The Dance

I’m from a small country town. Inside this town is a large community of Czechs and Bohemians. We Czechs love our onions, and we love our Grand Marches.

My mom was one of five, and my dad is one of seven. Growing up, all my extended family lived in that town or within a 60-mile radius. My cousins were really the first friends I had. The ones we’d play Freeze Tag with; the ones we went swimming in ponds with; the ones we’d cruise dirt roads with…you get the idea.

On my dad’s side, the cousins came in waves. There were significant age gaps between waves one, two (where I fall), and three. And the best part about having older cousins (wave one), born and bred in our Czech community, was the weddings. Weddings meant receptions, and receptions meant dancing.

The Grand March. Line dancing. Two-step. Polka. Waltz. Bunny Hop. Chicken dance. We did it all, and we would dance until the hall closed. Shoes would come off; shirts would get untucked; ties would fly; and cowboy hats would tip low.

I remember two-stepping with my dad and my uncles. When I was small enough, I would stand on their feet while they did all the work, but as I got older, I faced the challenge of learning to do my part as a dance partner. I eventually had to learn to follow. It’s a good thing my dad was such a great teacher.

Throughout the years, I would dance many a dance. Before I got married, I would spend my Friday and Saturday nights literally just dancing for hours at dance halls. At the time, I didn’t have a boyfriend, so I had the pleasure of dancing with all sorts of gentlemen. And everyone danced differently, which made it even more fun because you never knew what kind of dancer you were going to get.

I can’t tell you when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I learned to pick up on the men’s cues. How they hold your fingers, how they hold your hand, where they place their hand…is it on your back? On your side? Shoulder? Is the touch light or firm? A good man guides you around the floor, and with his steps, he determines what direction you go. He is protecting his partner because it’s his lead that keeps you from bumping into other couples, being smashed into railings, falling off the edge of the dance floor, or slipping on spilled beer. When a quick or sudden change is needed due to unforeseen issues, the touch will go from gentle to firm in a split second, and there’s a sudden turn, but a good leader navigates all challenges like a well-oiled machine. A good man leads with a gentle touch; a good woman follows in kind. And that’s what makes them good partners.

I’ve danced with some horrible dancers, terrible ones. Within seconds of movement, I could tell if these men were any good at leading, and the sad part was, I was stuck with them for a good three minutes. I’ve danced with men who would practically drag you across the floor because they had no rhythm. Ones that were choppy with their steps; ones that didn’t know how to give you the right cues. And in those three minutes, I’d find myself trying to compensate for their lack of ability to lead to keep from falling on my butt or tripping over my own feet. And instead of a beautiful dance, it became a fight. I would never dance a second dance with them.

But there is one soul I’ll never forget. And this gentleman is burned in my memory as the best dance of my life.

I’ll never forget his approach. He was an older man, probably a good 25-30 years my senior, a little round in the belly, but dressed ever so nicely. I could tell immediately he had a sweet spirit. In the most perfect, gentlemanly way, he asked me to dance, and till this day, I’m so glad I didn’t say no.

A waltz started to play, and I love waltzes. Waltzes are beautiful and graceful, and when done right, you literally feel like you’re floating. But you cannot fake your way through a waltz. You can either do it or you can’t; there is no middle ground. And as this gentleman led me around the dance floor, I not only danced, I floated. It was quite literally the best dance of my life. This man knew the rhythm, he knew the steps, he knew the queues, and I knew what they meant. Every spin, every turn happened in perfect unison. Apart or together, every step of mine matched every step of his. And it happened because he knew how to lead, and I knew how to follow.

Our relationship with God is a lot like dancing. The problems happen when we want to lead. It’s not our place.

I remember trying to teach my younger brothers how to dance, and it was probably the most awkward thing I’ve ever done. Not only did I not know how to do it, but I was horrible at it! I didn’t know how to position myself, or hold my hands, or move my feet. I didn’t know how to give queues; I only knew how to receive them. I didn’t know how to lead. It was all very confusing because I was out of place.

God is constantly pursuing us; He’s asking us to dance this dance with him. This dance of life. It’s His promise to lead us around. It’s His promise to protect us; to keep us from falling; to keep us from slipping. If we follow His lead, then we’ll be okay. If we fight Him or try to compensate when we feel He’s not good enough, His timing is wrong, or His plan is wrong, then we invite trouble. We set ourselves up for a fight that will leave us exhausted with a strong chance of falling on our butt.

As a designated follower not only on the dancefloor but also in life, I’m here to confess, it’s so much easier to follow. I have so much less to worry about. I don’t have to know what’s on the dance floor or who’s on the dance floor; I just have to know my partner’s cues. And if I’m paying attention, I’ll see that God is faithful to give them. Sometimes it’s a gentle touch, sometimes it’s a firm touch. Sometimes life is a beautiful waltz, and sometimes I get a wild song that leaves me breathless and exhausted. But when the song ends, He’s still there, and I’m still standing.

Every dance is our choice. We can accept it or reject it. Sometimes the best dances are with the most unexpected partners. Sometimes the wildest songs make the best lessons…and memories. Every time you accept a dance with a new partner, it’s a blind step of faith. The more you dance with that same person, the easier it becomes.

The more you follow God, the more you learn His cues, and the easier it is to follow. You establish trust in those moments, and you learn to relax and enjoy the dance.

There is not one Czech wedding I’ve been to that hasn’t included a Grand March. It’s like a line dance, except it’s a march. It’s led by a man and a woman, often a seasoned husband-and-wife team. They lead; they set the example, and the bride and groom follow. Then the bride and groom’s family, the wedding party, and anyone else who wants to join. Grandparents do it. Adults do it. Kids do it. For me, it’s the highlight of the reception. And from the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of the day I’d have my own Grand March at my wedding.

Our walk with God is much like a Grand March. We are supposed to follow God; follow His lead, no matter where He goes. And along the way, people watch us and follow us. And if we don’t follow the right way, we start giving the wrong cues. We start leading by the wrong example. But if you follow God closely enough, watch for His cues, and stay sensitive to His touch, you’ll end up leading people into the best dance of their life. You’ll impact the lives of people you’ll never know personally, all because you chose not only to accept the dance but also because you allowed God to do what He does best.

Know that God has a sweet spirit. He may not be what you expect, but I promise if you say yes to the dance, you won’t regret it because He is the King. And He will lead.

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