Let Me Dance to the Beat of your Heart

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Well it is Monday morning and the whole nation seems a little flat (unless you are Welsh Irish or Scottish). England didn’t quite win the European Championship, but they certainly lifted the nations mood.

One thing I will not miss is the constant, and often out of tune, rendition of ‘Three Lions on a Shirt’ (I much prefer ‘Sweet Caroline’!). A complaint that I have heard from Church members has been – Why can’t we sing at church like they do at the football?

If only! I wish people would sing in church like they do at the football match! So much passion and enthusiasm. Sadly many of the churches divisions have arisen of the style of worship allowed in the church. It is nothing new, Charles Wesley was criticised for using ‘popular’ tunes as settings for his hymns.

We can go back to King David and find the same disapproving of ‘inappropriate worship’. In 2 Samuel 6 we read how the Ark of the Covenant was moved from Baalah into Jerusalem. It must have been quite a spectacle as 30,000 men were involved, with singing and loud musical instruments. At the centre of the spectacle was King David dressed in a linen Ephod (his underwear?!) dancing with all his might.

His wife Michal was horrified by her husbands behaviour (nothing in life changes!). Michal’s complaint to David doesn’t sound too different from those I hear when Sunday’s “passing of the peace” becomes something more than a begrudged murmur of acknowledgment. Should Michal be understood as the first champion of traditional, decent-and-in-good-order worship? If so, she doesn’t come out of this incident as one whom God favours. 

However we have to be careful in reading too much into this passage about the kind of worship that pleases God (as opposed to Michal’s dour preference), one only need remember the highly liturgical patterns that evolve in Jerusalem’s temple worship, a worship pattern that arguably bears David’s impress. One great story of exuberance does not a theology of worship make.

So what is there in this unique story? Supremely, just one thing: it’s a pitiful thing when we’ve gotten too prim, too proper, too stuffy to make merry before God when something wonderful occurs. The fact is you don’t bring the ark of the covenant into Jerusalem every other month. (Just as you don’t reach a major football final every week.) This is a momentous occasion and it deserves to be celebrated with silly party hats and horns and yes, even with the king doing a jig in his boxer shorts!

Over the years I’ve attended (and even planned) my fair share of church anniversaries and celebrations. The truth is most were less than “kick up your heels and shout hallelujah” occasions. There we were with a century or so of the faithfulness of God and people to remember, but a visitor might have mistaken it for one of those solemn assemblies Isaiah was underwhelmed by. On many of those occasions I knew enough about my fellow worshipers to know that they’d go bananas over their favourite football team, but put them in a church context and all the whoopee goes out of them. Why is that?

Well, put a positive construction on it first. Maybe we are restrained in church simply because here we see things through a different filter. It’s not so much that we aren’t as joyous as at the football, as that in church we recognise that life and all its blessings are interwoven with holy purpose. A late goal to win the match is one thing; a child’s baptism is another. Joy is appropriate on both occasions, but is it not a different kind of joy when by water and word a child of God is claimed for time and eternity? Maybe it’s not that our whoopee evaporates in worship; it just has a grateful hush of reverence about it. But granted that this is the case, there still remains the awkward possibility that most of us mimic David so seldom because we’ve lost touch with the grandness of what we are doing.

We mouse around because the wonder God’s love escapes us. I know it to be true, that there are Sundays when the Minister sleepwalks through the service—even when they seem most animated. A gauzy film of the theoretical shrouds the action. But there are those moments when the awesome, absurd good news of what we are about comes crashing in like waves on our stony shores. We can no more program those epiphanies than we can count the stars. But we can be careful not to stifle them, and we can be quick to give them glad permission to soften the eye, catch the voice, and lead us to make merry before God.

When I read this story of David’s enthusiasm without contrasting it with Jesus’ story of the elder brother who would not join his father’s party. It was a time to make merry, but the elder brother didn’t live like that, he seemed fixed with life being bound up with duty. How many children have given up on ‘Church’ because they were told they had to go to church and there was nothing attractive or joyful about the experience.

Grace, those lovely moments when the unexpected holy descend upon us, is a gift we are privileged to see every now and then. That’s the time to put aside the balance sheet and even the prayer book and to kick up our heels, and with body and soul make holy fools out of ourselves, dancing an Alleluia to the giver of all good and perfect gifts.

So as they say on the Strictly Come Dancing “Keep on dancing!” but you may want to wear a little more than King David!

God bless,

Alan.

1 thought on “Let Me Dance to the Beat of your Heart

  1. Diana Bosman

    Thank you once again. How I love it when back in Ghana, at the 7a.m. English service at Wesley Cathedral, where the late Rev. John Taylor preached his TrialService or the Fante service at Nkanfoa Methodist whereI can freely dance. Dance up joyfully to give our monetary offering to God, dance as wished during hymns but not anobligation but a freedom to be as wished. One of my deep desires is for everyone one to be free to act as God draws them to be; kneeling during a reflective hymn, raising hands whe want to praise and adore,dance when the desire is there bu true acceptance of each other—-TRUE FREEDOM so all may worship as each one feels motivated. I would never dance at Taize as the peace with time forreflection draws me there. I am drawn differently at different times but even felt constrained during Erdington’s final hymn last sunday so y hands moved but not as I would have done if seated there on the back row.

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