8 Ah, I hear my lover coming!
He is leaping over the mountains,
bounding over the hills.
9 My lover is like a swift gazelle
or a young stag.
Look, there he is behind the wall,
looking through the window,
peering into the room.
10 My lover said to me,
“Rise up, my darling!
Come away with me, my fair one!
11 Look, the winter is past,
and the rains are over and gone.
12 The flowers are springing up,
the season of singing birds has come,
and the cooing of turtledoves fills the air.
13 The fig trees are forming young fruit,
and the fragrant grapevines are blossoming.
Rise up, my darling!
Come away with me, my fair one!”
Young Man
14 My dove is hiding behind the rocks,
behind an outcrop on the cliff.
Let me see your face;
let me hear your voice.
For your voice is pleasant,
and your face is lovely.
Young Women of
15 Catch all the foxes,
those little foxes,
before they ruin the vineyard of love,
for the grapevines are blossoming!
Young Woman
16 My lover is mine, and I am his.
He browses among the lilies.
17 Before the dawn breezes blow
and the night shadows flee,
return to me, my love, like a gazelle
or a young stag on the rugged mountains.
Song of Solomon 2:8-17 (NLT)
Prayer Response to Song of Solomon 2:8-17:
Jesus,
I have seen Your faithfulness in my times of winter. You’ve allowed some difficult things in my life, but through them You continue to develop my understanding of how much You love me and You purge my heart of little foxes that remove my focus from You. I want to be that dove You say I am. I want to keep my eyes fixed on You no matter what—whether they are looking at You in great confidence or whether they are wide with fear. Teach me not to hide behind walls. If I falter and run, help me to run to You, not from You. Teach me to hide in You and find my safety there.
You have brought me through many cycles of winter and spring. Some are etched forever in my heart, easy to access with great gratitude. I remember how I delighted in the freshness of spring, how I was afraid to step into my new life, but how joyful and peaceful I was when I finally followed.
I sense I am entering another spring season. Winter is just melting away and there are tiny buds of new growth on the branches of my life. Like the primrose in my front yard that has clung to her pink and yellow blossoms even underneath the snow, there are places in my life that have continued to bloom in this last season of winter. It helps to see the blooms when part of me feels barren, lying dormant as I lift brittle barren branches to You, branches that long for spring. But today I see the tiny, new buds appearing on empty limbs. How I long to be covered in white flowers, like the ornamental pear in front of my house will soon be. How I long to be absolutely laden with flowers that spill forth the sweetness of Your aroma.
I know the fruitful season I desire can only happen as You and I become increasingly one. Please grow our partnership, Lord. So often I’ve trembled, looking forward in fear, afraid to come out from behind the wall, afraid to leave the cleft in the rock, timid to step into the future You have for me.
Mostly I am afraid of myself. Of my own inadequacies, my weaknesses, my selfishness. Sometimes I fear next steps because I wonder if I can handle them without hurting those I love the most. I wonder if I can face greater challenges and still have the emotional fortitude to be the wife, mother, and friend my loved ones need. I would never want my future to impair theirs.
But you speak tenderly to me. You remind me that You are the One who guides my life and the lives of my loved ones. You tell me I can trust You for what is best not only for me, but for my family. You say You will not take beyond where I should go, that You know how much I can handle.
And You remind me again that I’ll never be perfect until I sit with You, completed, in the Eternal Place You prepare for me. You remind me that Your perfect love is covering a multitude of my sins and casting out the fear I battle. I can trust You with this.
Even as my heart swells again with trust, I feel condemned. I remember how I’ve been angry with You. I relieve my frustrated protests in the winter season.
But You say You’re never repulsed by the sound of my voice. That it is sweet to You, that You want me to cry out to You, never letting anything cut off our communication, even anger. You remind me to never turn from You in shame.
Thank you for reminding me that I am never ugly to You. When I gaze into the mirror and am tempted to see only the flaws, You tell me I’m beautiful. You remind me the harvest is coming. You ask me to never turn from You in shame, but to stand in unconscious beauty, covered by Your righteousness. Naked before You. Pure, still.
You’ve been cleaning out the little foxes, Lord—the fears, self-preoccupation, the resentment. These things can be poison, slowing tearing us apart, a vile cup of lies that try to seep into my soul and kill it a piece at a time. Clear it out, Jesus! I give You full permission to continue. I want to be cleansed of anything that distracts me from You.
