I’m not a very good dancer.
I love watching other people dance, and I love the idea of being able to dance, but I’m not a very good dancer.
I’m not talking about your typical bumping and grinding, let’s see how close we can come to making everyone around us extremely uncomfortable type of dancing.
I’m talking about really dancing.
Sophisticated dancing, the kind that takes a whole new level of skill.
The kind of dancing where you have to trust someone else to lead.
The kind of dancing where you have to be willing to give up control and be led by your partner.
The kind of dancing that requires focus and training and moving in sync with another.
I’m not very good at this kind of dancing.
At least, I wasn’t until I met the right partner.
Unexpectedly and quite honestly, undeservingly, I met the most incredible dance partner.
He showed me how simple dancing is if you have the right companion.
He showed me how easy it is to give up my desire for control as long as the one leading me offered security.
He continues to show me what faithfulness looks like.
Make no mistake, the kind of partner I’m talking about isn’t the kind that is a product of this Earth.
My partner is the Father of Lights.
Like I said, I’m not a very good dancer.
But, quite frankly, that doesn’t seem to matter.
Because every time I step on His foot, trip over my self, get tangled up in the wrong moves or start stepping in the wrong direction, He doesn’t give up and walk away.
After every blunder I make, He stops, looks me in the eyes and says, “Okay, we’ll come back to that.”
And then he holds out his hand and asks me to join Him once again, to let Him teach me another step.
Sometimes, I don’t even realize He has his hand out because I’m too busy looking down, waiting for Him to get agitated and walk off the dance floor.
But, he never does.
Never even mentions that I screw up.
He looks at me, smiles and expectantly offers his hand.
He leads me through every song, every move, guiding my steps with strength.
When I finally get a move right, we both rejoice.
I rejoice out of finally accomplishing something that would take any normal person 5 minutes, and He out of seeing the joy on my face for a job well done and a feat overcome.
Sometimes the music is slow, and gently and gracefully He leads me in the waltz.
When the music speeds up, with the same grace and same gentleness He keeps me in sync, moving a little bit faster.
But, regardless of the pace of the music or the alternating dancers around us, He never stops leading.
He never even looks around to see who is surrounding us.
His electrifying gaze of satisfaction and delight in watching me follow His lead and master the steps never fades.
Nor does His willingness to instruct me.
I wish I could say my faith in His instruction and guidance is as constant as His, but it isn’t.
With each step, however, my ability to trust Him rapidly grows, as does my ability to submit to his lead.
In fact, the desire to hold on to Him grows so fiercely that towards the end of every song I realize my nails are practically digging into Him from the tight grip I hold.
I know I’m not a good dancer.
And, so does He.
I know I’m not going to make all the right moves all the time.
But, so does He.
Eventually, I realized what He knew all along: without Him, I wouldn’t be able to dance at all.
Without Him, I would still be watching everyone else move on to more advanced steps, as I sat at the table, letting my fear of looking like a bad dancer keep me from finding out if I actually was one.
Without Him, I would have no one to follow, no one to take after.
I would have no one to show me, to guide me, to teach me.
Like I said, I’m not very good at dancing.
But, we, we aren’t too shabby.
The only difference between me sitting and me dancing was my willingness to reach out for His hand and let Him take the lead.