Is there anything as beautiful as a child dancing?

A year-old boy bops his head to the beat of his mother singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and everybody in the room stops whatever they are doing just to look and smile. A 3-year-old princess sings “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” raising her hands, pinching her fingers in a twinkle, twisting her hips, and it melts my heart just as much on the hundredth time as it did the first.

I’ve never been much of a dancer on a stage. I realize now that it is because unlike these little children, I’m too concerned with what other people will think of me. I’ve always been too concerned with making a fool of myself. I’ve always taken myself a bit too seriously to be a great dancer.

These kids are too honest with themselves and the world around them — too real — to be bothered by such concerns.

That’s how I want to live. The more I walk through life in the midst of other people’s pain and trials, the more I realize that what judgers think doesn’t matter. I want to live free, the way God created me to live. I want to dance like a 1-year-old. I want to sing like a 3-year-old.

I want to live life in such a way so as to be too real, too honest, with myself and in front of the God who gave me breath, to waste even one of those breaths being anything other than what I am.

When I wake up in the fullness of the glory of the morning sun, I’m going to start dancing. When the morning sunlight is blocked by dark clouds, and summer showers pour down, I’m going to keep dancing in the rain. When the rain soaks my clothes, and it’s too slippery to dance, I’m going to raise my hands to the heavens, and I’m going to sing with all the strength God gave the noisy cricket.

I’m going to dance and I’m going to sing, just because God gave me legs to move and lungs with which to shout.

And as the evening of my life comes, and my legs grow too old and too weak to dance — when my lungs cease to hold enough air to shout — I’m going to sit in my chair with a smile on my face, and I’m going to wiggle my knees with whatever strength I have and hum a little hum with whatever noise I can muster.

As long as there is an ounce of breath in my lungs, I’m going to praise the One who made me. And if my legs should be unable to move at all and my lungs too slow to muster even a hum, I’m going to gaze heavenward, and I’m going to shout a silent shout to God and dance a motionless dance in my heart.

Never stop dancing. Never stop singing. As long as you’ve got a breath to breathe, you’ve got a dance to dance and a song to sing.

“David danced before the LORD with all his might.” (II Samuel 6:14 ESV)

Chris Surber is pastor of Cypress Chapel Christian Church in Suffolk. Visit his website at www.chrissurber.com.