Letting Myself Die

Yesterday, I was thinking about how much I feel like I've grown in my relationship with Jesus this year. Not an explosion, not a flash, nor a stretching, more like a deepening. Like waking up to find myself more clued into reality. 

I was thinking about this more today and I realize how much I've let myself go outside of my comfort zone, even these last several months. From eating more real and plant foods to training for a LONG distance trail run, to trying new workout routines, all the way to ballet. 

Ah. Ballet. 

That walk home from the studio is too perfect for reflection. 

I switched from very beginners to intermediate advanced. Today was day 2. It's hard. I struggle. I am not even close to the best. I get confused. I go the wrong way on the wrong foot at the wrong time. I forget that we're doing a jete into a grand jete and wonder why I'm just that one beat off. I admire the grace, strength and beauty of the other dancers, wondering how long it will take for me to see a glimpse of that in myself. 

And then the teachers says 

You have great feet

Let's use that limberosity (is that even a word?)

Point your toe - there - feel the energy? 

It's a joy to have you; come again soon. 

And I remember that this is why I'm here. I'm here to let my drive for achievement and perfection die. To let go of my pride. To enjoy what I'm doing. To be satisfied. 

And although ballet might not seem like the way to deep spiritual growth, for me it is. I think that there are things in ourselves that we bring to our relationship with God that we don't even understand. I think it's impossible for us to see how our perceptions of our self and others affect our relationship with the Maker of all. And in pushing ourselves, in allowing ourselves to be different and out of our element, we peel back the layers of our love of self and love of sin. 

And we wake up and all we see is Jesus.