Thou hast
turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put
off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;
Psalms 30:11
I
was reminded today that as a liturgical dancer, if you haven't worked through
your own stuff, you cannot effectively lead worship. You've got to be clear.
You must lead by example, knowing the victory, having experienced it, knowing
the pain, the tears, the embrace of a mighty God that abides through all
things. I had some stuff to work out.
We
consecrated ourselves through prayer. When liturgical dancers pray, there may or
may not be words. After prayer, the work began. I didn't realize how
desperately I needed healing. And before you can properly lead anyone to
healing through worship, you've got to be healed myself.
I
desperately needed healing. I needed to begin releasing the fear I've been carrying
for the last two weeks. It's not over yet, but I needed release. We were
instructed to begin our worship intimately, eyes closed, and to open them when
we were ready to lead others to the throne. I didn't have space for anybody to
come along today. I needed to heal myself.
Liturgical dance for me is an
intimate conversation with God...I am always amazed that I can even tolerate
anyone watching...except when I am in dance worship, I am completely alone,
even in a a sanctuary full of people. When the music was finished, I was changed.
I'd been transformed. I'd come through. I'm not done yet, but I'd been healed
of some of my pain. I wish I could write
what I felt, but that's just it…I could dance it for you, but explaining it is
beyond my capacity, in this language. Trust me, by God's healing Grace, I am
better. He granted me the power to be healed.
I
am weary now; it's time to rest. This lovely languidness I feel reminds me how
connected I was today, for that brief moment. I was transported; carried away by
Grace. I missed speaking my native language. I am going home.
Lord,
thank You for providing me a way to seek Your Face. Thank You for opening a
path by which I can come to You, to submit myself, to surrender. Not just to
surrender, but to feel myself enfolded in Your Sweet Embrace. I trust You to
hold me, to heal me, to let me hide myself in You until I am ready to walk
again. To run again. To dance in joy instead of dancing fear and weakness. Joy will come. You will turn this sackcloth,
this scary place into joy and I will give you all the praise, the glory, and
the honor, in Jesus' name, Selah and Amen.
That
dance will be good…like the abiding goodness of God. Even through the scariness…
