Merry Monday by Parris Bailey
“My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.” SOS 2:16
I had a rough week I have to be admit. It kinda crept up on me and in the end it got the best of me. I was telling myself that I’m just not meant to live “in this world”. Thank God for His word and His presence and my weekend which always consists of 3 services in two days. By the end of that last service usually whatever tried to get on me has come off. We must have sung “no place would I rather be but here in your love” a million times.” Yes, my beloved is mine and I am is.”
Spurgeon is an amazing writer, he says “There are precious times, blessed be God, when we forget the world – times and seasons when we get quite away from it, when our weary spirit wings its way far, far, from scenes of toil and strife. There are precious moments when the angel of contemplation gives us a vision. He comes and puts his finger on the lip of the noisy world; he bids the wheels that are continually rattling in our ears be still; and we sit down, and there is a solemn silence of the mind. We find our heaven and our God; we engage ourselves in contemplating the glories of Jesus, or mounting upwards towards the bliss of heaven – in going backward to the great secrets of electing love, in considering the immutability of the blessed covenant, in thinking of what wind which “bloweth where it listeth,” in remembering our own participation of that life which cometh from God, in thinking of our blood-bought union with the Lamb, of the consummation of our marriage with him in realms of light and bliss, or any such kindred topics. Then it is that we know a little about heaven. Have ye never found, O ye sons and daughters of gaiety, a holy calm come over you at times when you read the thoughts of God, and work, and weave them out in contemplation. Then we have a web of contemplation that we wrap around us like an enchanted garment, and we open our eyes and see heaven. There are seasons when the Spirit not only stands and flaps his wings o’er the gulf, but positively crosses the Jordan and dwells with Christ, holds fellowship with angels, and talks with spirits – gets up there with Jesus, clasps him in his arms, and cries, “My beloved is mine, and I am his; I will hold him, and will not let him go.” I know what it is at times to lay my beating head on the bosom of Christ with something more than faith – actually and positively to get hold of him; not only to take him by faith, but actually and positively to feed on him; to feel a vital union with him, to grasp his arm, and feel his very pulse beating.
Yes “No place that I would rather be, then here in your arms”! This is what I was born for.