I'm Dancing

"I'm dancing the song of my Savior God." Luke 1:47 MSG
 Those were Mary's words, etched right there upon the stone of time, upon the Rock of the ages. Hers was a dance of freedom, of willingness to serve. It was a celebration that has echoed straight down to my ears.
Oh I'm sure these aren't the exact letters shoved together in that Ancient Greek text. Those communicate something simple, even naive. "My soul rejoices..." That feels like sugar-free ice cream when you were expecting a hot fudge sundae. (Wasn't that the point? To have all that sugar and calories?)
To say only "my soul rejoices" feels lame. It doesn't shimmy-bop across the floor. It doesn't cause my heart to burst into song like some bird welcoming the day.
When I read these words of dancing, I envision the picture of my daughter who literally circled and hopped, who whooped and shouted, arms flung high, celebrating good news. It mattered not that she capered in a stairwell where others might see. No, the point was the raw bursting out of joy as if she was a butterfly set free from its bindings. It was unrestrained, unrehearsed, beautiful.
That's what I visualized when I read Mary's words to Elizabeth.
That's what I want.
I want to dance. I want to whirl around unshackled. To prance with delight. To frolic and waltz, abandoned to His will. To be completely unfettered in my service to Him, until every movement, every breathe, every heartbeat resounds with Jesus, my Savior. Until my very soul rejoices and I, too, am dancing the song of my Savior God.
Let's whoop and shout, celebrating, the good news of Christ's birth!