Text: 2 Samuel 6:14-22
There was a stately, beautiful church on the corner of Main and Broad streets. The members were known for their love and care for one another.
On Easter Sunday, the pews were full of folks in their Sunday best, smiling graciously to one another and all of the guests who were among them. Everything was perfect.
Worship had begun, when all of a sudden a scruffy man in a faded shirt walked in. His jeans had holes in them and his sneakers were tattered. He looked around for a seat, but they were all taken.
Every eye followed him as he walked all the way to the front of the church, still looking for a place to sit.
Reaching the first pew and not finding a spot… or anyone who would make room, he sat down cross legged in the aisle.
Everybody was wondering who this was, but even more than that, they were wondering who was going to do something about it.
The organist began to play the opening hymn, but nobody was really listening.
Then, Mr. Sims, a stately older gentleman who had served as an usher for more than half a century, made his way from the back of the church down the aisle.
Somebody had to do something, after all.
Everyone watched as the old man bent down and said: “I just want to say how good it is to have you here.”
And Mr. Sims slowly lowered himself with great difficulty and sat down by the young visitor. He handed him a bulletin, and offered to share his hymnal.
They sat and worshiped together.
What does it really mean to fully worship God?
What does it mean to join in the dance of faith?
It is not about comfort or safety or the clothes you are wearing.
Worship is a risk.
It is a personal and corporate encounter with the divine and we are not in charge.
When we really place our lives before this God, we will not be the same.
Think of those two men in the story. Both took a risk in the presence of God.
The young man was a stranger, coming in off the street, and while everyone was dressed in their Sunday finest, he didn’t care what others thought.
He didn’t care if everyone else was watching.
He was coming to the Lord – and nothing was going to stop him.
The older gentleman had just as much, if not more to lose.
He was established and respected.
Everyone in that church expected him to ask the young man to move.
But Mr. Sims broke with convention and let the Spirit guide him to the front of the church to sit down with that young man.
In 1987, Susanna Clark and Richard Leigh’s song, “Come from the Heart,” included the lines –
“You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.”
The young man and Mr. Sims joined in the dance of faith and didn’t care if anyone was watching. They just put their heart into it.
And in our reading from 2 Samuel, David embraces that same heartfelt abandon leading the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem.
Let’s explore for moment the risk of this moment of worship and the courage it took for David to truly dance.
For years, the ark has been in the hands of the Philistines.
David wants to show that his rule is connected to the lordship, power, and presence of God so he has decided to go and recapture the ark and bring it to Jerusalem.
He gathers thirty thousand of his best men and they go and capture the ark from their enemies.
You might expect a solemn and formal military processional bringing this prized possession back to the Israelites. But King David led a celebration march and they praised God with all of their might with songs and instruments and drums.
In fact, the people were so caught up in their celebration an accident occurred.
Passing over rough terrain, one of the oxen stumbled and the ark nearly fell to the ground.
But a man named Uzzah instinctively reached out to grab onto the ark and lift it to safety.
Whew, we might think to ourselves… disaster averted.
But just the encounter Isaiah had in the temple which we discussed a few weeks ago, this moment reminds us of the holy, other, awesome power of God.
This ark was not a box holding some important documents – it was a sacred object that could bring both blessing and harm.
It was to be touched and handled only by those who had properly prepared, only by the Levites.
The young man was immediately struck dead.
In the middle of the road, in the middle of their journey, all of the celebrations stop.
David is so troubled by these occurrences, so angry at God for what has happened, he refuses to carry the ark the rest of the way to Jerusalem.
He is afraid of what will happen when God’s presence comes into his royal city.
You see, David isn’t perfect. He knows about the sin of his own life and fears for how God’s holy presence might alter the course of his reign.
So instead, he puts the ark in the safekeeping of a family in a village nearby.
David’s heartfelt abandon is closed off because of the fear of being burned, of being rejected, or being found unworthy.
Can you imagine how the story of our faith might have gone had Jesus been afraid to dance?
Sydney Carter’s famous hymn tells the story of Jesus Christ, without ever using his name.
The dance of creation and his birth in Bethlehem…
The call for Pharisees and fishermen to follow… and the refusal of many to join.
