di-vine (di-vin) 1. Relating to, emanating from, or being the expression of God
As worship dancers we must be careful to continually draw near to the Healer of our soul so that our dance might be more and more a reflection of His healing work in our lives. This takes a continual and deliberate act of humbling ourselves before God daily and asking that He might completely make us whole in Him. It is settling on not just the salvation of we have in Christ, but also chasing after the joy of an intimate walk with Him. When living in His presence we are being continually healed.
A life that does not daily submit itself to the healing work of God is inclined to turn worship dance into mere performance. Her dance is only ever a limp. The applause and affirmation from others soothes her soul, but she never experiences the Healer of her heart. She never matures into a divine ballerina, one whose dance “emanating from God” as an expression of His life allowed to dance and live through her. Her dance carries only a faint fragrance of Christ, but its perfume never fills the sanctuary.
The other day I saw a bird by the side of the curb with its left wing broken. I immediately walked over to it to see what help I could be. It was flapping its good wing in an attempt to fly but all it accomplished was to twist, tumble, and turn on the pavement. Overhead in the trees was the constant cawing of three crows waiting for this helpless pigeon to die so that they could feed off its flesh. It was trembling with fear as I bent down to take a closer look. My heart went out to it as I sensed how alone and afraid it felt with the uncompassionate, noisy crows in the trees waiting to devour it, me towering above , hard payment below and not able to fly away.
I seemed to be its only hope left as this broken bird began to flap its good wing in an attempt to move closer to me. Twisting and turning, its head being ground into the pavement, it eventually found its way into my waiting hands. I felt a great tenderness well up in my heart as the pigeon allowed me to encompass its warm, fragile and broken body with my hands. I lifted it up from the hard ground, offering it a hope of protection from the crows above? Immediately it stopped trembling.
As I gently carried it home the crows followed me in the trees above the whole way cawing with anger that there “helpless victim” had been rescued. It rested it head upon one finger of my hand, its eyes looking up at me as if asking, “Can I trust you?”. I filled a box with evergreen boughs and laid it as lovingly upon this safe place as a mother would lay her young child upon a downy bed and then delivered it the the care of a veterinary later that day.
We are all, to various degrees, like the bird I discovered that day, broken in one way or another, whether of our own doing or by someone else. If we are to fly and be powerfully used in bringing forth the kingdom of God through worship dance, we must daily tumble and twist ourselves deeper and deeper into the loving hands of the Healer. If we remain, even a inch from Him, we lay ourselves open and unprotected before the crows.
God is alive with compassion for you. He will never be at rest until He brings you to that place of wholeness He has for you in Christ. All day long He carries you in His heart, wanting to prepare you to fly higher in Him than you had ever dreamed of. He has a plan and a destiny for you that goes far beyond how you see your gift of dance being used in worship. I shall never forget how the pigeon laid its head upon my hand as I carried it home. May it be said of you, “Who is this coming up from the desert, leaning on her lover?” (Song of Songs 8:5).