On Sitting on the Floor

When I first started at 1027 church, I was still pretty sick. Fibromyalgia was still an everyday part of my existence, I was still waiting on the healing that would come. Back then we met on Sunday nights. We were splitting a space with a morning church, and were even small enough to all have dinner occasionally. Nights worked better for me too. Often I would wake up feeling rough, but 4-8 was always my “feel good window.”

When we moved into the middle school we worship at now, we also switched to the traditional Sunday mornings. I wasn’t thrilled. I knew the reality of this switch, I was either going to have to miss more Sundays, or make it work for me.

On especially painful days I would show up to church, dirty hair in a ponytail, high school speech sweatshirt on. I would be wearing flip-flops, or no shoes at all. The pressure was too much on my feet, and I would be carrying my yoga mat. I couldn’t fit my broken body into the movie theatre style chairs. Christian would sit in the aisles and I would roll out my space on the floor.

I was affirmed that I was in the right place when my pastor commented on my strange habit a few months later. He thanked me. He told me he liked what it communicated. Said it lent authentication to that “all are welcome” thing. Even the weirdo who sits on the floor, please feel free to be who you are.

I stopped sitting on the floor when I was healed. But lately, I have picked back up the habit. It is easier to wrangle the Peanut and Rooster on the floor in the aisle than in the rows of seats. Some other mothers have joined me, and there is an impromptu play group most Sundays on the left hand side during worship. This way the Peanut has more room to spin, hands in the air. This is the way she prefers to worship. Sometimes the Rooster and I hear the message from our little space on the carpet.

Sunday the girls were particularly docile (you are not as surprised as I am) and I didn’t really need to sit on the floor. But I did it anyway, found a place on that now familiar carpet. It turns out, I am now more comfortable there.

I think that this is what the upside down kingdom that Jesus was always talking about looks like, this space on the floor. Everyone is invited, there aren’t so many rules (mostly just be gentle and kind) there isn’t even a direction you are supposed to face. It is messy, but joyful. It can feel confusing. It isn’t at all about me.

Sitting on the floor rocking my oldest up and down. “Not this way mommy” if I try side to side. I could look up and see my sister holding her name sake. A testament to the healing power of Jesus in our relationship. Oh, how He loves us….oh, how he loves us…oh. And I am more comfortable on the floor. I am more comfortable where everyone is invited, feel constrained and awkward in the space I used to covet, I don’t want to fit in the places where everyone doesn’t fit. Let’s all just hang out on the floor.

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