Get in the Chair
I sat in the corner of the university café, pretending to be reading a novel, while waiting for the next shuttle bus back to my flat that evening. It was dark outside, and the British newscasters went on about the rain and cold on the TV on the far wall. At a large booth, kiddie corner from me, sat a group of choir kids chatting.
I had had a few choir rehearsals with them, but not enough down time to know their names or anything about them. Maybe my American-ness could work in my favor here. That was probably the one thing they knew about me, and would make for an easy conversation starter. Maybe they’d notice that I, the new girl who came at second semester, was sitting alone and might not have many friends. Maybe they’d wave me over and ask how I was doing or how I liked England so far.
But they did not. The little clique didn’t even acknowledge me.
I put my book down. got out my journal, and wrote of my shame. I hated what was happening, but stubbornly knew I wasn’t going to do anything about it. I didn’t have the guts. There was nothing scarier than going up to people you barely knew and asking to be included.
“Hi. I’m Lisa. I’m American, don’t know what I’m doing here, and got locked in an emergency exit stairwell on the way to our first choir rehearsal the other day. Can I sit with you? Will you be my friend?”
I clearly remember this moment as being the time where I felt most out of place, most “othered” out of my whole time abroad. I think it felt so awful because there was no reason for it to be uncomfortable. There was no language barrier, and we had built in conversation starters and common interests with music. But I simply would not be the one to invite myself over. I just couldn’t get my body to move towards them.
So I went to wait outside in the dark at the bus stop instead, thinking of home. Minnesotans would have said something to me, right? Minnesota Nice? Or would they have been Minnesota Nonconfrontational? Minnesota passive?
Or maybe just a shy, introvert like me.
Have you ever fought God about your personality? You either don’t like who he made you to be, or you’re convinced you can’t do something for God because of who you are.
For years I’ve told myself the lie that I’m just not enough of a people person, so that excuses me from seeking out new people, forging deeper friendships, and witnessing to them or discipling them. We can’t all be leaders, right?
While we all have different gifts (Romans 12:6), that doesn’t make us exempt from sharing our faith if our talents don’t seem to line up in the most obvious way. It will just look different for different people.
Though I believe I’ve grown tremendously since that evening in England, I’m still not the person who will invite herself over to a table of strangers and strike up a conversation, about faith or not. It’s not my natural personality, and I don’t have to feel shame about that.
You may not feel comfortable volunteering to lead a Bible study or small group at your church. Someone asking you to knock on doors of your neighborhood to invite people to your church may make you squirm and look around for who else could volunteer instead.
But then the guilt (or maybe even someone close to you) tells you not to worry. They say, “It’s not a big deal. You’ll be among perfectly normal, friendly people, and you have no reason to be uncomfortable.” So why are you?
The devil wants you to chicken out. If he can keep you back, silent, things will stay the same- just how Satan likes it. God’s word won’t go anywhere, and we’ll justify ourselves thinking this is just how God made us. Someone else with those talents will do it. The devil wins and we somehow still feel godly.
But maybe we need to follow that well meaning person or that brave little prickling in our hearts, and we need to push through the awkward and the fear, and make something happen.
“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. Rather, join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God. He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.” 2 Timothy 1:6-10
Introverted friends, I get you. We long to feel that spirit power. We believe this stuff and want to share our faith, but can’t hide that we’re uncomfortable leading from the front.
So what can you do to support someone from behind the scenes? Or what’s something that might sound small to the average person, but is something you’d be willing to start with? Either way, you don’t get to sit out. (1 Corinthians 12:27-31) You don’t have to be the star, public leader, but start with forcing yourself to sit in the chair. Sometimes that in itself takes tremendous courage.
For the week leading up to Easter 2020, I kept having the nagging feeling that I was supposed to do something for or with my apartment neighbors to make them think about church or faith. There are six apartments on my floor including mine, and I’ve only met the one across from me once because we came to our doors at the same time and thought we might as well meet. I awkwardly pointed at him and said, “You work at Chick-fil-A” and held up my fast food bag to show I was a fan. I’d seen him in the drive thru window multiple times. But other than that one doorway meeting, I’d never communicated with any neighbor more than a nod of acknowledgement from down the hallway.
