Remember that person- that loved person– that I wrote about one time? Well, she had a visitor.
After that beautiful story, the one I hope you’ve read elsewhere because I’m so bad at telling it, was true, as I said–but there were those who refused to see its beauty, and its completeness, the thoroughness of its such a display. Of these, none were more angry than the leader of the rebellion. He had talked to her grandfather, indoctrinated him, and so infecting was this indoctrination that it had spread through the gene pool to every descendant since: but the leader wasn’t satisfied with this. To make sure the job was thoroughly and properly done, he talked to every one that was born into that race: giving them hints as to how they should act. Now these people needed not to heed such things: they ought to have been subjects in happy standing before this Fair One who had stolen so many hearts back to Himself: but they would rather see their thousand little thrones than bow before any, be he ever so Wise, ever so benevolent, ever so Powerful, ever so Loving. (in fact, so much did He have love in Himself that one of His commissioned biographers described Him as being Love itself.)
But, as to this one Rebel leader, his anger was such as knows no bounds when he found that one of his loyalest subjects had been completely and utterly won over by this Loving One: he would have no remorse to see his people torn to bits before him, as long as his Enemy didn’t steal their affections from all his arbitrary directions. This woman of whom we have been speaking was won over so as to love her Rescuer more than all of this rebel’s subjects combined had ever loved him. So he desired to have her back, thinking that triumph greater than any other, but so impotent was he in such things that he daren’t even try. So he settled for something else. Perhaps, though he couldn’t destroy this love relationship, he could perhaps strain it on the loved one’s side by making her do something against her dearest Lover: or better yet, he could make her doubt the Beloved One’s love her-ward.
Now this one whom I have been describing (we won’t bother with his name; he has so many, and goes by so many, that I can’t even keep track any more) was allowed to speak with the loved one. He reminded her of all the things she had once loved, and she seemed to have some fond remembrances of some of them. He struck there. “You still love those things: you still want them; you are, in essence, still mine.”
“Oh no,” she responded in horror. “I am no fool: my marriage covenant will not be broken. You see, I hold the Beloved’s hand feebly, so as if you might have the strength to break me away; but, He holds mine with infinite strength. You will not break us apart.”
“What right thinking husband holds strong the hand that holds his feebly?” the Rebel cried. “the nature of love is that is must be mutual.”
“That’s what you taught me about it: but He says that nothing can pluck me from His hands. He is Love. You aren’t allowed to make up new definitions: He is patient, and long-suffering, and is faithful to His Bride. I’m not a rebel any more, but His Bride.”
“You sound so strong: but what you say with your lips, believe you in your heart? I see doubt all over you.”
“I am in doubt: but He told me not to argue with you with my own feeble arguments: He told me to quote Him, constantly, and what He has said will stand.”
“Fool! it is not true of you! Don’t you remember everything you’ve done? That you still do?”
She started to cry. “Yes. But that’s not who I am anymore: I am one of His now, and He has told me that nothing can change that.”
He stepped closer. “I got you when I took in your grandfather. If I did it once, don’t think I can’t do it again.”
She didn’t know what do: falling on her knees, weeping, she wondered why he didn’t grab her then. But a Voice spoke to her, not calling from afar, but speaking in her ear, said, “He is on a leash. Thou art still Mine. He is showing you that old, filthy garment that used to be yours: but it is your no longer: I have clothed thee, and I have loved thee with an everlasting love.”
She saw: the enemy was so far away that he could never ever have possibly touched her. And her beloved was embracing her, and holding her up. “How could I believe anyone who so proudly carries the banner “Father of Lies”? Your words mean nothing, my Beloved’s mean everything.”
I’d keep telling, but really, I don’t know everything that happens in this story. So I stop it here. But, I do know how it ends: that is unquestionable. The Bride was often distraught, but the enemy never was able to harm her in the least. And she was ripped from her fears and doubts, and any inordinate loves that she might have had, and her strong Prince took her to worship and be with Him in His glorious kingdom forever and ever. I know because He went to prepare an unending Home, one in which she would adore Him ever in blissful union: and He said, that if He went to prepare a Home, He would come back again.
So let us wait for Him, patiently, because He has not left us alone.