I can worship… but I got no rhythm

I was the only white girl.

And I loved it.

I just spent the weekend with some amazing ladies from a small and vibrant church in Dallas. Yesterday we spent the day together for a conference and today they invited me to speak in their church service.

They placed me front and center.

I’m not talking about the front row, I mean they graciously escorted me up to the pastor’s seat. I was full-on facing the lovely congregation. And they were facing me.

Oh my.

The choir stood behind me and began belting out such beautiful music that when I closed my eyes, it felt like heaven. Their worship was so clear and pure, strong and vibrant. The congregation joined in with enthusiasm.

Then they started moving and clapping to the beat.

I bobbed my head, tapped my foot and slapped my thigh.

Then again. Head. Foot. Thigh.

I know they were focused on Jesus, but I have to wonder if they weren’t secretly watching the white girl working on her rhythm.

God bless them, they didn’t laugh out loud.

After the service, we gathered together for a meal. I looked around that fellowship hall and took in the beauty. Older ladies in their hats, laughing together. The pastor, sleeves rolled up, serving meals to the women.  Little ones running around, knowing they could find a resting place on any lap they roamed past.

Sitting there with them was definitely a taste of heaven.

I can’t believe I get to do what I do.

My heart is full.