O God I hunger and I thirst for Thee, as a panting deer, long chased, long pursued, long and hard pushed toward death. Pushed toward the end of hope, to despair.
My God, I hunger for you with pangs, then with empty loneliness. My heart cries out for You and only You. How can I take another breath without Your abiding Presence? How can I possibly draw any breath without it being drawn as a breath from heaven….a breath of life… a breath of spiritual reality.
Thank you for wiring me with a trigger that declares…O my God I must have thee. I think you must have done this because You love all my soul with passion…a passion that’s call for me in the garden. A passion that says ..come to me my created companion. Koinonia with me, fellowship with me, sup with me. Hear my loves expressed. My loves I’ve contained, but can hold no longer.
O God I weep for You. O God I crave you, I thrust myself toward you. O that I might recline on Thy breast like John.
O that I might see the eyes of love that shared the final supper with your closest of friends…friends that you would die for.. like me. Just how long must I wait for your appearance? Why must I continue in the body of flesh, this body of dust? This body made of bone and sinew? I don’t think I can stand it. Rasha…Return O Lord…return to capture me back to Yourself… back to our intended kingdom purpose. Back to entwining. Back to silence.
Why does silence seem more attractive to me now than conversation? I rest in who you know me as. Now I wish to interpret the subtleties of you expression. I want to see the liquid in Your eyes, Your wild eyes. OK, now I do see them..wild with passion for people, passion for me…Yes me ….I melt. When I know hunger, I remember Who I hunger for. It’s not a belly full of donuts…even sugar encrusted, cream filled donuts….. but a hunger for meat….for bread for wine.
Jesus as I touch the keys of the pad, I feel Your rhythm, I feel like I’m drumming my praises to You. I feel like my heartbeat gets in sync with Yours. But then the thirsting and longing of strings begin to enter the melody and make me unreservedly tell You, I must have you. Without You, I die. With You I die and find myself awakened to new songs. Songs I can express to you in a secret way.
O secret place, O secret abiding place. Take me beyond the crowds of people.. past the priests who sing your praise. Take me into Your throne. Make me to know I fulfill Your longings. Make me know You feel loved. Make me know our loves, when mixed, will produce fruit. Fruit of exchanged passions.
O secret place. O passionate wedding chamber.. I bring my lamp, trimmed and full of oil. In its light, I see my lover. In its light we gaze on each other. What kind of strange acceptance is this I feel? Why do I float? Why do I feel released from the constraints of physics? Why do I rest so deeply in Your presence? Its not like I’ve been delivered from another reality of my sinful flesh. But I still know true unashamed acceptance.
O hungering and thirsty heart. You have found Your desired love. You have tasted of Your Christ. You have tasted the manly love of Christ. Your bridegroom has touched your hand, your neck, your heart. He has spoken your identity. You are who He says You are.
O hungering and thirsty heart, I wonder what to do now that my longing has been temporarily slaked? My lover has appeared. My epiphany! My secret place encounter is a reality, as much as the reality of me sitting in the coffee shop eyes closed, knowing in Who’s presence I have been.
O why must I wait? Will there be more encounters? What is a bride to do? I will keep my lamp full and my wick trimmed. And I will sing my praises, my love songs, my responses to my lover’s invitation.
What is a heart song?
Is it a repetitious expression of who I am, directed toward You, my creator?
Then I think you shall be pleased.
Is it found in my passions? Then I offer my passions.
Surely hunger and thirst and a burning heart are heart song passions.
Can the passion of love allow for some of my darker passions? Anger. Disgust. Cynicism. Frustration. Lust. Self-defense?
Does love hold these dark passions in check? Inside the corral?
Or, does love displace them as light dispels darkness?
Anytime I catch a glimpse of heaven, or a sense of Your presence, my heart races and the longing for anything earthly momentarily ceases its roar. I’m suspended in a time warp. My awareness is keen, yet I somehow still realize I haven’t changed physical location. Joy is intense.
Like a weary dog, stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace. Coals still smolder, while the heat fills the room and makes us all feel sleepy. At rest. At home with the bridegroom. He rests His head on my chest so He can hear my heartbeat. The rhythm is steady and calm because my Lover is with me. My fingertips lightly touch His face. That which I hungered for, is satisfied. That which I thirst for, now bathes my soul. I draw strength from our encounter. I let my confidence in my flesh, burn. Along with the last few cherry red coals in the fireplace, my independent nature fades to a cold grey-black remnant..
Can I bear my bridegrooms’ absence? Yes, now I can let trust be my anchor. I can always reach out and feel the Rock, His assuring Presence. Some places are smooth from frequent encounters. Other places are textured for a good grip. He never leaves me. He won’t forsake me.
O, to be so loved.
To be surrounded like shade.
Protected and cooled.
In the heat of the noonday.
Dreamily safe and enclosed.
He should have fed them also with the finest of the wheat: and with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee.