It was a very dark, damp and cold night. But that didn't bother her, for she had a dim candle to light her way to bed. During the time when she lived, most of the homes were very simple. There were one or two rooms, whose floors were made of dirt and covered with hay; this type of flooring meant that the occupants' feet were dirty and needed to be cleaned just prior to going to bed. Hers were no exception. By the side of her bed, there was a little bowl of water. Nightly she sat on the bed, placed her feet in the cold water, washed and immediately dried them with a small towel she had by a table - where she had placed the candle. As soon as she dried her feet, she put them on the bed, leaned over, blew out the candle, and then pulled the thick blankets up to cover herself. After a few minutes, she began to feel comfortable and warm. As she felt the heaviness in her eyes, and limbs, she began to relax, thinking that at last she'd get a good night's sleep. As soon as she closed her eyes, and began to drift into sleep, she heard the knock at the door. Startled, she opened her eyes, and listened intently. It was her Beloved Lover calling to her, telling her he wanted to see her, that he longed spend time with her and that he wanted to be intimate. Annoyed that he had awakened her, she decided to remainquiet; perhaps he would go away. Afterall, he could come at another time—a more convenient time. But he didn't go away. Instead, he continued knocking, pleading even more softly, and persuasively, "Please open the door, my love, I wish to see you.Won't you let me in? Don't you miss me? My darling, it's so cold out, it's raining, and I'm wet. Can't I at least come in and dry off?" Conflicted, as he continued to pleadfor entry, she finally, retorted, "Not now! It's very dark, and I've blown out the candle; it's cold, and I am underneath my blankets. Besides that, my feet are already clean, and I do not want to dirty them by going to the door." Quiet for a few moments, her lover responded, "It has been such a long day; I have not seen you, and I really want to spend time with you; you will not regret it." Frustrated, yet conflicted, she firmly replied, "Come back tomorrow." Her response was met with silence. Feeling awful that she had rejected him and moved with remorse, she got up, and walked in the dark to the door. After a few moments offeeling her way, she found the knob. Turning it, she opened the door, and sadly found that her lover had left. Filled with angst, she wept, thinking that it would probably be days before she could see him again. It was likely that he left to see his fields far away and would not return anytime soon.
Does this scenario sound familiar? If you have read the book of the Song of Solomon, you may realize that this is a paraphrase of Songs 5: 2-6, in which the lovers part ways for a time. Things seemed to be going so well between them, so why did Solomon leave Shulamite? What could have caused him to distance himself in such a way? And why did Shulamite respond to him with such resistance? Of course, we remember that the floor was dirty, and the light out; that she had just drowsily retired to bed, and was in that sweet sleep-wake state. Naturally she didn't wish to be disturbed—after all, who would. I mean, proper rest is needed to function the next day, right? Yes, at first glance we can see these things. But, where was her compassion for him? He was cold, she was warm, he was wet, she was dry, he was shivering, she was comfortable. Leaving a friend outside in the inclement elements is something you wouldn't do. Then why did she do it to her lover? What could have motivated her, and why did he leave?
The last three questions can be answered, "because she was temporizing." What is temporizing? It is acting evasively to gain time, avoid argument, or postpone a decision. It is what we do when we do not want to be bothered, inconvenienced, or are caught unprepared. In either case, we may be trying to buy some time to find a way out. But a way out of what? Closeness; the vulnerability that comes with both emotional and physical closeness -- Intimacy.
On the one hand we want intimacy, we desire to be close, to be fully known and accepted. Yet on the other we don't want the vulnerability, and inconvenience that comes with self-exposure. Thus, like the Shulamite woman, we selfishly and immaturely find more comfort in the warmth and cleanliness of our beds, than in the company and presence of our divine Lover who has come so near to us. As Shulamite perceived she was better off in her condition, "in need of nothing" (Revelation 3: 17), we often do too. And by so doing both she and we resist the love, warmth, comfort and cleanliness, the wonderful knowing, and deep acceptance that only our divine Beloved Lover can give.
You may recall that the Song of Solomon is a metaphor for the relationship between Christ the Bridegroom - the Beloved Lover - and His Bride the Church. Christ has not come back for us, because we - His Bride, the Church -like the Shulamite woman have repulsed His nearness to us – His desire for union. We are content with connectivity, if you will, but not union—or full ongoing disclosure on our part. And yet, it is our permission and receptivity to His closeness that brings cleansing and renewal such as is typified in the cleansing of the Sanctuary. As a body we seem to be preoccupied with teaching and preaching the temporal specifics of how to know He's coming (prophecy), without teaching, preaching or practicing the internal preparation needed for His return. We want Him to be near enough to rescue us from our individual and corporate fears and failures but not near enough to see us as we really are. We're willing to point people to the mirror as a standard of Sabbath keeping, but not as a reflection of our unlikeness to our divine Lover. We're even willing to share the Gospel, as long as it's focused on the righteousness we are to have, and the "nearness" with its attendant victory Christ desires us to receive.
These things are in essence true, however, if we were in school, it would be the difference between theory and clinicals. Spiritually speaking, we as a body like the old covenant theory (and practice), but God wants to provide us with His new covenant clinical model. In the old covenant model, we try to impress God and each other with our theology and endeavors. Under the new covenant model, we believe His compassionate nearness to us (the taking on of our collective humanity, and gaining the victory over sin) along with His promises, and see them as His loving invitation to open the door of our individual and corporate heart to Him. This is the only power that will transform our thinking, our living, and our witnessing.
There is a song that comes to mind, probably one of many with this theme-- "Open the door, Jesus is knocking, open the door let the light shine in. Open the door Jesus is waiting, open the door to Him." Couple this with another that goes something like this, "the Saviour is waiting to enter your heart, why don't you let Him come in? Receive Him and all of your darkness will end, O how He wants to come in. Time after time He's waited before, and now He's waiting again, to see if you're willing to open the door; O how He wants to come in."
Friends, no longer let us temporize, but willingly open the door of our hearts—the deepest recesses of our minds, to Him.
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