The Angel & I are taking dancing lessons. We’ve learned the foxtrot, rumba, and swing – and when I say we’ve learned them, I mean we’re learning the most basic steps. Level zero. Our instructor shows us the positions, the steps, the beats, the building blocks, explains why, and hints at all of the possibilities with the higher levels (higher than zero;). It’s super fun, we like each other, laugh a lot, and I always love the way the Angel moves. 

I am the leader – I recognize this is quite old-fashioned and so-not-2024, to have a man lead, but that’s how it goes. I decide where we’re going and what we’re doing, if she’ll turn or not, and if she does, under which arm she’ll go. And she’s supposed to follow. 

You can see that this might present a problem. If you have ever had the pleasure of spending any time with the Angel, you know she is a born leader, an alpha, and she is the leader in nearly all of the spaces of her life. She does not like to be led, often for very good reason. (It took many years of our marriage until she was comfortable enough to trust me in any significant capacity…also for very good reason.)

So we’re dancing and our instructor, Artur, is encouraging my leadership and her following where I lead. It’s the only way it works, there can’t be 2 leaders, and even if I don’t exactly know the steps, I will, and it’s impossible for either of us to learn the dance without the basic structure intact. This week, he said to her, “You are not following, you are anticipating. You are going where you want to go, or where you think you should go. And when you do that, he cannot lead you.” 

I became a much worse rumba leader, because that lesson was teaching much more than dancing, and my mind started to wander. I thought of my relationship with Jesus, and how He is the leader, only I fight Him because I think I know where we should go, what we’re supposed to do, I know what the steps are, not Him, and I’m actually trying to force Him to follow me. Right?!!!??

[Maybe Jesus isn’t who you’re dancing with. I hear people call their dancing partners the Universe, an Energy Source, their Higher Power, whatever name you choose, you are dancing and you do have a partner. Like Bob Dylan said, “You may be an ambassador to England or France. You may like to gamble, you might like to dance. You may be the heavyweight champion of the world. You might be a socialite with a long string of pearls…But you’re gonna have to serve somebody.” I dance with Jesus.]

We’re dancing this life He’s given me, and instead of smooth graceful sweeping purposeful movements, it’s a power struggle. Well, it’s probably honestly not much of a struggle, if I need to drive this car into a ditch, He’ll probably let me. (Like that parable of the unforgiving debtor, the King forgives, but when the forgiven won’t, He says, ok, if that’s really what you want, I guess we’ll do it by your rules.) So our dance doesn’t look beautiful, it’s wooden, clumsy, and dis-jointed. It’s visual noise, and looks like neither of us know what’s going on and neither of us can hear the music.

These dancing lessons are great, we’re having a terrific time, and I’m wondering how my life would look and feel if I just stop fighting the flow and let Him finally lead.