He was walking straight towards me. I averted my eyes, thinking that may deter him. Then, I see the toes of his shoes inches from mine. My heart is pounding. I swallow hard and look up, into the most beautiful face I have ever seen. He humbly asks me to dance, though I cannot hear a thing for being lost in his eyes, so full of compassion yet so confident. He was beholding me like I was Cinderella at the ball. I look at his hand extended towards me and all I can say is, “I am sorry, I don’t know this dance.” He smiles and gently replies, “That’s ok, I can lead you.” He takes my had and I find myself following him onto the floor. He holds up his left hand as I am supposed to fit my right with his. Hesitantly I place my hand in his. He tightens his grip. He places the other hand on my back and draws me close. I am as tense as a concrete wall. He tells me to breathe and follow him. I inhale as he begins to move to the music. I try to keep the beat and we keep stumbling over each other. My heart is racing. I tell him “I am not wearing the right shoes.” He assures me I will be fine. I step on his shoe, he just keeps moving. I am not moving along with him even though I am trying so hard to follow the music. I am ignoring his whispers “Just follow me. Let me lead.” I stop dead on the floor and demand that he stop and teach me exactly what the timing is and what the steps are. He stops and looks at me, “But we are missing the song.” True, but I want to know exactly what I am supposed to be doing, every beat, every step, every move. Just as he forewarned, the song was over before we had even enjoyed it. I told him thank you politely and scurried off the dance floor back to my seat.
I was comfortable sitting watching others dance, even giving them smiles and nods of encouragement. A few dances later, the perfect gentleman was back at my side asking me if I was having fun. “Sure” I said trying to sound convincing as I told him that not everyone can dance as well as him, and that some of use really just enjoyed watching and cheering on the side. At this he turned his head ever so slightly to the side and narrowed his gaze, “Is that true? Is sitting better than dancing? Somehow I do not believe you.” He was correct. I looked at the time on my phone and began to gather my things as if I had to leave. He stood with hand extended once more, without a single word. If I took his hand, I would have to humble myself and admit that he was right, that I was here to dance and I would have to be vulnerable as I obviously far less skilled. He asked “Do you trust me?” Of course I did, he was incontestably the best dancer. I said yes. He questioned, “Then why will you not join me?” I began rattling off some list of excuses as to why I could not stay and dance. When my list had run out he stated, “Then you do not trust me.” I tried to convince him of a million reasons it was me, and not him. He said that if I truly trusted him, we would be on the dance floor by now. I stared at him. His eyes pierced my soul. Could it be that I really had no trust in him, even though I knew who he was? Could it be that I was lying? He was right, if I truly trusted him, we would be dancing. I put my purse on the table. Swallowed deeply, the pride in my heart pounding trying to make me flee. I closed my eyes, inhaled, and in one swoop I stood up and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.” He smiled and held my arm as we walked on to the floor.
Again he held up a perfect frame that I could fall into. My heart was racing and my mind telling me to run. I grasped his hand, and then his shoulder as he whispered, “Relax, let me do the work.” I let my muscles loosen and settle into his strong frame. He took one step but my feet would not move. He stopped. Again he asked, “Do you trust me?” I could not look him in the eye. If this was going to work, I was going to have to make a blind leap of faith. A whispered yes was all that I could do. He stood straight, I mimicked him. He smiled encouragingly, “Here we go. I lead. Rest and follow.” I took a deep breath in. Upon exhaling, he glided our first step with ease. I giggled. This time I focused on his movements, not on the music, not on the people around us, not even on the steps I was taking. We were gliding, moving as one. He tapped my hand signaling he was going to spin me. He extended his arm full length as I spun away, but he never let go of my hand. As he drew me back to himself I felt free. He would not let me fall. This I now knew. I had the best dance of my life. I rested my head on his shoulder and let him carry me across the floor. We moved, we spun, we swayed, and all too soon the song was over. This time I thanked him genuinely for the dance. In my head I was still wondering why would such a man want to dance with me? As if he heard my heart, he raised my hand and kissed it ever so gently and said “You were made to dance.”
We were all made to dance. God has been singing over us since before we were born. He created us to move to the rhythms of life with Him as our guide. Sadly a lot of us feel like we are inadequate. Sometime we try to convince ourselves that we were made to sit and to cheer others on from the sidelines. This is a lie! God made us each unique with talents and abilities to be used. We are not to sit. He did not create us just to sit and be a wallflower. We were made to dance! God is standing in front of you with His hand outstretched, asking you to dance, asking if you truly trust Him. He knows the dance- every beat, every move in perfect rhythm. All you have to do is trust and follow- He WILL carry you through. Do you trust God with your life? Do you trust Him to lead? If you do, you will not find yourself sitting around. It is simple: if you believe, take His hand and follow!
(c) Copyright 2013