Miami Beach Rhumba

I'll save Havana for manana
Meanwhile, I have it in my reach.
I found the charm of all Havana
In the rhumba at Miami Beach.


I mostly just like the song for its beat and because it's fun to sing along to, but Miami Beach Rhumba has always struck me as a song about settling. You could have Cuba, but you settle for a mere taste of Cuba. You could have Haiti, but you settle for a mere taste of Haiti. Maybe the rhumba was just so fast paced and fun that it was impossible to resist a turn around the dance floor, and then you discovered that it was a centripetal force, holding you inward less and less against your will as more time passes.

Why do we settle for less? I am convicted by the verse in Hosea 2 when the Lord says of unfaithful Israel, "When she runs after her lovers, / she won't be able to catch them. / She will search for them / but not find them. / Then she will think, / 'I might as well return to my husband, / for I was better off with him than I am now.'"The prostitute sighs and resigns herself to settling for the loving care of her husband, but the irony of her statement is captured in the next verse when He adds, "She doesn't realize it was I who gave her everything she has..." Really, in pursuing her lovers she was settling for less, running away from a husband who held a deep, undeserved love for her. And because of her attitude, even as she does grudgingly return home, she will miss the depth of what is offered to her.

I do that. I look at God and say, "You are not enough for me. I want ... " Finish the sentence with the empty distraction of your choice. But they really are empty. What little about them that can satisfy is only satisfactory because it points back to the ultimate satisfier who, like Hansel & Gretel, is dropping crumbs along the path to lead us back home to him. Sometimes I find the bread crumb trail and I start to follow it, but I get off track because I spot a pretty flower in the woods or the road ahead appears dark and forbidding. But the final reward is greater than anything I can imagine, more strong in its allure than the grip of fear can hold tight against. Because someday, she won't look to her husband as second best. Someday...

"But then I will win her back once again.
   I will lead her into the desert
   and speak tenderly to her there.
I will return her vineyards to her
   and transform the Valley of Trouble into
      a gateway of hope.
She will give herself to me there,
   as she did long ago when she was young,
   when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.
When that day comes," says the Lord,
   "you will call me 'my husband'
    instead of 'my master.'"
{Hosea 2:14-16}