Come and Dance

He stood there.

Waiting.

Would she come? Would tonight be the night?

The music played and played. Ever so gently in the background the melody continued. And he merely stood. Part of him wanted to sway slowly to rhythm. But he resisted. Not without her. He would wait. With his hands rested in front of him, one on top of the other, he stood straight with his eyes glued on the door.

The music came to an end and the lights dimmed. She hadn’t come.

* * *

She peered through the window. He was there. Waiting. Waiting for her.

She was invited, of course. She was invited every night.

Every night was the invitation to come and dance. And every night she declined. Some nights she found herself busy or distracted. Other nights, most nights, she found herself coming as far as the window, peering in, watching...too afraid to dance.

~*~*~*~

And this persisted on. Night after night.

He waited. She feared.

But the more he waited, the more drawn she was to find her way to the window, to peer in and watch. Watch the one who patiently waited every night for her to accept an invitation to dance.

She crept nearer to the windowsill. She wanted a closer look of the face of the one who every night stood in the hopes she would come. In doing so, her face came out of the shadows and into the light casting its rays through the glassy pane.

He saw her. She knew he did. She turned to run away but he was quicker than she.

“Come back!” he called. “Please come back! Won’t you come and dance?” The desperation in his voice stated that he would wait a thousand more nights but he couldn’t risk the agony of knowing he missed out on this one moment.

She stared with wonder and fear. She was shocked by the compassion and patience on his face and for an instant she felt compelled to stay. But as she looked into his eyes, he peered into her own and it was as if he were staring into her very soul. Her jeans and t-shirt were suddenly insufficient. In an instant she felt naked and exposed. She cast her eyes down in shame, turned, and ran away.

And he stood there, watching after her. And he stood until the black cloak of night covered both earth and sky. And he waited; waited and hoped she would return.

~*~*~*~

He met the next night with an increased anticipation. She had turn and ran the night before but first she had been caught in and by his eyes. He hoped she would return having seen the love and the desire radiating from his core.

And he stood at the door waiting, hoping. He gazed out into the dusk and watched as a figure moved forward out of the trees. Could it be? Was it her? Would she stay?

* * *

She approached slowly and cautiously. Wishing to turn back with every step which brought her closer. Closer to the eyes which spoke of such honesty, such longing. The eyes which had peered into her dirty, broken soul...and begged her not to leave.

She had fixed the dirt tonight. Her face was painted to cover her blemishes. Her hair done up tight and high on her head, pulling at the muscles in her neck. Her dress was ornate; flowing to the floor and lacing in the back in such a way as to draw in her breath and hide the extra roll around her middle. Her shoes held a tall heel and she walked carefully to avoid stumbling. If he wanted to dance, he would need a suitable partner. One more of his kind. His liking. Perhaps she could find the courage to stay if she was made to be good enough for the likes of him.

* * *

His face fell as she approached. It was her – but it wasn’t. It was not the reality of the girl for whom he so longed. How would he prove to her that she was the one he desired?

She approached and her head cast down. Even with her replaced attire, she was afraid of the eyes which had peered through her the night before. She glanced up quickly. His eyes looked both sad and expectant. Disappointed but not thwarted. Still he waited in the place he stood. And his cool, crisp voice melted with emotion as he gently and softly greeted her presence.

“You came...”

She blushed knowing his eyes had not left her though she struggled to meet his gaze. “I, I...” She stuttered looking for the right word, the word to impress and to charm and as she looked up she lost her balance and came crashing to the ground.

“It’s my heels!” She tried to explain while fumbling to find her way up. “It’s just, I thought...”

“What were you thinking, my love? So long I have waited for you. So many nights I stood here hoping you would meet me. And here you stand and who is this before me? Where is the girl I love?”

“That girl is not here! And you could not love her. She is not good enough for you. If I am to come and dance, I shall come as the one you deserve...”

“But is she I invited to dance. Not the imposter before me. You forget that I have already seen into your soul. I know who you are. Why do you hide from me the pieces of you I most wish to hold, to love?”

She shuddered to hear him state the same truth which drove her to her disguise. She tried to hide behind perfection – for the same one who had left her feeling exposed and revealed just a night before. The intentionality in his eyes, the desire which had not left...who could love like that? The fear returned and she scrambled to her feet before turning and running away.

And still he remained. As she fled a single tear made its way down his cheek...

~*~*~*~

Each night was much the same.

Each night he waited. And each night she came despite the fear which wished her away. And each night she left in that fear...which gripped her before the music finished its sweet melody.

But each night he spoke to her as if she were the only one in the world. Each night she shed layers of her imposter’s garb. Each time he assured her she didn’t need it. Each night she told him more and more of the same grime he already knew and had already seen. Each night, with her past came her hopes and dreams. And each night he listened, holding her secrets as close he wished to hold her. And each night, with the music softly playing, he beckoned her to join him.

