the dance begins

Two weeks ago, I met a man named Mitch. Our conversation quickly turned to the subject of faith, and Mitch asked me this question: “Why is it that the people who end up following Christ are always losers?” I honestly don’t think the statement was meant as a personal attack on me; it was a genuine question. Even so, it poked at my gut like a long fingernail, prompting a flood of defensive thoughts and feelings. My mind immediately raced to generate a list of highly successful, rich and famous men and women who call themselves followers of Christ. Then, a train of thought emerged on the subject of “true greatness” and why the so called “losers” who follow Christ are really the winners. I prepared to wax eloquent on the misconceptions regarding “success” and the deceptive nature of status. And then it struck me: the real issue is that I don’t want to be considered a loser.

For some reason, it is easier for me to accept the fact that I am “lost” (a theological term that lays the basis for my need to be “found” or “saved” by Christ) than it is to accept the possibility that I might be a “loser” (often referring to a person of low social status and a general tendency toward failure in life). Something about the word, and the condition or position that it describes, is so dreadful that it may rank among the most debasing of insults in our culture. “Loser.” A loser is a guy that can’t get girls. A loser is a person with no friends. A loser lacks the social grace and trend awareness, the cultural savvy to know what to say and what to wear and what to do in the midst of the crowd. A loser is the opposite of everything that most people aspire to. And a loser is the person that I least want to be.

As I think through this interaction and consider how great my concern continues to be about what others think of me, my preoccupation with how my life is viewed relative to the rest of the world around me, I’m realizing how far I really am from the way of the kingdom; from the humble way of Christ, who I claim to follow. Although there is something subtly (or maybe overtly) ego-centric about blogging, I am drawn to the medium as a means for exploring the subject of lowliness in a way that might draw the thoughtful insights, experiences and criticisms of others. I fear that my own paranoia about being a “loser” (it’s a bit humiliating even to acknowledge that the thought crosses my mind, unsophisticated and immature as it seems to be) may hinder my own exploration and application of Jesus’ teaching on the lowly way of the kingdom.

In thinking through how I want to go about this, I find a metaphor emerging in my mind. I picture two people standing about 3 feet apart, holding a pole level between them, and about 3 feet off the ground. A third person is contorting his body into this unnatural position, with his head and torso thrown back, arms outstretched, and his body from the waste down thrust out ahead as he inches his way up to and eventually under the pole. Music is playing and people are laughing. They are dancing the limbo. Something about this dance speaks to the exercise I am hoping to engage in: an exercise in lowliness. In the limbo, the lower you go, the better you do. It is the opposite of virtually all other forms of exercise or entertainment in the world. It is often ungraceful. It usually makes fools of the participants. It nearly always evokes the raucous laughter of its observers. And yet, it is really fun! Something about the limbo reminds me of the lowly way of the kingdom. And so, I’ve entitled this blog, Limbo Dancing: Exercises in Lowliness.