The Chair

The chair stood empty in the middle of the circle. An awkward silence was screaming with all the things I wish I were saying. No one in my youth group had dry eyes; myself included. My youth pastor stood up, and every pair of watery eyes gazed at him as his voice pierced the silent room. “Tonight I want you to bring forth what has been holding you back from allowing God to use you. It’s time to let go of it; it’s time to move on. The chair is open for whoever wants to share.” He tapped the chair as he walked away, and it starred me square in the eye. Mascara trail lines followed the teardrops rolling down my face while I sat down sobbing. Tears of regrets, sorrows, and secrets I’ve held inside for so long. These emotions boiled inside me like hot water inside a teakettle. I was about ready to burst. Everyone around me sat crying as well. All of us in a silent sob session, which felt like it lasted forever.

            The chair stood in the center; empty, mocking me and torturing me. It knew my secrets; it knew my past. It wanted me to sit on it, this throne of sin. So I stared at it blankly, refusing to budge.  I looked back down at the floor and started to cry again, until I was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. A good friend of mine was sitting in the chair. My heart broke for him as I watched my friend share his brokenness. I admired his bravery. I wished confession could be that easy for me. After he finished, we prayed and the chair taunted me. A few more of my friends went up to the chair bravely admitting things. I sat consumed with the guilt of my own sin. I couldn’t do this anymore. The war between my heart and my mind were at it again. “No, they’ll judge you”, said my mind, “Don’t tell anyone.” But my heart argued, “They’ll accept you no matter what, Brianna. Just go for it.” I went back and forth with myself like an infinite round of tug-of-war. I was starting to sweat I was so nervous, and my heart was racing like a roadrunner trapped inside of my chest. I could hardly believe what my legs were doing. I was standing up. I was walking over. Before I knew it, I was sitting down on the throne of sins.

            I could feel the eyes of everyone starring at me. My palms were sweaty. My face, eyes, and clothes were drenched with the warm tears that had fallen from my eyes. I couldn’t believe I

was up there. “Too late to turn back now”, I thought.  My head dizzy with the reality that I was now face-to-face with. I wanted to go back. I was scared out of my mind. With tears still rolling, I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and spoke. I spilled everything. I said things that I have never told anyone before, and they were flying out of my mouth while tears continued to pour down my face. My legs went numb. My entire body just paralyzed as I told my life story to everyone in the circle. When I finished, silence overcame the room again. I was terrified for their reactions. Would they judge me? Are they ever going to forgive me? Will they think less of me? I continued to sob, and I buried my face in my hands.

            All of a sudden I heard footsteps walking toward me. Everyone in the room approached me, and laid their hands on my head, back and shoulders. My best friend grabbed my hands and locked her fingers with mine, and my youth pastor prayed over me. It was a long prayer, and I felt healing as all these people held me in my darkest moment. When the word “amen” ended our prayer, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Loving arms wanting to hug me surrounded me. I was embraced with these loving arms that held me tight. It was then I realized that I was not in pain anymore. They didn’t judge my past or me. They listened and cared, as I left it all on

that chair. The chair that mocked me, teased me, and had created a powerful fear over me. The chair I used to be afraid of now stood powerlessly behind me.

I let go of everything I was holding onto, and now there is assurance of finally being able to fully allow God into my heart, and into my life. With not knowing where I would go from here, with not knowing the struggles I would face going into junior year, I walked away with confidence. Confident with the future before me, God beside me, and the chair behind me, that I

would never let myself feel the way I felt on that chair again. The chair stood empty in the middle of the circle. The room lingered with the words I had already spoken, and the people in my youth group were finally able to dry their eyes. Myself included.

The sound of the school bell brought me back from the memory of that day, and I carried my backpack off to my next class, Student Council. In the front of the classroom there stood a chair. The chair was silent while the rest of the classroom was full of laughter. My peers greeted each other with “hello’s” and full-embraced hugs after their long summer break. I stood there smiling and socializing with my friends; until my teacher interrupted us with a loud voice trying to over power the sound of ours. “Go around and introduce yourselves, and the position you hold in Student Council. The chair is open for whoever wants to go first.” She said to us as she walked back to her desk. The room stayed silent as we waited for someone to make the first move, until someone finally stood up, walked over to the chair, and sat down. I was that someone.

I sat there just starring at the eyes of my classmates that surrounded me. I knew this feeling; this feeling of confidence that I felt as I walked away from confession this past summer. Confident, that no matter what, I would never have to own up to the horrible sin in my life like how I did before. The chair knew it was powerless. It knew my strength, and my success. But this time I spoke slow, and told them about my leadership in Student Council, academics, athletics, and my faith. Because of my faith, I am off to a better start to this year, and being aware how God has saved me from myself. It all started and ended with a chair. I went from sitting on a throne of sin, to sitting on a throne of success. These chairs constantly remind me of the grace of God, and keep me accountable to the promise I made to be a woman of integrity and purity. I peered out to my class, smiling as everyone in the room applauded. Myself included.