much the same seats every Sunday was an indication of how pathetic and uncreative and stuck in ruts we all were. There were probably even a couple Sundays when I made people get up and change places.

Beware young pastors!

Now, as an old pastor I can say, it’s great that you are in your regular spot because I know where to look for you and I know if you’re there. And the people around you do too. It’s something like season tickets for baseball or the symphony. The people around you know you. If you’re not there, they worry. They will check on you.

So, here’s to sitting in the same place in church. Dull? Predictable? Same old/ same old? Maybe, but maybe not? Maybe you need to be lashed to the mast of your particular chunk of pew in order to hear the gospel that turns everything upside down? The gospel of the last shall be first. Of the far-off being brought close. Of the gnarled up set free. Of the cognitively overloaded hearing, “Come to me all you who are weary and overburdened and I will give you rest.” The gospel of God in Christ, doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves.

Remember Annie Dillard saying that instead of church ushers handing out the weekly bulletins she thought, given the nature of this God, the ushers should be handing our life jackets and crash helmets? She was onto something.

If you are about to be dislocated by the gospel, there’s wisdom in settling yourself into a familiar spot.