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- Written by: Don Goulding
Lover: I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. (Song of Songs 5:1) (NIV)
Jesus passed into the garden of heaven. Now he awaits union with those promised to him. That’s us. It’s tiny me. He satisfied himself on the bounty of paradise, and recovered from crucifixion. He is restored, fit, and ready for us.
Friends: Eat, O friends, and drink; drink your fill, O lovers. (Song of Songs 5:1) (NIV)
Angels watch our love and cheer us forward. “Go, rush into deep love.”
I slept but my heart was awake. (Song of Songs 5:2) (NIV)
On earth, my mind drags through the days in foggy slumber. But my heart is alert, straining for any whisper from my lover. Pacing the doorway, my spirit waits for his arrival.
Beloved: Listen! My lover is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.” (Song of Songs 5:2) (NIV)
I’m a flawless lover because he absorbed my every mark. I’m left spotless, able to give what he deserves.
Friends: How is your beloved better than others, most beautiful of women? (Song of Songs 5:9) (NIV)
Beloved: My lover is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand. (Song of Songs 5:10) (NIV)
How is the lover of my heart worth devotion? Let me tell you who he is. He is the image of the invisible God. He is the creator of all things in heaven and on earth. He holds everything together, right now.
When sin corrupted what my lover made, he was not bested. He sacrificed his life to reclaim creation. Peace reigns in me, because he placed himself under my sin mucked foot. He became the first of many to overcome death. He is the head of the living body of victors. The fullness of God dwells in Jesus, and together, they live in me.
Who is this lover of mine? He is the one who's perfection spills onto me so our hearts can entwine.
Prayer: Perfect one, you are outstanding among all the thousands.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
Why are you depressed, O my soul?
Why are you upset?
Wait for God!
For I will again give thanks
to my God for his saving intervention. (Psalms 42:5)
As I mounted my bicycle, there was an extraordinary sunrise. Blood fire began above the hills, then it ignited the underside of charcoal clouds. A stab of crimson bled, north and south, along the horizon. Eventually, half of the morning sky hummed in electric fuchsia. The spectacle rushed into my eyes and filled my soul.
Then I plunged my bike into fog. The whole of life was confined to the few square yards my vision penetrated. My riding goggles clouded with dew, and there was little to remind me of God. Thought fragments haunted—the discord of a relationship, the weariness of battling, how cold I felt. Fear loomed. Would a commuter run me over?
I recalled that beyond the fog, the glorious sunrise was growing. I couldn’t see it, but it was there. Fog is a temporary vapor, just as Despair is a malignant spirit, earmarked for destruction. His blockage is brief and doesn’t change the brilliance of Jesus one iota. My hope in Christ will prevail, and Despair will be annihilated in the lake of burning fire. I win, he loses.
Jesus blazes on his throne of splendor. His white-hot love saturates heaven. Rays from this same luminance tinge our world to hint of what’s beyond. No matter what trial blocks my view, the radiance of Jesus is my present, and future, reality. How foolish, O my soul, that you are downcast from a bit of life fog.
Prayer: Lord, renew my burning hope through the burdens of life.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
So Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. Just as the Father has sent me, I also send you.” And after he said this, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” (John 20:21, 22)
So also it is written, “The first man, Adam, became a living person”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. (1 Corinthians 15:45)
I turned 360 degrees, analyzing each piece in the modern and contemporary pavilion of the Seattle Art Museum. Above me, cars tumbled through the air. Beside me, boxes of breakfast cereal rested on silk inside a glass case. All around, thought fragments were regurgitated onto canvas, then hung under lights for examination.
Art touches our emotions, and the effect that room had on my feelings was shock. I was shocked at how easily I identified with chaos, and sickened that we put a frame around our fractured reality and extol it. It didn’t matter that the collection was housed in a bedazzling skyscraper, or that the expenses were underwritten by the richest man on the planet (Gates). It was a brazen display of mankind’s brokenness, and without a remedy in sight.
No human or institution can return what we've forfeited since Eden. Neither government reforms, nor technological breakthroughs, nor any amount of money can heal our planet. Only Jesus can do that.
The first Adam received life when God breathed into him—now the last Adam breathes a second chance at life into us. Jesus breathes out, and I breathe in. When we both do our part, peace floods my squirming mind. I know why I’m here. I’m ready to be sent.
The choice is remade with each new day. I can join the world’s homage of our dysfunction, or inhale the breath, words, and life of Jesus. What about today?
Prayer: Spirit of Jesus, breathe your cure into me.¯