dancing

I don't actually know how to put this into words, but I want to get it down before I forget it

will I ever be able to forget it?

I was at Calvary Chapel's "Seven" evening worship and prayer night service with my small group from Real Life. I knew I was meant to be there. I wanted there to be that individualized prayer request like there was the previous night, because I really felt like this was the time for me to really come forward and confess things. But I was so afraid. I'm afraid of being judged and hated, laughed at and scorned. And then there's the talk. People talking about me. I didn't like the thought.... but maybe it's part of some evil plan to keep me from true happiness. That fear.

We must live not from fear, but from faith. -- from a Solid Rock podcast I listened to on my walk around campus to and from classes.

I'd been stressed and near tears. I cried last night, even, during the worship part of the service.

For some reason I just had a feeling that tonight would be something... more.

I felt awkward, I don't like prayer. No, it's not that I don't like it, not that I don't understand it, it's that it makes me uncomfortable, and really overwhelmed. We never really prayed for each other growing up, much less in church, and definitely not with passion. And prayer was super weird and really fluffy when I was in the South at Belhaven - even if and when it was real, it was really difficult for me. All the way around. because either I found it really awkward and dreading the moment when I needed to pitch in my 2cents worth of prayer, really boring when people would go on about "hedges of protection" for forever, or really emotional when people would pray over me because I had no idea how to accept it, or what to do, and the fact that they were praying over me and caring like that about me, and wanted me - was something unfathomable that I just couldn't take, or didn't know how to. Maybe it's the only way that people can show unconditional love. When they take the time to put someone else before them, and ask God to be with them and through all of their problems. I dunno...

We go off to the small prayer circles, and I'm still unsure about things, but at the same time, I feel like I'm totally there because I'm meant to be there. Tonight, unlike last night, I end up in a circle with a church leader and Ian, the Real Life leader. The church leader, whom I totally forget what his name is, asked the circle if we had any prayers. I knew I needed to speak up, but I was just too shy, too embarrassed that I had a need. I wanted to speak up so badly, but I kept silent. I was waiting for my chance because I didn't want to interrupt anyone, but then it was too late... not really, but in the sense that the leader began the prayer.

I was thankful when the prayer did not circle around, but went at random, and only with those of whom felt led to speak.

I was also glad of this because I started crying almost immediately after the praying began. And it wasn't just a tear or two. It was streams of tears. They hit the floor and ricocheted onto my feet. I felt their cold sprinkle hit my skin.

I just sat there, literally weeping. I felt like a part of me was crying for nothing, but everything at the same time.

After a good amount of time, Ian reached over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder and asked me my name. I realized I'd never actually introduced myself to him, even though I'd been gong to Real Life for awhile now.

He said he didn't really know me at all, but felt really moved to pray over me, and asked me if there was anything that they could pray about for me. It was really difficult to stifle the tears to speak. I didn't know what to say. Where to start. What all to release. I went for the simple. If you can call it simple. Family, school, relationships with friends, friends who aren't Christian, finances.

The next thing I know, everyone in the circle is leaning over me and putting their hands on me. The last time I remember this happening was at the condo in Gulf Shores, Alabama off the Gulf Coast that one spring break during my freshman year of college with 8 people from college that I didn't really know, but knew I was there with them for a reason. It was the first time that I'd really been moved to tears while in prayer, and really started to grasp the idea that God is present and can speak through others.

As they began to pray over me tonight, I felt the movement of their hands on my shoulders and back. But not just the warmth of their hands, it was almost like I could feel energy pouring out from their hearts into me.

