That Seat is Taken

Julie asked a question the other day relating to insecurity. She asked, "When was the last time you came face to face with our gender's massive struggle with insecurity?"

The last time was possibly 30 seconds ago when I thought about a song I am going to sing at a ladies retreat next week. The time before that was 10 minutes ago when I thought about the same thing. And the time before that was 20 minutes ago when I...

It is hard to believe how many times a day I have to fight off negative thoughts like, "Why did you agree to sing anyway? You could save yourself a lot of stress if you had just said, "no." You will just make a fool out of yourself... again." It's interesting though. I know where those thoughts come from. That is partly why I agree to do it; to prove to the one who whispers those lies to me, that they are not true. Yet, he is relentless in his pursuit to douse me with fear and insecurity as he lights a match to the anxiety that flickers and smolders within me.

A few years ago, my husband and I were attending a missions conference. We have been involved in a ministry for 28 years and had been invited to come and be a part of the conference at a church in North Carolina. We have been to many conferences so we know the rules. You listen and do everything the missions pastor tells you to do. The program has been planned and sometimes has been in the planning stages for at least a year.

The opening night of the missions conference, involved a dinner put on by the church. I would say there were at least 400 to 500 people that were in attendance for the evening, possibly more than that. The goal of the evening was for us to get to know people and share around the table what God was doing in our field of work. There were a lot of missionary's there from all over the world. I was fine with that until I realized my husband and I were assigned to different tables. I had heard a missionary wife ask the missions pastor pleadingly if she could sit at the table with her husband. She looked so frightened; fearful and desperate. I had that same fear and felt sorry for her when the pastor said, "No, you must sit at your assigned table." One of my problems and I have learned to deal with it better over the years, is that I have a hard time eating and talking at the same time to complete strangers. And usually, at this type of thing, you are asked a lot of questions that require a lot of explanations. So, sometimes my food goes mostly untouched.

On this occasion, the auditorium was decorated beautifully and looked like a fine restaurant. I walked around trying to find the table with my name placard on it. My husband had found his table already across the room from me. It appeared that he would be sitting with people that he knew. I was also hoping that I would know someone at my table. As I continued walking around and looking at all of the names on the tables... I finally found mine. I pulled out a chair to sit down and glanced around the room. It was buzzing with activity. There was a lady already sitting at my table and just as I was about to ease my anxious filled body into the chair, she said to me, "That seat is taken." "Oh," I said, "I'm sorry." The table had been set for six people so I moved to the next chair. As I pulled it towards me, she said, "That seat is taken too." I mumbled another apology and began to pull out one more chair. "As a matter of fact," she said, "all of these seats are taken." I looked at the lady and my "name placard" on the table and said, " I have to sit here, I am hosting this table." To this she replied, "Go find another table to sit at, this one is full." "Besides... she said, I have invited my friends to sit at this table and they have done mission work in..."

By this time, the other people had arrived and were sitting down. I was left standing and trying desperately to will away any tears that might betray my insecurity to please not embarrass me in front of all of these people. I glanced over at my husbands table and was wishing with all of my heart to be at his table. All of the other tables were seated and the mission's pastor had begun to say the evening prayer before dinner. As I stood there, trying to decide what to do... one of the men at the table either felt sorry for me or was embarrassed for me. Coffee and tea was already being served and the food was soon to come when he jumped up and said, "We can make room, I'm sure we can find another chair." It wasn't just the chair, it was also the dinnerware. I had no place setting at the table. As a matter of fact... by this time, the thought of eating food and socializing with this woman and her friends made my stomach churn. Food was the farthest thought from my mind. I tried desperately to pull myself together, compose my thoughts and sit down as graciously as I could. What would you rate my security level on a scale of one to ten?

As I sat among the people at the table, God gave me the grace I needed to get through the dinner. I smiled, I talked politely and I was gracious. But deep down in my soul... Satan tried to convince me that I was not good enough to sit at this table. The lady across from me had an air of superiority, wealth and social status. At least that is what I saw through my almost, mist- filled eyes. And yet... I did not envy her or desire to be anything like her. I was actually happy to be who I was. I'm sure I had more peace in my heart when I crawled into bed that night than she did. Often, we find ourselves in situations that we had rather not be in but they can be used to our advantage. I prayed constantly and carried on a conversation with Jesus at the table. I asked for His grace, mercy and even tolerance. He assured me that I would be okay and I was...

So... as I go to my ladies retreat next week... I know that God is going to be with me. I'm sure that I will still have to fight some anxious thoughts between now and then but I know that God loves me and I really don't have to worry about it. I know that part of the security issue is trusting God. The other part is to stop looking inward and seeing ourselves in a lesser light than God sees us.