I was sixteen years old, and my brother had just gotten weird on me. He was claiming to have found Jesus. Now, he was a smart guy–he had just won the Governor Generals Award for academic excellence. What happened? He seemed convinced, so I figured, okay--if he believed this stuff, it might just be true. So I sat on the front steps of our house and asked Jesus to save me.
I wasn't sure I needed saving, but I knew I was a mess. I had been abandoned for a time as an infant, and later sexually abused by an uncle until I was old enough to realize that it wasn’t normal. I was damaged, anxiety-ridden, pathologically introverted, and incredibly lonely.
Could Jesus really change any of that?
The next morning, I woke up and ithe world was suddenly three dimensional (this is before 3-D movies, remember). Colours were more vibrant, sounds were crystal clear, and the smell of mown grass outside was intoxicating. I felt the Ephesians 3 love; a love that I did not fully comprehend, yet could somehow still apprehend. I felt joy. CS Lewis describes joy as “the highest possible form of desire”. It was like that--a yearning that was somehow both fulfilled and yet simultaneously unfulfilled, piercing desire mixed with gratitude.
I know now, that this was the Holy Spirit. I did not know that, then.
I spent that day singing, dancing, crying, laughing, and talking to my new invisible-but-oh-so-tangible Friend. I didn’t own a Bible, had never actually read one. Still, I sensed him speaking; inarticulate expressions of love that were like a warm breath on my cheek. God felt so near, so real, that I thought, “I am going to be happy forever!” My brother was thrilled to see his little sister experiencing love, possibly for the first time.
The next day, it was gone. BAM. Just as if someone had flicked the light switch off.
The world was monotone again--grey and empty. I called out to God, and heard only the echo of my own voice. I was crushed. I didn’t know what to do. When my brother came home that afternoon, I flung myself at him in despair and panic and howling grief.
“He’s gone!” I cried. “He left me! Why did he leave me? Is he mad at me? What did I do wrong? I need him to come back! Tell him to come back, please!”
My brother was totally taken aback. He didn’t really understand what I was talking about, as his own conversion had not been so dramatic. But he loved me and was upset to see me distressed. I collapsed sobbing into his arms, and he sat down on the floor with me and prayed.
“God,” he said uncertainly, “I have no idea what’s going on. But my sister needs you. Could you please come back?”
Within minutes, I felt the presence again, a warm and overwhelming love that filled me and calmed my panic. My tears slowed, then stopped. “He’s back,” I whispered to my confused brother. Then I told God fiercely, “Don’t you ever do that again! Don’t ever leave me again! I‘ll do anything, just don’t leave me!”
And with that vow, the course of my life was forever changed.
This experience taught me two things. One I learned immediately. That day, I learned that God is sovereign. He could withdraw his presence from me at any moment, and his presence was something that I could never take for granted. God was not punishing me that day, he was showing me what life could be like with his presence, and what life would be like without his presence. It is a lesson that I have never forgotten.
The second thing that I learned from this experience was many years later, from the Song of Solomon. The Song of Solomon is a series of lyrical poems organized as a long dialogue between the young woman and her lover, a handsome young shepherd that she calls, “the Beloved”. In these poems there is also a group of women who interact like a chorus, and sometimes converse with the young woman.
Historically, most Christian and Jewish interpreters see the Song of Solomon as an allegory, symbolically pointing to a deeper, spiritual truth. In this book of the Bible, the main characters are a young woman and her lover; they are understood to represent God and his People.
The intimacy described is graphic, a little embarrassing even. And it sets the bar for us in our relatinship with God--impossibly hight, some would say.
In any close relationship, there are ebbs and flow in our desire for intimacy, and ebbs and flows in our experience of intimacy. The Song of Solomon gives us a crucial insight into what to do during the times of “ebb”, when we are not sensing the intimate presence of God.
The first clue comes in Chapter 1, verses 7-8. The love-struck young woman expresses to her Beloved her desire to be with him, to be able to find him at any given moment. She asks him an important question: “Tell me, O you whom I love, where you feed your flock, where you make it rest at noon?”
His answer is, “If you do not know, O fairest among women, follow in the footsteps of my flock.” In other words, follow the sheep, and you find the shepherd.”
Let that sink in for a moment.
Later in the Song, the young woman and her Beloved are apart for a time. In chapter five, she has gone to bed, wondering where her lover is, and wishing he would come to her. But when he does finally come, she is sleepy and cozy under the covers and reluctant to get out of bed.
Here is what happens.
The Beloved knocks at her door, saying, “Open for me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one; for my head is covered with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.”
She responds to him, saying, “I have taken off my robe; how can I put it on again? I have washed my feet; how can I defile them?”
Hve you ever responded like this to the Holy Spirit? I have. I do.
