(I turned 38 last week. And I always journal my way through a prayer and a hope, a marker for the year to come. This year? Let’s dance…)

No, but really, let’s dance.

Oh my Jesus let’s dance…

Set my feet to the rhythm of grace and the anthems of freedom. Let me move with intention, by your spirit, take every lead. Help me learn to step less often on your toes.

Appoint me to be the love song and rush these feet to justice. Let me move and step lightly. Move these hands to the melodies of mercy. A living, breathing, dancing poem in this dark world.

Help me to join in creation with the trees clapping their hands and let me raise my own in worship. Help me not miss a moment to give you all the glory. Never let my dancing for you detract from you; let me always be helping people to see you…the joy you released in me. The freedom you gave me. The passion you always stir.

Oh Jesus….and when the dirge plays and some among us are mourning let  me sway even still and hold tightly to the hope I profess. Rock these hips like a lullaby and help me to be your messenger to remind the world that in the end the monsters will not win.

Teach me also, to rejoice with those rejoicing. And when they call me undignified, let me be even more undignified for your glory.  You deserve all my praise.

Oh God. On the terracotta tile of my kitchen and the industrial carpets of my work, in the street and in the church. Oh God move my body and stir my heart to the movement of your spirit, don’t let me miss a single prompt.

Oh Jesus, give me the depths and breadth of my very own life.

38…Let’s dance.