If I’ve learned one thing about the human race, we are creatures of habit, and I confess, I have a few of my own. I like to drink from a certain glass and I prefer eating my oatmeal out of a particular bowl. I also have my favorite side of the bed (the side farthest from the door, so that if an intruder should break in, they will have to go through my husband, Jay, to get to me.) Sorry Jay.
Not sure why habits, such as these develop (other than why I sleep on the side of the bed that I do.) Again, sorry Jay. Maybe it has to do with the discomfort of the unknown that keeps us locked into such habits. One such routine, is people who sit in the same spot, week after week in church. I can easily admit, when I first started attending church regularly, I found myself drawn to the same church pew. Mostly, out of fear of taking someone else’s seat.
I can remember quite vividly walking into that first church, and finding myself more nervous than I care to admit. I wasn’t sure what to expect and felt certain that all eyes were focused on me, the new person in church. For that reason, I anxiously sat as close to the back as I could sit without being outside in the parking lot. Where I sat, soon became a habit, and so there I was, stuck in my pattern of sitting in the same place, week after week in church, and greeting the same people who sat near me.
Fast forward a few years to a different church, but still with the same routine intact, but instead of hiding away in the back of the church, I found myself drawn to the third row, next to the aisle and I stayed there, greeting the same people who’d developed the same habit as me, sitting on the same pew each week. That all changed on one particular Sunday, when I’d brought my seven-year-old nephew to church with me. His enthusiasm to be there was endearing, and I found his excitement contagious, as he ran ahead of me, and sat front and center in the very first row, which was WAY OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE!!!
I uneasily looked around, searching for the familiar faces of those who always sat on that pew, knowing that I’d be taking their seat. “Maybe we should sit somewhere else,” I tried coaxing my young, excited nephew, by taking his hand and guiding him to my normal pew. But his eagerness to be in the front pew, close and upfront to whatever awaited him, kept me from forcing my stance, and so I allowed him to win the tug of war we were having. His smile warmed my heart, as he eagerly awaited whatever it was he thought was going to happen from his front row seat. Of course, I was too guilt ridden about taking someone’s pew to feel anything other than anxious. I secretly fought the urge to stand and repent for committing the ultimate sin of sitting in someone else’s seat. Unfortunately, that would have afforded me much more embarrassment than I could bear, and so I stayed on that front pew, even after my nephew deserted me to attend children’s church. I would have followed him, but there was an age restriction on who could attend children’s church, and though I wanted to cry out against age discrimination, I stayed silent and tense in the front row.
Needless to say, habits die hard, and so the next week, without my nephew in tow, I quickly made my way back to my comfort zone, which was the third pew, left aisle side. However, I became aware of a different kind of nudging. Not that of a seven-year-old-boy, but that of my Heavenly Father, tugging at my heart. He was nudging me to move from my seat and to sit somewhere differently. I tried to ignore His persistence, which came in the form of an anxious heart beating in my ears and pounding against my chest. He might as well have been asking me to give the sermon, but despite my nervousness, I didn’t want to rebel and end up like Jonah did in the belly of a fish, and so I knew what had to be done. . . I had to get out of my comfort zone. I had to find somewhere else to sit.
And so it was with each new Sunday, nervously at first, I sat in a different spot, meeting and greeting the people around me. People that I’d been attending church with for years, but didn’t know because I’d never ventured from my regular spot. It wasn’t long before others in church began noticing what I was doing, some excited when I finally made my way to their regular pew. Even our worship leader took notice to my game of “musical pews”, as he jokingly put his hand over his brow each week, looking out into the congregation and asking, “where’s the Forshey’s?”
That is one time I can say that getting out of my comfort zone was the absolute best thing I could have ever done. I found myself beyond blessed, getting to know so many different people, people that I still endear to my heart. Although I may not have made a difference in breaking the habits of others (who continued to sit in the spot week after week), I had definitely made a difference in my own life by developing a new habit.
Years later, as a greeter at a different church, with my new habit intact, I would welcome people to the church, and often I would have them ask me, if it was okay to sit anywhere (emphasis being on the word “anywhere”?) Surprise always registered on their faces when I would tell them, yes, it is okay to sit anywhere, and then I would watch them nervously walk to a pew, fearful of taking someone’s seat.
That was several years and several churches ago, and yet, I imagine if I were to walk into any of those churches from my past, I would see the regulars in their regular seats, keeping habits that are hard for them to break, and missing out on the opportunity to get to know other worshippers.
As for my husband and I, whatever church God leads us to, you will not find us sitting in the same spot week after week because some habits are worth keeping after all . . .
Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. Romans 12: 1-2