The holy people shame him for his acts of love and power.
He is arrested, abused, and killed…
And yet, not once did the dance stop.
And never has the Lord of the Dance stopped inviting us to join in.
There are a lot of people in this world… probably even here in this room… whose hearts are closed off.
People afraid to let God in.
People afraid to make a fool of themselves for God because of what others might think.
People ashamed of their past and whether they will be welcomed.
People who aren’t quite sure they can celebrate with all of their might before God.
Kate Huey writes,
“Jubilation is a word we rarely use, perhaps because such a feeling has been limited for many, for the most part, to sports and, perhaps, the occasional political victory. But what if we felt deep-down-in-our-hearts jubilation over what God is doing in our lives? Would we dance, too?”
Henry Brinton has compared worship… to a modern dance solo by Paul Taylor, the dancer/choreographer who “simply stood motionless on stage for four minutes….The dancing we do in church tends to be quite similar to Paul Taylor’s solo. What we do is nothing – we just stand still, hardly moving a muscle. Our worship of God involves our minds… our tongues, but rarely our whole bodies.”
What would it take to get our bodies more involved in worship?
What would give us the courage to let go and let the dance carry us along?
Maybe, we need to give up control.
Maybe we need to let the rhythm of the song shape and move us.
Maybe we need to let Christ lead.
In the book, The Soul of Tomorrow’s Church, Kent Ira Groff advocates for including rhythm instruments in every worship service. He notes composer Brian Wren’s understanding that “rhythm tries to move you bodily.”
No wonder that from forever and everywhere the drum has been an instrument of healing, reminiscent of the heartbeat of God – use in primal caves, rock bands, sophisticated symphonies. The pipe organ is a wonderful instrument… but in combining many instruments in one, it decreased the participation of the many…
Let me say that again… when we combined many instruments into one, we decreased the participation of the many.
You see, when we clap our hands, or tap our toes, or play along on other instruments, or use our own instrument, our voice, we are joining in the dance.
We are taking a risk.
We are offering ourselves.
We are participating is something bigger than ourselves.
We join the rest of creation and cry out with our whole being – the Lord is Good.
You’ve got to sing like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ll never get hurt
You’ve got to dance like nobody’s watchin’
It’s gotta come from the heart if you want it to work.
Just like we might be afraid to step beyond our comfort zones and truly praise God with our whole bodies…
just like we might be afraid to truly welcome into our midst those who don’t look anything like us…
just like we might be afraid of what will happen if we open ourselves up to God’s presence…
King David was afraid of what it meant to invite God into his city. He was afraid of what might happen to himself and his reign.
In many ways, he had a healthy understanding of the holy power and otherness of the Lord… but he let his fear overwhelm his ability to truly trust God.
But then he decided to try again. He worked up the courage to let God lead.
They took the ark out of the house and had moved just six steps down the road when David was so overwhelmed with joy and thanksgiving… with jubilation!… that he sacrificed a bull and a calf in praise to God.
And he took off his royal garments and there in front of all the people he danced before God with all of his might.
He shed his fear, he shed all of the expectations people had of him, he shed his denial of God’s holiness, and he worshiped and praised with heartfelt abandon.
As the dancing proceeded back to Jerusalem and as they got close to the city gates, David’s wife Michal saw him out there.
She saw him without his royal robes, dancing among the commoners.
She saw him making a fool of himself, rather than maintaining his composure.
And then, she confronted him about it.
But David replied, “I was celebrating before the Lord, who chose me… and I will celebrate before the Lord again! I may humiliate myself even more, and I may be humbled in my own eyes.”
He spoke with that same spirit Paul did when he said that we should be fools for Christ – laying it all out on the line to praise and honor the God who gives us life.
Michal, the scribes, the Pharisees, those people in the pews on Easter morning… they could get so caught up in tradition, on what was supposed to happen, in what was appropriate or required…
But as Jesus reminds us over and over again in the gospels, outward trappings are not important.
They don’t make us righteous or unrighteous, worthy or unworthy.
It is our hearts that matter.
What we give to God that matters.
Whether we leave behind ourselves and join in the dance.
So friends, wherever you are, whoever you are, let’s dance.
Amen.