Now is not a great time for me. I don’t really want to pray... I have a lot of work to do. I will talk to you later... I was up late last night; I am too tired to get up early and have devotions. Maybe tomorrow... Yeah, I feel like lifting my hands in worship right now, but this is a public place, and there are too many people watching. I will find the YouTube link and worship you later.... Yeah, I know you are touching my heart right now, Holy Spirit, but I am driving on a busy street! Maybe I will cry later…
Eventually, the young woman comes to her senses. It is the voice of her Beloved! He is at the flipping door! What is she thinking, staying in bed and making excuses? Feeling guilty, she quickly smears perfumed oil on herself, and rushes to the door.
”My Beloved’s hand is on the latch,” she says, running across the room in her bare feet. “My heart yearns for him! I arise to open the door; my hands drip myrrh, my fingers with liquid myrrh on the handles of the lock. I open the door for my Beloved…”
And there is no one there.
Her Beloved is gone. I can feel her panic; I have felt that panic. “He’s gone! He left me! Why did he leave me? Is he mad at me? What did I do wrong? I need him to come back! Tell him to come back!”
The young woman goes on, “I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer. Then, the watchmen of the city found me. They struck me, they wounded me; those keepers of the walls, they took my veil away from me.”
When our hearts are far from God, the Enemy moves in for the kill. We are vulnerable, exposed. His accusations wound us, defeat us. We think, Oh no! I have failed him! I should have responded while I had the chance; now it is too late. God will never come back! And, like a veil being torn from the face of a Hebrew woman, the Enemy shames us. We are left thinking, It’s pointless trying to find him; I deserve to be abandoned.
Have you felt this? We have all felt this.
In the story, something important happens next. Perhaps the young woman remembers what her Beloved first told her. “If you ever need to find me, follow in the footsteps of my flock.” Remembering this, her heart leaps and she runs out of her house to find the chorus of companions.
“Where is he?” she demands, grabbing hold of their robes. “Tell me!” She is desperate. In verse 8 she cries out, “ I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my Beloved, tell him I am sick with love!”
There it is. That is what I learned from the Song of Solomon. If I am distant from God, I need his People. I need community. If I want to be close to God, I can’t get there by myself. I need to follow in the footsteps of the flock. I need to ask the sheep to help me find the Shepherd. I needed my brother, 43 years ago, to pray for me, to pray for God to come back. We need each other, to help us find the Beloved.
How can we do this for each other? Listen to what the young woman’s companions say to her next, as she demands that they help her find her Beloved.
“What is your beloved, O fairest among women? What is your beloved, more than any other?” Tell us about him, they urge the young woman. Tell us what he means to you, why he matters so much. Describe him to us. And, with passion and worship and longing, she does just that. In verses 10-16 she exclaims:
My Beloved is white and ruddy, Chief among ten thousand. His head is like the finest gold. His locks are wavy, and black as a raven. His eyes are like doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set. His cheeks are like a bed of spices, banks of scented herbs. His lips are lilies, dripping liquid myrrh. His hands are rods of gold set with beryl. His body is carved ivory inlaid with sapphires. His legs are pillars of marble set on bases of fine gold. His countenance is like Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet. Yes, he is altogether lovely.
This, this is my Beloved; this, this is my Friend.
Are you seeking the Beloved? Tell me why. Tell me what you love about him. Tell me what you miss about being close to him. Describe him to me, declare his beauty, and then I will help you find him again. We will seek him together.
Are you seeking the Beloved? Follow in the footsteps of his flock. Where the sheep gather, the Shepherd is there among them. He is waiting with for us open arms; our Beloved and our Friend.
In the end, the young woman and her lover are reunited. She finds her Beloved in his garden, feeding his flock among the spices and the lilies. Together with him once more, she proclaims, “I am my Beloved’s, and he is mine… “
We are made for that moment. We are made for that kind of love, that depth of intimacy. But intimacy is not convenient. When God puts his hand to the latch, and knocks at the door to our hearts, it may seem like bad timing. Too early, too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed, too sinful. That nudge of the Holy Spirit can be easy to ignore, easy to put off. How often do we do this, only to find that when we finally do go to “answer the door”, the Beloved is gone?
He does not do this to punish us. He is not angry with us. He does this to teach us where he can be found: feeding his flock. Follow in the footsteps of his flock, lean into fellowship and community, ask for prayer and wise counsel. “Tell me!” the young woman pleaded. “I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, help me to find my Beloved!” If we truly want to experience God’s love in an intimate way, we need each other.
Are you seeking the Beloved? He is not distant. He is not angry with you. He’s there, feeding his sheep among the spices and the lilies of his garden. He’s there, waiting for you to turn to his People, to seek him together, worship together, pray together, and experience his embrace, together.
Are you seeking the Beloved? Follow in the footsteps of his flock.
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