Closing Distance
"Can I get a volunteer?"
A few teenage hands shoot up, surprising me with their boldness to stand in front of the group even though they have no idea what they’ll have to do.
Gio smiles at the girl who ends up in front and ties a blindfold across her eyes. He tells her she’s going to help him illustrate something. She’s laughing nervously now that she can’t see and has no idea what she’s doing. Gio moves across the room and tells her to follow the sound of his voice. Within seconds, he’s in the back and she’s still at the front, trying to navigate bean bag chairs, bony knees, and couches to make her way to where he’s standing.
“Come on, what’s taking so long?” He taunts her while the rest of the group laughs at her valiant attempts to take steps forward without running into anything. She stumbles on the corner of the couch and hesitates. Gio’s edgy voice echoes from the back: “why didn’t you see that there? Come on, you can do it. Just walk forward, it’s not that hard. Come on. Really, it shouldn’t be taking this long.”
I can see the smile faltering on her face as she finally reaches him.
That was not fun.
Gio takes her hand and leads her quickly and easily back to the front to tell her that they’re going to do it differently this time around. He holds out his arm and tells her to take it. Even blindfolded, she finds it easily and her smile is back.
“Okay, we’re going to do this together now.”
Gio’s voice is a completely different tone, all warmth and encouragement. We can see his face and it’s gentler while he never takes his eyes off her.
“Follow me, just stay close. We’re going to dodge this bean bag here,” He says as they step to the left. “Okay, we’re going to change directions now. That’s okay, just follow me. I’m not going anywhere.”
//
When Gio and I got married, we danced to a song by Steffany Gretzinger. “We Dance” is probably not a typical first dance pick, but it held such profound meaning for us that there really wasn’t any other choice.
I haven’t listened to the song in ages, but I remember the heart of it like the back of my hand. The gentle rise and fall of the melody is what I imagine it felt like to dance on your Dad’s toes as a little girl: held and steady. There’s a sweetness to walking with the Lord and imagining how your steps might follow the pattern of a dance. There’s swaying and dipping, waltzing and spinning. Sometimes it’s fast and sometimes it’s slow and melodically soothing.
When you’re dancing, there’s a knowing in your body of the rhythm and purpose to the movement. None of it feels wasted or in vain. When you dance with the Lord, you keep your hands settled in the hands responsible for all of creation. His leading is gentle and kind, not taunting and harsh. He redirects our missteps or leans in another direction with overflowing love and our hearts tucked close to His.
We’re not dancing a solo here.
This journey was meant to be a duet between us and the King of kings.
//
Maybe your everyday is filled with unwanted, unexpected, and unknown situations and the hits just don’t stop coming. Maybe you’ve known indefinite sickness, grief, or waiting without end. Maybe the Lord feels distant and absent.
I imagine some of you are reading this with a laugh caught in the back of your throat because imagining the journey with God as a dance feels like a foreign language. Maybe it’s as real to you as your next breath.
The idea remains the same regardless of circumstance: our connection with God can go deeper than the ritual of religion. In fact, God Himself invites us into the depths with Him. He yearns to know our hearts and He offers us His Word so that we can know His. (Matthew 11:28-30, Psalm 27, James 4:7-10, Philippians 4:6-7)
The song for this Selah is a heartfelt offering. If you long to know God on a deeper level, may this be a place for you to start.
May we each offer what we have, as broken as we are, and find that our good Father will take our hands and lead us along.
May we each long for something deeper, no matter how deep we’ve already gone.