Monday, October 20, 2025

I Was Asleep...My Lover Is Knocking At The Door!


“I was asleep, but my mind was dreaming. Listen! My lover is knocking at the door! Open for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one! My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.” “I have already taken off my robe—must I put it on again? I have already washed my feet—must I soil them again?” My lover thrust his hand through the hole, and my feelings were stirred for him. I arose to open for my beloved; my hands dripped with myrrh—my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock. I opened for my beloved, but my lover had already turned and gone away. I fell into despair when he departed. I looked for him but did not find him; I called him but he did not answer me. The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city. They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen on the walls! I admonish you, O maidens of Jerusalem—If you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick!”
Song of Solomon 5:2-8 NET

Let’s begin our journey together by sharing a metaphorical meal. While we can’t share a physical meal due to our separation by the vastness of the internet, we can partake in something far richer—an exchange of words. Words are powerful tools that allow us to convey thoughts and express profound ideas that enrich us, much like a nourishing meal that sustains our bodies.

I am particularly grateful for the Word of God, a profound spiritual source of nourishment. It feeds our souls and reveals God’s heart for us, bringing comfort, guidance, and wisdom that surpasses the need for physical sustenance.

Today, our menu will focus on the Song of Solomon, specifically Chapter Five. That is right, we are in chapter five. We will start our exploration at verse two and, with the Lord’s guidance, aim our consumption into verse eight. You may wonder, “Isn’t that too much scripture to cover in one sitting?” However, embracing this entirety is essential, as the Holy Spirit has intricately woven these verses together, offering a cohesive message that deserves our careful attention.

Again, I will state that these poems are not chronological; each poem stands alone in its message and understanding, describing different scenarios in which the bride faces the Bridegroom, both together and apart—times when they are profoundly connected and other times, when she is fiercely independent and aloof.

So, let’s prepare ourselves, figuratively set our napkins on our laps, and bite into this beautiful passage with open hearts and minds! Let’s dig in!

The bride, portrayed by the Shulamite woman in the Song of Solomon, vividly represents the Church, which is often referred to as the bride of Christ. She begins her discourse with the admission, “I was asleep.” This statement highlights an essential spiritual truth: falling into a state of spiritual slumber when it comes to our relationship with the Lord is detrimental.

Let us examine her words more closely: “I was asleep, but my mind was dreaming.” This reveals a fascinating duality—physically in slumber yet mentally engaged in the rich tapestry of dreams. This notion of being half-awake speaks to a profound spiritual truth—how frequently do we find ourselves in such a state? Caught in that delicate twilight between wakefulness and sleep, we may become aware of something significant beyond the physical realm. Our hearts remain attuned to a deeper calling or truth in those vulnerable moments.

She then exclaims, “Listen! My lover is knocking at the door!” The directive 'listen' is rooted in the Hebrew word ‘qol,’ which conveys sound, voice, or noise. It signifies an urgent call to attention. Her acknowledgment, “My lover is knocking at the door!” expresses an intense longing to hear His voice and respond to His presence.

The compelling question arises: how did she discern it was her Beloved? This situation resembles the message presented in John 10:2-5, stating, “The one who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. The doorkeeper opens the door for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he brings his sheep out, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they recognize his voice. They will never follow a stranger, but will run away from him because they do not recognize the stranger’s voice.”

This raises a thought-provoking question: can some Christians not even recognize their pastor’s voice, even in a familiar environment like a department store or grocery store, if he were to be speaking? The Shulamite woman, however, was able to recognize Solomon’s voice amidst the din of her drowsiness; this brings us to a vital question: should we not be equally adept at identifying the nuanced voice of our Savior and the gentle promptings of the Holy Spirit in our own lives?

Yet, I find myself troubled by her sleepy state. She would be better served by being in His presence rather than languishing cozily in her bed. The phrase “My lover is knocking at the door!” suggests a vivid image; He is not merely tapping lightly on the door, but rather, the word ‘knocking’ suggests an intense urgency, as if He is fervently pounding on the door—or, more profoundly, the very door of her heart or soul.