I was crying. Tears pouring down my face. Red hot. Muscles tight. Then something else was on my face. Two hands. Big, beautiful, soft, warm hands. They were holding me, holding my face so gently. I didn't know if I was in a dream or feeling reality. It was so real. Real beyond belief. I opened my eyes a little - nothing was there to be seen. Ian continued to pray and I continued to listen and soak in everything he was saying. The hands were still on my face and started pulling my face up, as if to pull my gaze into their eyes. I look up, but don't open my eyes this time. Eyes. Beautiful eyes. Bright blue. No, dark navy. No, hunter green. No, deep brown. No blue again. The colors constantly shifting through, without notice or difference. I've never seen such beautiful eyes in my entire life. Perfectly shaped, beautifully formed eyelashes, tanned skin. The rest of the face is in a fog, but slowly it clears. The features are clear and normal. But beautiful. More than any model or movie star, or any college student, or indie rocker, or artist. Ever. Crisp, clean, clear. But the skin is not clear - not completely. Near the hairline there are some unsure places, but I can't make out their cause. The hair is dark, not long, but not short, slightly upright, and not curly. It's a man's face. His ears are calm and warm. A five o'clock shadow hints its arrival on his face. The prayer switches to the church leader's wife. I continue listening intently. Amazed by this face I see going in and out of a fog, but ever present. I take in with deep breaths everything they are saying.

I feel myself being pulled upward almost. As if I can now almost look down on myself and see myself broken, surrounded by those who love me, but don't know me.

In the most beautiful deep, but mellow and clear voice, the face says: "Dance with me" and moves me to the position. I cower in embarrassment and back away, "I don't know the steps." I brush my bangs to the side, nervously. "I will show you" and he moves towards me, putting my hands in position.

There is music, but I don't know where it comes from. I realize he is singing. I embarrassingly look down, thinking it odd that we dance to his music. But it's not just a voice. There are melodies and harmonies in rhythm. He looks down into my face to bring my gaze up again. He smiles into my eyes.

We are in a field. Beautiful and green. Bright green, with shades of darker in the deep grass. It is long, but not where we are. The sky is blue and bright, but the sun does not impede our sight. His eyes sparkle into mine which catch the reflection.

Slowly, but beautifully. He begins the dance. Every movement with pure grace. The movement comes easily. First we are just partnering something like the waltz, but different. Forward, backward, to the side, now backward, then the other side, around in a circle - the pattern never changing, but always different. Then he lifts me in a circle so my legs are out and beautiful as if we are in a ballet. My skirt dances in the breeze. I realize I am in white. A seemingly cotton sundress. Soft white, not overpowering, short sleeves and a wide neckline. More comfortable than any article of clothing I've ever had, and I am barefoot. The grass is soft and cool on my feet, more like fabric than grass. My hair is down, and my bangs are often slightly in my face. He is wearing a white shirt and dark wash jeans, but no shoes. He pulls me in again for another step. I notice his hands. Beautiful. Masculine. Perfect -- no. Almost. I stare in amazement. Perfect scars lay on his hands. I suddenly pull my gaze to his face. He continues looking into my eyes with a steady, loving gaze. I pull back from him. In disbelief I cry "What!? Are you? Am I? How...what?!" He simply smiles, laughs with his eyes and pulls me into more dancing. Half way through a step, he leans into my face and whispers into my ear with his warm, sweet breath a soft and simple: "yes."

He pushes me into a lunge as if we were in a tango, but the music has not changed. My vision zooms out. I see the scene from the sky. We have moved to a dance floor. Pure wood, but in the middle of rolling hills. There are thin wooden poles at each of four corners around the raised dance floor. Soft, flowing ribbons float in the breeze from their posts around the dance floor.

He lifts me up above his head. My back arches naturally and my hair falls against his back. Then he pulls me in again and swoops me down onto the floor and spins me around and pushes me through his legs and lifts me up again.

It would appear so fast and so brief. Each part was instant, and would float away back into the fog. But each would return, just as clear as the last.

Ian prayed that this time would be "like a deep breath" for me. The church leader's wife prayed that I would be able to take things with baby steps, and not get overwhelmed by the big picture of everything - heh, yes, I am a "big picture" person.... the whole "step out of your shell and see the bigger picture!" but at the same time, it allows for me to see everything I have to do and get overwhelmed and stressed by it all.

I feel the hands in mine. The warm embrace of his arm around my back, supporting me in the dance. Leading me. I follow.

I smile. 'Happy' doesn't even begin to describe the peace and joy inside.

