“I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water.” (Elizabeth Gilbert- Eat, Pray, Love)
I had no control. My hands were flying, but the graceful kind of flying- not the hurried harsh beatings of wings, but the kind that is smooth and more like gliding than the actual flapping kind of flying. My hands were flying, like an eagle doing circles in the sky over prey, but circling from paints to paper: dipping the brush in the water, then quickly running over the watercolor palette and making strokes onto the sketchbook in front of me. It was fluid, like a sweet song where all the notes supernaturally flow together. And this flight, this song, was flowing out of me in a way that was not of me, not of myself, but an irresistible urge that could not be repressed or contained. It had to be released, and I was only the medium through which it would express itself. The song’s name was Praise.
Before I knew it, the song had composed an image before me, a dove splitting the darkness like a curtain, letting in a rainbow of light, releasing feathers of grace and beauty to fall delicately on the onlookers below. But the image wouldn’t suffice and the song needed lyrics. So written words flowed out of my hands; and humming and singing escaped my lips. Without thought, they flowed from my heart, from an existence inside, intertwined and yet somehow simultaneously separate from my own being. Soon, not even the painting or words that manifested from my body were enough; and an initial hesitancy that led to restraint was completely broken as I put down the brush, put down the pen, and became the song. I became Praise. I became Praise, and my song became dance. With my eyes closed I lost thought of all the people sitting and standing around me. I lost any notion of myself and could only worship. And God played in my bloodstream as my arms and legs, torso, and head, hands and feet flowed with the song of praise. They moved on their own, creating motions I could not see and could only feel. My hands swirled around me, soaring and diving with the rest of my body as I eventually came to my knees on the ground in awe and humility of something far greater than myself- something far too beautiful that no song, painting, words, or even dance could express. Succumb with pure joy I could only cry silent tears as I smiled. God was playing in my bloodstream.
That night at PenHOP, (Penang House of Prayer) I spent 4 hours, well past midnight, being God’s medium. And for four hours every artistic tendency inside of me was used utterly by and for God. I lost track of time and could only track the song of Praise that was flowing through me. I painted. I wrote. I sang. I danced. And it was all to the glory of God.
I had rarely ever felt so content than that first Friday night in Malaysia, when God completely used me up, and filled me up at the same time. Everyone around me was worshiping, also caught up in the euphoria of Christ, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was letting go and becoming a vessel and a Temple for God inside me. I realized (again) from that night that my passion and participation in the arts gives me so much joy because it is not only an extension of myself, but of something greater than myself. It is an outlet of the creative God within me. Shauna Niequist expresses it so wonderfully in Cold Tangerines when she says,
“Art slips past our brains straight into our bellies. It weaves itself into our thoughts and feelings and the open spaces in our souls, and it allows us to live more and say more and feel more. Great art says the things we wished someone would say out loud, the things we wish we could say out loud”.
That night of art and worship revealed and let out the deep soulful praise within me that I could not say out loud. It was the joy and praise of a wonderful Savior whose grace and love I had no expression of gratitude for, but needed to pour out because it could not be contained. I paint because I have no words. I dance because I have no words. I hum and sing melodies because there are no words. But there is a heartsong within me that is God, needing to rush out of and flow through me. Everything creative inside me traces to the Creator, and it is a beautiful redemption to be able to give back to God what He alone has placed inside of me- to give up those intimacies that only He can understand.
I have danced solo without choreography and with abandon only twice in my life, and both times have happened on the World Race. The second I just told you, and the first is a similar story.
I have always loved contemporary dance, the grace, beauty and fluidity of exposing some of your soul in vulnerability and confidence. It was my dream that one day, even in my “old age” of twenties that I would take a contemporary dance class and learn, but then also be able to just let go and dance. In my mind it is so beautiful. But I have always been insecure in dance, comparing my lack of experience or training; and I restrain myself despite my admiration of and deep desire for it.
But one night in the Philippines, late after I thought everyone had gone to bed, I went into Amos Hall, moved a little bit of furniture, and just danced. The strumming of the guitar had ended and the group worship was long over, but I was not done worshiping. So I worshiped with my body. There was no music, just the song in my heart. And while it sounds awkward it was not awkward at all. I closed my eyes and let my body and soul take over. Again I had no control. I don’t know how long it lasted, but dancing was so wonderful. It was liberating to release all that was stored up inside me that I didn’t know how to express. Later, my squadmate confessed to me that she had been watching from outside through the glass door, and just wanted to watch all night. She told me that it was beautiful. She told me that I dance beautifully. It made me so happy, the thought of me being that image of beauty through dance that I have in my head; but I could only smile and thank her knowing that the beauty was not of me, but the beauty of offering up praise that I could not contain. Praise that had to be released to God.
Pushpa also came to me in confidence, confessing that she had watched me dance at PenHOP. As an Indian married woman, there are a lot of constraints, a lot of things you can’t do for the sake of propriety and decency, and usually dancing is one of them. It can be scandalous in its vulnerability, and meek little Pushpa with her compassionate and tender heart would never dare release herself in such an extraordinary way in public. However, she whispered to me that after seeing me that night in PenHOP, worshiping in dance, that she went into her room that night, closed her door, and in front of nobody but herself and God, she danced. She told me that she saw the beauty and freedom that was flowing out of me, and wanted to feel and experience that same beauty for herself. She was shy, and slightly embarrassed as she told me. Yet I could see an earnestly joyful light, flickering jumping and skipping with emotion, dancing behind her eyes in a manner that reflected my image of her dancing before God.
Then she told me in encouragement something that went straight to my heart. She told me that she sees me dancing for God. She told me that she knows I dance for God everyday, not physically, but spiritually, in everything that I do. She emphasized it telling me, “You are a dancer.” And even though I explained to her that I really don’t dance on my own, that it just happened that night, she explained to me how everyday I have a new dance, she sees me offering it up to God in joy in everything I do, and that God responds with pleasure as He smiles over my dancing for Him. These words of affirmation and prophesy were stunning in their innocence, simplicity, and straight-forward confidence, and could only have been more beautiful if they were spoken by God himself. The truth is, as much I deny, am insecure or shy about my dancing, my very IDENTITY is that I am a dancer for God. As long as my body is actively worshiping and lifting up praise to the Lord, it is dancing for Him. And He loves it and thinks it is beautiful. That I am beautiful. I am His beautiful dancer. And it makes Him pleased. This imagery is so delightful that it makes me giddy inside, and makes me want to dance even more! With my whole heart! With my whole life!
So I encourage you, to realize this identity for yourself. I am not telling you that you have to paint, sing, write, or even dance. You don’t even have to be “creative” or “artistic” by the world’s standards. But live your life as a dance, a pure act of worship to the Lord. In every action offer it up to God in vulnerability, but also in praise and joy because you can’t contain the urge to rejoice in the blessings He has given you. Live every action in celebration of the truth that you are the Lord’s and He takes pleasure in you, sees you as beautiful, and smiles because of you. You can’t help it. Stop resisting and cast away everything that drags you down, chains you, restricts and denies you from dancing. Because this dance is your life.
“Because we were made for motion, for arching up toward God with all the energy and passion of a thunderstorm, lightning slicing through a sleepy world to remind us that we serve a fast-dancing God, a God who set this world whirling and crashing through space so that we could live from our toes and drum out the pulse of a billion veins carrying lifeblood to a billion hearts, temples to a God that got his hands dirty making us from dust. Let’s get dirty, in his name. Let’s dance and shimmer and scrawl out stories across the sky, like he taught us to. Let’s echo his words , and let our lives speak those words: it is good“. (Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines)
