Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Intimacy: True Love ... Story

Picking up where my last post left off, and unlike some cults and secular religions, I am not proposing that we are to unite in literal sexually intimate relations with God.  God is a spirit and the realm for which He exists, far surpasses anything that we could hope for or imagine with our earthly sexual need or actions.  The metaphor that is used throughout the scriptures is in fact the Bridegroom marrying the Bride; Christ longing for and marrying the Church both in an individual context and corporately.

If you would, humor me for a moment and allow me to slip back to earlier days and within my literary studies.  Wow, that’s almost twenty some years ago now . . . I picture Romeo, a Montague, dressed in his flamboyant and resplendent attire, his bouffant hat, and flowing feathers . . . all for the single aim of winning the heart of the one he was told to detest as his familial roots intensely disliked and had an aversion towards Juliet’s kin, surnamed, Capulet.   He was dressed up; he took the time to prepare.  And throwing small pebbles at her window, he waited for her to grace her balcony, his presence.  Just hoping, waiting for the slightest inclination that she too felt for him as he for her.    Similarly, God does the same with us.  He prepares the way for us, hoping and longing for us to show Him some kind of fondness and affection.  He tosses little pebbles our way, trying to get our attention . . . we visit . . . He sees us at our weekly worship service spilling out songs of praise love and admiration for him with our amorous sentiments.

With gentle longings the whispered words can be heard “But soft, what light though yonder window breaks,” as God’s heart begins to be ignited with passion. “It is my lady!” He exclaims, “Oh it is my love, oh that she knew she were.”  But as the norm goes, His hopes are dashed on the rocks of heartache.  Leaving Juliet’s balcony, our worship services, we return to our convoluted self-loving lives without putting any of those aroused feelings, those feelings that were ablaze less than an hour previous, into practice – without deepening our own pursuits or quest for Him – without any change in our own lives.  We leave without any reality beyond the maudlin notions of those love songs we mawkishly mouthed and we leave the Lover of our soul saddened, longing for someone to just return His affections and love.

Oh Church, our Bridegroom is yearning for His lover, us, to reflect the love He pours upon us back to Him in genuine heartfelt love.  He is longing for us to have an enduring faithful endearment, a permanent infatuation.  Not some puppy love that can be distracted by the scent of some “grand” latest bunny trail.  The Old Testament and New alike are full of examples of how the Lord rejoices over us, see Isaiah 62:5.  I remember back when I first got married to the bride of my youth.  Yes, that seems like a near century ago, but oh wow . . . I’ve never seen anyone before or since that looked so . . . hmmm exquisitely radiant.  Oh she was so beautiful!  Her radiant face shined through her veil . . . I could clearly see her bright blue eyes . . . her shiny red lips . . . her blonde hair framing her lovely face . . . hmmmm.  Everything was perfect.  With joy whelming up within my being, tears of delighted joy pooled in my eyes.  My heart was overcome with emotion and perceptual elicitations.  I really don’t recall anyone else being there.  Though photographs would dispute that notion.  They captured the images of everyone there.  But as far as I could tell, it was just she and I in that auditorium.  After the pastor pronounced that we were now one, we turned, faced each other, and I lifted her veil, exposing the most beautiful face/lady I had ever seen.  At that point the pools that had formed in the base of my eyes, now surpassed their borders, and wet my cheeks.   Leaning forward our lips met . . . oooh.  What started out as an open-eyed kiss ended in my eyes being closed as I was in utter bliss.  I don’t remember much after that.  Everything else seemed to enter into a new haze.  Yes, we walked down the aisle, yes we shook hands, gave hugs, said the customary thank yous, opened a slew of gifts, (never did get a chance to eat our cake though until a year later when we got to traditionally eat our one year anniversary pieces) and then we made it out to the streamer decorated and shoe polished car that awaited to take us to our honeymoon site.  Yes we did all of that, but . . . I was still back there, in my mind, savoring that moment of osculation when we first kissed as husband and wife.  As we sat in the car, my beautiful bride just stared at me still with those radiant blue eyes, though some of the red lipstick was now shared with me, she just gazed.  Finally breaking the silence, she said “I’ve never seen someone smile so much as you.”

God, the Lover or our soul, the Pursuer of my soul longs for me.  He yearns for you.  In the verse I mentioned previously, Ephesians 5:32, Paul is speaking of a very intimate moment, when a man and woman becomes one flesh.  Yes, it is an immense “mystery” but what he was talking about here is Christ and the Church.  Here is a dialogue that helps to illustrate how this (a relationship with our Lover and Creator) could play out:

A Dialogue:

[Young Man (God):] “I am here in my garden, my treasure, my bride! I gather my myrrh with my spices and eat my honeycomb with my honey. I drink my wine with my milk.”

[Young Women (us):] “Oh, lover and beloved, eat and drink! Yes, drink deeply of this love!”

A Monologue:

“One night as I was sleeping, my heart awakened in a dream. I heard the voice of my lover. He was knocking at my bedroom door. `Open to me, my darling, my treasure, my lovely dove,’ he said, `for I have been out in the night. My head is soaked with dew, my hair with the wetness of the night.’ 

“But I said, `I have taken off my robe. Should I get dressed again? I have washed my feet. Should I get them soiled?’ 

“My lover tried to unlatch the door, and my heart thrilled within me. 

I jumped up to open it. My hands dripped with perfume, my fingers with lovely myrrh, as I pulled back the bolt. 

I opened to my lover . . .

(I don’t want to ruin the surprise, see Song of Songs 5:1-6a)

Until later . . .

P.S. Wanna see more of my fastidious and incisive enponderments? I invite you to join me on the vectored dance floor of life as I muse on my journey through the terpsichorean edifice called life. Enter here.

No comments:

Post a Comment