I am not much of a dancer . . . never
have been. No, I have been pretty much a
wallflower my whole life when it came to dancing. For those of you unfamiliar with the term
“wallflower” . . . a “wallflower” is “a person who has no one to dance with or
who feels shy, awkward, or excluded at a party.” Growing up as a kid . . . through those
formative years of junior and senior high school . . . I was a wallflower. For most of my life I have stood on the dark
periphery of the dance floor scared to death that someone would ask me to dance
revealing my awkward and ungraceful movement more reminiscent of someone
slipping on ice than actual dancing. I
can remember that the thing I dreaded the most when my daughter got married was
the father/daughter dance . . . I did not dread the final tab for the wedding .
. . I did not dread whether or not my son-in-law would be a good husband or
not. Nope, it was having to go out on
the dance . . . all alone with my daughter . . . and having to dance in front
of all those family and friends.
When it comes to dancing . . . well,
let’s just say that I prefer to stand on the edge of the darkness—just outside
of the glaring light of the dance floor . . . and bid my luck that no one will
ask me to dance.
As much as I hate to dance—or am
scared to dance, I have to admit that one of the coolest metaphors about faith
. . . our intimate relationship with God . . . has to do with dancing. That God calls us to come and dance . . . to
dance with God. I have always liked that
metaphor, especially when one of my favorite songs is Sydney Carter’s Lord of the Dance. This wonderful song came out in the early
1960s as a non-traditional worship song in the Catholic Church in hopes that it
would appeal to a younger audience. Its
melody is set to the Shaker tune ‘Tis a
Gift to Be Simple. Whatever the
case, the song is about the call of God to come dancing:
I danced in the morning when the world was
young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the
sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the
earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
Each verse tells how God, through
Jesus, danced . . . tells the story of Jesus’ life and ministry. It tells how he dances for the scribes and
Pharisees—but they wouldn’t dance, so instead he dances with the disciples . .
. tells about how he danced on the Sabbath curing the lame, but this offended
the holy people resulting in him being crucified . . . tells how he danced in
his death, but death could not defeat him—could not stop his dance:
They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the life that will never, never die
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me
I am the Lord of the dance said he
And through the whole song,
God—through Jesus, continues to offer the invitation to come and dance:
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
Isn’t that a wonderful metaphor for
faith . . . for describing that intimate relationship between us and God . . .
a dance?
In the Gospel of John the writer expresses a new genesis . . . a new
beginning . . . to a world that was filled with darkness and fear for the
children of God. The people were in the
dark. The writer offers to the people an
invitation to step out of the darkness into the light . . . the light of the
holy and cosmic dance floor . . . to dance . . . to dance with God. That invitation comes in the form of
Jesus—the Lord of the Dance.
Light is an appropriate image in this
case. Whenever life seems to get
difficult and hard . . . whenever it seems daunting and scary . . . whenever it
becomes violent and unjust . . . we said that it is the dark side of life that
we are entering. And, true, as humans
that is a natural reaction whenever we are scared or anxious or in a crisis . .
. our vision goes from panoramic to microscopic . . . the darkness sets
in. It is only through light that we can
see . . . that we can see that we are loved . . . that we are desired . . .
that we are not alone. That God is with
us, always with us.
That is what the writer of the Gospel of John is telling us.
Into the darkness of the world God has
shined a light . . . has offered an invitation . . . an invitation to step out
of the darkness and into the dance of life . . . to come into an intimate
relationship with the One who loves us.
That invitation is extended to us through Jesus . . . God comes down . .
. to show us the way. In his words and
in his actions throughout his life, Jesus shows us the way the way to live in
relationship with God and with one another . . . shows us the way to dance the
“dance of life.”
In other words, we can’t be
wallflowers any more . . . we are called to dance . . . to dance in the light
which is the loving and intimate relationship with the God who loves us.
Well, I have been a lifetime
wallflower . . . a person who fears dancing (which, by the way, is officially
called “chorophobia”) . . . and, I am a little leery of that invitation to
dance. Leery because it means that I
have to let loose and trust the one who is asking me to dance . . . trust that
he or she is not going to laugh at my attempts at bogeying and dancing . . .
trust that I am not going to embarrass myself or my dance partner . . . trust
that he or she is going to be patient, kind, and graceful in showing me the
steps . . . trust that I can let go and allow another to take the lead. It has been a lifetime of struggle to just
let go and to step out of the darkness into the light and to dance. And, I think, that it is the same for most of
us.
As I stated earlier, I have always
been a wallflower when it came to dancing . . . been scared to step out there
and let my inner Fred Astaire cut the rug; but, with age . . . and with
grandchildren . . . that is changing.
With age I am learning that it really does not matter what other people
think of my dancing . . . all that matters is that I am dancing . . . dancing
with the partner who loves me for me—lousy dancer and all. With grandchildren I am learning that they
really do not care how I look when I dance . . . no, they just want to be held,
swayed, and moved . . . embraced in a silly dance with someone who loves
them. As I step out onto the dance floor
more and more, I find myself surrounded by laughter . . . laughter of joy . . .
mine and that of those who love me.
Count God among those sharing in the
laughter.
So, here is the deal . . . God wants
to dance . . . wants to dance with each of us.
God wants us to step out of the darkness of being a wallflower and to
hop out onto the dance floor of light and life.
God is even willing to show us how that dance is danced. Through Jesus God shows us the way . . .
makes the invitation . . . and calls us to dance in the light. And this is our chance to step out of the
darkness of being a wallflower and taking our rightful place in the family of
God . . . this is our chance to step into the light of God’s grace and love so
that we can shine.
Do you hear the invitation?
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
In the Gospel of John the writer
begins with the invitation from God: Shall we dance? Shall we dance in the light of grace and
love? Shall we dance? Amen.
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