Why I Don't Dance...

"why can't i dance?" after downing 3 beers - the taste of which i could not handle, so i was plugging my nose and making an absolutely disgusted, almost cartoonish face after each giant gulp, i assumed that finally, i could bring myself to dance amidst a crowd of people where i knew no one and wanted to impress everyone around me. still, beer was not enough. i tried. i tried so hard. i stood in the crowd. i finally, per the coaxing of a friend who was probably embarassed to be the one who invited me, i got my feet to move ever so slightly. then began the conversation with my arms:
Me: Arms, do something.
Arms: What do you want us to do?
Me: I don't know. Dance?
Arms: How?
Me: I don't know. I don't really dance. At least MOVE!
Arms: But we don't know what to do.
Me: JUST MOVE ALREADY!
Arms: No. We'll look stupid.
Me: You already do and now you're making me look stupid.
Arms: Well, we don't know what to do.
Me: (to my friend who I was supposedly dancing with) Well, I have to go to church in the morning so, bye.

I couldn't leave yet because of the beer, so I walked around outside inwardly shouting at myself for not being able to dance.

So, the new question is similar, "Why can't I dance...relationally?"

A friend had hurt me by not seeing my odd depression in the re-birth of my freedom now that I am post-youth ministry position. I knew that I needed to talk to her. I knew she didn't mean to hurt me. So, I sat at the top of the stairs of my house and had a conversation with my legs:
Me: Stand-up and go downstairs so that I can talk to her.
Legs: Well, what are you going to say?
Me: I don't know yet. I'll figure it out when I get there.
Legs: You know you're going to hurt her if you say what you're feeling. You know she's already hurting. So, you should at least know exactly what you're going to say.
Me: Ok, maybe I'll say (insert onfidential imagined conversation)
Legs: Ouch. That's going to hurt both of you.
Me: Well, it needs to be said though and it seems kind.
Legs: Sure, it's kind, but I'm not taking you there to say it. It's dangerous. What if she doesn't recieve it well?
Me: JUST MOVE!
Legs: But...
Me: SHUT UP AND FUCKING MOVE! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM! WHAT IS MY PROBLEM! WHY CAN'T I JUST FUCKING DO THIS!?!

Then I cried.

The next day, everything exploded - and it ended up being soooo beautiful. But, one thing my friend said to me is that she didn't see my pain - meaning that I didn't make it seen. I told her (actually shouted at her) "I tried. I tried really hard. I'm sorry that I coudln't do better. It was t he best I could do!"

She was beyond amazing in that, but it leads to the question:

Why can't we dance?

Why can't I more explicitly invite those that love me into my pain? Why can't people around me see my pain? Why won't they? Why can't I tell people when I am let down by them? Why is trying to be seen so trying? Why is not being seen so painful? Why do I then recoil?

Why can't I dance!?!

The next day, in a conversation about community, a friend wanted to know how we will deal with disappointing each other and I said, "By further disappointing each other."

As much as I wanted to dance that night, I couldn't bring myself to.
As much as I want to deal well with my pain and with my friend, I couldn't bring myself to.
As much as I want to hope for things to change, they may not.
But it's not that I don't dance. By being in a relationship, it doesn't matter if I sit at the top of the stairs and silently yell at my inactivity. By having a relationship with someone, even in absense, I am dancing - clumsily as it may be.
The tragedy is not the proverbial stepping on feet. The tragedy is not standing on the dance floor and having your arms refuse to move. The tragedy would be leaving the dance floor.

Ultimately, the tradegy does not come in disappointing another. Glory comes there. Glory is present even in a clumsy dance of broken hearts and disappointment. Tragedy comes in isolation. Praise God that isolation is never possible in a world filled with God's relational image bearers and with God's very Spirit.

So life is dance lessons and maybe one day, I'll start dancing without making a fool of myself and my friends. In the mean time, I want to be like that old gay guy in four weddings and a funeral. He looked like an idiot. I laughed soooo hard at him. He died dancing and, his dancing was sooo bad that I originally thought his death was an extreme dance move.

I will fail and be a fool...but I can, and do, and cannot not dance.