For a 26-year-old Tampa woman and her fellow dancers, worshiping God can start with the feet.
By SHARON TUBBS
Published August 5, 2004
[Times photos: Stefanie Boyar]
Layesha Walton, foreground, rehearses a liturgical dance with Tasha Drungo, rear left, and Angela Floyd, right, at the University of South Florida in Tampa.
Layesha Walton, 26, grew uncomfortable dancing to secular music. "If you have a relationship with the Lord and you're trying to please the Lord with your life, that's where you have to be careful."
Dance was in her feet. Really. They naturally turned outward - "slue-footed," people said. Perhaps not so graceful for everyday walking, but someone told her mother they were perfect for the ballet.
To ballet school she went. Then came the recitals. All the other girls were blond or brunet, their arms and legs contrasting with her cocoa skin. She - Layesha Washington - would be the first black ballerina, she thought, not knowing that African-Americans were doing plies decades before she was born.
It turned out not to matter much, though. By the teen years, she wasn't into ballet anymore. After studying modern and jazz dancing in middle and high schools, she wanted to be the next Debbie Allen, mixing technique with attitude and soul.
She auditioned for the Alvin Ailey dance school and earned the chance to study in New York. But her father wanted her to do the smart thing, get the college degree and the good job. She turned her back on New York City and went to college in Georgia. A mass communications major.
There were other ways to feed the flesh. The college marching band. Amateur dance groups. The nightclub. She could dance till the night grew tired, gyrating, shaking and rolling her behind in time with the beat.
Then she moved to Tampa and visited a friend's church. In the middle of the service, a woman in all-white dance clothes stood in front of the congregation and did an expressive dance routine to Christian worship music. Washington had never seen anything like it, at least not in church.
From then on, things began to change in her life - more precisely, in her spirit.
Now, at 26, we find her inside a drab, green room at the University of South Florida with a CD player propped on a chair. Marriage has changed her from a Washington to a Walton.
And she's still dancing.
But not at all the way she used to.
* * *
Ten people in tights, sweats and T-shirts filtered into the room. They joined hands in a circle and Walton began to pray: "Heavenly Father, we just come into your presence right now because we know you're here," she said. "Bless this rehearsal . . . as we work diligently to please you with our steps, with our movement, with our praise."
They were about to practice a dance routine at USF, where Walton is a project coordinator in the College of Education. Plenty of groups like this one have evolved in the past decade. Most are at churches. On any given Sunday, they keep time to worship songs and contemporary Christian tunes for congregations ranging from Catholic to Southern Baptist.
They do just about any dance you can think of: ballet, modern, jazz, hip-hop. And they call it worship, the kind that's in Psalm 149, where it says, "Let them praise his name with dancing."
This rehearsal was special, occurring one week before Walton's second annual Dance Unto the Lord conference at USF, which begins tonight and lasts through Saturday. Christian dancers from throughout Florida and from South Carolina will take classes on various dance techniques during the day. In the evenings, they will worship God with their feet at "Night of Praise" showcases. Last year, the convention drew about 200 dancers and spectators.
Many will come from liturgical dance ministries with trained dancers. But other groups lack professional training and technique. Some are still learning what it means to worship in dance. At the convention, they get a chance to learn from one another.
Seeing that dancer at another church four years ago unleashed a kind of religious freedom Walton had never known. Sure, she had done some spiritual dance routines with dance groups, but never in church.
Soon, she was being asked to dance at church occasionally. Hers were mostly modern lyrical routines to worship music or upbeat praise songs. In bare feet, a leotard, tights and a skirt flowing from her petite frame, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, Walton would hear the words, feel the spiritual rhythm. The music not only moved her physically, it stirred her soul. Sometimes she'd be crying when the music stopped because it would remind her that she needed to get rid of sin in her life. She wanted to dedicate herself to God.
At the time, she was dancing with an independent dance group that performed with secular and Christian music. They might start with a worship song, then shake to Patti LaBelle's 1970s disco hit Lady Marmalade. The contrast didn't feel right to Walton.
