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Jealous Lover

 

The summer was spent, and though there were still some warm days, the nights were getting cooler. The dew was thick on the grass, and fog patches appeared everywhere. I found a letter on the desk that intrigued me. "Jealous Lover" was written on the envelope. I took the envelope and stuck it in my pocket on my way out.

 

"That will be another interesting letter," I thought.

 

I drove some ways and stopped at a quaint and rustic coffee shop. I'd been there before and was always fascinated by the old barn-style door on rails and an equally old wooden ski as a door handle. I loved the creativity in the place.

 

As I sat down at a small round table with a vase of small sunflowers—another sign of the beginning of autumn—I opened the envelope and began reading my letter.

 

My sweetheart,

 

I am the Lord, your God; there is no one else! I brought you from bondage to freedom and from darkness to light. I am jealous; a consuming fire.

 

That was probably the shortest letter I'd seen in a long time, but reading it over and over again made it seem very long.

 

Deep in thought, munching on a breakfast sandwich I had ordered, I didn't notice at first that someone had sat down on the other side of the little round table. Then I heard the familiar voice!

 

"Good morning."

 

To my surprise, it was Amita.

 

"How did you know I was here?" I asked.

 

"I was told I could probably find you here. I was informed that when you leave so early in the morning, you usually stop here—and they were right."

 

"I won't ask you who informed you, but I'm glad you came. You startled me," I replied.

 

"I know. You were so deep in thought that coming through the door, ordering my own sandwich, and sitting down across from you went unnoticed."

 

"A letter, Amita."

 

"Of course!"

 

"It's the longest, shortest letter I've ever seen."

 

Amita laughed at my comment. "You've got questions, I assume?"

 

"Just one," I answered, "more like a question and exclamation at the same time. Help!"

 

"May I read the letter?" she politely asked.

 

"Of course." And with that, I handed her the letter.

 

After a moment, she looked up at me, and with a smile from ear to ear, she commented, "There truly isn't anyone like Him."

 

"Right," I said, "but please explain what this is about."

 

Amita was about to take a bite from her sandwich, but just before she did, she said once more, "There isn't anyone like Him."

 

I patiently waited.

 

"There are two things in this life that everyone desires and diligently searches for," she remarked as she swallowed and lifted her sandwich to take another bite.

 

She did take another bite, and I patiently waited. This was coming in bits and pieces.

 

"Peace and rest."

 

I was still thinking about the letter, but it seemed that Amita was talking about something completely different. Or could it be that this was just an introduction to what she was about to tell me about the character of God? I thought.

 

"It's the heart of the Father," she continued, "and that's why He wrote you this letter."

 

"I believe you, Amita, but where does jealousy fit into what you just said?"

 

"You're not so sure, are you?" She said as she looked at my questioning eyes. "Let's talk about this rest and peace first, for when you understand their purpose and your need for them, then you'll understand His jealousy for you. Make yourself comfortable."

 

I pointed to a couple of chairs in the corner, meant for relaxation, and said, "Let's sit over there."

 

Amita laughed. "You've got the idea already. We're talking about comfort."

 

I hadn't even clued in until now.

 

The purpose of rest is twofold. On the one hand, it relieves us from the strenuous activities of the recent past, and on the other hand, it re-energizes us for future activities. It is another creation ordinance and was put in place for the well-being of mankind.

 

"Does that apply to the mind as well?" I asked, "for there are times when I lay down to rest, but my mind is racing and won't settle down."

 

"Good point," Amita answered. "Yes, indeed, it is no different for the mind. The mind also needs rest from past activities and renewed energy for the future. Our physical bodies cannot go without rest for long, and neither can our minds."

 

"I still don't see the connection to jealousy and the consuming fire."

 

"You will soon enough. And I don't need to say much more about rest, for what I've said is fairly obvious. The place of rest, which is both a destination and a source, however, we'll talk about a bit later."

 

I looked a little puzzled but simply asked, "What about peace?"

 

"Peace is pursued by all of us as well but is not easily found," Amita answered as she wiped some crumbs from her face. "When you think of peace, what comes to your mind?"

 

"I am actually still thinking about the concept of pursuing peace, as you put it. Pursuing, to me, is like chasing after someone or something that is hard to catch and often elusive."

 

"That's right. Peace needs a certain condition before it shows up, and that condition is scarce in this big, wide world."

 

"Can peace be negotiated?" I asked, as I didn't really have an answer.

 

"Well, you can judge that for yourself once you know what peace is, or I should say when you understand the condition that needs to be met before peace shows up."

 

"Oh, Amita, just tell me what that condition is," I returned impatiently. "Stop making me guess!"

 

Amita chuckled but was in no hurry and ignored my impatience.

 

"Father said there was none like Him, and He is a consuming fire and a jealous God. Isn't that what the letter was about?" she continued.

 

"Yes, and you keep talking about rest and peace," I responded.

 

Amita took a deep sigh, and I noticed.

 

"Amita, I'll just sit back and listen if that's okay. I want to know about that rest and peace. I want to know Him as a jealous God and a consuming fire."

 

The coffee shop was filling up. A number of people, living locally in the village, came in to have their morning coffee and exchange their thoughts about yesterday and tomorrow and everything in between. It was interesting to listen to their excitement as they exchanged opinions. A man came in carrying a fair-sized tote, and they quickly recognized and greeted him as the egg man. Sure enough, a number of the locals asked him for eggs, and he neatly placed the dozen cartons on their table. It wasn't long before he left with an empty tote and a coffee to go.

 

Even though the chatter at the nearby table continued, we were comfortable in the chairs we sat in and in no hurry to leave. The owner herself came by and refilled our cups.

 

Amita suddenly carried on where she left off and asked the question I was pondering, "Do you know why righteousness is so scarce?"

