God has a sense of humor, Im sure of it. My feet swing back and forth, barely staying above the water. I can see my breath and the sun peeking up, the orange color bouncing across the water is a welcoming sight. I adore early mornings, crisp air and feeling like I’m the only one awake. I reach for my journal out of habit, only to be reminded that it’s just me and Jesus this morning. If I had my way, I would have already used my ink to transform those journal pages. Words would flow into sentences which would come alive in powerful life filled stories of my australian adventures. When I got here, I was thrown into new experiences, meeting new people from all over the world all while being way out of my comfort zone. It was incredible and terrifying all at the same time, which meant my journal was always close by so I could process things. Before long my thoughts were overflowing through the once blank lifeless pages. I could hear the laughter erupting off some pages. Tears soaked other pages, seeping into the writing and sliding down the page like raindrops falling rhythmically down a cold glass window. Other pages brought the sunshine and blooming flowers, the words leaping out of the journal to proclaim God’s goodness and unfailing love. Yet on some pages the words engage in a full on battle, trying to make sense of the emotions running around my head. I wish I could say I am one of those people whose journal is beautifully laced with cool fonts and pictures all the while being neatly organized. Instead though my journal reflects my scattered thoughts and generally it looks like my pen had a mind of its own as it danced across the page in a most ungraceful manner. As disorganized as my journal is though, it is mine, a safe place for my thoughts to make their home and a refuge for the times when I’m an introvert who needs some space. Needless to say you hardly ever find me without my journal and it didn’t take long for people here to realize I am a person of many words. So last week when God asked me to stop journaling for a few days , my heart skipped a beat and I stubbornly refused to let go. Surely I wasn’t hearing God right, and naturally I retreated to journal and pray. Yet God always has a way of breaking down my stubbornness. Shortly after this, three different people came up to me on separate occasions to tell me that God wanted me to stop journaling and be quiet. I could almost physically feel the pain shooting through my heart, but if there is one thing God has been teaching me this year, it is that I can grumble, stomp my feet and pout, but in the end He will always be victorious. So I reluctantly obeyed, throwing just a small tempter tantrum as I laid my journal on my bed, grabbed my jacket and headed to the river to watch the sunrise. I look at my watch, it has only been 10 minutes, oh goodness. Silence is not exactly my best friend. I have more of a love hate relationship with silence. I love silence when I have my journal and I can cocoon myself in my room or my favorite local coffee shop, starry night. I am not so fond of silence when it is only me and my thoughts. As the sun starts to appear more vividly through the mist and the lake begins to reflect the orange hues, I realize that perhaps I have started to idolize journaling, because even though God’s blessed me with a passion and excitement for words and writing, I think it has become a way to escape the dreaded silence that so often entangles me, leaving me hopeless as it opens all the rusty doors I have tried so hard to keep nailed shut. This last week, I have been learning that God has so much to say if only I will sit and listen. So here I am, just me and God, and as I sit watching Him paint the sky for me, I hear Him ask me to dance with Him. That catches me off guard, my second worst fear to silence is dancing. ( either that or moths). I am going to be honest, it terrifies me, I have no rhythm, I am clumsy and I always embarrass myself. Surely I am not hearing God correctly, I will sit a little longer and see what He says. The silence is anything but comforting. I hear the same thing, “my daughter dance with me”. In one instant I know why He wants me to dance with Him, as he brings me back to a vision and a poem He gave me a few months ago.
It is of me dancing with Jesus. I am so awkward and clumsy, yet He is so graceful. I am always trying to look around, worried about what people around me think. Jesus always brings my focus to Him. He tells me to focus on the dance and the people will fade away. Then He gave me this poem entitled ” Dancing With God”.
I want to be like that. Where I close my eyes and throw back my head with laughter as I step up to dance with you. My tiny hand in your infinite one, my clumsy steps compared to your grace. The music begins and we step out onto the floor. My grip tightens, knowing I will fall, but also knowing that you will guide me. And the music swells, roaring into my ears until I am so enraptured that I can’t look at anyone but you. My hands and feet poised for the next step, my head up, and a smile of love on my face… and maybe, maybe then I will not even notice when you turn to one of your sons and invite Him to dance with me.
Well I have to admit, seeing the pieces come together is pretty sweet. But still. I can’t get up and dance on a dock by myself where so many people walk by. Yet something is stirring in my soul, and I can’t ignore it. The God of the entire universe is asking me to dance, how could I say no?
So I get up, and hold out my hands. And I dance. All around the dock. I close my eyes, and I feel that poem becoming a reality as I let go of my thoughts and perceptions. Jesus is leading me, and I slowly stop caring what people think of me. It is me and Jesus, gracefully sliding around the dance floor. A little girl, dancing with her Father.
And that is the story of how I danced with Jesus on a little dock in australia nonetheless, as the sun shone, casting its wonderful glow everywhere. A moment I will never forget. But more importantly that morning I fell more in love with my savior. The one who is never too busy to ask His daughter to dance, who tells Me I am His little princess. How amazing that the dance doesn’t end there. No, dancing with God is a day by day choice. But oh, how beautiful to be whisked around the dance floor so focused on the one who laid His life down for me. Yes, it is just me and Jesus and it is oh so beautiful to be able to proclaim and declare to the world that He has my heart, every single piece of it.
God also taught me the importance and value of obedience as well as simply sitting in silence with Him. Oh, He has so much to say, if you just take time to listen. This journey is so beautiful, expect God to teach you things in unexpected ways. And if He asks you to dance, don’t hesitate to step out on that dance floor with your Daddy