{"id":898,"date":"2013-06-05T12:41:20","date_gmt":"2013-06-05T16:41:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/oshetablogs.wordpress.com\/?p=898"},"modified":"2013-06-05T12:41:20","modified_gmt":"2013-06-05T16:41:20","slug":"magic-comfort-love-joy-on-beautiful-messiness-and-ballroom-dancing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/shalominthecity\/2013\/06\/magic-comfort-love-joy-on-beautiful-messiness-and-ballroom-dancing\/","title":{"rendered":"Magic. Comfort. Love. Joy: On Beautiful Messiness and Ballroom Dancing"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

\u00a0<\/p>\n

<\/iframe><\/p>\nThis Sunday, my husband preached at <a href=\"http:\/\/sanctuaryri.org\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Sanctuary Church<\/a> in Providence, RI.\u00a0 We were both thrilled and a little humbled to be their guests while our friends and their pastors Corrie and Andrew were on vacation.<\/p>\nCorrie is all life, love, and effervescence.\u00a0 Andrew is warmth, thoughtfulness, and passion. They\u2019ve played red light, green light with my high-energy kiddos.\u00a0 Andrew drove me to the airport at 4am. \u00a0\u00a0Their heart and vision for Providence is so much like ours for Boston that I can\u2019t help but feel a little in awe of God when I\u2019m around them. \u00a0By just living out their call to church planting, they confirm that the wild hopes and fantastic dreams God whispered in our ears\u2014 tickled theirs, as well.<\/p>\nThey give us hope for the city.<\/p>\nVisiting Sanctuary encourages me for the future of New City the same way hanging out with the mom of teenagers gave me courage to persevere through the hard mothering of tenacious and trying toddlers.\u00a0 Yes, you too can do this.\u00a0 Yes, you will be able to make clear, concise, intelligent sentences when it\u2019s all done.\u00a0 Yes, it\u2019s the most amazing thing ever! \n<\/i><\/p>\n\u201cYes, you can plant a church\u201d <\/i>The Mooks say.\u00a0 \u201cYes, the Holy Spirit will help you share the Gospel effectively.\u00a0 Yes, this is the most amazing thing ever!\u201d<\/i><\/p>\nAndrew, like me, is a big ambiance person and his church reflects an attention to detail that made this Type-A Martha proud when we walked into their new space.<\/p>\nThe sanctuary had twinkle lights spread across the ceiling in the back\u2014magic.<\/b><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\nBurlap and candles adorned the welcome table\u2014comfort.<\/b><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\nPastries and coffee was available for early arrivers\u2014love.<\/b><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\nGungor piped into the stain-glassed, Swedish Lutheran sanctuary\u2014joy.<\/b><\/p>\nI\u2019ve never heard Gungor before this day.\u00a0 Well\u2026I take that back.\u00a0 I think I heard snippets of \u201cBeautiful Things\u201d somewhere, but didn\u2019t know that I was tasting genius at the time.<\/p>\nMaybe I missed it because I wasn\u2019t in a space to soak it in like I was this Sunday.\u00a0 I\u2019ve had an interesting two weeks in my relationship with Jesus.\u00a0 For two weeks, I\u2019ve been a hot mess.<\/b><\/p>\nNot like, \u201cooh life is crazy and I\u2019m hanging on by a prayer and a latte. Soon the end of school will come, the pace will slow, and\u2026. ahhhhhhh our mornings will start with Phineas and Ferb again\u2014no more folders, socks, and packed lunches.\u201d<\/p>\nNo like,\u00a0 \u201cJesus you\u2019re wrecking me every single time I let you in.\u00a0 I come to you with this rant fest or that need and you say, \u2018that\u2019s nice dear, I actually want to work on this insecurity thing you\u2019ve got going on\u2019 and boom!\u00a0 I\u2019m leveled by your love.\u201d<\/p>\nFor two weeks I\u2019ve been this type of a hot mess.<\/p>\nAlso, I\u2019ve realized that I\u2019m a bit of a terrified Anabapist.\u00a0 Yes\u2026.Jesus!\u00a0 Love him.\u00a0 But, for realz\u2014 I\u2019m\u00a0 slightly terrified of him.