 

Without pausing and waiting, she answered, "Because righteousness is founded on love, and love never seeks its own. Most people are self-absorbed and concerned for themselves, hence not in a position to love. It doesn't matter in which way love is expressed—it is always a choice.

"When we choose to love, we will do what is right, and peace ensues."

"I appreciate what you're saying, Amita, but we need to be concerned for ourselves. We need to take care of things in our own lives first before we can care for others."

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"Uh-huh," she replied. "And that's where rest comes in. In resting, we receive strength to care for what is ahead."

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"No, that's not what I mean. There are always things to do and things we need before we can help others. Isn't that so?" I interrupted.

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"I understand what you're saying, and that will never go away," Amita continued. "But that's where rest comes in, and that's where this Jealous Lover comes in."

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I just looked at Amita and gave her a blank stare.

She noticed and smiled.

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"Heneka, listen to what He said in the letter: 'I am the Lord, your God. There is no one else!'"

"Isn't that the language of a husband who loves his wife? 'There is no one else!' The husband says this to his wife because he loves her dearly and will do anything to protect and care for her. It's jealousy, which is often wrongfully understood as envy. But envy is wanting what others have, and that's not from love. Jealousy is passionately protecting what is yours—not because you're afraid you might lose it, but because of love."

​

In my mind, I was still trying to make a connection.

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Amita continued, "A woman feels secure, safe, and at peace—at rest—knowing that her husband loves and cares for her. She will trust him without any reservation. How much more your Heavenly Father! Can you trust Him in that way?"

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Amita was surprised at my hesitation in answering her and asked again, "Can you trust your Heavenly Father to care for you and watch over you? Trusting Him will bring peace, and in Him, you can be at rest."

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Why did I still feel restless? I wondered.

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"Let me give you another example that will help you understand what it means to be at rest and how trust plays such a key role."

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"I'm listening," I replied.

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"If you own a business and have employees working in that business, it is hard for you to take a vacation if you cannot trust those employees. On the other hand, if they are trustworthy and capable of continuing without you, you can be at rest and enjoy your time away."

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"That makes sense."

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"If you are still restless, it is a trust issue and nothing else. You may acknowledge that He loves you and even herald it into your community, but if you do not trust Him, you cannot believe Him, and you will be restless."

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"Isn't trusting and believing the same thing?"

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"Not at all! Faith is our support for the promise or the hope that we've received. Trust is about the One who promised—the One who gives hope."

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"Oh," I said, not really absorbing what Amita had just said.

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"Heneka, if you cannot trust the One who gives the promise, how can you believe the promise?"

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"That makes sense," I repeated, as I had earlier, but the restlessness did not go away. It actually increased as I tried to make sense of it all.

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Amita noticed.

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"It's a trust issue and nothing else, Heneka," she said again. "But don't despair, for Father sent you this letter to solidify this trust in you and to give you rest and peace."

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I looked at Amita and questioned, "Isn't trust earned?"

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"Oh," she replied, "and what must Father do to earn your trust?"

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"It isn't earned, is it?"

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"Is that your answer?"

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"Amita, please stop and tell me plainly."

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"Well, we now know why you're restless. If you believe trust is earned, you might have to wait a long time."

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Amita was not frustrated or upset with me at all, though I thought she should be. She was genuine but blunt. No beating around the bush—she wanted me to understand the heart of the Father who wrote the letter.

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"Amita, I've been taught my whole life that trust must be earned."

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"Let's unlearn that in a hurry," was her quick reply. "Trust is a choice and founded on credibility—or reputation, as some would call it. Here is the question: Is the Father who wrote you the letter of good reputation? Is His testimony of Himself true? What about the many individuals throughout history, especially those on the pages of Scripture, who have testified about Him?  You are restless because you have believed a false report about Him."

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"You are right, Amita, and I know which false report I have believed."

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Amita smiled. "That's good, and I know you'd like to tell me about that false report, but I tell you, it's not worth repeating. For the record, let's listen to some of the reports that are true about Him. We could start with His testimony about Himself in the letter: 'I am the Lord, your God; a jealous lover and a consuming fire.' Jeremiah testified that He has plans to prosper and not to harm. David testified of His goodness, that it follows him wherever he goes, and that he never lacks anything. To Abraham, He swore by Himself, for there was no one greater than Himself. Solomon testified that the heaven of heavens could not contain Him—how much less the house that he had built for Him? The list goes on and on. Even to this day, testimonies still keep coming through songs, art, poetry, and more."

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"I must say, I've certainly looked in the wrong place all these years."

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"You have indeed, and you formed an opinion through an evaluation of this consuming fire."

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"An opinion?"

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"Yes, not realizing that fire was designed to purge or purify—not to destroy. Jesus spoke to His audience and told them that, unlike the devil, who came to steal, kill, and destroy, He came to bring life and an abundance of it. When God comes to you as a consuming fire, He does so to remove that which hinders the abundant life."

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"Thank you for that, Amita. I needed to hear that."

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"Here's the mystery: To live—to truly live—is to love. We cannot love without trust. Trust is the choice to let go of everything, even life itself—yes, especially life. Listen to the poet as she expressed this truth: 'I say love, it is a flower, and you, its only seed.' ** Jesus said about a seed that if it is left to itself, it abides alone, but if placed into the ground (surrender), it dies. And in dying, it will live and become a beautiful flower. If there is no trust, you will not understand—but especially not be able to receive—love. As the same poet put it: 'Love will be like a river that drowns the tender reed', or like 'a razor that leaves your soul to bleed', or like 'a hunger which is an endless aching need.' **  God is a jealous lover and a consuming fire. Surrender to that love, and you will truly begin to love. There is no fear in love."

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** From 'The Rose" by Bette Middler