Dance

Psalm 8
Psalm for Trinity Sunday (Year A)

For one night, a rustic camp dining hall was turned into a dance club. Flashing lights pulsated and a smoke machine filled the room. Every few songs, a group of teenagers poured outside for a break. It was an unusually cool evening for June and, even by the campfire, the night air allowed for a brief recharge before the bass line of a favorite song compelled them to come back in. While the students were by the fire, they recruited.

"Chriiiiiiiiiiissssss, come in and daaaaaaaance."

I don't dance. Not because of some grand moral stance. I would love to dance. Or at least I think I would. No, the problem is I am a white guy from South Carolina who was raised Baptist. I have tripped other people doing the Electric Slide. Unfortunately, dancing for me is peak awkwardness for an individual that already feels pretty darn awkward most of the time. I discovered recently that I am a 9 on the Enneagram and dance avoidance is a classic example of preserving my inner calm.

And I kind of hate that, because dancing looks like so much fun. I have to admit that there is a joy and freedom to it that resonates with me. But...well, my own head gets in the way. I cannot quite let go and therefore I miss out. I regret that, but I apparently don't regret that enough to relinquish what's holding me back and just dance. I did dance the Wobble at the behest of a fellow youth minister and it was awkward and it was fun and I'm glad I did it, but I was relieved to head for the exits with others when the song was over. So I want to dance, but I don't want to dance.

Come in and dance.

My favorite image of the Trinity comes from my college theology professor, Dr. John Shelley. As he talked about the concept of perichoresis, Dr. Shelley likened the Trinity to a wedding dance where the dancers spin and move in and around each other into a blur until you cannot tell where one dancer begins and another ends. God--Creator, Son, and Spirit--in joyful celebration. In that dance, they are one and it is beautiful. Even more, said Dr. Shelley, we are invited into this rhythm of creation. To join in spreading grace, love, justice, and goodness all over. God offers a hand to us. Come in and dance.

In the middle of Psalm 8, the psalmist pauses a moment. This individual has been marveling at the wondrous creation formed by God's hands. This person is so overwhelmed by the beauty of the earth, the moon, and the stars that they have to ask the question: Why would God want anything to do with us? Who are we that God would care about us so much? We are such seemingly small and insignificant creatures. Who are we that God invites us to join in this divine dance?

You would think that we would jump at a chance to join this dance. Yet we hesitate and I think we hesitate for some of the same reasons that I was so apprehensive that night at camp last week. We're worried about our two left feet. We think we're going to trip, knock someone over, and screw the whole thing up. We don't really want to completely let ourselves go. We like to be in control. We don't want to disturb our carefully curated inner-calm. Come in and dance. We'd really like to. We see the joy and freedom, but sitting on the sidelines seems a lot more safe.

Yet God knows all of this. God knows about our two left feet, our lack of rhythm, and everything else that could turn the dance floor into a demolition derby. And yet the Trinity still beckons us to come and dance. Join this beloved community. Move and sweat and laugh and rejoice. We stand over on the side and incredulously ask, "Who am I that you would invite me to dance?" And God just shouts again over the music, "Come and dance!"

I don't know if I'll ever get over my stuff when it comes to dancing. There was a brief window of time when it wasn't an issue. The reason was a girl. It's always a girl. I was so smitten by her that I didn't care how much I looked like a fool. I just wanted to be with her (this girl is going to read this and ask me why on earth I don't go dancing with her now and I'll probably need to do so because, "It's hard for us to get a babysitter" isn't going to cut it).

Maybe that's how it has to be with God. Maybe we have to fall so hard for God that we don't care how much we look like a fool. We just want to be with the one we love. So we come and we dance. I hope we all have the courage and the freedom to hit the floor.