|Taken from Pete’s series Dance Lessons.
Social networking is like a nightclub. Twitter is the dance floor, Tumblr is the bar, and Facebook is the people crying in the toilets. — Unknown
Some of our dance floors are just way too small. Yeah, Scripture calls us into wild, unbridled grace where we move freely in His Spirit. Yet don’t we all have limited vision and limiting expectations of God? Haven’t we confined our dancing space by our circumstances?
How many of us say, “If I can pay my bills, eat my meals, have my health, and raise children who flourish—oh, and keep my looks—then, then, I will dance.”
Conditional, circumstantial dancing makes for a very small dance on a very small dance floor.
I’ve limited the space in which the Spirit can move in me.
Believers across the world live on less than three meals a day. Therefore, God’s dance floor must be bigger than my food pyramid. And health? Since birth my body has been on a trajectory toward death. Wrinkles, malfunctions, and decreased productivity don’t catch God by surprise. Therefore, His dance floor extends beyond my limited tomorrows and into eternity.
Remember, I’m not dancing to perform. I’m not dancing to earn God’s approval. So if I can’t pay my bills, I can still be dancing. If I get a bad bill of health, I can still be dancing. If my wife leaves and my dog dies and my truck won’t go, I can still be dancing—or at least write a country and western song about it.
God doesn’t promise an easy life, what our society calls “The Blessed Life.” No, the true blessed life—the life that dances so freely that my feet never touch the same part of the dance floor twice—is found in Psalm 118:5:
When hard pressed, I cried to the LORD; he brought me into a spacious place.
God is saying, “Come. Follow Me. Dance this way. You’ve been living in a tight place, afraid to breathe—waiting for the next shoe to drop. You’ve been trying to dance in an elevator, and I have the most incredible outdoor dance floor waiting for you.”
Lord, Your Spirit gives the breath of life, and I admit I’ve been suffocating here. Lead me into this spacious place. A place where circumstances cannot bind me. A place where my arms spread wide to hug You before setting to spin, twirl, and dance before You. Amen.