Learning to Dance

Explorations in the Spiritual Life

Date: October 14, 2004


There are days which teeter. Good or bad, worthwhile or a waste, teetering all the day until something, even something small resolves the tension. And today was resolved as good. No real reason for it, but at the end of the day I am left feeling it worthwhile. Now, the cool breeze has picked up, the dark night settles over the land, all the busy birds and beasties have settled into their nests. So too will I soon.

Because it’s connected with the ideals of this section I feel it good to suggest here what I wrote elsewhere.

There is hope in my heart, grand hopes that what I write has meaning beyond simple amusement. Grand hope that God is working wonderfully, and my cause is to remain standing before him. Maybe, above all that is why this day ends so well, because I end it with profound hope, and profound prayers that others will share in this hope.

I have no idea how my words in this website come off to others. My wrestling with various issues external and internal carry assumptions within my heart which I don’t often relate.

But the core of all of these, the core of every decision I’ve made in the last ten years of committed pursuit of God, is that I indeed have hope, a hope so strong I will leap out into the void, and seize hold of eternity in the present. My hope calls me out, and leaves me with a light so strong I am blinded to a lot of other realities of life. For now that hope has me here. Who knows what tomorrow or the week after next might offer.

There is only obedience, and obedience coupled with hope can take us on a weird path indeed, where sometimes the only relief comes in finding others who share this wild adventure, and who resonate with the realities of the Divine Call. But, at the end of the day, those who walk this path will celebrate with hope more palpable than faith. And it will be good, it will be good. But, you got to leap out for it. So I did, and I pray that all which my hope yearns for will soon be revealed. If not, then I will keep at it. For that is the Call. That is the Way. For those who have been giving a taste of it, there is nothing else, there is no turning back.


In the evening the stars are still dull. A light mist seems to block all but the most strident. At two thirty in the morning, however, the stars are gathered for a feast, countless bright spots in their little cliques, circling in the universe on a trek just short of eternal. In the morning, the bright blue skies block the stars above, but there is no loss, as the sun bathed fall forest bursts forth in manifold beauty, every leaf, every shrub, every trunk, every speck of dark earth proclaim a distinct call of the Divine, each aspect an ornate brush stroke, purposeful and profound.

I know the look of the stars at two thirty because that’s when I woke up. I woke up completely awake, having suspected I would. I felt it even when I went to sleep that God would have a conversation with me during the night. So he called me out, and we chatted for a while, at first in my room, then for a longer while as I sat underneath the spreading branches of an oak and took note of the many stars and great silence of the early morning.

I prayed for my own status, for wisdom, for direction, for counsel. I prayed for others, those who I know very well, and more curiously for those who I feel called to pray for even when I don’t know them well according to natural means. I prayed for those who touched my soul in that early hour, and sought God’s wisdom and peace on their behalf, though they likely would never know of my early entreaties, and I may never know how he is working within them. But, all is in God’s hands, that which we see and do not see, that which is far and that which only seems far. This renewal of prayer is maybe even more momentous than my recent recovery of a writing sense, and they are likely related. God is calling, and I am learning to answer, still with stumbling and tripping, but more fluidly, trusting that the God who calls is indeed worth answering. Even, especially, in those silent hours of the early morning when the stars alone hold court.

I turn my eyes to the mountains;

From where will my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,

maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot give way;

your guardian will not slumber;

See, the guardian of Israel

neither slumbers nor sleeps!

The Lord is your guardian,

the Lord is your protection

at your right hand.”

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