A Time to Dance

Last November I was able to take one of our girls, Jules, with the rest of the Young Life kids from Boston North Shore on our fall weekend to Lake Champion. Jules has a sensory processing disorder, which means her brain is in a constant state of “traffic jam.” She has trouble with the information coming in — figuring out what it means and what to do with it. That said, she’s not supposed to understand anything that isn’t physical or tangible.

As we walked back to the cabin after each club, we would spend a little while processing the talk we just heard. It started small, with tiny realizations. First, sin is a bunch of little things, not just killing somebody, or robbing a bank. Second, you didn’t have to be in church to pray, you could talk to God whenever you wanted to and it didn’t even matter how many or how few words you used when you talked to Him.

As we were walking back to our cabin after the final club on Sunday morning, just as we were about to cross the covered bridge, she said, “Thanks so much for taking me this weekend; it really changed my life.” Little did she know that one simple sentence changed mine. Because of the nature of her disability, Jules was never one to initiate a conversation. This was the first conversation she had ever begun with me; I was blown away by that in and of itself. I asked her to explain how it changed her life. She told me she knows she’s going to sin all the time, because she’s not perfect, she’s not God. But, when she did sin (for instance, curse) she could just pray to God and ask Him to forgive her, and He would. Even more, she shared that anytime she was lonely, or sad, or even happy, she could talk to God and tell Him what was going on. A girl whose brain, according to doctors, wasn’t “wired” to understand the Gospel just explained the entire Gospel to me. I had no words. I had never seen such a big glimpse of God in my life. She wasn’t supposed to get it, but she did, because the God of the universe created her and loved her. If this isn’t a testament to His greatness and vastness, I’m not exactly sure what is.

Jules has some trouble balancing, so we took a break for a minute to sit down on a rock after we crossed the bridge. While we were sitting, we prayed, and she accepted Christ into her heart. She said she was going to start going to church with her mom (and she has been). Through my tears, I attempted to share how grateful I was for her, and what a joy she was to me, though I didn’t do a very good job of it. She asked why I was crying, and I told her all of the angels were throwing a party for her in heaven, and I was imagining them rejoicing over her. She started to dance, because “it’s not a party until you start dancing” (her exact words) and we both agreed it was the best day of our lives.