You stand at the path to new places. The mountains behind You are so beautiful, laden with pure white-capped peaks, full of lush, green treed places.
“Come away my love!” You call. “Arise, let us explore!”
My heart pounds. The mountains are so big.
I want to. Really, I do. So why do I hesitate? I’ve sent You off frolicking without me before. And I don’t like being left behind.
Help me!
I want to be a mountain climber, too. I want to skip over the obstacles like they mean nothing. They really do mean so little when I compare them with Your perfect plan and overwhelming power. Forgive me for my hesitation, for the times I cling to my comfort zone, resisting the sweet call of Your voice.
Take my hand. Hold tight to it and lead me forward. Don’t let go, my Beloved, my Husband. Clasp my trembling hand, steadying me when I falter. Take me on adventures. Let me walk new trails and see the fresh vistas You long to share with me. Enjoy the wonder in my eyes as I explore these places with you, savoring the beauty I’ve never before seen.
You promise to do as I’ve asked and You take my hand, giving me a glimpse of the future You’ve prepared. How I will delight in the view from the mountain. You will be jubilant as we experience the new places together, standing side by side and gazing at the glories of Your plans. How happy I will be to please You, to let You show me the things You love. I can see Your delight and I know You will turn me toward Yourself, embracing me in Your cheering laughter. You’ll lift me from my feet and twirl me in a circle.
Kiss me full on the mouth, Jesus. Let us celebrate the future together.
Written in response to a study on the Song of Songs by Mike Bickle
This turned into a long post. If you feel filled-up by the Scripture and prayer, feel free to quit reading. If, however, the verses and prayer only whetted your appetite for more, I’ve included some of my thoughts from the study itself and you can read them below:
(Verses 8-13)
Obstacles are of no concern for Christ. He leaps and skips over the problems. He knows He is bigger than any hill (small obstacle) or mountain (large obstacle).
I am His beloved. He calls me that 22 times in SOS.
He comes looking for me even when I hide behind my self-made walls. He peers at me through the lattice, telling me I’m beautiful and that He desires my presence.
God enjoys a responsive heart. In every stage of spiritual maturity, it is the responsive heart that brings Him joy.
He allows me to see the darkness of my heart in the context of His unconditional love as part of my Bridal journey. He wants me to have a passion for Him, not a prideful belief in my own goodness.
Like a fig tree, I have matured over the Winter, like a tender grape, I am often immature, but He still enjoys me because of the sweetness of my surrender to Him.
He calls me out of my comfort zone.
He challenges me with new relationships, ministry, jobs, moves, etc.
Everything He calls me to requires operating in faith, spiritual warfare and as a worshipper. I am both worshipper and warrior.
When the rains are past, He asks me why I am afraid and calls me forth. He wants me to arise and climb the mountains with Him, to enjoy the beauty of spring, to begin a season of blossoming toward greater fruitfulness.
(Verse 14)
Even in the midst of my fears, when I hide instead of leaping across the mountains with Him, He calls me His dove, His devoted one, whose eyes gaze upon Him with no peripheral vision.
He knows I will struggle and sometimes falter in following after Him, but that doesn’t concern Him because of His finished work on the cross, He knows I will be victorious.
When I need to hide, He says, “hide in me. I am your rock.”
He wants to hear my voice and see my face. He begs me not to hide from Him.
When I struggle, He wants me to cry out for Him. Even when it shakes, my voice is lovely to Him. Even when my lip tremble and my eyes are wide in fear, my face is lovely to Him. He knows I will fail, but that it is out of fear, not rebellion.
(Verse 15)
He asks me to operate in community and to let my friends who know and love Him help me recognize the things that keep me from relationship with Him. I need to ask Him to catch the little foxes, the things that inhibit my relationship with Him.
(Verses 16 – end)
Jesus in mine. My Beloved. And I am His. He wants me to grow in my understanding of His ownership of me and in confidence of Hi love.
As I understand this love, my focus changes from my desires to HIS desires.
I must feed among others who have been purified by Him because it will help me grow.
Sometimes I hesitate, asking Jesus to make the shadows flee and to bring daybreak before I am courageous enough to skip over the mountains with Him.
Sometimes I am weak, but still committed in my love.