A little snapshot of Jonas in action — better video at the end of the post
Sundays are golden when you live at a church.
Morning time breathes life into my bones. When upwards of five hundred churchgoers flood our home, I feel the electricity. Because we don't leave after the service ends, there's a sense of ownership I feel over Sundays. Also, during the service I just get to use the same coffee cup I had downstairs at breakfast, so that makes me feel at home. Plus, it's mighty convenient. I feel like a hostess; like I should be handing out party favors when they head back to their village homes.
This Sunday had a little more in store for us than usual – we had a special youth service late in the afternoon. We were put in charge of developing material for teaching, worshiping and entertaining. Fun, yes? Yes. Sophia was our natural emcee, and Charlyn brought the fiery Word. Leslie headed up the games and I led worship. It was really wonderful.
After the service, I walked outside to go play with our pet monkeys. Yes, they exist – leashes and all. While monkey-admiring, I saw a baby peering over its mother's shoulder at me. I made faces to try and crack a smile out of her, but man… tough crowd. When the smile didn't come, naturally I started to dance. A little hip shaking must cheer this nugget up, right? I tried, and no, it didn't. Seriously, tough crowd.
I started to walk back into the church when this little boy pounced in front of me. He started shaking his hips like I just had for the baby, then he gave me one of those hugs where you let go and they don't. How precious, I thought. Nowww let go. When he finally did, his sweetly broken English asked me to start dancing again. (If you know me, you know I am a perpetual dancer – there's usually a groove in my head that tends to manifest.) Turns out he and his friend wanted to bust a move. So? Bust a move we did.
I don't even know how it started. Or how it escalated to what it did. All I know is while the music was pumping in the background, the phenomenon started with something simple: the cabbage patch. Can't go wrong with a good cabbage patch.
The two boys, Jonas and Jamel, stood in front of me and copied each move. It was like one of those funhouse mirrors that distorts your reflection — but in this case my tall, white figure was reflected by two skinny Filipino boys that were half my height. Close enough, right?
We danced through the whole song… then another one… then two more. We three couldn't get enough – we couldn't stop smiling and laughing. We flowed from dance move to dance move. From serious to silly. Hands in the air to gettin' down on the floor. Left to right. One end of the room to the other. The Monkey to The Macarena. Michael Jackson to John Travolta. It didn't matter what in the world I did, they would quickly follow with fervor, joy and zeal.
Without noticing it, we had attracted a crowd. By the end, we had danced to the point of sweat. Profuse sweat. That's how you know you did a dance floor justice, or at least that's what I tell myself… and my dates. I asked Jonas and Jamel to come back and dance with me next Sunday – but in all reality I'd bust a move with them any day of the week. They were wonderful partners. (But Luke, don't worry, you haven't been replaced)
When it comes to God, this whole dance thing works. If you're following Him well, it creates joy inside. No matter which moves of His you're imitating, you can't wipe the smile off of your face. Others notice, and it creates joy in them too. Following Jesus alongside others makes for one heck of a dance floor.
As song after song plays, simply following His moves frees you up to trust what He does and who He is. Not taking the lead is hard sometimes, but healthy, I'm learning. Acknowledging that I don't have the best moves and trusting His lead is often difficult for me. When I think about it with a clear mind, all I desire to be is His reflection. I want to follow well, but when I actually get on the dance floor that doesn't always happen. As I continue to trust His lead, maybe it'll finally show in my Texas two-step when I get back home.
The Gospel, like dancing, is contagious, valuable, attractive, freeing and fun.
Cheers to Sundays, grumpy babies, and leaving it all on the dance floor,
Darcie
