I usually stand when the congregation stands.
As the presiding minister, I am on my feet for most of the service anyway. I stand to lead worship, to read, to preach, to preside at the table, and to offer the blessing.
But that does not mean standing is always easy.
I live with back pain and fatigue, and there are days when my body feels the cost of being on my feet for a long time. I also know what it feels like to remain seated while everyone around you stands. When you are younger, especially, staying seated can make you feel like you are sticking out. Even if no one says anything, you may wonder whether people are noticing or making assumptions.
Serving as the pastor of an older congregation has made me pay even closer attention to this.
Some of the people I love dearly cannot stand safely or comfortably because of pain, fatigue, balance concerns, or other realities that may not be obvious to anyone else. They should not have to explain themselves every time the congregation rises.
That is why a simple phrase like “Please stand” is not quite as simple as it sounds.
It carries assumptions about bodies, participation, reverence, and who we imagined would be in the room when we planned worship.
The Problem Is Not Standing
Standing can be a meaningful part of worship.
People stand to greet the Gospel, sing, pray, receive a blessing, or mark a significant moment in the service. Posture can help worship become embodied rather than something that happens only in our thoughts.
The problem is not standing.
The problem comes when standing becomes the assumed evidence of participation, attention, or faithfulness.
When worship leaders say, “Please stand,” one posture becomes the expected posture. Anyone who remains seated becomes the exception.
Of course, a person can simply stay seated.
But “you can just stay seated” is not the whole answer.
When nearly everyone around you stands, remaining seated can make your difference visible in a way you did not choose. You may suddenly feel as though your body is making a public statement. You may feel pressure to stand even when doing so causes pain, exhaustion, dizziness, or fear of falling.
The words may be brief, but the message can still be strong:
This is how participation is supposed to look.
What Liturgy Teaches
We spend a lot of time thinking about what sermons communicate.
We choose words carefully. We try to make our welcome genuine. We think about what Scripture says about grace, dignity, inclusion, and the body of Christ.
But liturgy preaches too.
The instructions we give, the movements we expect, and the options we do—or do not—name all teach something about who belongs.
A congregation may say that everyone is welcome while still designing worship around one imagined kind of body: a body that can stand, kneel, walk forward, hold a small cup, read a screen across the room, hear clearly, process rapid instructions, and remain still for an hour.
Usually, no one intends to exclude anyone.
That does not mean exclusion is not happening.
Our worship practices reveal what we expect. They show whose bodies were imagined when the service was planned and whose bodies were left to adapt.
This is why accessibility is not merely a practical issue.
It is theological.
For a broader introduction to that idea, read Disability Theology 101: Why Your Church Needs This Conversation.
“Just Stay Seated” Still Makes Someone the Exception
I understand the response:
People know they can remain seated if they need to.
Some do.
Others may not.
A visitor may not know the congregation’s unwritten rules. A younger person may worry that others will assume they are being disrespectful. Someone with an invisible disability may feel pressure to explain a need they would rather keep private.
Even the phrase “as you are able” can leave standing as the preferred posture and sitting as the accommodation.
That does not make the phrase cruel. It may even be intended as an attempt at inclusion.
But it still organizes the invitation around ability:
Those who can will do the expected thing. Those who cannot may do something else.
Belonging asks us to imagine the moment differently.
What if the language did not divide the congregation into those who can and those who cannot?
What if it made room for different bodies and postures from the beginning?
A Change I Made at Peace
At Peace, I introduced the phrase:
Either in body or spirit, please rise.
There was not one dramatic event that prompted the change.
No one came into my office with a complaint. There was no congregational crisis over posture. I simply wanted to be more thoughtful about the people already worshiping with us—people with disabilities, older adults, and anyone for whom standing may be painful, unsafe, or exhausting.
No one made a big deal about the change.
I do not remember anyone praising it or pushing back against it. It simply became part of our worship language.
In some ways, that quietness matters.
Inclusive language does not always require a grand announcement. Sometimes it is the slow work of changing what a congregation comes to expect.
Over time, I have also become more open to the possibility that not every moment needs a posture cue at all.
As I have worked on liturgy for Every Body and Mind, I have found myself asking a different question:
Does this moment actually require an instruction about what someone should do with their body?
Sometimes the answer is no.