This concept beautifully echoes Revelation 3:20, where it says, “Listen! I am standing at the door and knocking! If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come into his home and share a meal with him, and he with me.” It serves as a poignant reminder that the voice of her beloved is earnestly calling to her. Even though she is half asleep and drowsy, her heart and mind remain sufficiently alert to grasp His tender invitation: “Open for me, my sister, my darling.” He expresses a heartfelt desire: “Honey, would you open the door? I long to enter and have sweet fellowship with you.”

The term ‘open’ carries the weight of an imperative, a divine command inviting her to swing wide the door in joyous welcome. “Honey, I’m home; I’m here,” resonates like the warm, familiar words of Jesus, who yearns to spend quality time with us, to share in the richness of communion and fellowship. He lovingly continues, “Open for me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one!” In some translations, the term ‘undefiled’ replaces ‘flawless,’ evoking her purity and their treasured bond. The bridegroom’s invitation is a tender plea for His bride to enter a relationship marked by depth, intimacy, and profound connection.

He softly says, “My darling, I love you and long to spend time with you. Would you please open the door?” His tender yet urgent plea reveals that His heart is fully awake, although she is semi-conscious and lingering in a dream-like state. He continues, “My head is drenched with dew, and my hair is damp from the coolness of the night air.” This vivid imagery depicts someone wandering in the night’s serene stillness, perhaps lost in conversation with his heavenly Father or finding deep solace in prayer. The dew symbolizes the presence of the Holy Spirit, illustrating that Jesus is fully enveloped in divine grace and wisdom.

John the Baptist remarked, “For He whom God has sent utters the words of God, for He gives the Spirit without measure” (John 3:34). This powerful assertion emphasizes the boundless nature of the Holy Spirit flowing through Jesus, infusing His every word and action with profound meaning. In the King James Version, the phrase “my hair with the dampness of the night” is poetically described as "my locks with the drops of the night," enhancing the imagery of nature’s embrace clinging to him.

My thoughts drift to the poignant moment of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, “And in his anguish he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” (Luke 22:44). This scene serves as a powerful metaphor; I believe Jesus is desperately reaching out to us, declaring, “Church, I don’t want you to remain in slumber; I urge you to awaken. I am knocking at the door of your heart; I seek to enter. I am preparing to sacrifice myself for mankind; I will shed my blood so all may find redemption.”

Yet, despite his heartfelt plea, she remains asleep and does not rise to let Him in. This thought troubles me profoundly: the possibility that my Lord might need our help while we choose to stay nestled in bed, half asleep and unresponsive. It pains me to consider that He may have wanted to utilize the unique gifts and talents He has bestowed upon us, but instead, we have allowed ourselves to drift into laziness, failing to respond to His call. 

It also reminds me of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, "Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. He said to Peter, “So, couldn’t you stay awake with me for one hour? Stay awake and pray that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

“I have taken off my robe—must I put it on again?” Let me unpack this dialogue for you. The Shulamite woman expresses her surprise and reluctance: “Honey, what on earth are you asking me? Is it truly appropriate to arrive at this late hour? I’m already cozy in bed, tucked under the covers, with my tunic cast aside, fully prepared for a night’s rest. Must I really don my outer garment once more?”

Do you detect a note of lethargy in her voice? Perhaps even a hint of spiritual apathy or a state of lukewarmness? Maybe even self-centeredness? By shedding her robe, she inadvertently raises a poignant question about where the armor of God—the spiritual protection we are meant to wear—has gone. What happened to praying without ceasing, young lady? It seems to echo in the silence between them.

“I have taken off my robe, and I’m hesitant to put it back on,” she contemplates, her voice tinged with weariness. “I have already washed my feet—must I soil them again?” In this moment, she counters every earnest invitation Solomon attempts to make. “I have washed my feet in warm water and dried them for the evening; I have no intention of rewashing them tonight. I’m finished with that routine.”

This clearly reveals her unwillingness to rouse herself from the comfort of her bed, to open the door, and let Him in. After all, He didn’t announce his intention to visit; this unanticipated arrival feels intrusive, especially at such a late hour, without any prior arrangement.

The truth is, the Lord doesn’t need to notify us when He is coming. He possesses our hearts and requires no formal appointment to enter our lives. In this scene, Jesus stands outside her home, having arrived without prior warning. He paid an extraordinary price for our souls—the precious sacrifice of His own blood, given for our redemption.

