Bride, you sit to nibble on the dry, cracked and empty, thinking that you do not deserve to take hold of the sweet fruit of your Bridegroom's love. Will you let yourself be led to the banquet hall? Will you let His banner over you be love? Will you wrap yourself in His kindness poured out upon you, and let it be your garment?
Bride, you are sweating and breathless as you try to pierce your own heart with passion, trying to make yourself frantic and enthusiastic enough to welcome His Spirit. Will you rest, like the does in the field, and wait for Love to awaken your heart?
Listen! He calls for you!
"Arise My darling, my beautiful one, come with Me.
See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, My darling;
My beautiful one, come with Me."
Will you come when He calls?
Though you stand to hear His voice in a parched and frozen land, will you believe that the winter is past, and His fruit is in season?
Why do you hide in the clefts of the rock, the rock formed by His hand and that will one day melt in His fire?
Why won't you hide yourself in Him, where it is safe?
Why don't you answer when He calls?
The vineyards should be in bloom! Bride, it is your task to arise and catch the foxes. They sneak in unseen and slowly devour your love for the Bridegroom. They teach you to cling when He says to run. They teach you to march when He says to rest. They teach you to love your kingdom in the rocks, and doubt the goodness of His fruit.
The Bridegroom is yours. Will you be His?
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