“Let us pray” may be enough.
“Let us hear the Gospel” may be enough.
“Let us sing together” may be enough.
The congregation can participate without being told that reverence must take one particular shape.
What to Say Instead
Inclusive posture language does not need to be complicated.
For the Gospel, a blessing, or another moment when standing has traditionally been invited, consider:
Either in body or spirit, please rise.
Let us prepare to hear the Gospel.
In whatever posture allows you to be present, let us receive God’s Word.
For singing:
Let us sing together.
Join in song in whatever way is meaningful for you.
You are welcome to stand, sit, move, or rest as we sing.
For prayer:
Let us pray.
Let us settle into a prayerful posture.
However you are most comfortable, let us turn our attention to God.
These phrases still invite shared participation.
They simply stop treating one posture as the measure of it.
Reverence Can Take More Than One Form
Some people may worry that changing posture language makes worship less reverent or less embodied.
I do not think it does.
Standing can be reverent.
So can sitting.
So can kneeling, resting, swaying, remaining still, lifting one’s hands, keeping them folded, or placing them gently in one’s lap.
The sacredness of a moment does not depend on everyone arranging their body in the same way.
Embodied worship matters because we worship as whole people. But whole people do not all move, stand, balance, feel, or endure in the same ways.
A person who remains seated is not participating less.
A person who cannot kneel is not praying less faithfully.
A person who needs to move is not less attentive.
A person who rests during a hymn is not less reverent.
God does not wait for our bodies to take the correct position before meeting us.
Tradition Should Serve the Gospel
“Please stand” may feel traditional.
It may be the phrase a worship leader has always heard and always used. Changing it may feel awkward at first.
But tradition is not the same as repetition.
Tradition carries forward what is life-giving, faithful, and true. It also invites every generation to ask whether the practices we inherited still communicate what we believe.
The question is not:
Have we always done it this way?
The better questions are:
What does this practice teach?
Who can participate without pain, risk, or embarrassment?
Who becomes the exception?
Does this language reflect the body of Christ as it actually exists in this room?
Changing one sentence does not reject tradition.
It can be a way of serving tradition more faithfully.
Accessibility Is Worth Doing Because People Belong
Inclusive posture language may also help people who do not identify as having a disability.
It may help an older adult with balance concerns, a parent holding a sleeping child, someone recovering from surgery, a pregnant person dealing with fatigue, or a visitor who feels anxious standing in a crowd.
That is good.
But accessibility should not need to prove its value by helping people without disabilities.
It is worth doing because people with disabilities already belong in the church.
They do not need to become useful examples of how inclusion benefits everyone else.
They are members of the body of Christ.
Their participation, leadership, wisdom, and presence matter in their own right.
A Simple Liturgy Audit
Churches can begin by listening to their worship with new attention.
Print the service. Review the slides. Listen carefully to every physical instruction.
Ask:
- Does this assume that everyone’s body works in the same way?
- Is a particular posture necessary, or is it simply familiar?
- Could someone participate fully without doing the action being named?
- Does the language make one person feel like the exception?
- Is there a more open invitation we could use?
- Have people with disabilities been included in this conversation?
Then start with one change.
Revise the invitation before the Gospel.
Remove a posture cue from a prayer.
Change “Please stand” to “Either in body or spirit, please rise.”
Notice what happens.
The change may not be dramatic. No one may comment. That does not mean it does not matter.
Sometimes belonging is created through small, consistent signals that tell people they do not have to fight their bodies in order to worship.
A Small Change That Points Toward Belonging
Changing the words “Please stand” will not make a church fully accessible.
There will still be questions about buildings, seating, communion, hearing access, printed materials, sensory needs, digital worship, leadership, and many other parts of congregational life.
For a broader practical guide, read Disability-Inclusive Worship: A Practical Guide for Churches.
But language is a place to begin.
Every time we make room for more than one faithful posture, we communicate something about God and about one another.
We say that worship is not a performance of physical ability.
We say that reverence does not look the same in every body.
We say that no one has to become the visible exception simply because standing is painful, unsafe, or impossible.
And we begin to build a church where people are not merely told they may remain seated.
They are trusted to worship in the body they actually have.
Explore more reflections and practical resources through Accessibility and Belonging.
