She has been through unthinkable pain. Injustice has been the theme of her short life. She is an orphan, her parents dead. And yet – she dances. She writes it there on her profile:
“Favorite thing to do: dance.”
It crashes into me, this feeling. She has nothing, and yet, she dances. Her feet pound the red dirt, even shoeless, soles exposed. Her arms wave and a smile stretches across that beautiful brown face of hers. Dance. Dance with thankfulness unto the Lord.
She isn’t yet nine, and her wisdom in this far surpasses mine. She embraces the joy that comes from Jesus – and Jesus alone. Nothing else. Because when she has Him, she has all she needs. And so, for Him, she dances. For peace, she dances.
We are called to be like little children – and in this moment right here – I long to be like her.
When tears well up in grocery stores, you know your heart is just not the same.
Always painfully aware of my abundance. Always. Especially when the urge to whine comes upon me. The urge to complain about the heat, the cleaning, the whatever. But I feel the truth being pounded into me deeper and deeper. Already, I can’t shop. My hands are bound by my conscience and I cannot purchase anything I do not actually need. We buy food, and even still, I cry.
I have more, more, it’s sickening – all this more. But I don’t dance. Why don’t I dance?
Isn’t this true of our culture – that in our absolute richness, we sit still and forget how blessed we are? We lack praises to sing. We lack joy. We fight to even be thankful. We might whisper lax ‘thank yous’ upward – but to actually dance?
Yes, we ought to dance for joy because of all He is and all He gives.
Dance for joy for what He gives us to actually give to others.
Dance like crazy so all can see – these feet move for Him. These arms, they flail, but they move in time to my own rhythm. A unique rhythm. A blessed beat.
Imperfectly striving for thankfulness and richness in what really, truly matters.
Five Minute Friday