I remember the first time I danced for Jesus. My 6-month-old son was sleeping in his crib and I was using that opportunity to catch up on a pile of dirty dishes. The Bluetooth speaker was on a worship playlist, and I felt this peace resonate in my soul, humming along. Then the song “In the Hands of the Potter” by Casting Crowns came on. As I listened to the lyrics, an inexpressible joy welled up within me. I dropped the sudsy pan back in the sink and began to dance right there in the kitchen. As my arms flowed around me and my feet bowed out in weaves and circular motions, I let the words wash over me:
And as I fall apart, come flood this desert heart. Fall like the rain, Living Water. And I know your way is best. Lord, help me find my rest. And I'll be the clay in the hands of the Potter.“In the Hands of the Potter” Casting Crowns
The first stages of my walk with Jesus had much dancing, singing, and shouts of joy. At home, at work, and at church. Everywhere I went, I was filled with the joy of the Lord. I remember often making my way up to the front of the church sanctuary to praise my Savior on high. I couldn’t believe it. Introvert-me. Dancing for Jesus! In public! My joy was uncontainable I had to let it out for all the world to see. Most of all, for my Jesus to see.
But somehow, between walking from the altar to the door, I allowed life to get in the way of my shouts for joy. Disappointments clouded my heart. Insecurity and rejection held me back from revealing my true self. Depression suppressed my joy and peace. Bitterness clouded my judgment. I would go to the Lord, confused and dazed.
“Jesus, my Jesus,” I would cry. “Where is the hope you promised? Where is the fullness of joy?” In my mind, I didn’t understand. If I had given my heart over to the Lord, then why was I still struggling with everything I had left behind in the grave?
I remember a time when I was just not feeling it. Life was gloomy and hopeless. Disappointment had left my heart shattered on the floor in a hundred fragments. Grief was knocking on my door and I willingly allowed him into my home. As I knelt to pick up the pieces of my heart, I held it up to the Lord. “Jesus,” I sobbed. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Dance for me, child.” Jesus lovingly held out His hand.
“What?” I nearly fell over from the shock. “How can I dance for You and praise You when my life is falling apart? Lord, I just don’t feel like it. I just can’t. My joy is all gone.”
“Then let’s get it back. Dance WITH me.”
At that moment, I remembered a vision of myself and Jesus a while ago when I was driving home from work. The song “I Can Only Imagine” was playing and suddenly, I saw myself in a field of yellow flowers. I was a little girl, seven or eight years old, and the Lord was twirling me around and around. We were both laughing with complete adoration and delight. A halo of white daisies adorned my head. Nothing in all the world could describe the joy that was in that moment. It was heaven-born!
As I remembered this dance with Jesus, I got up and began to sway. My heart wasn’t fully in it, but I knew the Lord was. As I began to sing a song and give myself over to my Savior, the most incredible thing happened, my heart began to catch up! My joy began to return. At the end of it, I was weeping with gladness. The next day, I made my way to the front of the sanctuary and danced joyfully to the Lord! Did my circumstances change? No. Was my heart still wounded and damaged from the recent turn of events? Yes. Despite all that, Jesus helped me remember Who’s I was. I recalled the promises of God and spoke these truths over myself over and over again. I wrote them down on stickies and posted them where I frequented during the day. Most of all, I was determined to praise Jesus even when nothing in my life was going right because He’s simply worthy of being praised. Shifting my eyes from the terrifying waves all around me and focusing them on the Father changed everything, even if physically, nothing had changed at all.
The million-dollar question is: What do we do when the unexpected happens, leaving us feeling shattered, like potsherds on the floor? How can we hope to pick ourselves back up and continue to trust Jesus? To praise Him even when nothing in our world feels right?
Simply, the answer to all we face now and ever will is Him. It’s Jesus.
It’s easy to read those words and agree, but it’s another living them out in the middle of a sandstorm. The unknown, uncertainty, and overwhelming fear are places where I can begin to lose perspective, faith, and trust in God. It’s in those messy places I can start to dwindle in my praise and prayer. I’m not proud to admit this, but I can be one who relies on my feelings more than the truth of God’s Word. Feelings are fickle. They don’t always speak the truth (although there is some truth in how we feel, we just have to dig under the surface a little). We have to guide them to the Truth.
We can feel like all is hopeless, when Proverbs 23:18 tells us, “There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.”
We can feel like God has walked away from us, when Psalm 139:7 says, “Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your Presence?” God isn’t the one who leaves, we do.
We can feel like we’re not beautiful, when Psalm 139:14 promises, “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”
We can feel like we’re not strong enough, wise enough, skilled enough, for the calling God placed on our lives, when Philippians 2:13 boldly states, “For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.”
We can feel like we’re all alone and no one cares, when 1 Peter 5:7 says, “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you” and Psalm 27:10 tells us, “Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.”
God knows how we feel. I promise you, He promises you, He knows. He came into the world, the One who knew no sin, and became sin for us (2 Corinthians 5:21). He endured emotional trauma, spiritual isolation, and physical abuse (Isaiah 53:5) not only to save us but to also come alongside us empathetically saying, “I get it. I know the pain that you feel. I understand the agony that’s tearing your heart out right now. But I don’t want you to endure this pain alone. Take my hand and dance WITH me as I heal your heart and help you through the pain. I love you, child.”
Dear ones, don’t go through this pain alone. You don’t have to carry the weight of it all by yourself. In the crushing and in the pressing, the Restorer of your shattered, broken, hurting heart is holding out his hand to you: “Will you dance with Me?”
Dear Jesus, thank you for being a Friend who walks with me closer than a brother. You know my pain because you’ve been there. You’ve felt it and you’ve endured it. But despite it, you saw the joy that lay ahead of you on the other side of the pain. Help me to do the same! Thank you for being good to me, even though the pain doesn’t feel good. Lord, there are so many feelings swirling around, it can be hard to know what to do and where to go. Help guide me to the Truth, Your promises, and Your Living Water. I ask in the midst of this pain and exposed hurt, you would help me to dance with you. As we dance this waltz, heal my heart, oh Jesus! Help me to take my eyes off of the waves raging all around, but to focus on you and what you’re trying to speak to me through this. Cover me with your joy and your love. I thank you for being a perfect dance partner. I love you so much, Jesus. Amen.
