THE CHAIR

DISCLAIMER

It’s a given that I’ll probably offend someone in this blog.  My greatest desire in writing THE SPARROWS PERCH  is to share those things that I’ve learned over time and through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.  The Sparrows perch affords a view of the world that is bereft of ulterior motives and personal gain.  I’m not selling you anything.  You don’t have to read this.  If you do, I’m thrilled you found me.  If you are offended, it breaks my heart.  My remaining time on this earth is too short to spend it on empty arguments and angry contests of spiritual words.  When your perch is within the presence of God, there is very little that matters other than remaining in His presence.  I don’t want to,  and won’t defend my feelings, they’re mine.  So many of our freedoms have been taken away from us in this country, the only one you can’t take away, is the freedom to believe.  Christians are now the new object of hate in America today.  We are viewed as spiteful, narrow minded, and ultimately evil people because we withhold approval for certain behaviors.  Forget the fact that these behaviors are definitively identified as sin, and it is our constitutional right to object to them.

 

SOOOOOOO,,,,, if you don’t believe in the nuclear family, the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman, YOU DON’T HAVE TO, AND YOU SHOULDN’T GO ANY FURTHER.   That’s my disclaimer.  YOU DON’T HAVE TO READ THIS.  YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND WITH HATE FILLED VITRIOL.

 

Every family has one.   

THE CHAIR!

 You know, DAD’S CHAIR!  It was the sacred seat in front of the television, and the only place in the living room with an unobstructed view of the TV.   Every home has a  well worn, stained, broken down throne that belongs to DAD.  When I was a child, my two brothers and I would fight over the chair until Dad came home.  It was a game between us.  Serious fistfights, tickle fights, and epic wrestling matches were fought over the privilege to sit in the chair.  What’s funny about this, is that Mom’s chair was actually directly in front of the TV.  Her chair was rarely occupied , and was much cleaner.  Dad’s chair was always at an angle  from the TV and much further away than Mom’s.  The back of the chair was stained from Dad’s  Brylcreem  (look it up.)   Still, it was Dad’s chair that we fought over.  It smelled of sweat, Old Spice, popcorn, ice cream, and peanut butter.  You couldn’t put anything on the end table next to it, because of all the remotes.  His change, wallet, and truck keys covered the top of the end table.  THESE THINGS WERE SACRED.  They were Dad’s.   To sit in Dad’s chair when he was home, was to have him crush you as he tried to grind you into the cushion while he complained to Mom about how lumpy the chair had become.  Forget the fact that my brothers and I were screaming and gasping for breath through our giggles.  Mother would agree, and offer to buy him a new chair, then he would stand up and discover us pressed into the sides of the cushions. 

You know, THE CHAIR.

We can learn the lesson of sanctity from the chair.  There are things that are sacred.  They don’t belong to us, they are the Father’s.  In his presence he’ll remind us gently, with love and affection of those things he holds sacred and to be uniquely his.  The first time we try and sit in his chair, we quickly discover that it doesn’t fit us.  When we fight over his chair, it doesn’t change the fact, that it is his chair.  When he sits in his chair with us in it, we quickly discover our frailty.

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of Christian books by authors of different or no denominations.  They’re all fighting over ‘The Chair.’   They all seem to spend a  lot of time berating one another, getting into tickle fights, or all out fisticuffs.  At the end of the day, one thing remains unchanged, ‘The Chair’ belongs to Daddy.  The religious diatribe, and fruitless bashing all speak of one thing, the chair doesn’t belong to any of us.  We’re still kids fighting for what isn’t ours. 

I’m 57 years old, live less than 120 feet away from my Dad.  I don’t sit in my father’s chair.  Even when he is gone somewhere, I don’t sit in his chair.  It feels awkward.  I think we need to feel that way about sitting in God’s chair.  What am I talking about?

 

Judging the world.  It isn’t our chair to sit in.  It’s not my chair.  We can judge one another, but not the world. . . .that’s another story altogether.  We can’t expect those who’ve never had a relationship with Christ, to understand or adhere to the law of love.  We pray for them, we minister for them, and we give ourselves for them as Christ did.  Because they aren’t part of the nuclear family of God, they don’t have a sacred chair.  It isn’t our business.  Our business is to show them the family they can become a part of.  We call it the Kingdom, the Church, the Body, a fellowship,. . .whatever, but it is all really about being a family.  Who knows, maybe they’ll discover the joy of ‘The Chair.’