Dancing With God
I'll admit it: I saw "dancing" on the Convergence agenda and immediately began trying to figure out how to avoid that time slot. I didn't succeed. I was enticed and captivated by the woman who would be leading that session and couldn't resist. No matter what "dancing" might mean, I trusted her.
I was not disappointed.
It was only 20 minutes, more of a stretch-break than anything, but Deborah showed us four basic steps, turned up the bass, and started moving. One might say that a tapestry or a quilt would be a better metaphor for the combined beauty of individuals; for the weaving or uniting of distinct colors, shapes and sizes. But I will say that seeing a room full of women dancing - some who may never have, others who haven't for a long time, and others who clearly do so often - is the perfect metaphor - and more, a preferred reality.
There's something about letting our guard down and being surrounded by others who do the same that enlivens and empowers. Women rarely get that opportunity. In work, church, and culture we can (or do) rarely let our guard down and are surrounded by others who are not dancing the way we do - or even to the same music. We feel outnumbered, alone, and sometimes pretty silly - out there on the dance floor, moving to a different beat. But not yesterday.
Yesterday we laughed and sang, cried and clapped, ate and drank, talked and listened, rested...and danced. Not alone, but in community, in unity, in fellowship, in beauty, in solidarity, in strength. Yesterday we tasted God. Yesterday we danced with God.
I'll admit it: dancing (at least in this context) is far outside my comfort zone. But there was something inviting about Deborah. There was something safe about being with a room full of women who probably all had similar same fears and insecurities. There was something enticing about letting our guard down and being surrounded...by one another, and undoubtedly by God.
20 minutes out of an entire day of beauty - of dance, really. Not much and yet, so much. Dancing with God.
We finish up today and head our separate ways. In this weekend together we've talked of many things, we've worshiped, we've prayed, we've been strengthened, challenged, and encouraged, and we've danced - not just physically, but really - in synchronized, free, expressive, bass-booming ways. Beautiful.
As I head home I wonder what it would be like to hold this metaphor more closely, to acknowledge the discomfort I know in certain places, and with certain people but to let my guard down and know that I'm surrounded by other women (in reality and in spirit) who invite me to be me; to live and move and breathe with freedom and life; to dance.
Turn up the bass!
Ronna Miller blogs at Truth-Telling
Dispatches from the Front: Confessions of a Convergence Newbie
"Wear the funkiest clothes you have," I was advised. "I was planning on just wearing black," I replied. "That'll do," she said. Wait ... I thought this was a women's event where we don't have to worry about what we're wearing! Isn't this the "anti-women's-retreat," where all the "typical" rules for a Christian women's event are suspended? Bring an instrument if you want-or not. Bring art to share or sell if you want-or not. No big-name speakers. More tattoos than at a Harley convention.
So why am I worried about what I'm wearing, or whether I have enough holes in my ears?
You see, these are the cool women-not superficially cool, not wannabe cool-but truly cool women. Women who give their lives to and for the disenfranchised, who don't care about what people think, whose language may be salty but their hearts are made of gold.
Someone once said seminary students were among the angriest people she'd ever met. There's plenty of anger here, too-anger at churches that don't support our calling, that don't "get" the mandate to serve the poor and make the peace, that embrace tradition even when it's killing them to do so. One woman, when asked what she does with the small churches she serves in her itinerant work, said, "Well, sometimes it's church revitalization and sometimes it's hospice care ..."
Friday night revealed that although I was not the only one worried about what I would wear, I needn't be anxious. Lots of jeans, and plenty of variety. And such interesting people! The woman from Langley who wrote a dissertation about how folks who leave churches under traumatic circumstances can find healing and hope again. The gal who brought her dulcimer on the plane from Colorado so she can contribute her gifts to this glorious montage. The three seminarians animatedly discussing ecclesiology over dinner ... it was a vibrant group.
"What a hoot," as we say in Oregon. Carley photographed a woman's ears, sporting the funkiest ivory gauges you ever saw. I see pink hair and breastfeeding babies. A photo of women from Burundi sits near our breakfast tables, reminding us that our world and our work extends far beyond this place. We are putting fabric on our nametags, and talking about the metaphors inherent in the table centerpieces. The schedule for the day promises "speed dating," values, grieving and remembering, tapestry, dancing, rest, play, and show and tell. Tomorrow we can join new and old friends for yoga, weaving, communion, circles, prayer, and communion.
The "Gallery of Awesome Women's Work" is slowly expanding-poetry added to the photos, collage, fused glass, paintings, jewelry and music. There's even a spinning wheel off to the side-and someone there spinning during one of our worship times. An artist has designed the space, and it is astonishing-rocks and fabrics and weavings and pictures and textures, all for the experiencing.
There's something about understanding each other's lives and stories that opens us up, and we get to do so much of that here. Our sisters from one local church draw us into God's presence (and our own pain) with their singing, enhanced by other musicians' contributions. We share tears and laughter; we support and build up.
I've stopped worrying about what I'm wearing and whether I know folks or not-now I'm just glad I came. Wish you could be here.
This is a story from Convergence 2009. If you missed it and want to participate in a future Convergence gathering, check out the Convergence website for updates on what's coming up.
Laura Simmons is Associate Professor of Christian Ministries at George Fox University in Portland, Oregon.
Fragile Strength
Fragile strength.
Held together by the cut and torn pieces of fabric.
Bent and broken branches, creating a nest.
These baskets were the center pieces on each of our tables at Convergence.
They represent our lives.
Our beautiful mess.
Trusted by God to hold precious pieces of life.
We are women who lead In The Way of Jesus.
We sat together and shared our stories.
We had 15 minutes each to share and in that time we were listened to.
For 15 minutes 4 women sat and heard me- with out judgment, without advice, with love.
They listened with love and understanding.
They have been hurt and are healing.
We know each others pain without having to speak it, but we have the freedom to speak it here.
We are that nest- we are the broken and bending pieces that create the whole.
The whole that is fragile strength: malleable enough to be used by God, strong enough to hold the church, to guide her and move her toward The Way.
Sarah Montoya blogs at Simple Diva
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