"If you have a relationship with the Lord and you're trying to please the Lord with your life, that's where you have to be careful," Walton said.
One day, she was reading the Bible and ran across I Peter 1:16. It says, "Be holy, for I am holy."
Her dancing, she decided, would have to be all Christian or nothing.
* * *
"A-LIVE. Jesus is alive!"
The fast tempo blasting from the CD player changed the room at USF into a spiritual dance studio. This was the last practice before the conference, and Walton wanted to make sure the routine she choreographed was tight.
She watched the first run-through from the front of the room. She bobbed her head, snapped her fingers, her eyes scoping for weak points. It didn't look good. Toes weren't pointed. Arms weren't straight. Some forgot their parts and giggled halfway through.
The routine is a mix of modern and hip-hop dance and some pantomime, another art form gaining popularity in churches. Barefoot dancers leap like ballerinas in one set, then jam like hip-hoppers in the next.
The music ended, and she went into her Debbie Allen persona - well, as close as Walton can get with her soft, babylike voice.
It's important to keep going if you mess up, she gently chastised. "It's okay. This is the first run-through tonight. However, by the last time tonight, we've got to do it with no flaws. Amen?"
"Amen," they agreed.
The room was filled with variations of Walton's testimony, people who had always loved dance but figured it was too secular, unsanctified for the church.
Constance Blaize stood out. Like Walton, she has the look of a dancer: petite, narrow hips, arms slender but strong. She has been dancing for more than 15 years, taking classes at private studios, performing with a dance group in New York and studying for a stint with Alvin Ailey. By 1994, she was spending her Sunday mornings at Bible-Based Fellowship Church in Tampa. The congregation held a talent show that year. Blaize and some other members took to the stage. The pastor introduced them as the "dance ministry." From then on, they would dance during some services, adding to the worship experience.
People would see the group dance and invite them to women's conferences and workshops. Blaize, now 35, has her own company, CMSB Dance Productions.
Angie Floyd, 30, danced in high school, then with some studios before taking her steps to the sanctuary. "It was always something - jazz, hip-hop," she said, resting on the floor in sweats, a T-shirt and a bandana.
Her grandmother didn't approve at first. Dancing in the Lord's house just didn't seem holy to her. But Floyd kept dancing. "My spirit felt right with it," she said. "Everything is not all about tradition and religion. It's about your soul."
Aglendria Wiggins, 15, goes to Blake High School. When she's dancing, she's grateful, she said. "I'm able to use all of my body parts freely and praise God."
Liturgical dance is about God more than it's about you, said 38-year-old Rodney Norton of Riverview. Everyone might not be moved by the preacher's sermon. But some will be touched by watching him dance to God's music, be it modern, jazz or hip-hop.
He's serious about what he does. "When somebody asks me, "When are you going to perform again?' I'll correct them."
Liturgical dancers don't "perform." They minister.
And they practice.
"Make sure you put those feet down: toe, ball, heel," Walton said after watching dancers leap and land with ungraceful thumps. "I don't want to hear you!"
By the third time through, they were getting into it. They were singing along. "Jesus just made his-tor-y!"
Two hours after the night began, the group finally gave a perfect take. Then they bent over, exhausted, hands resting on their knees.
Apparently, some forms of ministry require a little sweat.
The Dance Unto the Lord conference begins today with registration and a welcome social from 5 to 7 p.m. All events are on the University of South Florida campus in Tampa. Classes on Friday 8 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. and Saturday (8 a.m. to 2 p.m.) include jazz, modern, hip-hop, ballet, sign language and pantomime. Participants must be 11 or older. Classes are $20 per day. Lunch is included. "Night of Praise" showcases, featuring Christian dance groups from Florida and South Carolina, are open to the public. Friday's showcase is from 7 to 8:30 p.m. Saturday's showcase is from 6 to 8:30 p.m. Tickets for the showcases are available through Ticketmaster for $12 to $24.75. Children 12 and younger get in free. To register for classes or obtain more information, call Walton at (813) 974-6588 or go to www.geocities.com/dutlconference
