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Having a difficult day? Did you know that one of the most spiritual things you can do when you feel down is to dance?

God dances. And he dances when we are in the midst of difficulty. And it is us that he dances with. And he dances with intensity. Zephaniah 3:16 –17 paints a picture of this when it uses the Hebrew word “guwl” for the word “rejoice.” “Guwl” means “to spin about” or “dance violently.”

“On that day they will say to Jerusalem, ‘Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice (spin about and dance violently) over you with singing’” (NIV)

So if your circumstances bring you down, go out and dance. Let your body express your prayer for hope, love, and laughter. Don’t let your hands hang limp. And as you dance, imagine the Lord of the Dance spinning about and dancing violently as he sings his love song over you.

Yes, you may feel a little strange dancing when you don’t feel like it, especially if the Lord is your unseen partner. But who cares what people think. It was Angela Monet who said, “Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.”

The Hopi people have a saying: “To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak.” Let your heart speak.

Have you ever danced in the face of difficulties? How did that change you?

In Him together, Susan Gaddis

Adelaide Ayers
Adelaide Ayers

I have six little grandchildren in my life who carry my DNA. Sometimes I wonder if I am doing enough to pass the baton of faith on to these little people. Good grandmas do things like that.

Shouldn’t I be teaching the Bible and praying with them when they come to visit? How will they acquire the DNA of God unless I cram spiritual truths into their heads and cookies into their mouths?

Usually about that time of feeling like the Grandma from Failureland, I’m caught up short by the Spirit Holy and reminded that it is I who need to accept the baton from their little hands. This is just one more principle of the Backward Kingdom that I am learning.

Jesus told us that unless we become like little children we cannot inherit the kingdom of God—we won’t have the DNA of God infused within. We seem to know the important things of the Kingdom when we are small, but such wisdom seeps out of us as we grow big enough to carry the cares of the world.

Here are three things I’ve observed about little children, but don’t see in adults:

Children don’t worry. I worry. My husband worries. My grandkids don’t worry.

Children dance everywhere they go. I walk or stumble along life’s highways and byways. Children dance across the floor, on top of the couch, under the table, up and down on Grandma’s bed, and into the kitchen where they ask for something to eat since they only ate 15 minutes ago and have used up all their calories dancing.

Children are directly honest with God.  I avoid certain conversations with God. My grandchildren don’t seem to have that problem. One morning while cooking breakfast, my daughter Kati heard her three year old, Adelaide, strongly say, “Jesus!” She heard her again, “Jesus!” Turning around, Kati saw Adelaide looking at the ceiling as she announced a third time, “Jesus! You need to get down here right now! I need to talk to you!”

Maybe Jesus isn’t the only one Adelaide needs to talk to. Perhaps she can teach me to dance again. Anyone care to join us?

In Him Together, Susan Gaddis

Another year of living life winds down and a New Year comes. The season ahead brings hope and adventure accompanied by struggle. Not an appealing combination, but without struggle, adventure and hope cease to exist.

Much of what happens this next year will be beyond my ability or authority to control. People will frustrate me. Situations will happen that aren’t in my day planner. Joan Chittister, in her book, The Gift of Years, states that ”. . . holiness is made of dailiness, of living life as it comes to me, not as I insist it be.”

Wisdom calls me to lay down my unreal expectations and live with life as it happens—knowing that hope and adventure will dance with struggle. In that dance I will find the Holy.

In Him together, Susan Gaddis

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