Thus, we readily invite Him to come by anytime—even unannounced, into the sacred spaces of our hearts and lives. It is a profound honor and privilege to be in His presence. Yet, she hesitates to say, “Lord, You are welcome at any hour. Even though I’ve washed my feet and settled down for rest, Your presence is so radiant and deserving that I would gladly rise from my slumber for You.”

I will try hard not to turn this into a critique of the Church, but isn’t that what we often find ourselves doing? In those quiet moments on a Sunday morning, still enveloped in the warmth of our blankets, we may hear ourselves thinking, “I’m not going to go to church today,” or “I’m not going to pick up my Bible.” The thought might slip in, “I need a break; this Bible study feels overwhelming and too intense for me right now, I'm not going”

Then there are those instances of “church hurt,” when someone at church, perhaps a friend or even a leader, unintentionally says something that pierces our hearts and leaves us feeling wounded or judged. Instead of reaching out for understanding or healing, we retreat into ourselves, finding comfort in solitude and isolation. As we lie there, the world outside fades away, and we might reflect, “I’m in bed, Lord, I’m relaxing, and all my immediate needs are met.”

In this cocoon of safety, we consciously choose to remain within our personal zone, shutting the door on the potential for connection, growth, and genuine spiritual engagement. This refusal to rise from our cozy sanctuary represents physical reluctance. It signals a deeper hesitation to open our hearts and allow the light of love, community, and understanding to enter our lives and help form us into the character of Christ.

She softly states, “My lover thrust his hand through the hole.” Though her love for Him lingers, it has diminished in intensity, now described as 'lukewarm,' as I mentioned earlier. These words resonate deeply, reminiscent of the poignant message from the book of Amos: “Woe to those who live in ease in Zion, to those who feel secure on Mount Samaria. They see themselves as the elite class of the finest nation, and the family of Israel turns to them for guidance and leadership.” (Amos 6:1)

“The Bridegroom thrust his hand through the hole.” Before her lies a sturdy door, held firmly in place by a sliding latch. He slid the latch open with deliberate care, gently pushing the door ajar. He possessed the authority to force His way inside if He chose to do so, proclaiming, “Whether you permit me entry or not, I 'm coming in,” yet He chose restraint. He honors the boundaries we establish and will not impose Himself upon us or demand access to the inner sanctum of our lives. As scripture assures us, “For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13). However, He will not come down to manipulate our tongue, bending it to utter the words, “I call on the name of the Lord.” He cherishes our autonomy and will not strip us of our will.

Indeed, it is true: “His hands were on the door latch,” but pay close attention to the bride’s heartfelt response: “...and my feelings were stirred for Him.” In this moment of awakening, she begins comprehending the gravity of His visit, articulating that “everything inside me was moved with feelings for Him.”

What is particularly intriguing is that if we choose to remain unresponsive to His voice, He may extend His hand—not to coerce or force entrance, but rather to gently seek connection, reaching through the door latch of our hearts, yearning for communion. Why does He act in this manner? The answer will unfold in the following verses: there is, indeed, a profound purpose behind His gentle pursuit.

Through the Bridegroom’s steadfast patience and gentle tenderness, the bride slowly awakened to her surroundings and softly declared, "I arose to open for my beloved." Moments before, she had rejected Him, an act that must have pierced the Bridegroom's heart with profound sorrow, especially given the tenderness with which He approached her. Yet, as she resolved to open the door, the text evokes a striking image: “My hands dripped with myrrh; my fingers flowed with myrrh on the handles of the lock.”

What does this richly layered imagery convey? When Jesus willingly endured the agony of the cross, His hands, marked by the cruel piercing of nails, became the channels through which His precious, redemptive blood flowed—offering salvation to all. In an exquisite display of love, He reached toward the door with grace, not force or impatience, but with an enduring compassion. As His hands brushed against the inside door latch, He left behind a generous offering of myrrh—a fragrant, sweet-smelling resin celebrated throughout history for its aromatic qualities and revered in the ancient world for its use in temple worship and funerary rites.

Though she had turned Him away from entering, and chose not to leave her warm bed, He decided to leave her a token of His love rather than respond with anger or bitterness. His unwavering affection illuminated His actions: “Honey, I know you won’t let me in, but my love for you is unshakeable and unconditional; nothing will diminish that. Here is a symbol of my everlasting love for you.”

