Remembering Why

At dance technique class tonight, we revised the choreography for ‘Our Hearts’. It’s been a long time, and for some time now I’ve been thinking of this dance and wondering when we’d get to dance it again. But of all days it was very good that it was today.

The past three weeks haven’t been easy at the studio, due to a strained relationship, and the awkwardness, and unresolved dissonance that ensued. Since then a surprising resolution for which I am very grateful has come about. But perhaps I had somewhat lost heart along the way, anticipation had turned to apprehension and there was the threat of various fears.

But dancing ‘Our Hearts’ today gave me a reason to continue. Dancing it for the first time almost made me cry, (probably I really did cry), as the lyrics simply resonated with me- to see the nations worship- that has been my heart’s cry for so long, and yet.

And yet sometimes we get so disheartened by the weaknesses we see in ourselves that we almost laugh at the dreams, hopes, visions we once had, relegating them to ‘ideals’, or just plain naiveté that we thought so highly of ourselves. Or we bury these dreams, ignore their presence, pack them into old boxes and keep them in the storeroom, thinking that we have become somehow disqualified.

Dancing ‘Our Hearts’ today brought me back to that time I had danced it to abandon in Japan- in Japan. I felt a surge of longing, it’s almost tangible, as I wrote that. But so often, that would just be considered to be sentimental and foolish. But yes, I had danced that in Japan. ‘To see the nations worship…’ ‘”Yes,” my heart cries, “yes”.

So my reason for being there, tonight, and for the nights to come, as many as God would allow would be a borrowed prayer from the words from the first stanza of the song:

Our hearts, our desire

Is to see the nations worship

Our cry, our prayer

Is to sing your praise to the ends of the earth

That with one mighty voice

Every tribe and tongue rejoices

Our hearts, our desire

Is to see the nations worship you.

Danced Prayers

I really enjoy watching others dance. I don’t mean performances by skilled dancers from professional companies with astounding technique who have trained hard and long, and whose passion for dance radiates through their every move and captivating stage presence. Let me clarify, I really enjoy watching others dance, when they are dancing because they must, must use every part of their beings to express praise, thanksgiving and prayer before their Creator who made their very beings.

At the dance rehearsal for the Anglican IGS celebration service today, I found myself watching C when her group was practicing and mine wasn’t. As the musical prelude went on and all the dancers stood with arms raised and open in ‘praise’ position, my eyes fell on C. While all dancers had their arms in the same raised positions (with the children fidgeting when their arms got tired the way children’s arms do), there was something about C’s stance that was different. She wasn’t just waiting for the prelude to end, she was praying. Her lips were not moving; her eyes were not even closed. But somehow, that’s what was communicated to me when I watched her. Prayer.

And so I watched her all through the rehearsal. Beyond getting the steps right, beyond perfect ballet technique, beyond the perfect dancer’s body, I saw someone who was pouring out her entire heart to God, crying out to God with her very being what her words were inadequate to express. With every fibre of her being, I saw her crying out desperate, passionate prayers to God— prayers for her husband and children, prayers of heartfelt worship and adoration to God her maker. For C, dance was the best language for prayer, as dance allows for that desperate ‘reaching beyond’ the most urgent and heartfelt prayers in spoken languages can hardly.

C used to be able to join us for weekly dance practices, but fighting pressures from having to spend time with her family during that same time slot has since stopped her. I know that C loves to express praise and prayer to God in this manner, and I know that she has missed the weekly time to do so with us. So all the more having had less of desired the joy is all the more intense.

C, thank you for telling me today so plainly through your dance that God is worthy of your adoration, that all you want to do is to express praise to Him, that though things in your life may not always be sunny, that God is still worthy to be praised, adored and sought after for all your family’s needs.

Glissés (and marriage)

On Monday night, we did glissés during dance technique class. Start in Unity, swish, point, close swish, point, close, and so on. Sounds easy enough, doesn't it? But my dance teacher insisted- at that split second when the feet come together in 'close', our body weight has to be evenly distributed on both feet, instead on the supporting leg. Then when we 'swish', our weight should be very firmly standing tall on the supporting leg, while the swishing foot should remember to 'clean the floor' when swishing out, pointing hard at the maximum angle-of-swish, then 'clean the floor' again when swishing back in.

So as my brain, feet, calf muscles, hamstring multivariate muscle and tendon groups and neurons tried to remember and put all those into practice best I could, I thought, what a good metaphor this is of marriage!

At least, in so far as we recognise in marriage, that rhythm where each partner has to continually switch between executing moves which only he can execute, depending on the other for support, then returning back to a position of rest where both are together in every way. Each day of marriage is filled with such moves - household responsibilities and tasks are shared, partners in most cases have different daytime jobs, different activities they might choose to do in their leisure time. And yet at no time at all, through all these moments, at no time at all is one able to do without the support of the other partner. And, should the leg doing glissés forget to share the weight when it closes, just imagine the added stress that would be placed on the other leg.

But still a greater challenge remains for the partner legs- my dance instructor then explained to us that the reason for both legs having to share the weight equally even just for that split second is because this would enable us to achieve the balance needed for executing assemblé soutenus later on in the centre.

And there will be assemblé soutenus to execute in our marriage, too. Parenting (if God wills), ministry, running a household of faith... and so in the meantime, may we do our glissés well.