“Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might, while he and all Israel were bringing up the ark of the Lord with shouts and the sound of trumpets” (2 Samuel 6:14-15).
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The above Bible story about David was my morning reading from The Upper Room daily devotional guide. At first, I dismissed the reference as personally irrelevant, because I am not a dancer; never have been, probably never will.
I’m coordinated; I love music; I’m even a fairly good guitar player. But dance has always eluded me.
I immediately formed a mental image of King David losing himself in the moment of worship, tap-dancing maybe, busting out some moves for God, and I kind of laughed at the idea, thinking it was a little absurd. But then I thought about the broader meaning of “dance,” that sometimes what “dance” really means is to throw ourselves – with abandon – into life and celebration.
I’M DANCING: I realized that I’m dancing sometimes when I write, when I’m out walking Scout in the clear morning air, when I laugh with Rebekah over some silly thing at the breakfast table, when I’m cooking dinner, when I’m singing my heart out in church, when I look down a long table of family and tears fill my eyes because I’m so full, when I Skype and get all goofy with our grandchildren. I’m dancing all the time.
I’m dancing now, to tell the truth; I’m dancing with these words, and I’m dancing with God because I know God is in them, and that God’s life and light are touching people right now, dancing through the enthusiasm that I know inhabits my spirit – from my soul, to my brain, to my fingertips, through the keyboard, and on into the screen.
I’m dancing. Won’t you join me?
– DEREK