But that week I felt like I should do something to get to know them. Of course, it took a pandemic for God to get me to care.
I knew we’d all be stuck at home for Easter Sunday due to the coronavirus “stay at home” orders, and while I was used to sharing my church’s services on social media, I hadn’t prompted many church or faith conversations in real life. But an idea bugged me all week, and I really didn’t want to do it. I even told God that. Please, if there is another way...
Eventually on Saturday, I gave in and told God I would sit in a chair for one hour. The rest was up to him.
I made two pathetic handwritten signs and taped them to the walls in the hallway. “Let’s go to Easter church together! Sit in your doorway with a device to watch online church Sunday morning. I’ll be watching my church at 10:00 if you want to join, or watch your own church service. Let’s celebrate and not feel so alone this Easter. Lisa in #309.”
I felt so silly. This wasn’t a college dorm. I hate meeting new people. We’re supposed to be social distancing, and I’m begging people to pop their heads out of their hideaways. Did I look desperate? Like a crazy Christian?
And then I realized I should care more about their souls than about how comfortable I felt. I told God I’d sit in the chair, and I did.
There wasn’t a hallway full of strangers praising God like I had hoped (pray big!), but my Chick-fil-A neighbor did stick his head out and introduced his wife and son who had just turned one the day before. They were in the middle of a fussy morning but wanted to at least say “Hi” and let me know that they saw the signs, supported me, and shared my faith. That was all, and only God knows what seed could have been planted from there in my other neighbors.
It was the most uncomfortable and brave Easter I’ve ever had. But yet I felt like the women going to Jesus’ tomb that morning, stewing in my own personal grief and loneliness, just doing what I knew how to, not sure what to expect. And I didn’t witness the miracle, but was given proof that it had happened. Jesus rose. And he wants everyone to know it.
Be brave.
Go out and lead if you can. But if all you’ve got right now is the strength to sit in a chair, God can still work through that.
“I am certain that I will see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord.”
Psalm 27:13-14 (CSB)
God, within your temple,
we contemplate your faithful love.
Like your name, God, so your praise
reaches to the ends of the earth;
your right hand is filled with justice.
Mount Zion is glad.
Judah’s villages rejoice
because of your judgments.
Go around Zion, encircle it;
count its towers,
note its ramparts; tour its citadels
so that you can tell a future generation:
“This God, our God forever and ever—
he will always lead us.”
Psalm 48:9-14 (CSB)
Where can you start serving, sharing your faith, or telling of God’s glory from where you are now? It doesn’t have to be witnessing to a complete stranger (though that’s awesome if you do!). We all need to hear regular faith talks. If this is what we stake our lives on, why don’t we make it a normal part of conversation?
How can you be bold and go deeper in your phone calls and video chats? There may not be much to report on day to day, so how can you steer the conversation to something new - perhaps challenging or uncomfortable - but meaningful and God focused? It’s a time where people are craving some hope, and we know where that is found.
There are so many time-killer distractions that we both enjoy and numb out to, but if we stop and sit in the silence, I think we’re wanting to believe this sad time can still have a purpose. Seeing and executing purpose takes a little bit of effort though. In your Quiet Time with God, or your Priority Time as the host of “The Bible Recap” podcast calls it, ask yourself some hard, honest questions.
How have you been seeing God in this strange time?
What do you want to be able to say about yourself, your relationships, and your faith when we come out of this pandemic?
Then, can you bring others along with you, and process this together? Can you point them to God, and show them his character as you’ve seen him act in your own life? Can you simply sit with someone?
Don’t turn from the opportunities before you and walk to the bus stop. If you aren’t ready to start the conversation, start with staying in the chair. A lot can happen even from there.