The story of a pew

Upheld in church, supported in body by a former tree, she sits on a wooden pew. It once turned sunshine into food, life, shade; it now rests from its labors, and yet it still holds life. 

Where did this tree grow, and what did it support in its life?  The weight of birds, squirrels, even treehouses cannot compare to the weight it supports today.

How many weary behinds sat right here, after grinding away at a lifeless job all week, feeling trapped, burdened, weary?

Did a mom sit here once, making her family’s meal plan during the sermon

opening snacks, giving out threats and snuggles as needed

unable to be still for even a moment to meet her present Lord?

How many hands grasped the wood, dizzy and a little hungover

trying desperately to paint a “fine face” over shame and fear and shaky resolutions?

How many times did this back support a body ridden with cancer?

See the the drip of wax from Christmas eve candles

due to elderly shaking hands, 

or siblings threatening to burn each other’s hair.

Are there teeth marks on this pew from a toddler, now grown and flown? 

Is the hymnal marked by a crayon held by a child that now holds his own baby?

How many sat here, utterly distracted and restless

or carrying a silent heavy question, 

or simmering rage

or quiet desperation

or tearful gratitude

The rings of a tree tell the story of the seasons, the life that surrounded the tree as it grew. And this tree still gathers stories, welcoming all who come to rest, welcoming every story to sit at the feet of Jesus and be refreshed by his grace and His Word.

To every person made in the image of God, 

it quietly beckons:

Welcome, come rest,

be healed, be refreshed.

There is a place for you, right here, in the presence of God.

You belong here.
Your story has a place here. 

Come and sit; Jesus is a gracious host.

Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live. (Isaiah 55:1)

(This reflection was inspired by this sermon, where Pastor Schultz shares these ideas, but far better than I did!)