There is no point in believing you can have faith in God without love…The following verse from 1 Corinthians 13 is one that is embedded in my mind and soul. It as a directive for my daily living and am as emboldened by it as debilitated by it. I am measured by it and found wanting by it a lot, a simple and painful truth, but let’s just say that with what follows I’m keeping true to the promise I made at the beginning of this journey and because of the incessant broadcasting of my incomparable heavenly voice not letting me off the hook…again.

If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing

That pretty much sums it up. If you search this site, I have many posts about love, its substance, wielding it, how it will never be limited to expression or structure, and most importantly that while its essence remains constant, it is also a melody that is unique to each soul, guiding each person to choreograph their own unique dance to make it efficacious in the world spreading its light outward to halt the darkness. So, faith without love, for me anyway, is dancing a choreography that has no music to it whatsoever. It is simply an empty gesture that moves nothing and no one. I see a lot of empty choreography in the world right now, and the reasons why the music is on mute I’m sure are myriad, since I can’t say what mutes the music for anyone else, here’s what muted it for me. (I am completely verklempt right now, so taking a break)

First, let me explain the picture I chose for this post. I was just over two years old, and I was playing with my brothers and the neighbor boys and based on my expression was a bit peeved that I had to stop playing so my father could take the picture (he told me about it much later). I never cared about being proper, or getting messy, I just wanted to play…so it is this little girl who so easily danced to the music of her soul, that will help me focus through the rest of this post, so please be kind.

Dreams have always been important to me. I dream vividly and my unconscious world is a place of mysticism and magic where I encounter revelation, lessons, warnings, people I don’t know irl, and it is a sacred space for me. I had a powerful dream, in which my spirit guide handed me a black, oblong shaped rock and told me it would get me into hell. I was shocked and tried to give it back literally screaming “Why the hell would I want to go to hell?” I never did get an explanation but was shoved forward. Maybe I blocked it, or maybe I wasn’t ready to be conscious of it, but I don’t remember what happened next, until the lesson presented itself in real life.

Remember the story in the last post about the telephone pole? Well, that is only part of the story. The context was a leadership retreat I was on, where we had to do different team building activities, like obstacle courses high up in the trees and fear challenging activities like the telephone pole, etc. all to build trust in our team. Feeling proud that I had mastered them all pretty easily, I should have remembered my prayer about never becoming an asshole, because the last challenge, one that was unique to each individual helped me understand the hell dream I had. Context is important here, so let me just say that music and dance are built into my DNA. I wasn’t allowed to learn dance, but I was allowed to study classical piano which I did for 12 years. Of course, I danced anyway whenever I could, whether at clubs, classes I paid for, and even teaching dance aerobics classes. These two activities were, for me anyway, impossible to put on mute, my soul itself was on display. For piano, I developed a debilitating stage fright that made recitals and competitions almost impossible. Dance, if it was on my own terms was doable, but considering all my other pursuits, it often fell to the background and with the exception of my classes, never in front of an audience, and now structurally it is hard on my body (but I still crush it in my head). So, enter my last challenge on the retreat. (Ok, I’m taking another break and going to work out).

No one ever told me why this challenge was given to me, but with dread I accepted it and hardened myself to the increasingly common response I would have to something that terrified me…the “I’ll show you response” The challenge I was presented was a dance I had to create and present to my team to the music of a Joe Cocker song “You can keep your hat on”. I had two hours to prepare and get the necessary supplies (one being a visit to Victoria’s Secret). I kept more than my hat on, but not much. I had to decide whether to fake it or make it. I chose the latter and merged my soul with the dance I created and by the end there were plenty of responses including and not limited to the level of discomfort and lack of eye contact (everyone was in a circle around me) and a number of increased hand clasping in front of their crotches (I desperately tried to find more genteel language…but decided “fuck it” there was no delicate way to say it). I didn’t die but I didn’t feel good about it either, and I still don’t. You know why? None of them ever looked at me the same way after that, which I hated, and even upon leaving that night I heard a few of them telling Steve, who had come to pick me up and who I was just dating at the time, that he was a very lucky man. It was his look that made the whole experience worthwhile for me. He never asked why but simply looked at them with an expression of “duh, I already know that” and it suddenly dawned on me that he saw me in my entirety and no contrived dance would change that.

I couldn’t understand the challenge of my dream, until I ventured into the dark recesses of my unconscious, my own personal hell. I discovered that I could never comfortably dance my dance in the world if I thought it would have to be embraced, appreciated, or always understood by others. I left ministry as a profession forever a few months later and became a stripper (JUST KIDDING!!!!) I really did leave ministry as my profession though, and accepted Steve’s marriage proposal and moved to Wisconsin where I started a whole new path less travelled. I simply realized that the choreography imposed by church structures became incompatible to the music of my soul. I’m not speaking of black or white here, all things are on a spectrum, but as I’ve said before, if the structure of the choreography that you have chosen for whatever reason inhibits the melody of your soul, in whatever situation, be it professional or relationships, then I think it’s time to visit your own personal hell and figure out how to repair the balance. In my case any real balance seemed untenable, so I moved on.

In conclusion, what propels me in this moment is a commitment to love, to never be a clanging symbol. The world needs every melody, every movement. Our world is filled with experts in choreography, whose dance falls flat and empty. Somehow the void needs to be filled by those of us who have the courage to let our melodies sound. My dance is far from perfect, and I admit I am a lot for people to deal with. I am not an easy person period, but I truly believe that God intended me to be this way and as long as I am committed to visiting hell once in a while and make sure the music of my soul rings clear, the sound of my melody gets stronger.