YOU’RE IN MY SEAT…

With our youngest nephew graduating from high school, my husband and I opted to purchase reserved seating for the first time, so that we could watch his football games from the fifty-yard line. We were excited about not having to arrive early in order to find seats in the normally crowded stands, and now with our reserved seats, we wouldn’t have to.

Making our way to those seats, we sat down, content and eager to watch the first home game, only to be confronted by a woman saying to us, “you’re in my seat.”

My husband laughed, thinking that the woman was joking.  However, sensing the irritation in her voice, we quickly realized that she wasn’t joking.

“You’re serious,” my husband said, confused by the woman’s claim.

“Yes, I’m serious,” her loud tone causing everyone around us to turn, and suspiciously eyeball my husband and I for disrupting what suddenly seemed to be the “regulars” of reserved seating.

Taking out his phone, my husband explained to the woman that we’d purchased the seats from a seating chart, and then showed her that proof in the form of our receipt, which listed our seat numbers. Seats that each new school year, were offered on a first come, first serve basis.

With the reality of proof in hand, the woman realized that we had indeed purchased the seats that she’d claimed to have had ownership of for years.

With a few sideway glances continuing from those spectators in the reserved seats around us, my husband offered that woman our seats, saying that we’d sit elsewhere. Realizing that she didn’t actually hold the ticket to our seats, she apologized in demeanor without actually saying the words, “I’m sorry.” Feeling a bit uncomfortable for my unknown part in invading what appeared to be the tightknit reserved seating section, I watched as one of the regular’s handed a bag of popcorn to that woman, whom we’d somehow unknowingly wronged. Needless to say, I wasn’t looking forward to sitting in our reserved seats at the next ballgame.

Week two of those reserved seats, I watched as a family of four approached my husband and I, and listened as the mother of that family said, “those are our seats.”      

“Is this a joke,” I looked at my husband before turning to explain to that group of four that we’d purchased the seats for the season, asking my husband to show her that proof.  Without saying a word, my husband’s silence spoke volumes.  If someone needed to show proof, it wasn’t going to be him this time.  

Without proof of their own, that family of four moved on, leaving me questioning how four people had planned on sitting in our two reserved seats. The following Monday I called the school, explaining what had happened, and was assured that my husband and I were sitting in the right seats. If only others would come to realize that.

Week four (we’d been given a one-week respite from being accused of seat snatching), my husband and I climbed the bleachers, only to be greeted with noticeably suspicious stares from a man and his wife who had their own reserved seats, just two rows below us.   

Wondering what might be warranting the consistent back and forth gawking that we seemed to be receiving, I asked my husband, “Are we doing something wrong?” My husband looked at me unknowingly, just at about the same time, that staring man asked us, “are those your seats?”

“Okay, this definitely has to be a joke,” I looked around expecting to see someone recording that moment for posterity’s sake, but no one was recording, and no one was joking.

I found myself explaining once again, that indeed we were in the right seats, quickly realizing that the man seemed to be defending the woman from that first week, whose seats we’d made the mistake of innocently purchasing tickets for.  The man even went so far as to suggest that we sit in the row below us, since the owners (and he named those owners), hadn’t been to a single game that year. He seemed to be insinuating that we allow that first woman to have our seats, that in his mind, were rightfully hers.

In that moment, I found myself thankful that it was my nephew’s senior year, and there would be no more high school football games for me to attend, and no more having to explain to people that indeed I was sitting in the right seats.  In all the previous years of sitting in regular seats at football games, I’d never experienced an issue with others who’d felt that I’d invaded their space.  It made me miss those regular seats, sitting with people who never questioned whether or not I belonged.

‘Therefore, welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” (Romans 15:7)

Sadly, making people feel like they don’t belong isn’t reserved for high school football games. One of my sisters was asked to move from her seat in church by a woman who claimed that the seat was hers because she’d always sat there with her now deceased son.

Unfortunately, I have often seen the cruelty of others who feel vindicated in their cruelty, simply because of some ill-perceived notion that they are more deserving than those around them.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. (Philippians 2:3)

That scripture especially holds true for those of us who consider ourselves Christians.  There is nothing wrong with wanting to sit in reserved seating at a ballgame, but there is everything wrong with thinking that you deserve to be sitting there above anyone else.

There isn’t a person alive who deserves a place in heaven, but Christ has already paid the ultimate price for us to be there, and unlike reserved seating at a ballgame, I can assure you, Christ will never say the words, “you’re sitting in my seat.” Instead, He’ll welcome you with loving arms, and who knows, He might even give you a bag of popcorn…