A dancing church
I first started calling ceilidhs in a hastily converted games hall on the West Coast of Scotland half a lifetime ago. I have since called them from Italian mountain-tops, Scottish garage forecourts, my best friend’s wedding (in full bridesmaid regalia) and any number of places in between. Each of them have been delightful in their own way, each one has brought joy, as only ceilidhs (in my humble opinion) can. Yet, in each of them, and in all these years, I have never witnessed anything like the level of involvement I saw at St John’s church a few weeks ago! Almost every person on the floor, for every dance! This brought a tear to my eye and joy to my heart. If my voice started cracking at any stage, you now know that it wasn’t just the sheer number of calls I was making, it was the sense of sheer, unabandoned joy in the group I saw before me.
As always, this was best evidenced in the children. For, aren’t they always the ones who teach us how to celebrate without fear, and dance without shame? At one point, I could tell the adults were tired, and started to wind down the dance, until I saw disappointed faces looking up at me, screaming for more. So, we continued, led by them. There is something deeply biblical in that.
As a pastor, it is of course all too easy to see biblical metaphors wherever one looks. Yet, I was not alone in this, in ways which went beyond simply the children’s role. I was told by one participant of a deep sense mid-way through the dancing, of the Holy Spirit’s presence, and a sudden awareness that it is in such moments that revivals happen. This witnessed with me. As one who studies the history of revivals, they have frequently been led by children, and most frequently outside of the Sunday services. As one who spends a lot of time in the world, I know that there is no greater witness than Christians laying down their differences and dancing together, in unabandoned joy and celebration. As one who loves Christ, I know that I dance more freely for the confidence I have in him.
Yet, as usual, we were only able to dance in that freedom and celebration because a strong team of volunteers worked quietly and diligently in the background. A team who lovingly cut up fruit and plated up hundreds of oat cakes. A team who took the names of, not only all of those who had pre-booked, but all those who arrived at the last minute (thank you so much for those who did, we were at capacity, and what joy it brought!!) A team who made people feel welcome, introduced them to each other, made international students feel as though they had found a home in a strange cultural experience. A team who played with joy and freedom, who allowed me to declare that some dances should be ‘as fast as humanly possible,’ even when the result was that this caller ended up falling inelegantly, twice whilst demonstrating! A team who explained my explanations and laughed when they (and I) got it wrong. This is the sort of team that most pastors would give their right arm for. Happily, mine was twirling the left arm of the remnant of 130 people in the longest Orcadian strip the willow I’ve seen in some time, alongside said team, who had somehow summoned the energy to join me.
At the end of the event I breathed a happy sigh and said, ‘If you want to come tomorrow, we have almost as much fun in church,’ giving the service times as I did so. As I walked off stage I found myself reflecting on the sincerity with which I had been able to say that. At least one person I spoke to the next morning had come as a result and didn’t seem too disappointed in what they found! St John’s, you are a special place, and I am so happy to dance with you. The children would like to request that we do it weekly, but I’m not sure that either I or my team have the capacity quite for that! How about once a term? And meanwhile, let’s keep dancing, on Sundays, and every day!
Joy Allan