God of Dancing
"You changed my mourning into dancing. You took off my funeral clothes and dressed me up in joy." (Psalm 30:11 CEB)
"The motions of the universe are to be conceived not as those of a machine, or even an army, but rather as a dance, a festival, a symphony, a ritual, a carnival, or all these in one. They are the most perfect impulse toward the most perfect object." (C.S. Lewis)Four months after my younger daughter started taking her first dance class, our family lost her paternal grandfather. My husband's father, confidante, business mentor, woodcutting partner, fellow college sports fan, and best buddy was young and healthy, and his death was utterly unexpected and shocking.
As we wound our way through the early days of a time to mourn, I quickly realized that my daughter's dance recital would fall on the night before Father's Day...my husband's first Father's Day without his dad on earth.
I began to envision a day we would merely get through, would merely survive. But I wanted more for our family, so I began to ask God to redeem the day. I asked Him to make something of it beyond what it would be without His intervention. I asked Him to make it more than just a day we would grit our way through.
On Father’s Day Eve, our family took over a row in the auditorium. We watched my daughter's class come on stage. In their electric-blue tutus, they had the audience before they'd even started dancing.
We beamed proudly as our little ballerina steadily performed each movement. At the end of the night, she was awarded a scholarship we had no idea was coming, and we all gasped in surprised delight. It was glorious.
The day after the recital, as we celebrated Father’s Day without my father-in-law physically present among us, I knew God had said yes to my prayer: He had redeemed the day. He had bought it back from mourning and purchased it for dancing. Abba had given a gift to my husband, who had lost his earthly daddy but still found joy in the careful steps of a little girl in a blue tutu.
Sweet friends, do you have something you need God to redeem? If you do, there is a Redeemer for it—the Lord of the dance, God of every season. Ask Him to buy whatever it is back from mourning, to take off its funeral clothes and dress it up in joy.
And when He does, I pray you feel like dancing.
I began to envision a day we would merely get through, would merely survive. But I wanted more for our family, so I began to ask God to redeem the day. I asked Him to make something of it beyond what it would be without His intervention. I asked Him to make it more than just a day we would grit our way through.
On Father’s Day Eve, our family took over a row in the auditorium. We watched my daughter's class come on stage. In their electric-blue tutus, they had the audience before they'd even started dancing.
We beamed proudly as our little ballerina steadily performed each movement. At the end of the night, she was awarded a scholarship we had no idea was coming, and we all gasped in surprised delight. It was glorious.
The day after the recital, as we celebrated Father’s Day without my father-in-law physically present among us, I knew God had said yes to my prayer: He had redeemed the day. He had bought it back from mourning and purchased it for dancing. Abba had given a gift to my husband, who had lost his earthly daddy but still found joy in the careful steps of a little girl in a blue tutu.
Sweet friends, do you have something you need God to redeem? If you do, there is a Redeemer for it—the Lord of the dance, God of every season. Ask Him to buy whatever it is back from mourning, to take off its funeral clothes and dress it up in joy.
And when He does, I pray you feel like dancing.
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I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to tell me what you really think. Years ago, I explained to my then-two-year-old that my appointment with a counselor was "sort of like going to a doctor who will help me be a better mommy." Without blinking, she replied, "You'd better go every day." All of which is just to say I've spent some time in the school of brutal honesty!