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Let the dance begin
If memory serves, and sometimes it does, the change starts to happen around sixth grade, but it is slow in coming and isn't obvious until midway through the seventh grade.
Those who were once nothing more than an irritating mystery, a last-ditch playmate when everyone else was gone, are suddenly an intrigue and curiosity inspire any number of questions.
Boys begin to notice girls. And girls begin to notice boys. And the dance, that will last a lifetime, begins.
Hallway whispers and notes surreptitiously passed down the line, are the first hallmark of the coming change. Sarah says to Jessica, "There's Tommy. He's cute. Find out if he likes me."
On Tommy's side of the hall, he collars Bill, admiring Sarah's long blond hair. "That's Sarah. I wonder if she likes me?"
These beginning dance steps are hesitant and carefully shielded by layers and layers of friends, asking the hard questions, softening the rejections, eagerly sharing the affirmative answers. It will be years before these same players meet and engage in the dance without help. And what a difference that makes.
Danny and I met 40 years ago next month. We were pretty young yet, and I confess I continued to play the layer game early on in our budding relationship, asking Lois, who introduced us, to verify my suspicions. Did he like me, or was I just spinning my wheels, spending nearly every Friday night at the bowling alley with her and her mother? I was only allowed to go out one night a week, so it meant sacrificing my one "date night." Once school let out and winter leagues ended, Danny and I were on our own and the relationship would have to stand on its own. So far, so good. By the time school started that fall, I didn't need Lois to tell me that he really, really liked me. He told me himself, in word and in deed, and our dance began. We're still dancing.
Our faith relationship is much the same. First introduced to the person of Christ, we relish the affirmation and the company of fellow believers and there are a lot of whispered questions and notes passed, as the magnitude of the gift is revealed.
Comes a time, however, when we will face a long dark night, or a string of them, where doubts creep in and fears assail -- a miscarriage, a faithless spouse, a prodigal child, who shows no sign of turning and returning. Perhaps sin has reared its ugly head and we have fallen headlong into the abyss of promiscuity or addiction, fearing that sin has had the final word and all is lost.
Suddenly, all of the words, once so welcome, are now an irritant, fingernails on the blackboard, because the beauty of the words that first wooed are no longer easily believed and we wonder if we've played the fool to believe them at all.
Faith has come under fire. Will it survive? So much depends on the foundation and what has been raised upon it. If our relationship with Christ is based on truth then even our grievous sin cannot destroy it, for he has promised to cast our sins as far as the east is from the west if we confess and repent. If our relationship with Christ is based on truth, then no matter what storm comes our way -- empty wombs, empty beds, empty nests, he will bring us through the long dark night and he will still be God.
If, however, our faith is based on a God personified best as Santa Claus, then it will surely fail. When the job, the car, the house, the spouse, even the healing we crave is denied to us, it will certainly fail because God is still not God, and never was.
Don't put too many layers between you and the Christ. Israel once had the opportunity to approach God most High. In their fear, they fled, beseeching Moses to go to God in their place. Jesus came as an infant, as vulnerable as any of us every day of his life, ultimately laying that life down -- demonstrating the perfect love that casts out fear even as he was lifted up -- thereby drawing all men unto himself.
In 2007 I received a new version of the well-known poem "Footprints," author still unknown. It reads:
"Imagine you and the Lord Jesus are walking down the road together. For much of the way, the Lord's footprints go along steadily, consistently, rarely varying the pace.
But your footprints are a disorganized stream of zigzags, starts, stops, turnarounds, circles, departures, and returns.
For much of the way, it seems to go like this, but gradually your footprints come more in line with the Lord's, soon paralleling His consistently.
You and Jesus are walking as true friends!
This seems perfect, but then an interesting thing happens: Your footprints that once etched the sand next to Jesus' are now walking precisely in His steps.
Inside His larger footprints are your smaller ones, you and Jesus are becoming one.
This goes on for many miles, but gradually you notice another change.
The footprints inside the large footprints seem to grow larger.
Eventually they disappear altogether. There is only one set of footprints. They have become one.
This goes on for a long time, but suddenly the second set of footprints is back. This time it seems even worse!
Zigzags all over the place.
Stops.
Starts.
Gashes in the sand.
A variable mess of prints.
You are amazed and shocked.
Your dream ends. Now you pray:
"Lord, I understand the first scene, with zigzags and fits. I was a new Christian; I was just learning. But You walked on through the storm and helped me learn to walk with You."
"That is correct."
"And when the smaller footprints were inside of Yours, I was actually learning to walk in Your steps, following You very closely."
"Very good.. You have understood everything so far."
When the smaller footprints grew and filled in Yours, I suppose that I was becoming like You in every way."
"Precisely."
"So, Lord, was there a regression or something? The footprints separated, and this time it was worse than at first."
There is a pause as the Lord answers, with a smile in His voice.
"You didn't know? It was then that we danced!"
Let the dance, that will last for all of eternity, begin.
"You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever." Psalm 30:11, 12 (NIV)
I don't have all the answers, but I know the One who does. Let's walk together for awhile and discover Him; together.
Dawn