A Time to Dance

Late yesterday we received the results of my CA 125 test. They were not what we'd hoped for: a significant rise to 520. I posted a few more details last evening. For the moment, nothing has changed. I still feel very well. Christmas is coming; in fact, last evening I climbed into the garage attic to get the Christmas decorations and I'm going to decorate today. I love this time of year. So I decided to share this beautiful story.

[My friend Howie Brant sent me this story. Before I tell it, I must remind you that a few generations ago, conservative Christians believed dancing was wrong. SIM and other mission organizations carried that view to their places of service. If you are reading our magazine or website (www.sim.org) now, you’ll know that things have changed and we wholeheartedly affirm the art of the ethnic worship dance as described here.]

Northern Ghana is not an easy place to live -- for anyone. The people suffer with drought, malaria, and heat. If you see them in the daytime they appear rather lethargic, slow, and unmotivated. But when the evening shadows grow long and the sun goes down -- when they have had their evening meal and the moon comes out -- and when they feel the sound of the African drum booming in the night -- they come alive. Singing and dancing are perhaps the soul of the people. When asked which tribe or ethnic group they come from, they will respond, "I sing in Kassem, and I dance in Kassem."

Many years ago, the Gospel was just coming to the Kassena people in Northern Ghana. A local SIM director came to visit us and the new believers put on a welcome dance for him. Soon we received a rather stern warning that we should not allow new Christians to dance. We were not so convinced. We could see that the people danced because it was their way of showing joy or happiness.

A few months later, it was Christmas time. A leader from SIM International came to visit us. The Kassena believers invited our team to one of their villages to celebrate their first Christmas. We went, not knowing what to expect. They sang a few songs, served an African meal, and someone told the Christmas story. We were just about to leave when a solid "thump, thump, thump" rang out in the night. A shot of embarrassment went through me! No! These people were not going to dance again!

But they did. Out came the drums and they began their sophisticated rhythms. Very soon a long line formed and everyone joined the line. In the moonlight, they danced back and forth -- about 10 feet left -- and then about 10 feet right -- back and forth.

Then they began to sing their song. At first we didn't understand, but gradually we discerned the words. It was their first Christmas song.

JESUS CHRIST
WAS BORN
IN BETHLEHEM
AND HE IS
THE SON OF GOD.

Over and over again, into the night. Jesus Christ is the Son of God... and He was born in Bethlehem. All this of course came with the powerful sound of the drum that went right through you. You could feel the vibration. The music went right down into your soul. And it made you want to get up and move and shout it out with them. Jesus Christ is the Son of God... and He was born in Bethlehem!

Well, so much for my embarrassment. Whatever my superiors might think, this was absolutely beautiful to me! Here was a clear, sincere, indigenous expression of these believers on their first Christmas, Kassena style. It was just as wonderful as "Joy to the World" or "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem." Jesus is the Son of God, and He was born in Bethlehem. They danced on into the night.

The hour grew late and we had to leave. I expected to face the disapproval of my mission leader. But as we drove home, he said, "That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

And it was.


So, let's dance.
Carol