When I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia I came across this poem:

There is no box made by God nor us but that the sides can be flattened out and the top blown off to make a dance floor on which to celebrate life. Kenneth Caraway

The poem encouraged me that even though I could barely walk at times, I could still dance with my beloved Lord and celebrate life with Him.

At what point did you give yourself to intimacy and trust with the Lord? I clearly remember (and am regularly reminded) that my moment in adult life was at a church conference. I have no idea now who the speakers were or who did the music. I do recall it was a Vineyard conference held in a hotel. There I had an intense and intimate moment with the Lord Jesus that changed me forever.

I was leaned against a door frame during a break between sessions when I remember clearly hearing the Lord say to me, “Come!” in the same commanding voice that Yul Brenner used in the King and I. No, I was not thinking about that movie or the song, but that is what I heard. I do not mean to imply that by God is as moody as the King in the movie. Just think of this as an invitation to intimacy with the Risen Christ.

Then it seemed as if I was in the arms of Jesus and dancing around the room. Unseen by others, to music unheard by others, yet just as real as the ballroom we were meeting in. Isn’t that just like our relationship with the Living God? Unseen by others and unheard by others yet real and vibrant and alive in every aspect of the word?

There is a movie clip and the lyrics for “Shall We Dance” from Rodgers and Hammerstein. (Evidently this clip has 7 different versions. I imagine you would find once is enough, though it is interesting to see how the different directors and actors play it out!)

---

Anna:
We’ve just been introduced,
I do not know you well;
But when the music started,
Something drew me to your side.

So many men and girls
Are in each other’s arms—
It made me think we might be
Similarly occupied.

Shall we dance?
On a bright cloud of music
Shall we fly?

Shall we dance?
Shall we then say good night
And mean goodbye?

Or perchance
When the last little star
Has left the sky,

Shall we still be together
With our arms around each other
And shall you be my new romance?

On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen,
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?

Shall we dance?

Have you put God in a box? Are you willing to blow off the top, flatten the sides and make a dance floor to meet your God upon? Will you give yourself to this sort of intimacy? How do you respond when the Lord says, “Come!” to you? I pray you will arise and do whatever He asks!