I didn’t adjust very well to becoming widowed. In social settings and public spaces, there is a sense of being exposed or missing a part of myself. Social situations feel awkward. I’ve been through the grieving process and am content to live a life of solitude. But once in a while, like during Covid or tornado warnings or when you’d like to go to a large gathering like a ball game, it would be nice to have people to share the moment.
After a respectful amount of time passed following the funeral, I began to hear advice along the lines of “when are you going to get back out there?” or “You’re young, you need to find a man”. I had a good man for twenty-eight years. We raised kids together. We did the husband-and-wife thing. I have never felt the need to re-create that part of my life or fill in the gaps with another human. I just don’t feel the need to do that again.
It's amazing that in our progressive “choose your own preferences for living” culture, that the husband/wife dynamic is still what makes people in certain circles comfortable. Twelve years in the American public-school setting teaches us to categorize and segregate people. We look for opportunities to spend time with the people who are most like us. Married couples hang out with married couples. Young singles hang out with young singles. Divorced people seek other divorced people. Outside the family setting, the most comfortable place for a widow is among other widows.
I have to ask, though, is that the way it is supposed to be? Does the concept of community, a place to be welcomed and feel the care of others, only exist in spaces where we are all alike? Or is it possible to step outside of our categories and create an attitude of community that welcomes all who need its comforts?
For me, personally, the struggle is that feeling of awkward aloneness and naked exposure when I walk into a group setting. It is possible to project that awkwardness onto others and actually create the awkward feelings I was hoping to hide. How does that end?
I Had a Dream
I recently had a dream. A man I did not know asked me to marry him. The people around me were cheering and clapping and telling me to say yes. In the pressure of the moment, I said yes. I immediately thought, “I don’t know this guy. I don’t want to do this.” As people were covering me with odd gifts of celebration, I woke up.
Sometimes, in the moment that I am waking up, just before my mind begins to race with one hundred other thoughts, a phrase or a thought floats to the top. In this moment, I heard a phrase from an old children’s song that I haven’t heard in years. “He invites me to his banqueting table. His banner over me is love.” Those are the only words that came to me. I couldn’t remember what song it was from and had no idea what it might mean.
I then began to think of the dream’s marriage proposal and what it would mean to wear a wedding ring again. The significance of wearing a ring now would be much deeper than when I was a twenty-year-old newlywed. Taking the ring off for the first time was difficult and my hand felt naked for a long time. In that moment, the Lord spoke to my heart and said, “You have chosen Me, and I have chosen you. I will be your wedding ring.”
I’m not planning to take this to weird places of biblical interpretation or tell people that I am married to Jesus like a Catholic nun. I am simply accepting my understanding of His reassurance and presence. There is no longer a need to feel awkward or exposed. I am not alone. The Lord Jesus takes upon himself all that I am not.
Invited to the Banquet
I conducted a quick internet search of the phrase from the song I remembered and discovered that the words are part of a passage from the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. Having studied the book before, I immediately understood that it was still on the subject of marriage. The imagery of the Song of Solomon gets a little uncomfortable in places as it is a poetic conversation between two lovers. It is meant to encourage the people of God that God blesses marriages that honor him.
“He escorts me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love” (Song of Solomon 2:4).
In ancient Jewish tradition, the father of the groom paid the purchase price for the bride and signed a contract with the bride’s father. The betrothal was binding and could last a year or more. But the bride lived with her family until the groom had prepared a place for her and came to escort her to his home.
At the wedding ceremony, the groom announced that this woman was now his wife and he placed a piece of his robe over her to symbolize that she was now under his protection and provision. The bride was no longer on her own to deal with the harsh realities of life. She was then escorted to the groom’s home to attend the banquet.
The Bride of Christ
In the New Testament, those who have believing faith in Jesus Christ as the living Lord are called the bride of Christ.
All of the elements of an ancient Jewish wedding are present in the imagery of Christ’s relationship with the church:
Jesus told his disciples that he would go and prepare a place for them (John 14:2).
God the Father paid the purchase price for the bride with the blood of Jesus (Col 1:14).
Jesus, the Groom, will come again to take the bride to the home He has prepared (Heb 9:8).
Jesus taught that God will prepare a banquet for all those who believed in the Son (Luke 14:12-24).
It's Personal
I love the idea of being escorted to the banquet. I am covered in the protection and provision of His robe. I am a blood bought, treasured bride who will sit with the Lord at God’s celebration table. I am part of the Royal family.
His banner over me is love.
“Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband— the Lord Almighty is his name— the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth.” Isaiah 54: 4-5
Copyright TA Boland 2023
Image: subsplash
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