The Apostle Paul beautifully amplifies this message in Romans 8:38-39, stating, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor heavenly rulers, nor things that are present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

The myrrh He left carries profound significance as a sweet-smelling spice long associated with death and mourning. By offering this fragrant gift, He may gently remind the Church that even in moments of spiritual lethargy or when we find ourselves half-asleep in our faith, His love for us remains unwavering and unconditional. He died to become our salvation. He yearns to share with us the compelling fragrances of joy, hope, and eternal pleasures that flow from the Father. In doing so, He warmly invites us to partake in the divine beauty of these everlasting delights and embrace the promise of a life that knows no end.

“I opened for my beloved, but my lover had already turned and gone away.” This evocative line compels us to reflect deeply on its meaning. When you neglect to spend precious moments with Jesus, especially when He beckons you in the stillness of the night at 3:00 in the morning, there may come a time when He feels compelled to withdraw His presence. This is not a matter of condemnation; if you are truly His child, you will always belong to Him. However, you risk losing the profound sweetness of His fellowship and the deep intimacy that He earnestly desires.

“I fell into despair when He departed.” Have you ever felt the heavy weight of regret over something you said or did, wishing you could rewind the clock and make a different choice? Or experienced that sharp ache of longing for a moment you wish you could relive? This is precisely what she is enduring as she mournfully observes, “I’ve messed up and made a grievous mistake. He came to me, and the sweetness of our time together could have been so beautiful.”

“I looked for Him but did not find Him; I called Him but He did not answer me.” In this moment, she is no longer merely standing at the doorway, tentatively opening it in hope. She is outside on a chilly, shadowy night, desperate and searching the desolate streets beyond her home. The Hebrew word ‘baqash,’ used for ‘looked,’ carries a weighty essence of fervent pleading— ‘I begged for Him,’ echoing her anxious heart.

Have you encountered the spiritual principle that you will reap what you sow? In this instance, she had sown an evening cloaked in spiritual laziness, dismissing His call with thoughts like, “I don’t want to engage with Him tonight; perhaps I will do so tomorrow when it’s more convenient.” This careless choice has reaped grave consequences, leaving her to grapple with a bitter truth. Jesus speaks to this dynamic, saying, “I am gone, but not permanently. I have chosen to be present with those who truly seek and appreciate my presence, sweetness, wisdom, and guidance.”

Indeed, we find ourselves reminded that we reap what we sow; this principle applies not just to our lives before we came to faith, but also tangibly impacts our relationship with Christ presently. “I called Him, but He did not answer me.” It’s vital to recognize that we can grow complacent and allow emotions—selfishness, bitterness, and even unforgiveness—to take root in our hearts, leading to a silence where we once heard His voice so clearly.

This situation could compellingly be titled “The Dangers of Spiritual Laziness.” As she roams the darkened streets outside her home, the chill in the air reflects the longing in her heart. She is fully aware of the risks she faces while searching for Him, yet her deep yearning to reconnect and find solace in His presence far outweighs her fear. The dark night symbolizes her internal struggle, amplifying her profound need for the love and clarity that only He can provide, illuminating the shadows of her soul with the desire for hope.

“The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.” Tasked with safeguarding the streets, these vigilant guards stumbled upon her amidst the shadows of the night. In the murky darkness, she desperately searches for her lost lover—her Solomon, her Jesus—but instead, it is these watchmen who discover her wandering alone. To them, a woman cloaked in the night signifies only one thing: she is a woman of ill repute. They immediately assume she is a prostitute, engaging in illicit activities, prowling the streets for unsuspecting men in search of companionship.

This harsh judgment hangs heavy on her heart. She longs for the moment when Solomon knocked on her door, wishing she had opened it to him, embraced his warmth, and rejoiced in his divine companionship. Instead, regret floods her being.

“They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen on the walls!” Her voice quivers with pain, capturing both the physical torment and emotional anguish she experienced. The word 'beat' is particularly haunting; it is a verb so forceful that it is translated as 'killed' twenty times in the Old Testament, emphasizing the brutality she endured. The watchmen assaulted her with such ferocity that they could have easily taken her life. The term 'bruised' goes deeper, suggesting not just surface wounds but a profound, crushing hurt reverberating through her body and spirit.

