During the course of my brief life I have examined my own existence along with that of numerous others. Deep within the inner person lies dissatisfaction with the way things are as well as longing for the way things ought to be.
Mel Branham commented that he dubs this inner tumult, sometimes inner simmering when suffered by women as the Cinderella Syndrome and for men he coined the term the Kenderella Syndrome. The idea being that sometime somewhere some magical event will take place and we shall live happily ever after.
The other day my longtime friend, Dr. Tom Hall sent a neat article to me and Dr. Hall summed things up with the gem:
"Life may not be what we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance."
My first thought on this jewel was simply; this is beautiful but how could a good Baptist Preacher say such a thing? A Baptist actually dancing? What is to become of such people?
Knowing Tom as well as I do, I know his life hasn't followed the path of his fond youthful starry eyed dreams. He has hit a few bumps along the way as well as a few brick walls head on. Yet Doc keeps on trucking along life's bumpy path.
Thankfully along his way along with yours and mine, God injects a song, a time of jubilance and our hearts dance. David experienced this and it is recorded in Psalms 30. Today I put emphasis on David's joy as expressed in Psalms 30:11: "Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;" (Emphasis added)
To imagine that all of David's problems, heartaches and looming dark times were over is to engage in denial. At whatever stage we are living, there will be more of the ebb and flow of living.
No matter how grievous the past or current experience God has a song, for He is on record as giving Songs in The Night, the power to exchange mourning over pain to exultant joy over some present reality from the hand of the Lord. On occasion this joy is simply knowing that He is with us in the valley.
I recall a Thanksgiving evening almost 40 years ago, when following the evening service, the phone rang and a friend shouted into the phone, "Pastor get to Max Meadows fast Coy McHone's house has burned to the ground!" When I arrived, Coy's house, with all the belongings was destroyed, his father was rescued. Coy's wife and children gathered round him in the yard and we held hands, I had no clue as to what to say. Coy in his mountain Scottish brogue started singing "My Jesus I Love Thee." Some of the firemen joined in and some shouted praises to Jesus and we all wept. While the embers of the fire still burned, the presence of Jesus turned mourning into dancing.