When our family watches social media reels together, there is one clip that reliably makes me groan: The Forrest Frank dance.
Perhaps you know the one; it’s a viral Christian dance that has spread across social media complete with arms flailing, legs bouncing, and faces radiating a grin so wide it seems smug. My children smile at me every time it pops up. I, on the other hand, mutter something about the true nature of Christianity and scroll on. For reasons I cannot quite explain, the sight of that carefree jig makes me a bit grumpy. My kids see joy. I see silliness. They laugh. I roll my eyes.
But my annoyance tells on me. Why should I, a middle-aged man who preaches the gospel of the resurrection of Jesus, find spontaneous expressions of gladness irritating? Why do I instinctively equate seriousness with godliness and joy with immaturity? Perhaps I have confused the gravity of faith with the absence of fun. It was one of my son’s go-to prayers when he was a child: “God, help us have fun today.” Maybe he had it figured out in a way I needed to!
