The Woman in Row Eight

Yesterday, my husband Frank and I attended a church we normally don’t attend. We were closer to my mom this weekend, so we found a place nearby. God was there, gently reminding us of who He is, through simply watching someone worship Him.

A few rows in front of us, there was a woman, maybe in her seventies. She caught my eye, not because she was loud or flashy, but because her spirit was steady. During worship, I noticed her. While the music played, she gently moved back and forth. Nothing dramatic. Nothing rehearsed. She raised one arm with a quiet kind of surrender. Her face was soft, full of light and peaceful. She wasn’t performing and she wasn’t trying to be seen. But something in her demeanor said she was fully present with God. I could tell she wasn’t trying to be anything for anyone. She was just with Jesus. And it moved something within me.

There was joy on her face not a look-at-me kind of joy. This was something deeper, quieter, and stronger. The kind of joy that has lasted through pain. The kind that clings to hope when life doesn’t make sense. A joy that only comes from walking with Jesus.  A joy that knows He is faithful, even when nothing else is.

She worshipped slowly, honestly and with what she had. And it felt so pure and true.

I don’t know her name. I don’t know what she’s been through. But I felt the Spirit of God on her worship. It wasn’t loud, but it was powerful. It was a kind of offering that doesn’t need a microphone or a spotlight. Just a heart turned upward.

John 4 says “the Father is seeking worshipers who worship in spirit and in truth.”  That was her!

I stood there, not distracted but drawn in. Her worship didn’t stand out because of anything grand she wasn’t seeking attention. It was the simplicity of it that struck me. There was something so pure about the way she moved, the way she raised her hand. It made me think about how often we can complicate worship with our expectations, when really, it’s just about offering ourselves fully to God. She reminded me that worship is about the quiet, unspoken surrender of our heart.

She reminded me of the woman in Luke 7 with the alabaster jar. The one who broke it open and poured it all out at Jesus’ feet. She didn’t care who was watching. She didn’t come to impress. She came to give everything. And Jesus saw her He didn’t turn her away He honored her and He said, “She loved much.”

That’s what I saw in the woman in row eight. Someone who has loved much. Someone who is still loving much.

God sometimes sends people like her to wake us up. To bring us back to the heart of worship. To remind us that real worship isn’t about volume, style, or surroundings. It’s about truth. It’s about Jesus. It’s about loving Him enough to respond, even if no one else does.

And then at the end of the service, as we were all leaving, I saw her again. This time she wasn’t moving freely. She couldn’t walk on her own. Two women were on either side of her, gently helping her make her way out of the sanctuary. And in that moment, my heart broke and opened wider all at once. The woman who had worshipped with such quiet strength, such grace, such freedom, she was in pain. Her body was weak. But still, she stood to worship. Still, she raised her hand. Still, she moved for Jesus.

She gave Him what she had. Not out of abundance, but out of love. I want to be more like that woman in row eight. 

Jesus, please let our love be honest. Let it be seen not just in words, but in posture, in stillness, in movement, in surrender. Let us never grow too careful, too cautious, or too self-aware to worship You fully. Let us love you with everything we have.

“Therefore I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.”
—Romans 12:1

The picture above is of her, she allowed me to take her picture.