And each night before she left, she came closer. Just a little bit closer. Close enough to see but never close enough to dance. Close enough to touch, but never to be held.

He looked at her with the same compassionate longing and desire which had yet to change since the first night he waited, and he smiled... His invitation stayed the same: “My love, won’t you dance?”

She looked at him with wonder. After all he knew? After all these nights? How is it he still wished to dance? “I, I, I can’t...”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you...” She was surprised by her own admittance. Relieved by the trust she recognized, terrified by the intimacy it created. She resisted the urge to turn and run...

“Then why won’t you dance?”

“I, I, I can’t...” she repeated, stumbling. “I don’t know how...”

There was an intensity, a desperation in his voice. “Please. I long for you to join me. I will teach you. I will lead. Just follow. Take my hand. Join me in this dance.”

He reached for her but she pulled away.

“No!” She cried out in a sob as a tear made its way down her face. Followed by another and another. “No! Look at me. You see who I am. You know who I’ve become. No. I am uncoordinated and clumsy. I am not thin or pretty. I am covered in life’s bruises and tattered in its scars. You cannot love me. You can’t. I am not good enough. I’m not enough...” She stood and began to leave as hot tears stained her face.

He stepped towards her and his voice rattled with passion as it quieted and slowed. He could not, would not let her go. He wanted only for her to join him in the dance. “Stop. Please...”

She turned to see his arm outstretched. She could neither run away nor move forward. She was trapped by her inability to dance...

Still he waited. “Please... Come closer.”

Why wouldn’t he let her go? Her mind was in upheaval over his relentless pursuit.

“Come closer. So you are imperfect. I know. That’s why I’m here.”

He wouldn’t stop.

“Come closer. I love you. I want to take you to places you’ve never been or dreamed of...”

She took a step in, though she couldn’t understand why...

“Come closer. Draw near to me and I’ll draw near to you. I love you like you can’t even imagine.”

“Come closer. Following me isn’t easy but the closer you come the easier it is to see where I lead.”

His voice deepened and his words became frantic.

“Come closer. I have mercy and forgiveness, hope and grace like you wouldn’t believe. And it’s for you.”

“Come closer. Life is going to be scary. It’s going to be tough. I’m going to challenge you – but I’m not going to leave. I promise not to go anywhere. I will be with you always. Always.”
A tear began to make its way down his cheek... Her body convulsed as tears continued to stream down her face; as she listened, unable to run. Unable to move.

“Come closer. You’re right, you’re not enough. I came to earth because you could never be enough. I died because you were never going to make it to me on your own. I spent time in Hell because I never wanted you to have to experience it. I live because I want you to know me. I am here so there will never be a day without my presence. I pursue you because you’re still too far away...”

His tear had turned into a quiet weep...

“Come closer, beloved. Come closer...”

With an abandon she could not know nor understand; she began to run. Towards him she ran until she found herself falling onto his chest, into his arms.

He pulled her in and slowly took her face into his hands. He leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly before pulling her into a dancer’s embrace. “Beloved,” he said softly, his eyes locked into hers “I have loved you with an everlasting love...” Clasping her hand into his, they began to dance...


Zephaniah 3:[14-]17
Song of Solomon 6:3(a)



At each notable mark in my life, God reveals an additional piece of his identity, his character. Each making Him more real than before. In high school, I began to see Him as a friend. Someone who stood by my side; someone worth spending time with, who wanted to be with me; someone to whom I could talk – who was going to listen, to understand. Towards the end of cancer (take one), this was expanded to include “protector” and “fighter”. Almost like a big brother, I fought Him at times but He continuously stepped up to the plate to take on my life’s bad guys, to wipe my tears, to put me on His shoulder and carry me the rest of the way when I was too tired. By cancer take two (the ongoing story), God became a Father figure. Gentle, compassionate. Instructive and disciplinary, but loving. My sustenance, my provider. The one I knew I could always go to; the one I knew would hold me.

And yet...something has been missing. An identity flitting in the background I knew...but could not grasp. The idea of Jesus as a Lover. This I’ve struggled with the most. I could see God as love in all of His other roles in my life, but somehow I attached to each an obligation. Friends, Fathers, Brothers...they are supposed to love. Of course it is still a choice: our world is full of examples of dads (for example) who choose not to... But good fathers love their children. They’re supposed to... Jesus as a Lover...a love free from obligation. A love that can only be chosen. A love that comes from desire. I think I had to be willing to admit that if Jesus was a Lover and He was passionately pursuing me... I was worth pursuing.

Some days it is easier than others to hear the beckoning of the One who calls me His beloved. Noise drowns out the call to be held in His intimate embrace. And yet, some days, I merely wait. Wait to hear the invitation to come and dance...