On Fridays I mentor a fifth-grade boy at a local elementary school. The hour we spend together begins in a classroom where he eats his lunch and we work jigsaw puzzles, play board games, and build race cars out of Legos. But when lunch is over, this boy cannot wait to go outside.

You can learn a lot on an elementary school playground. Your hand-eye coordination improves as you learn to dodge the four-to-five basketballs that are always flying. I’ve discovered that the number one kind of football catch that every fifth-grade boy wants to make is the backwards, flying, three-finger catch immortalized by Odell Beckham, Jr. One of the toughest lessons I’ve absorbed is that nothing draws a crowd like a fight. Many times I’ve watched my mentee practically disappear, only to find him racing toward two kids squaring off in some remote corner of the playground.

Sadly, violence draws spectators. Boxing associations and Mixed Martial Arts have commercialized this fact, but they don’t own the market on it. Half-hearted NASCAR fans will stay tuned to the monotonous drone of cars speeding around the oval, hoping against hope that one driver might decide to bump another, or take matters into his own fists at the end of the race. The most talked-about play for my hometown Texas Rangers last year was not a walk-off grand slam but rather a punch thrown by our diminutive second baseman.

As a kid growing up in church, sometimes out of sheer boredom during the sermon, I would read my Bible. And the first places I sought were the fight scenes — David vs. Goliath, for example. Or what about the granddaddy of all fights, Armageddon? Revelation 19:19: Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth and their armies gathered together to wage war against the rider on the horse and his army. As those young eyes raced through the pages of Scripture, searching for blood and destruction, I easily overlooked the new heaven and the new earth, the feasting and singing and celebration.

Last week it happened again — we were shooting baskets and I looked up to see my mentee drop the basketball and take off in a dead sprint. Trying to be a responsible adult, I trailed behind him, half fearing that I would be called upon to break up a fight. I saw that growing circle of eager kids, and oddly, teachers nearby just spectating. As I got closer, I realized that the center of this circle was filled, not with combatants, but with dancers. Kids on the outer ring were clapping and calling out names. The kid whose name was called would step into the center and let loose (and these kids could dance!). After a few minutes, the kids took a gamble and shouted out the name of one of their teachers. This sweet-hearted woman smiled, hesitated, and then broke through the circle and performed a beautiful little dance. The kids were exultant. But when she closed out the dance with a “dab,” joy detonated in that circle. Those kids couldn’t believe their “old” teacher was cool enough to dab. They threw themselves on the ground, laughing and celebrating.

That scene has stayed with me. I’m not ashamed to say it has even got me dreaming of the day when what draws the ultimate crowd is not a fight. Not some cosmic battle, not David and Goliath or Samson and his jawbone. Rather, it is the sight of the Bridegroom and the Bride, in the center of the cheering throng, enjoying that first wedding dance forever.