You turned my wailing into dancing;
You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. Lord my God, I will praise you forever. Ps. 30:11-12
Lord Jesus, apparently King David loved dancing more than any king. His victory over Goliath was the inspiration for dancing by many in Israel (1 Sam. 21:11). When the ark was returned to Jerusalem, he danced before the Lord with all his might, and little modesty (2 Sam. 6:14).
But you’re the real Lord of the Dance. Though King David didn’t realize it, his work and joy were a precursor of yours. You’re the only monarch who can turn our wailing and downcast-ness into singing and dancing.
You’ve replaced our robes of sin and sadness with the garments of your grace. How can we not sing and make music to you in our hearts, Jesus? How can we remain silent and still, in response to who you are and everything you’ve done for us?
Forgive us when we, like the elder brother, remain smugly on the outside of the house of redemption—off the dance floor of your reconciling love (Luke 15:25). Cause us to hear the Father speaking to us right now: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (Luke 15:31).
Forgive us for confusing reverence with rigor mortis, and deadness with decorum. Forgive us for living more by our temperament tests, Myers-Briggs profiles, and personality types than by the lyric, music, and dance of the gospel. Free us from giving you a measured response to a measureless gospel.
One day, King Jesus, we will give thanks to you with all our might. All personal inhibitions, cultural limitations, and ecclesiastical prohibitions will be gone. May that great Day of liberation have much greater impact on this day’s celebration of the gospel. Fuel my joy and free my heart today, here in Portland, Oregon. And do the same for my friends all over the world. So very Amen we pray in your grace-filled and gladsome name.