Come Back to the Wilderness | Hosea 2:13-15

 

So I will visit the days of the Baals upon her

When she used to offer offerings in smoke to them

And adorn herself with her earrings and jewelry

And go after her lovers, so that she forgot Me,” declares Yahweh.

“Therefore, behold, I will allure her

And bring her into the wilderness

And speak to her heart.

Then I will give her her vineyards from there

And the valley of Achor as a door of hope.

And she will sing there as in the days of her youth,

As in the day when she came up from the land of Egypt."

The wrath of Love falls like a thunderbolt from Heaven, scorching the dirt and riding the invisible currents into the tree trunks of our legs. Now I know where a lover's sob comes from - Someone had to invent the longing first. You are seeing the one you love through a glass window, walking with another that you do not recognize. (You would've never worn that when I loved you. You were content with the beauty I gave you. You needed no pageantry.) 

She turns to look at him - she has the world in her eyes. She was always giving the world to one who deserved half an apartment. 

So, the wrath of Love strikes Israel. 

It feels like dying. It feels like being split in two; like losing your home. Did you really think that they gave you all that you needed? That your lovers fed you, clothed you, and planted trees in your soil? They couldn't lift the spade He wielded for you. Their love is as good as hatred, and some part of you felt it - saw the look in their eyes as took you, the Bride, for all that you were worth. You begged them, the scum of the earth, for what He would've given you freely. 

You gave them your wildness. Your best days. You sang the songs that He taught you on their bed, draped in the cheap imitations of His simplest hue. You tried to make things grow for them - everything in your garden died. Even now, in your nakedness that breaks my heart, you're calling for them. The streets are empty.

(Your grief sears electric scars onto my skin, oh Lord.)

A lover would've stopped there. Slamming doors, sobbing on the carpet alone. (We will never speak again; we used to build sandcastles of dreams with only our words.) I would've changed my daily habits to avoid seeing you in places we used to wander. 

But a gentle rain begins to fall. 

The thunder has melted out over the land like a war horn - the lightning has split open the heavens. I hear your voice as it was when I met you. Trusting, frightened. Clean as the water flowing out of the mouth of Ein Gedi. You were scared of every shadow, but the way that you would jump into the arms of safety...

I am going back in time to the days when love was firstborn and still kind. When you were young and your legs ran to Him of their own volition. Your mouth was always laughing, quick to learn to sing. Your feet knew the steps almost before they could be taught. Stubborn, proud, chin up like a Queen even as you sat in your simple clothes that you were not ashamed of. 

Come back to the wilderness. 

The wind blows over the shoulders of Shiloh - the fragrance of a long lost love is carving through the valleys even now. The trembling tenderness of ultimate power is saying your name. And trouble, which has no mercy, is shape-shifted into something you can walk through. You used to look at me like that, with the world in your clear, beautiful eyes. But you will again.

Forget them. Remember Me. 

The rain is washing away the red mud, slippery and staining. It is washing away the taste of other names from your mouth - it is as if they never existed. And as the simple sign of a woman that is loved goes over your shoulders, you realize that your neck is free. That the heavy cords of silver jewelry have gone. 

You hadn't realized it felt like chains.