Ian spoke again, praying that he felt moved as if to say that Jesus was telling me "I like you" - at that very moment he spoke the words, I saw the face, heard the voice - slightly after Ian. But the same. The eyes staring lovingly and intently into mine. Colors constantly shifting. None more prominent than the last. "Don't worry, I have a plan for you." They were the prayers of Ian, but I saw the lips and heard the voice. He was talking to me. "You're beautiful, and I have a plan for you."

I found myself more red hot than ever before. My face crying to be released from it's pain. The tearing pain of my contorted muscles. Straining for release. Salty sweet tears streaming out of my eyes and onto the smooth red concrete. I found myself smiling - now grimacing - now smiling again. Gasping for air.

I realized what was going on. I was falling in love with Jesus. Not just metaphorically, but literally - falling in love. How could I not? What more is there to ask for in a strong man with dark features, beautiful sparkling eyes, and leading me - teaching me - in a dance. Whispering things into my ear. Wanting to be nowhere else, but dancing with me. Regardless of anything I have ever wanted to do, or have done in my entire life, I was there, and he was with me - dancing and singing. For and with me.

He was human. Just as human as I am. But different in that he is God. And infused by the Holy Spirit. Never tiring. Eyes always sparkling.

He said I was beautiful, and that he liked me. He wanted to be there with me. But in the sense that he is God, he said he has a plan for me, and that he doesn't want me to worryabout it, because he knows - he's already planned it all out for me, and it will work out for my benefit.

What more can a girl ask for?!!?

Another part of their prayers for me that really hit was for relationships with friends. That I would be strong and embrace in certain areas with some people, but know when to release and let go with others.

Earlier today, I randomly got this song stuck in my head. It's been a weird thing fasting music for pleasure. Knowing me -- it's huge. Really huge. Music is massive in my life. I have over 80GB of it on my computer. It's always on. If I'm in my room, it's on. In the shower? It's on. In the kitchen? It's on. Walking to class -- in class? it's probably on. Music is probably 98% of the reason why I stay up so late, get to class so late, skip class so often, and procrastinate homework and errands.

Anyway...

When I made up my mind
And my heart along with that
To live not for myself
But yet for God, somebody said
Do you know what you are getting yourself into

When I finally ironed out
All of my priorities
And asked God to remove the doubt
That makes me so unsure of these
Things I ask myself, I ask myself
Do you know what you are getting yourself into

I'm getting into you
Because you got to me, in a way words can't describe
I'm getting into you
Because I've got to be
You're essential to survive
I'm going to love you with my life

When he looked at me and said
I kind of view you as a son
And for a second our eyes met
And I met that with a question
Do you know what you are getting yourself into

I've been a liar and I'll never amount to
The kind of person you deserve to worship you
You say you will not dwell on what I did but rather what I do you say
I love you and that's what you are getting yourself into

He said, I love you and that's what you are getting yourself into.

I've always liked this song and enjoyed it, but it's never really, REALLY meant something so deep to me. And considering it's something I randomly got stuck in my head after not hearing it in months, no doubt (at least), and not having listened to music at all for the last few days is even more unlikely. There's totally a reason why this song was put in my head. And it's really overwhelming to think about.

I know what I said in this may sound weird or outrageous or crazy to some, and it's why I haven't actually told anyone yet, really. But it's so powerful in my mind right now. I can't stop thinking about it, and it's all really exciting and awesome. I mean, ask me how I'm doing, and I'd say I'm good - almost great in fact. I mean, realizing that "falling in love with Jesus" or saying that I'm "dating Jesus" or things like that are awesome to hear and quite convicting and all that. Meaning that we should pursue a relationship with him. That it takes work and time and energy. But if we're willing to put that in, He is willing to give and have a perfect relationship with me. But this really really put it into actual and literal perspective. Knowing that a relationship with Jesus can be a romantic one. An intimate one. He is one I tell my deepest darkest secrets to. He, and only He knows EVERYTHING about me. He cares so much about me. He is with me all the time.

And he wants to dance with me.