The Discipline of Celebration

My wife had a girls night out a Bimini's last night. Dancing, laughing, and drinks with umbrellas. My wife and I have never frequented clubs much, an oversight on our part, so she was seeing things with fresh eyes.

She noticed how people interact. It was obvious to her that people want to belong, to a group or to someone. They want to touch, to feel physical contact with another human being. They're all there looking for something, but they don't know what, or even that they're looking, but it's so evident they are.

She said it was good to be with her friends. There is some kind of intangible connection there when there is a connection of faith. It was good to laugh and dance and celebrate, but it was especially good with those friends. There is something different when people of faith celebrate. There is a freedom and deep joy that is compelling.

My wife almost didn't go. It was because of me that she almost didn't go. She had been looking forward to going all day, and then conflagration, and then she didn't want to have to push past a sudden foul mood to then be able to enjoy herself. But, she did. She's a strong woman. And she was glad she went. It was needed celebration, for the moment and in general.

That made me think, celebration is a much overlooked ecclesiastical discipline. It isn't a frivolous option, but a discipline. Other ancient cultures are built around celebration and festivity, you couldn't get away from it. "Aw, mom...suckling pig again." We've replaced celebration with "fun." A poor substitution, I dare say. Consequently, people of faith, in our culture, must work at making sure they celebrate.

I think songs, no matter how "contemporary," sung from pews, with hands up or down is a thin understanding of celebration. When I put celebration along side words like meditation, fasting and prayer I see a rich tapestry of tradition stretching back to Israel. Then I look at the little North American thread I'm holding and I think how did we get this from that?

Two stories:

1. I was in a mosh pit at an Andy Hunter concert dancing like an idiot. Kids who had never been through the doors of a church, also dancing like idiots, were saying how different this was from any concert they had been to, how they felt a freedom they had never felt at any club. I long for that kind of freedom among God's people like I long for spring after winter.

2. A man paid for a well in a village in Africa. He flew to Africa for the celebration in which the new well was opened. The villagers gathered around the well and moved in a tight circle. They danced and danced and danced. Singing and playing drums and dancing. This was their well. This was life! The painfully white, elderly man who had paid for the well, danced with them the whole time. He danced and danced and danced. I long for that kind of deep celebration like I long for a cold drink of water on a blistering summer afternoon.