This weekend, I had the rare opportunity to attend church with someone who allowed me to choose any seat I wanted. Usually, I attend the service with my wife, and there’s a specific, albeit unwritten, set of rules for selecting a seat¹. It shouldn’t be too close to the front, but we also avoid the back. We usually opt for a spot near the center but not right in the middle. Typically, we sit on the far left of the far-right section, but if we’re with others who prefer that exact same spot on the opposite side of the auditorium, we’re flexible.

However, on this particular day, I threw caution to the wind and chose a seat without being bound by these rules. As I walked in, I didn’t put much thought into where I would sit and simply went where my feet led me. I ended up on the second row, to the far right of the center section.

About halfway through the service, as I listened to the sermon, I randomly started wondering why I had chosen that particular seat. It felt so natural at the time, but it was a deviation from my usual seat selection. I pondered this for a moment and eventually found myself smiling as I figured it out.

During my childhood, I regularly attended church with my grandmother. Since she was in the choir, I often sat with my best friend, whose mother was also in the choir. Imagine two young boys sitting in a church service, knowing that the grown-ups couldn’t reach us quickly, if at all. Unfortunately for us, they were wise enough not to let us out of their sight. They decided it was best to choose our seats for us, and guess where that seat was? You got it, on the second row, to the far right of the center section, directly within their line of sight.

With this arrangement, it didn’t matter if they could reach us quickly; they could convey everything they needed to with just “the look.” Needless to say, while our mischief wasn’t entirely prevented, I imagine it was significantly reduced.

All these years later, when I allow myself to go on autopilot, that’s still the seat I choose. It’s the spot where I feel the most comfortable, the most seen, and the most connected in the church. Most people might choose to avoid that seat after such an experience, but my grandmother and my friend’s mom were women so full of grace and love that even when we got into “trouble,” it felt like they were caring for us and lifting us up².

As I reflected on this yesterday, I couldn’t help but appreciate the spiritual foundation these women helped build in me. They invested their time, energy, and effort into ensuring I learned about Jesus and how much He loved me. They prayed for me in those days, and they continued to do so when I strayed from my faith. They loved me through it all, and no matter where I was on my journey, they always sought to bring me closer to Him.

This is not a post about choosing a seat; it’s a post about laying spiritual foundations for the next generation. It’s a post about diligently teaching those who come after us about who Jesus is and how much He loves them.

I haven’t been in that church in more than thirty years, but I can still see those pews with their hard wooden backs and green upholstery. I can still see that burgundy carpet and the stained glass windows. I can still picture that choir loft filled with people singing songs of worship and casting those admonishing looks at their own children and grandchildren because they knew that what they were singing about and what the preacher would talk about were the keys to an abundant and eternal life.

Deuteronomy 6:4-9 encapsulates the heart of what I believe they were doing:

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.”

What foundations are you building for the generation coming after you? What truths are you instilling in them now? I know that throughout the years, my grandmother must have worried and wondered how my life would turn out. She watched me struggle throughout my late teen and early adult years. Through it all, she continued to pray, support, and encourage me. She kept pointing me back to the foundations she had worked to build, and eventually, I returned. Eventually, I ran back to the Father, came home, and embraced the calling for which He created me. It was all because my grandmother was part of a group of Christ-focused adults who poured into me and pointed me toward Him.

So, who are you working to lead to Jesus? Regardless of the challenges, don’t give up. The foundations you and others are laying now will remain long after this season changes.

¹I know the idea of “specific unwritten rules” is kind of lofty, but trust me on this. While they are technically, “unwritten,” they are still very specific!

²I know the idea of “specific unwritten rules” is kind of lofty, but trust me on this. While they are technically, “unwritten,” they are still very specific!