He is only asking us to be us.
My word from the poustinia was: “It’s okay to be a lousy dancer.”
We don’t have to dazzle God with our brightness. We don’t have to impress him with our skill. It’s all right to draw a wiggly circle in art class. It’s no tragedy to squeak on the high notes.
It’s okay to be a lousy dancer.
Why do we think we have to be superstars anyhow? Do we think God is so nearsighted that he can’t see us unless we stand out? Do we think his love is so narrow that he bestows it only on the outstanding?
Granted, it’s hard to be of mediocre talent, and some of us spend years trying to ignore the terrible fate of being ordinary.
We try to be the best cook around, or the wittiest conversationalist, or the most intellectual. We spend hours trying to discover something that we can do or be better at than anyone else. It doesn’t matter what, just so long as it bears a definite mark of distinction.
We fool ourselves into believing that God would be more pleased with us if we had some gigantic talent to offer him in sacrifice—even that of being a great sinner. Then in one dramatic act of repentance, we could turn it all over to God and become a triumphant saint.
But God isn’t asking us to be Charles de Foucauld or Denzel Washington or Robert Frost or Elvis Presley or St. Teresa of Avila. He is only asking us to be us. And if that means to be our own ordinary selves, well, that’s what we have to offer to God. Because, like the widow’s few pennies, it’s all we’ve got.
He’ll accept that. He knows better than we do what’s a treasure and what isn’t. And our ordinariness given freely to God is a treasure.
What does God do with such a “commonplace” gift? He polishes it up, puts his mark of love on it, and gives it back. Then it shines in us like warm light, a light that other people see, a light to which they’re drawn.
Then, suddenly, the ordinariness doesn’t hurt anymore. It becomes, in fact, irrelevant. Then God is our glory, not a clever tongue or an Andrea Bocelli singing voice or the feet of Fred Astaire.
It’s okay to be a lousy dancer.
Calligraphy by Fr. Eric Lies
