My sweet friend in India danced upon injustice. And as I sit in the waiting room of America, her joy has not been forgotten. Her hope has not been frightened off by disheartening circumstances—she knows her steps’ foundation, and she knows that with each step, she is one shuffle closer to her ultimate destination: True Joy.
She immediately whisked anyone off the ground to dance, exclaiming a melodic “Halellujua” over and over again.
She understands that this world is not her home. She understands that she is a Daughter in a Kingdom that cannot be shaken; so, she dances. She dances in remembrance of the trials her God has overcome. She dances because of the consuming fire in her heart. She dances because of the Just God she serves; she dances because she knows she will one day be with the One she loves, in a place without weakness, pain, tears, or suffering.
She dances because she is known. She is not forgotten. She is not outcast. She is not downtrodden. She is alive.
For the needy shall not always be forgotten,
And the hope of the poor shall not perish forever.
Like Moses and David, my sweet friend dances in the victory of the Lord, proclaiming the battle has been won, for the Lord has fought for her with great valiance.
This is the year of Jubilee.
I opened her most precious possession, her Bible, to show her a verse—only to be told her eyes were growing blind.
I hold her face, and sit, listening to the translator read this message to her:
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling placeof God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.
Her contagious smile appears again. She laughs to affirm the words—that there will be a day with no weeping, no aches, no uncertainty. She will finally gaze into the eyes of the one who saved her, who redeemed her life from the pit and set her feet on a solid rock. Beholding this beauty overwhelmed me; I placed my forehead to her cheek, and wept. She patted my hand, and I wept like a little girl in my Grandmother’s bosom. I wept because, for a moment, I felt like I was home. We will one day be reunited, listening to our Father read His story to us-and there will be no need for translators, and her body will no longer ache. I wept because, for a moment, hope was alive, and holding my hand. I wept because I finally understood what it meant to be created for something beyond the transient world we live in. Our time here is short.
And, the most beautiful snapshot forever ingrained in my memory is the joyful dance this woman’s aching body could not contain. And, while my body is young, I can relate to the limp in her sway. I too, dance with joy; yet, the sin of this world, the rebellion of my heart, and the carelessness of others have left me limping.
And her smile did not stop. She knows tears of joy and tears of sorrow. Language did not hinder that bond. She held my hands, and caressed my fingers, and laughed out another raspy “Hallelujah.”
A ballerina dances with grace and stability. She is in control of her movement, and able to stretch herself without a sigh.
I much prefer the sway of a hip that has gone through the wrestle with God, because, with every step, I am reminded that this is not my home.