Behold, you are beautiful, my love;
behold, you are beautiful;
your eyes are doves. (Song of Solomon 1:15 ESV)
These words, spoken over me by Him, are difficult to understand. They are not for me. The voices of my formative years are loud. Indecent. That evil string of bitter lyrics plays in my head, telling me I am without identity. Nothing of value. This is what I am.
He says, No, listen to Me. He sings a different song. He gently croons. He says that I am beautiful. Lovely. Captivating. It causes my eyebrows to knit in confusion. My head spins. I still do not understand. He tells me it is the truth. Listen.
He holds out His hand, calls me Beloved, and asks me to dance. With eyes downward cast and tear-filled, I slowly nod and reach for Him. He takes my hand, and the lead. We dance. Safe in His arms, He speaks kindness and tenderness I’ve never known. He says, I hope someday you will see yourself as I do. There is a touch of sadness in His eyes. He holds me close and tells me I am His and no one can harm me, not now.
And we dance.