I became a Christian at age 7, in an earthshaking moment that left me sobbing on a pew in our small Baptist church.

My parents were sitting next to me, hymnbooks open as they sang the offertory hymn: “Bring Ye All the Tithes Into the Storehouse”. Collection plates were being passed, all decently and in order… until I leaned over and whispered urgently to my mother: “I need to get saved!” Out of nowhere my heart had been stricken with my sin, and I knew I needed a Savior.

My mother looked startled, then embarrassed. It was the wrong time. The right time was at the end of the service when the pastor issued the “invitation” and the choir sang “Just As I Am.” But I tearfully persisted until my mother, in an act of courage I will never forget, stood up and walked with me out into the aisle, dodging confused deacons as we marched down to the front of the church.

The pastor was not standing and waiting (it was the wrong time) but was sitting off to one side, head down, going over his sermon notes. My mother, red-faced, led me over to him. The church program came to a sudden halt as a fragile 7-year-old child with a burning heart prayed “the sinner’s prayer” and leapt wildly into the kingdom of God.

That was the first time I remember meeting the Holy Spirit. It was an awkward introduction–not for me, but for the church. But the church, like the pastor, rose to the occasion, and to this day when I read Luke 15:7 about the rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents, I see the radiant faces of that congregation as I confessed to them my new faith. They looked like angels.

Over the 50 years since, my understanding and grasp of what it means to “walk in the Spirit” have remained elusive. I’m an engineer’s daughter, an engineer’s wife. I like patterns, formulas that work the same every time. Formulas make me feel secure. I’d almost prefer to have orders float down from heaven each day like manna to tell me what I should do, where I should go, what decisions I should make. No guesswork. No risk. No–

No.

Walking in the Spirit is precisely NOT that. Not compliance with a set of rules, even highly moral ones. Not adhering to church traditions, even the fresh new traditions that we ourselves might’ve helped form. Not being swayed by appeals to emotion, even from people we trust.

“Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: ‘Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!’? These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.” (Gal 5:21-23)

To me, walking in the Spirit is more like an intimate dance, requiring real-time improvisation as we respond to the Holy Wind who “blows wherever it pleases” (John 3:8). I found the following description by Argentine tango instructors Stephen and Susan Brown very thought-provoking:

“Improvisation… requires the willingness to take risks and look foolish in the milonga. You need to accept this possibility if you want to grow your dance.

“The leader uses subtle changes in the pressure and position of his torso to let the follower know where to place each foot. He then invents a step of his own to accompany her, and so on until the end of the song. This is why the tango appears so complex, and why the two partners’ legs manage to intertwine in such a remarkable way. Herein lies the beauty, and the puzzle, of the tango.

“Because of the moment-by-moment improvisational relationship between partners, the tango demands that we pay attention in a way few of us have ever done before. Two steps backward don’t necessarily guarantee a third…. In the tango, our senses are magnified. This heightened sensitivity allows us to learn a lot about our partner very quickly, on a non-verbal, intuitive level. Through this intuitive connection, the tango offers us something very enticing: the chance to create a dance that is completely one-of-a-kind.”

And that is exactly what I believe happens to each of us as we learn to walk in the Spirit. God Himself creates a dance with us, and for us, that’s one-of-a-kind. We’re not intended to be passive puppets on God’s strings; we’re intended to be creative companions to God, whose very image we bear, growing ever more like Him as we learn His ways through interacting with Him. Our part of the dance is vital, requiring our whole heart, soul, and mind. (Mt 22:37) It’s infinitely more demanding than just following orders, but also far more simple:

We dance, step by step. He makes all the rest of it happen.

© 2014 Deborah Morris

Questions or Comments?