The Secret Garden

A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a spring locked, a fountain sealed.--Song of Solomon 4:12

Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house, ever singing your praise!--Psalm 84:3-4

Who is that coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved?--Song of Solomon 8:5

I've heard that, in the temple of Jerusalem, the curtain that separated the courts from the Holy of Holies was three feet thick. I don't know how you would make a curtain that thick, but someone did it. The Jews put it up to guard the people from the overwhelming vibrancy of God's presence. Once a year, when the selected priest entered the Holy of Holies to make a sacrifice, they tied a rope to Him so that they could pull him out if he passed out or died.

That's pretty intense.

What's even more intense is thinking about how, when Jesus died, the curtain was ripped in two, and now we all have access to the Holy of Holies in His name. What's more...we are the Holy of Holies.

Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you are bought with a price.--1 Corinthians 6:19-20

Don't worry, this blog post is not going to spin out on a tangent about taking care of your bodies (although we should think about that). I want to write about meeting God in your spiritual house--the secret place where only you and He can go.

My parents talked about God a lot when I was growing up, and there are only a few things I remember, but one of them has always stuck out because, I guess, the metaphor was so striking to me as a child. My dad told my mom once, long ago, that he was reading in some book that a man's heart is like a honeycomb. There are different chambers, and people are free to move about them, but there is one innermost chamber where God belongs, and not even a man's wife can enter it.

I think I know I'm in relational sin (see last blog post) when I can sense myself trying to drag other people into the secret chamber with God.

I'm not trying to be creepy and overly-metaphorical. Let me explain in more concrete terms. There is a literal physical place for prayer: somewhere you can be alone and without distractions (your room, your backyard, your closet, even the bathroom). When you have daily prayer time, you enter this place--your garden--and you are committed to worshipping Him and talking only to Him, forgetting the cares of the world, for as many minutes as you can.

But sometimes, other thoughts and distractions creep in. Whatever is on your heart, whatever you're hoping for outside of God, rises to the surface.

For me, the distractions are mostly the cares of the world, thoughts of my future, because I am hoping in those things over God. And, as I have mentioned, the scariest monster in the garden is my worship of intimacy with other people, which makes my heart cast aside intimacy with my Father.

But praise God, He is doing a work in me, and I have seen such tremendous heart change in myself. (Again, see previous blog post.) I will take all the prayers you can offer about it, too!

I want to live in the garden with my Jesus. I don't want my heart to desire anything but Him. I have been in His presence before--consumed only with thoughts of Him--and have discovered the sweet, uncomplicated joy of knowing exactly who I am in Him. The garden is a very peaceful place, and it is full of freedom.

For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.--Psalm 84:10

I honestly think I haven't felt that for more than thirty seconds at a time before this summer. But during the past few months, I have explored the garden more and more (largely due to unemployment as well as full immersion in my family's Holy Spirit house). Now that I've had some more extended visits in the joyful, joyful garden of His presence, I want to stay there.

Which makes me all the more frustrated when I get distracted by the cares of the world, and my desire for the beauty of the garden lessens. Then I retreat into the old, dead, overgrown garden of my own thoughts. Yuck.

But the veil is torn. And do you know what that means? It means that the garden is inside of us.

We should make solitary prayer a daily priority. But God has also been teaching me something else in my time in the garden. The secret garden of your heart--that hidden place where only He belongs--is not a retreat. It's a tent, and you carry it around. Everywhere you go, His presence goes with you.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing...(2 Corinthians 2:14-15).

The same triumph that ripped a three-foot curtain through and rolled away a gigantic stone lives in us. Even as God is teaching me about deep intimacy with Him that no person can enter, He is also showing me that I never have to leave the secret place.

Ironically, even though other people don't belong in that secret place, they can smell the sweet fragrance of His presence whenever they're around you.

And you know what? You can, too.