"A secret place of encounter - the intimacy of the Garden"

Song of Songs 1:9–2:7 | A Journal-Narrative Reflection

“I have compared you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots. Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments, your neck with strings of jewels.”
— Song of Songs 1:9–10

He looked at me—and everything changed.

Not a casual glance.
Not a judging stare.
But a gaze that pierced through veils—through my shame, my silence, my striving.

It happened in a dream.
I didn’t see His full face, but His eyes met mine—and in that one eternal moment, I was undone.

“You have ravished my heart, My sister, My bride; you have ravished My heart with one glance of your eyes.”
— Song of Songs 4:9

The weight of His knowing, the tenderness of His gaze, uncoiled the defenses I had built over years.
I had longed to be seen. But when I finally was—truly seen—it shook me.
Because I wasn’t just observed.
I was chosen.

His gaze called me from hiding.
It pulled me into identity—not based on service, but on intimacy.
I had once worshiped with abandon—misunderstood, labeled “too much,” dismissed as emotional.
But Heaven whispered, “No, daughter. You are Davidic.”

“I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes…”
— 2 Samuel 6:22
 

What others called excessive, Heaven called extravagant.
Like David before the ark, I had danced from a place deeper than performance.
It was bridal hunger.
Holy vulnerability.

But even David had caves.
Even Elijah had deserts.
And I, too, was led into seasons of hiddenness.

“Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?”
— Song of Songs 8:5
 

The wilderness wasn’t exile—it was bridal preparation.
His jealous love veiled me, not to punish me, but to preserve me.
He whispered, “You are not for the crowd. You are Mine.”
Not for show. For covenant.

Then came the roar.
During deliverance, it rose—not from me, but through me.
The Lion of Judah stood in my spirit, and roared.

“The Lord shall roar from Zion, and utter His voice from Jerusalem; and the heavens and the earth shall shake.”
— Joel 3:16
 

He wasn’t roaring at me—He was roaring for me.
He was announcing territory reclaimed.
Every time the enemy tried to reattach to my womb, the Lord roared louder.
Not as a judge—but as a jealous Bridegroom and conquering King.

Then the dream: four horses galloping beneath an amber sky.
They were dark silhouettes, not evil—but urgent.
They moved like messengers, racing through atmosphere thick with glory and warning.

Amber skies.
Amber, the color of Ezekiel’s vision—God’s fiery presence in motion (Ezekiel 1:4).
The northeast—my earthly positioning—is also my spiritual watchtower.

North: judgment and purification.
East: glory and visitation.
 

He has stationed me like a watchwoman at the hinge of realms.
A place where glory meets shaking.
Where consecration becomes commission.

I am not exiled.
I am betrothed.
And His gaze did not unravel me for destruction.
It undid me for destiny.

His voice had called me. His eyes now confirm me.
And the longer I remain in His gaze,
the more I become who He has already seen me to be.

“Let Him lead me to the banquet hall, and let His banner over me be love.”
— Song of Songs 2:4
 

“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.”
— Song of Songs 2:7