I hope you dance

 “Do you wanna dance?” Were the first words I ever spoke to my wife.

“Do you work with horses?” were the second. She said, yes.

I thought, wow, she’s beautiful, works with horses and we’re gonna dance.

Only…she thought I said, houses, not horses.  She cleaned for a living.

But it was too late and it didn’t matter. I was smitten. We danced.

I loved to dance. Still do. We just never do it anymore. But, the other day I watched a dance, at church of all places, and I was smitten.

It all started with us getting to church late. Mr. Turner nodded as we took our seats in the back row next to him.

The place was packed as usual. The preacher was talking as usual. But after a few minutes our friend, Rachel got up from her usual seat near the front and walked out, holding her Bible—and Burt’s.

That was unusual.

Curiosity and concern got the best of me so I snuck out and found Rachel looking for Burt. “He should’ve been back by now.”

“I’ll check the bathroom.”

“Already did.”

We found him in the car, with his head in his hand.

The day before, we’d gone to a garage sale with Burt and Rachel, and when I had told my son in law that we were going, he said, “Make sure Burt drinks lots of water.”

Why would he say that out of the clear blue? He doesn’t even know Burt that well. But, he’s a lineman and Burt was too. Maybe there’s a connection. Anyway, the words never left me. Make sure Burt drinks lots of water.

“He’s dehydrated,” I heard myself say.

Dancers appeared from out of everywhere, two-stepping to the beat of a Divine Orchestra. They sashayed in and away and back again with help and water and prayer. They weren’t really dancing, I don’t think, but for some reason that’s just the way it seemed.

After all was said and done, I slid back in to the seat between Mr. Turner and my wife. He didn’t notice since his head was bowed and eyes were closed.

The pastor preached but I didn’t hear a word, I was thinking about what happened to Burt…and listening to the man next to me quietly snore.

At the close of the service Mr. Turner’s head rose slow, he blinked a few times and two deacons appeared. One smiled and helped him to his feet, while the other handed him a wooden cane and pulled open the door.

Mr. Turner did a two step of his own as he shuffled through, two steps forward and one step back. I watched the dance and it occurred to me, they’d swayed to this beat a thousand times before.  

After we got home we received the call. Burt’s blood pressure had spiked.

I texted my son in law and asked him to pray. After all—wasn’t he the one who’d tuned in the song? Make sure Burt drinks lots of water.

I sat on a stool next to the hospital bed and listened to my friend.

“I felt like I needed to sit during the singing, but…” Burt clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“Burt, lots of folks sit during the singing. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, some—the old people.”

Burt’s eighty-five.

“Yeah, you’re too young for that” I said.

He smiled. “I waited until after the singing, when the choir was leaving and the preacher was praying. I snuck out when no one was looking.”

That’s his way—always flowing with the music, never disturbing the song.

About that time the doc walked in and said all the tests were fine, he was free to go.

Burt in his bed and Rachel in her chair, they didn’t move but I could see it in their eyes—they were dancing.

Do you ever just sit and wonder about how things fall into place?

That day replayed over and over in my head like an old song…really, like a song. It’s like the memory has music and it just won’t go away.

As I look back, I see everyone has a part to play. A song to sing. A step to make. Some speak, some listen, others pray or give water, open a door or just show up to close their eyes and nod their head— everyone is invited to the dance. Everyone is asked to dance.

Only a few will. Only those willing to listen—and let God lead.

That day, I think I caught a glimpse of heaven’s dance. The Husband and His bride in a slow embrace. The Body of Christ waltzing with her One and only.

The song they were dancing to?

It's an old song, first sang over 2,000 years ago, but still as fresh as the sunrise...

He's alive. He has risen from the dead and He's alive.

Yes, as strange as it may sound, I think I felt, I think I heard, heaven singing...

I think I saw—God dancing.

Wait, before you roll your eyes, doesn’t His Word say, He rejoices over you with singing?(Zephaniah 3:17).

Didn’t David dance like crazy before the Lord?

Yeah, but that was David.

Right, but wasn’t David called a man after God’s own heart?

Think about it. Every day the God of all creation choreographs the most romantic of dances.  

The moon serenades the ocean into caressing slow wet kisses along the shore. 

The sun and stars dance in perfect harmony with times and seasons. At any given moment a sunrise and a sunset are being painted in all of their unending glory declaring at once, the Son has set and yet, He has risen..

Could it be that The Creator of music sings to His bride?

Could it be that His Voice floats here and now and everywhere, searching, longing, yearning for…singing to, those He loves?

Could it be that, God just wants to dance?

Will you take His nail-scarred hand…and dance?

YOUR THOUGHTS?

I'd love to hear from you, pray with you...I hope you dance. 

ipray4u
Doug,

This post was written for The High Calling Community Link Up. This week’s theme is resurrection. Read more and share your own story here.