A Place to Sit

I love movies and music, so I should probably warn you now: from time to time, I'll use them as connectors—little doorways into something for us to think about together.

One of my favorite movies is Forrest Gump.

There's a scene early in the movie when a young Forrest boards the school bus for the first time. He's looking for somewhere to sit. He walks down the aisle, but student after student makes it clear that there isn't room for him.

Then he comes to Jenny.

She looks at him and simply says, “You can sit here if you want.”

And Forrest finds a seat.

I've been thinking about how much of life is spent looking for a place to sit.

A place to rest.

A place to belong.

A place where we don't have to explain ourselves before someone makes room for us.

Those things matter to our well-being. And, of course, where we sit and with whom we choose to sit matter too—but we'll save that conversation for another day.

For today, I simply want you to know that Brook Besor is a place where you can sit.

That's part of why this space is called Brook Besor.

In 1 Samuel 30, David and his men were pursuing those who had attacked their community and carried away their families. But when they reached the Brook Besor, two hundred of the men were simply too exhausted to keep going. So they stayed at the brook while the others continued the journey.

What strikes me is that their exhaustion did not cost them their place in the community. When the others returned, David insisted that those who had stayed at the brook would share in what had been recovered too.

They needed to sit for a while. And sitting did not mean they stopped belonging.

Maybe you need a place to sit too.

A place to reflect and dream.

A place to ask questions.

A place to catch your breath.

Even a place to lick your wounds without fear of condemnation.

You don't have to arrive with everything figured out. You don't have to pretend that you're not tired.

And you don't have to prove that you're worthy of the seat.

Sometimes what we need most is simply someone who makes a little room and says:

You can sit here if you want.

Welcome to the Brook.

There's always room for you here.

Eye-level view of a serene garden with a bench for reflection

Sit with this for a moment

Where have you found a place where you didn't have to earn your belonging?