Changing Seats in Church
by
Deborah A. Dessaso

Ever so often, you should change your seat in church-not to purposely cause confusion (although, undoubtedly, some people will be confused), nor to upset your friends, family, or whoever usually sits next to you (although, undoubtedly, some of them will be upset)--but simply because, as far as my knowledge of the Bible goes, God hasn't said you couldn't.

In many churches, long-time members have their favorite seats. A few years ago, I visited my mother's church and made the mistake of sitting in one such seat. The offended woman went on and on about how she'd sat in that seat for the past twenty years. Unaccustomed as I was with such displays of loyalty, I could only stare in disbelief.

I've belonged to several congregations in my lifetime, and I don't recall having a favorite seat; however, I've discovered that whether you thought you had a particular seat is beside the point: People have favorite seats in church and get quite upset if you sit in them. Also, family and friends get used to seeing you in a particular seat and get equally upset if you choose to sit elsewhere.

The triune God changes seats in church all the time. When you set up a priestly order through one tribe, then bring the Supreme High Priest through another; when you identify your people with the seventh-day Sabbath under one covenant, then replace it with the mark of the Holy Spirit under the next; when you change the object of circumcision from the foreskin to the heart; when you change your temple from an external, stone building to an internal, spirit one, you're changing seats in church.

In one sense, the acts of a Sovereign-God-Who-Changes-Seats and whose ways and thoughts are higher than ours shouldn't surprise us. And yet they do. That's why one of the more baffling movements in the evangelical church these days is the "What Would Jesus Do?" (or WWJD) movement. Christians wear the WWJD symbol to remind themselves to respond to everyday challenges by considering how Jesus would respond if He faced similar situations. We assume we can figure out how Christ would respond, despite the fact that He spent much of His life surprising both His friends and His enemies with His responses. G.K. Chesterton, the brilliant Christian apologist, was quite surprised to discover the Jesus he thought he knew. In his book Orthodoxy, he says:

Instead of looking at books and pictures about the New Testament I looked at the New Testament. There I found an account, not in the least of a person with his hair parted in the middle or his hands clasped in appeal, but of an extraordinary being with lips of thunder and acts of lurid decision, flinging down tables, casting out devils, passing with the wild secrecy of the wind from mountain isolation to a sort of dreadful demagogy; a being who often acted like an angry god-and always like a god.

Changing seats in church is Christ's specialty. I've often wondered, after the angelic appearances announcing His birth, the testimony of the shepherds, and the visits by the magi, why no one knew who Jesus was a few years later. Weren't these the same people who remembered the Exodus, the accomplishments of David, the reign of Solomon, and the captivity of Israel and Judah, all the while waiting for the coming Messiah? How could they have forgotten Jesus' birth? Had everybody died, except Mary?

I rather suspect that God let the early years of Christ's life lie fallow just to see if hearing His preaching years later would jog the memories of those who stood around the manger or who remembered a twelve-year-old boy whose insight into the scriptures had flummoxed the religious authorities. At age 30, Jesus stood poised to change seats in church in ways more startling than anyone could possibly imagine.

And what about the church He established? The black middle class contingent could stand to change seats right about now. We've attached ourselves to a slew of distracting beliefs and practices that, when challenged, we defend to the teeth, wasting energy that could be spent changing, refining, or outright demolishing systems or institutions that simply don't work for us anymore.

We keep the same political party only because they're partial to maintaining the Black-middle-class-status-quo with its annoying habit of pretending that the Black underclass doesn't exist. We rail against opportunities that would give this same underclass a chance to choose how to educate their children, even as we slip our children out of public schools and into Christian academies. We support ministers who do little more than convince us that the true sign of Christian growth is the size of the congregation and the style of the building.

What's worse, we've gotten too familiar with the Lord. We sing, "Jesus is Mine," and sure enough we've tucked Him under our arm or stuffed Him in our hip pocket where we keep Him warm, safe, dry, and politically correct. Familiarity with each other may breed contempt, but when we get too familiar with God, we're playing with consuming fire-and nothing immolates more quickly and destroys more thoroughly than a consuming fire.

I could be wrong, but I suspect that God-the-Consuming-Fire is about to change seats in the Black church. I believe He did it back in the 1960s when He used Martin Luther King to lead the fearful church to resist attempts by some white (and black) church and community leaders to thwart the civil rights movement.

Today, too many Black people are slipping through the salvation safety net while Black churches busy themselves with building fancy edifices surrounded by gated villages complete with hair salons, bookstores, schools, and daycare centers. Typically, these spiritual malls are located too far from the city for many of those who need the church to get to it, and where the congregation spends most of its time keeping the village running while the minister keeps a sharp eye out for any competition he or she may get from sheep-stealing ministers from other spiritual malls.

Paramount, of course, is entertainment-oops, praise and worship services-- complete with a big-name gospel singer or two. (If the singer adopts your church, so much the better. It's all about getting the young people to come to the Lord, you know.)

The Black church needs to be still for just a moment. It might hear the swish of Jesus' robes as He brushes against the back of the church pews. He's changing seats again. []