\u00a0 Before these past two weeks, It was easy for me to say as an Anabaptist, \u201cit\u2019s all about Jesus\u201d but what does that mean exactly?\u00a0 I mean, when you look at the bigness of our Savior\u2014isn\u2019t he intimidating?\u00a0 His extravagant love.\u00a0 His reckless pursuit for justice. His staggering intelligence. His foolish bravery.\u00a0 His wisdom that cofounds us all. The extraordinary deity taking on ordinary humanity for us?\u00a0 \u00a0Beauty.\u00a0 Beautiful Jesus.\u00a0 Too much for this woman.<\/p>\nAnd so I\u2019ve been a hot mess.<\/p>\nI think I realized this when I sat with my Bible in my lap ready to narrow Jesus\u2019 subversion down to five points and a pithy paragraph and realized, ohmygoodword\u2026there\u2019s no way I can do that!\u00a0 He\u2019s too much.\u00a0 His ways are much higher than I can imagine.\u00a0 Five points and a pithy paragraph?\u00a0 Bah!\u00a0 Like John the Baptist, I\u2019m not worthy to untie His sandals.\u00a0 I wanted to throw off my ballet flats and lay face down bawling. Unworthy.\u00a0 Unlovely.\u00a0 Unable.<\/p>\nHot mess of a woman that I am.<\/p>\nThis was the state if my heart Sunday. In the second pew with my baby girl coloring and my mini-men creating holy mischief under the black and white banners at the back. They made forts while learning the valuable truth that church can be a place for fun and imagination.\u00a0 \u00a0This Sunday, Gungor gave me words to fully tell Jesus how much I love him, how much he\u2019s means to me, how beautiful he is, and how unworthy I feel.<\/p>\nThe joyful intro of xylophone, flute,\u00a0 and cello beckoned my daughter and me away from our mindless pre-service distractions.\u00a0 I put my phone down and she began dancing in her seat.\u00a0 Before I knew it, Trinity was standing and then bouncing around in the aisle. With big curls and a bigger smile, she danced with abandon as \u201cYou\u2019re holding us together\u201d<\/i> filled that ancient sanctuary.<\/p>\nAnd I just thought, \u2018dance, baby dance. Mama can\u2019t anymore. I\u2019m too insecure.\u00a0 Too lonely.\u00a0 Too serious. Too afraid. \u00a0So dance baby, dance. You\u2019re safe and known here.\u00a0 Dance, baby dance.\u2019<\/i><\/b><\/p>\nAnd she did. On her tippy toes she twirled and with arms outstretched, she bounced higher and higher to the beat.\u00a0 And she laughed.\u00a0 And then we laughed.<\/p>\nMagic.\u00a0 Comfort. Love. Joy<\/i>.<\/strong>\u00a0 \u00a0All at once, dancing with my baby girl.<\/p>\nI\u2019m not sure if anyone saw us and if they did I\u2019m not sure that I have would cared. In those few minutes \u201cBrother Moon\u201d helped us see Brother Jesus more clearly.<\/p>\n\u201cEverything good, everything beautiful.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\nStill too much for this hot mess of a woman.<\/p>\nAs service began, we resumed our places\u2014a little out of breath, a little giddy, hearts lighter, and in anticipation.<\/p>\nLater my husband preached on the \u201cOur Father\u201d prayer which is at times called, \u201cThe Jesus Prayer\u201d.\u00a0 He told two stories: one of a perfect day with our oldest son and the other of a God bestowed identity of \u201cboy on the bike\u201d.<\/p>\nPerfect Day, Perfect Love<\/b><\/p>\nOn Memorial Day, my husband, T.C. took our ten year old out for the day.\u00a0 After a week of gray and rain, the sun reclaimed her place in the sky, promising a day perfect for bar-b-ques and relaxation.\u00a0 They took the Freedom Trail in Boston, visited the African-American History Museum, bought souvenirs, and ate sundaes by a fountain. In that space where Sister Sun and Brother Wind played tag around them, the Heavenly Father met my husband.\u00a0 He described it as Heaven on Earth.\u00a0 Sitting with his son whom he loves unconditionally and ferociously he glimpsed God\u2019s love for us. God\u2019s love is an Abba Daddy love that Jesus knew intimately and invites us into.