When my son Aidan was twelve years old, he had a dream. He wanted to help provide water for a village on the other side of the world. Through a series of amazing events, he helped raise money for a well project in Northern Ghana. A few months after he told me about his dream, we stood on the dusty ground, making new friends.

If you asked him what he remembered most about the trip, he’d tell you it was the night he let loose and danced with his new friends. I envied him, so free, so alive. He abandoned himself to the dance as worship music wafted through the village. I believe God ignited a deep fire in him that evening to the beat of drums and joyful singing.

Now, back in suburbia, Aidan worships freely. Others have noticed. Some have said, “I really like that he doesn’t care what people think. You can tell he loves Jesus by the way he worships.” I love that he learned that abandon through the arts, integrated into a village from years and years ago. He dances because they danced.

One of the best things I’ve heard in recent years that has freed me is that God has created us each uniquely in the way we like to worship. Some worship via music, others through service. Folks like my husband find connection with God through theological study, while others need silence and solitude. Nature is another pathway. Mine is music. Aidan’s is music. And as we worship side by side, we see an aspect of God we don’t see apart from that artistic expression.

Ghana opened my son up. While he traveled there to help provide clean drinking water, he left there in love with the Living Water, and he’s spilling over onto the lives of many.