The seat I gravitate to in my church normally winds up being near front and center — a row or two behind the reserved front row where the lead pastors are perched. A few years ago, you would find me sitting in the back, tucked away in the corner, hands clasped together, maybe with my head bowed down, pretending I was in prayer, rather than in worship.
Nowadays, worship is the fuel to my heart and soul. You will find my arms raised, singing at the top of my lungs, head tilted to the ceiling, maybe even shouting a “hallelujah” or two in between choruses.
“And as the ark of the covenant of the Lord came to the city of David, Michal the daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David dancing and rejoicing, and she despised him in her heart.”