\u00a0 Abba\u2019s love was sufficient to sustain Jesus for forty days in the wilderness and comfort him through blood-punctuated prayers in Gethsemane.\u00a0 His love bestows beloved-ness because of who we are and not \u201cin spite\u201d of who we are.<\/p>\nNever \u201cin spite!\u201d God left no room for \u201cin spite\u201d in his wide and vast love. This perfect love invites us to be known and feel safe.<\/strong><\/p>\nAs my husband preached, God showed me that this hot mess of a woman is his <\/i>hot mess of woman\u2014 his <\/i>baby girl who is loved unconditionally and ferociously; his daughter<\/i> who he desires to sustain through the rough parts of church planting and hard mothering and the pride-killing choice to be wifey every single day.<\/p>\nI am his baby girl who is swaddled in this wide vast love\u2014even when I don\u2019t feel it and especially when I don\u2019t think I deserve it.<\/p>\nAnd the past two weeks with Jesus began to make sense\u2014we were clearing out the junk the prevents me from embracing this new space of beloved hot messiness.<\/p>\nDance Baby, Dance.\u00a0\u00a0 <\/b><\/p>\nLater in the sermon, T.C.\u00a0 told a story from the book \u201cPrototype\u201d by Jonathan Martin of <a href=\"http:\/\/renovatuschurch.com\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Renovatus Church<\/a>.\u00a0 Pastor Jonathan recalls a word of encouragement from an elder in his church that his identity is more than pastor, writer, or leader. His identity is \u201cthe boy on the bike\u201d. Martin goes on to tell about a Schwinn bike he loved as a kid and would ride for hours making up dreams in his neighborhood cul-de-sac.\u00a0 He describes it as a sacred space where he was at home in his own skin free of fear and insecurity.\u00a0 As the \u201cboy on the bike\u201d he experienced the presence of God in a profound, real, deep, life-giving way.\u00a0 Riding on his bike, while not explicitly spiritual, he learned how to abide in Jesus.\u00a0 He learned without a verse or liturgy how to let Jesus in.<\/p>\nI so wanted that and when my heart tentatively reached to God\u2019s in this new space of beloved hot messiness, I thought of my daughter\u2019s pre-service dancing with abandon.\u00a0 Then I thought of my childhood front porch encased in wrought iron.\u00a0 I thought of rough, concrete steps leading down to a soft carpet of grass on a sticky, Texas night.\u00a0 I remembered bare feet pressing into the freshly watered lawn and dancing on my on tippy toes with my hands outstretched to the stars.<\/p>\nAnd I felt the Lord say, \u201cdance Baby, dance\u201d.<\/strong><\/p>\nIdentity has always been a funky thing for me.\u00a0 I am the product of an affair, which left me questioning if God made a mistake in breathing life into my mama\u2019s womb.\u00a0 I am the darkest child of four. With my mocha skin, I\u2019ve always felt less than compared to my Irish cream mama and my cappuccino sisters.\u00a0 I am smart, but confused, so too often the words I say and the words I mean are never the same thing.\u00a0 I am the girl whose name is never pronounced right, which puts me in an awkward position of correcting my new friends.<\/p>\nI am keenly aware of every flaw and vice I have and yet I remembered when I was a little girl\u2014I danced. \u00a0With abandon.<\/p>\nTo the music in my head, I danced.<\/p>\nIn a great ballroom, full of twinkle lights, in the most beautiful dove white tutu and a sparkling tiara\u2014I danced.<\/p>\nFor a kind King and his Prince \u2014I danced.<\/p>\nAnd when the music faded and the applause from the dais died down, the Prince would introduce me to the King as all that is beautiful, lovely, and good.\u00a0 And the King would smile and say, \u201cI knew you\u2019d come. I\u2019ve been waiting for you. \u00a0Thank you for dancing.\u201d And I\u2019d just know that I was wanted.