Jesus took me on a date
last week… a four-day-date. I made the meals and He made the company.
Tent pounded into a little mountain-nook.
Fire crackling, creek murmuring, and my heart resuscitating as I opened up to the living words of the Living Word.
Beloved with beloved, and the words came to mind:
My beloved speaks and says to me:
"Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away,
for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come,
and the cooing of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens its figs, and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away."
- Song of Songs 2:10-13
"vacation? with your family?" ... my co-worker sounded interested.
"nope, just me, the mountains, and Jesus..." I wasn't trying to hide my excitement.
"Oh, gonna go get your life figured out?" pshhhhhhhhh.... right...
"No, I think I'll go and wipe the slate clean, throw my plans in the trash, ya know?"
"Hahaha, gotcha." They didn't get me.
Sometimes my soul needs that kind of getaway... like Jesus did...
a few days (maybe 40, who knows) to meet with the Father in the wilderness.
Precious time, not to make sense of the present or future, but to make sense of who I am.
Maybe it's backwards thinking but it's exactly what needs to happen...
I suppose it's like quicksand... the more you try and help yourself, the closer you get to drowning in your mess.
So really, that time in the wilderness is best spent throwing up your hands and screaming repeatedly, "Abba! Please!"
And it's when He sees me in that mess, kicking and making my situation into a bigger unholy monstrosity, and grabs me
and speaks, "Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away..." that I notice something deeper than the
unanswered questions of all my petty to-do's: I am loved, despite my unholy mess.
Because, if I'm honest, unless I know that Jesus loves me... unless I am living in full-fledged knowledge of His
backwards, paradoxical, jealous love... then I won't live like Jesus is all that important to me.
Jesus becomes the chore that I might get to after all my other chores are done... maybe.
And then, after the day is done and I'm fainting, I slip under the covers and whisper "tomorrow Lord, yes, tomorrow."
But if Jesus loves me (oh and He really does), then my attitude changes and the chores I have to do become
love songs... they are indeed themselves the "cooing of the turtledove" and behind them the voice of Jesus saying,
"come away with me," and in doing them my response becomes, "yes Lord, I am coming!"
So if someone asks:
"Did you figure out your life in four days with Jesus?"
I'll respond with the thud of an unequivocal, resounding, deafening "no."
And then I'll do my best to articulate the beauty and depth of the "yes" I find in being loved by the Father.
And then maybe I'll take Him up on His invitation.
And oh, the places we'll go.
"Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away."