Furthermore, when she laments, “they took away my cloak,” she is not simply speaking of a garment. In various translations, this ‘cloak’ is called her 'veil,' an emblem of femininity and modesty. It represents her identity and dignity. By forcibly stripping it away, the watchmen not only robbed her of her clothing but also her very essence, reducing her to a mere object of scorn. They viewed her veil as a deceitful cover, dismissing her humanity and believing her to be nothing more than a harlot haunting the shadows of the night; their callous indifference compounded her suffering.

In Chapter Three, the Shulamite woman drifts into a deep slumber, a metaphor for her fluctuating spiritual journey marked by both vibrant faith and moments of indifference. Her spiritual life resembles a pendulum, swinging between profound closeness to God and periods of spiritual drowsiness—much like our own lives, which are often filled with peaks of devotion and valleys of distraction. Recently, she has been affectionately called His Garden and His Orchard, titles that highlight her beauty and signify the nourishing relationship she shares with her Solomon. In this lush and intimate space, she extends a heartfelt invitation for Him to join her in fellowship, immersing herself in the richness of His Word.

Upon awakening in Chapter Three, her heart races with an urgent desire to seek Him out. This time, she finds Him without encountering the ominous watchmen—figures representing the lurking spiritual dangers threatening to ensnare us when we neglect our faithful pursuit of Jesus. Yet, this narrative serves as a poignant reminder of the profound implications of repeated spiritual slumber. After surrendering to sleep for the second, third, or even fourth time, she faces harrowing consequences. This time, the watchmen are unforgiving; they beat and bruise her, mercilessly stripping away her veil—a powerful symbol of her identity and dignity in Christ.

This stark imagery illustrates a profound truth about the spiritual realm: the enemy of our souls prowls, seeking to exploit our weaknesses. When we allow ourselves to drift into spiritual complacency, we risk losing our sense of self in Christ and our inherent dignity, leaving us vulnerable to attacks on our faith. The evocative warning resonates deeply in Proverbs. “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to relax, and your poverty will come like a bandit, and your need like an armed robber” (Proverbs 24:33-34). Not responding to the Lord’s daily call can lead us down a perilous path, where neglecting our spiritual vigilance invites chaos into our lives.

“I admonish you, O maidens of Jerusalem—If you find my beloved, what will you tell him? Tell him that I am lovesick!” She says, “If you find Him, would you tell Him I’m genuinely sorry, tell Him I have repented and won’t do it again.” She is beginning to comprehend the profound nature of Godly sorrow, which transcends mere regret. “For the sadness that God orchestrates leads to a repentance that brings forth salvation, leaving no trace of remorse, whereas worldly sorrow ultimately spirals into death.” (2 Corinthians 7:10). “If you find Him, tell Him I’m lovesick, share that I deeply yearn for His presence to grace me once more, and confess that I have stumbled.” She is also discovering the transformative power of honesty and confession to the Lord and those around her as crucial steps for spiritual growth. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just, forgiving us our sins and cleansing us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9).

Does this heartfelt message resonate with you as you navigate your spiritual journey? Have you found yourself wandering away from Jesus, losing touch with the vibrant connection with Jesus you once cherished? It’s time to awaken from your spiritual slumber, rise with purpose, and warmly invite Him back into the sacred space of your life. His gentle hand is poised upon the door latch of your heart, waiting for your invitation to enter. He approaches, bringing fragrant perfumes and spices with Him, which symbolize the gifts of love, peace, and joy that He longs to bestow upon you. Cultivate an earnest desire for those intimate moments of sweet fellowship with Him through His Word—treasure those precious times of revelation and the profound application of His teachings in your daily life. Guard against the enemy of your soul, who seeks to strip you of your identity in Christ, of the enriching presence of God in your everyday journey. Even if His whisper nudges you awake in the early morning, embrace that sacred time to commune with Him. Open wide the door of your heart; He is infinitely worthy of your attention and devotion. May we all desire to remain perpetually lovesick for our precious Lord Jesus, continuously seeking His presence and grace in every facet of our lives.

Stephen Barnett

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