\u00a0 In this sacred space, the mocha girl in the white tutu was wanted. <\/b><\/p>\nSo I kept dancing under the stars until my mama called me in and I\u2019d lay on my bed slightly out of breath, a little giddy, not caring which neighbors saw me.<\/p>\nMagic.\u00a0 Comfort.\u00a0 Love. Joy.<\/i><\/p>\n<figure id=\"attachment_900\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-900\" style=\"width: 500px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"https:\/\/oshetablogs.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/06\/blackdancerwhitetutu.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-900 \" src=\"https:\/\/oshetablogs.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/06\/blackdancerwhitetutu.jpg\" alt=\"blackdancerwhitetutu\" width=\"500\" height=\"634\"><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-900\" class=\"wp-caption-text\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.tumblr.com\/tagged\/paul%20kolnik\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Source<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\nJourney to my name<\/b><\/p>\nI\u2019ve both loved and hated my name\u2014 Osheta.\u00a0 Other than, \u201cgirl with a really imaginative dad\u201d\u2014I doesn\u2019t mean anything. It sounds Japanese but I\u2019m not Japanese.\u00a0 It\u2019s just a unique name that my daddy made up playing with the sounds of the Japanese language until he came with the name: Osheta.<\/p>\nMy name reminds me of the two years he spent in Japan as a Marine and the great sacrifice he made leaving the military when I was born. So, for the longest I\u2019ve wanted a meaning to my name that\u2019s not wrapped up in my father\u2019s journey, but reflective of mine.<\/p>\nAnd while I\u2019m still on this journey, when I look back, I don\u2019t see footprints in the sand\u2014 I see foot patterns on the ballroom floor.\u00a0 I see waltzes or partner work with the Prince. I see the indentation of the balls of my feet right before I sail into a leap of faith. \u00a0I see the wild pattern of heel-ball-toe as I twirl under the light of Sister Stars and Brother Moon.\u00a0 I see the imprint of my knees as I contract and release, falling to the ground when the music is too mournful and my feet are too weary to dance. When I look back I see a new identity and possibly a meaning for my name\u2014Osheta: the girl who dances.<\/p>\nAnd this is the sacred space where I want to abide.<\/p>\nI imagine this is why I left my plans to be a lawyer to teach dance. I think deep down I wanted to give every little girl a sacred space to dance.\u00a0 \u201cDance, babies, dance!\u201d \u00a0I\u2019d say.<\/strong>\u00a0 \u201cCome know my Jesus who will present you in the purest white before a Kind King.\u201d<\/strong> <\/em><\/p>\nI imagine this is why Jesus called me back to the ballroom with Gungor\u2019s use of my life verse,<\/p>\n\u201cIn you we live, in you we move, in you we have our being\u201d<\/i><\/p>\nAnd so, I\u2019m a new kind of hot mess. The kind that bawls as she writes in a Starbucks, wiping away tears with course, brown recycled paper. The kind that\u2019s a beautiful mess held together by Abba\u2019s love.\u00a0 The kind that dances wrapped in the purity of the Prince and with the strength of his perfect love.\u00a0 The kind of hot mess that wears her tiara a little crooked because she dances with abandon in her sacred space.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\u00a0 This Sunday, my husband preached at Sanctuary Church in Providence, RI.\u00a0 We were both thrilled and a little humbled to be their guests while our friends and their pastors Corrie and Andrew were on vacation. Corrie is all life, love, and effervescence.\u00a0 Andrew is warmth, thoughtfulness, and passion. They\u2019ve played red light, green light […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3037,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-898","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blog"],"yoast_head":"\n<title>Magic. Comfort. Love. 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