Why I break dance (or something like that)

I did something dumb the other day. Really dumb.

The consequences might have been far worse; I got off easy with merely a sore back.

Lesson learned: 40-something women will incur injury when performing the centipede.

(Not sure what I’m talking about? Search for a YouTube video. You can thank me later for sparing you the image of me doing it!)

I actually felt shorter the next day, as though the discs in my spine had been compressed. Exhaling was painful. I used the Olympic coverage on NBC to legitimize my desire to remain horizontal.

Why did I subject myself to this punishment?

Two words: middle schoolers. We had a small group lunch together and the girls were demonstrating their various athletic talents in a strange conglomeration of swing dance maneuvers, gymnastics and a healthy dose of swagger. So, I joined the party and busted out my 1980’s trick.

I didn’t really have any illusions that they’d be impressed. My seventh grader didn’t didn’t pull any punches, dubbing my moves ‘dorky’ before the door closed behind us on the way out.

Yep, I wrecked my back so that fourteen young girls could think of me as ‘dorky.’

Doesn’t seem terribly wise, does it?

This was an intentional move (no pun intended) on my part… to not take myself so seriously that I couldn’t look foolish in front of them. To not stand on the periphery of their gathering, as an observer, but instead participate in their lives, even at the price of some physical pain.

A crucified Christ didn’t look like a very good plan to onlookers at Calvary either.

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
— 1 Corinthians 1:18 NIV

Is this what keeps us from sharing the truth of Jesus? Do we fear looking foolish before man? Are we content to stand on the Christian sidelines, where we think we’re safe from criticism while others perish spiritually?

Will you take a risk today? Would you be willing to look foolish to the world — or your seventh grader — so that someone might hear and experience the love of Christ through you? [Tweet that] We must take our Jesus seriously. But we needn’t take ourselves so seriously.

So, shall we get in the game?

I promise, it won’t hurt as much as my back. And the crowd will never be tougher than a group of middle school girls.

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