Spiritual Practice
Grace
I think that dance—true dance—is as close to God as I may ever come.
Movement is pure. At times, you lose yourself totally in a dance. You forget to think. You are body and soul, moving to music, or maybe to something beyond your control.
That’s why I fell in love with dancing. There were days when I got bogged down in the technical steps and the rules of formal ballet. On other days, I got caught up in my physical imperfections, the limitations of my own body. But there were moments, when I was on stage, that would leave the rules behind. I became the music. I was movement. Nothing else mattered.
When I started dancing with Ephiphany, a Nashville liturgical dance group, I focused on the steps. The company used a mix of modern and ballet. Modern was difficult for me because I was trained as a ballerina. Modern was a looser style. I had to let go of the control ballet offered, letting my body feel the natural effects of gravity.
We were working on a dance that we would perform in a church as a Christmas celebration. Elements of the choreography were symbolic of the Christian story. Some elements were sheer beauty. I worked at it. I practiced at my house, in the grocery store, on my way to school. It was not an easy piece—elongated stretches nestled in quick footwork.
When I got to the church the night of the performance, I was nervous. The steps raced through my mind over and over as I quickly applied eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, blush. I put on my dress, and then I hopped around the hallways, trying to warm up my legs. I jumped; I kicked; I tried to calm my mind.
When the first notes were played, I lost myself in the music. The movements were ingrained in my body; all I had to do was to start. I lifted my head to the vaulted ceiling and stained glass; I pointed my bare foot to the stone floor. I was gone, moving in another world. I was no longer worried about remembering the steps. The music streamed through me and I moved, floating.
I think that dance—true dance, not the technique or the practiced steps—is as close to God as I may never come.
DIG DEEPER
We all have our own ways of reaching for God. Some of us reach outside ourselves, listening to another’s prayers, watching the graceful steps of a dancer, or enjoying the quiet music of nature. Some of us reach in, composing our thoughts in supplication, moving to our heart’s staccato, or drawing silent strokes across a page. Find your own way to draw near to God.
PRAYER: Thank you, God, for giving us ways to forget ourselves, to be lost in your love, and to glimpse heaven on earth. Amen.