Dancing in the Hurricane

I was at a Pastor's and Spouses Retreat this past weekend, and was reminded of a new song by Brandi Carlile. That sentence has never before been written in modern civilization.

We were being encouraged to explore the metaphors that we have in our heads for ministry, and to come up with some new ones. For instance, feeling like you're drowning and having a hard time keeping your head above water might feel extremely accurate, but it isn't helpful. Because we can choose our own metaphors, we were talking about how having unhealthy or negative metaphors in our lives can be unproductive.

One of the pastors shared a metaphor that he was feeling in his own life: that he was in the midst of the storm, but if he stayed within the eye of the storm, which he equated to the presence of God, he was able to continue to move forward with no problem. However, when he got in front or lagged behind, the storm was too much. (Moses prayed much the same thing in Exodus 33:12-17. It's a cool passage, a helpful image, and a great prayer.)

That's where the new Brandi Carlile song comes in. She's recently released a single called "The Eye" that I've been listening to heavily in the past month or so. The chorus goes like this: 

"I wrapped your love around me like a chain

but I never was afraid that it would die.

You can dance in a hurricane

but only if you're standing in the eye."

The idea's the same, but there's a nuance. In the first metaphor, the goal is to exist. To move forward. To not be beaten up by the storm. But in the song, the goal is different: to dance.

I want to dance. 

I don't just want to survive this storm called life. I want to dance through it. I want to find joy in the midst of pain; I want to be a part of showing that grace to others. I want to be someone that's known for living life just like that--dancing in the eye of the hurricane.

Lent is a season for penitance. To remember our sin. There are many sins that I have committed and am committing. They are specific, they have names, and I must learn to speak of them as such. However, I wonder if the greatest sin, in the light of the story of the gospel, is the sin of joylessness. There are times that I'm walking--sometimes even running--forward in the eye of the storm. But there are times I've forgotten to dance.

Lord, forgive me for the many times that I've lived a joyless life in spite of the blessings of the gospel. Forgive me for taking my joy from the temporal, which is always changing and will someday pass away, and not feeding on the eternal. Teach me to dance. Amen.