Bible Love Stories ...
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A Letter to Bathsheba
Did you know that he watched you while you washed? Did you see him there on the roof catching the last rays of the sun that golden man King who sang, prayed and who fought with equal passion. Did you feel his eyes on you admiring, desiring? Did you feel beautiful again? Oh how you longed to feel lovely again more than the dutiful wife of a good man who cared more for his soldiers than he did for you who prized his honour & chose the company of servants while you lay waiting for him in the bed you shared so rarely. How you longed to feel lovely again almost as much as you longed for a child for the swell of fertility and the flood of affection for a future. But – ah – to be admired by the King! He who could have any woman in the world that he might notice you! Did you desire him undress him in your imagination, alone in your bed? In that intimate moment stolen out of time did you shyly show him your body as you washed your hair? And the next day when his servants took you to him did you tremble as you dressed? To be alone with him … what magnificence! Did you trust him? Were his hands gentle against your skin? Did he still the terror? Did his kiss turn you inside out and shatter your world? And in the weeks and months that followed the cruelty of power the price of passion the blame and the shame the doubling of grief the madness of love and anger What did you cling to? I hope for you a beauty strong to survive the battering of the days a beauty of soul grounded in silence to stand as a queen must before people and kings before God broken and remade lovely through pain loved and loving seen and seeing a foundation of wisdom for a new generation. |
A harvest love story
Boaz It was the busiest time of year the start of the barley harvest the sun hung high and hot over golden grasses full of seed. Everyone’s out there men with their long blades women with their sacks as we do every year. Our people, singing our songs working to our rhythms. “God be with you” I call “And God bless you” they call and we laugh and slash and gather. Our people, our land. But who is that alone in the far corner of the field? I hear my people murmur about her, muffled jokes about places they have never been. I watch her as she worked grace & pride in her movements strong, lithe, lovely. I walked over to her and she stiffened, braced herself, probably expecting me to order her off my land but she looked me in the eye, half fearful half defiant. (Please don’t be afraid of me, strange girl!) I say “Stay. You’re safe here. Help yourself” and she crumpled to her knees with a single sob thanks me with hungry eyes and gracious words. I turn angrily to look at the others - they’ve stopped work to watch! Had no one spoken kindly to you, strange lady? Had no one spoken to you at all?! How strange to not belong. I’ve always been here, this land, this people But she … she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen looking up at me through brave tears that golden morning. Who am I that you should care for me? You so lovely, you so kind Why would you choose me to love? Ruth I could have gone back, you know, to my father’s house. I’m not afraid of him, I’m not afraid of hard work. But I made my choice. Better a strange land than all those strange men wanting me. Better a new start than all those old arguments. Better one woman who loves me than a village-full of bickering. And I knew that she needed me and I needed her. So here we are. She is home but she has returned as a stranger to herself No one else knows her No one else can hold her in her lostness. And so I worked and ignored the stares and whispers. I expected no kindness or affection. So when he spoke to me I was undone and when he reached out to me took my hand and pulled me to my feet the warmth of him flowed through me. And then at lunch he called me to sit beside him and my arm brushed his as he handed me bread. He spoke with such authority to the others. He claimed me – me! – under his protection favoured, blessed. He named me a woman of honour and courage – I am?! He let me speak aloud so all could hear of my gratitude. He gave me a place to stand. Who am I that you should care for me? You so lovely, you so kind Why would you choose me to love? Naomi Oh Lord my God here I am again and you – are you here in this place any more than in that other cruel one? I’m tired of weeping tired of raging against you I’m just here quite stripped away nothing left of me at all any more I’m just a gaping hole filled with the ache of love and life rotted away by death everything tastes bitter I have nothing no one cares Alright, yes, well, except her silly girl, what did she want to hang around me for? Alright, yes, I’m sorry I know I should be kinder to her but my need for her my love for her frightens me surely she too will leave me! Oh Lord my God despite myself I feel you. Stop it, stop stirring up hope in me! What use have I for hope? Oh Lord my God I pray for her Forget about me, but her, her … sustain her with your blessing build a future for her, a home, a family bring her a good man … a good man, now there’s an idea! This old woman knows a thing or two yet! Who am I that you should care for me? You so lovely, you so kind Why would you choose me to love? and then … She told her son, years later about that night after the harvest party in the threshing room how she hid, crept silent in the dark afraid that her heart was beating loud enough to wake the town and tucked herself down close to him terror and hope pulsing through her. And he told of waking wondering how much he’d had to drink confused, shocked suddenly aware of the scent and feel of a beautiful woman close to him in the dark and how they sat together and whispered together and how he touched her face so softly and she dared to ask for his protection and he dared to offer it And as they lay there almost touching the griefs they each carried and the loneliness they each held crumbled away into the night and trust was born and marriage and a future for a young woman, a middle-aged man and an old woman, a baby and a line of the greatest of kings! Who am I that you should care for me? You so lovely, you so kind Why would you choose me to love? |