Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul introduces a fictional story painted with tender intimacy to gently unravel the ageless waters of human desire for everlasting love.
Based on the sacred theology of Jesus as the Church’s Bridegroom, Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul’s storybook manner sparks the imagination, exposes hidden wounds, and nourishes the soul.
Through deeply warm conversations, unsuspecting characters encounter Jesus, who is sometimes disguised, and come to find Him as the healing Lover of their souls. These therapeutic conversations take place in a café, a ballroom floor in heaven, beside a lake, in Jerusalem and other colorful places that welcome rest.
This book is uniquely crafted to touch the reader in a deeply personal way by ministering the curative and multi-faceted love of Jesus to their specific need.
The chapters shine in a myriad of ways to reach readers in their precise season of journeying deeper into the satisfying love of Jesus, while simultaneously encompassing the overall desire for a greater relationship.
Every consoling chapter is like a thread in the archway of the readers personal pilgrimage, sensitively inviting them to enter the most holy covenant relationship.
Ultimately, this book was designed to usher the reader into the comforting arms of Jesus, where He can make them whole with pure love.
Arise, my dearest. Hurry, my darling. Come away with me! I have come as you have asked
to draw you to my heart and lead you out. For now is the time, my beautiful one.
—Song of Solomon 2:8–10 TPT
“You wanted to go out tonight?”
It was 7:30 and I knew he was coming. It was a cold, brisk fall evening and the sun had begun to melt like dripping butter across the distant mountains.
I was in my room and my heart was alive. I had ached, longed, and desired for so long, and now he was coming.
I knew I could very well go out in pajama pants and a big t-shirt with him and he would still call me beautiful, but I wanted to doll myself up tonight.
I quickly dressed. After pulling up my Devi jeans I slipped into my caramel winter dress and bundled a fluffy lime green scarf around my neck. I ran to the mirror and smeared wine-colored lipstick on my lips and shook my hands through my hair to create volume. He was almost here, something in my quiet spirit told me so.
I shadowed my eyelids with soft, metallic, smoky bronze and added a nude honey above it—the colors highlighted the hazelnut shade of my eyes. I put on my chestnut boots, grabbed my Bible and coat and ran to the front.
I stopped so abruptly when I caught a glimpse of the kitchen table that I skirted.
I knew my older friend Angel was out and would be looking for me when she came home. Quickly taking up a notepad and pen from the table I scribbled hastily.
“Went out with a friend. Don’t wait up. Be back soon enough…Love, Noelani”
Dropping the pen, I rushed to the front Trimble French door with a white lacy curtain over the glass. He was in the driveway when I opened it.
A bright smiling face greeted me from the driver’s seat. Even behind the windshield, in the late dusky light of evening he still shone like the sun to my eyes. I felt the waves of his love warming my soul in a continuous overlapping rhythm. I barely closed the door behind me. My hand slipped twice on the knob before I finally shut it.
Suddenly I felt bashful in the presence of my Savior. My eyes were glued to his beautiful face.
As I approached, he got out the car and moved to the passenger’s door. He held it out for me and I dipped my head shyly before looking up at him.
He was in dark jeans, a black trench coat, and a royal blue scarf, and his curly brown hair made smooth waves atop his head and at the tips of his ears. His rich eyes soothed me as he looked into me. They were like chestnuts carrying the scents of cinnamon.
“Peace to you,” he said and took me in his arms for a squeeze. I melted in the warmth of his embrace and hugged him back. I fixed myself comfortably in his enfoldment and I felt as if I were sitting in front of a fireplace. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before his arms loosened. I never wanted to let him go.
Reluctantly I dropped my arms down before moving into the passenger’s seat. Jesus closed the door behind me and got into the car. I shuffled my shoulders and back a few times as I adjusted the seat, before getting it to the desirable level of comfortability.
“Where to?” he asked, already knowing the desires of my heart.
“Come now, tell me.”
“You’re Jesus. You know everything,” I said quietly.
“I want to hear your voice.”
I turned towards him. In his eyes burned a flaming desire far deeper than my own. His words were coated with sweetness and longing.
“That’s one of the purposes of prayer most people don’t talk about. Hearing your voice gives me pleasure. It’s not all about efforts or works. The greatest commandment is to love me.”
Stricken with a new wave of love I breathed, “The lake.”
“To the lake,” he said with a charming smile and fastened his seat belt. I fastened mine and he turned on the heater for me. It blew at just the right temperature. Soft instrumental music played and it was the kind of music that steamed the air with hope, kindness, love, compassion, mercy, and truth.
The evening was clear and giving way to night. A show of glittering stars sparkled in the sky. The moon was luminous against the deep orange glow of the hemisphere and it hung like an ornament above our heads. The city was a gleaming web of lights, each boulevard and street was like a portal to a new world and I felt like a little girl during the holidays—excitement and anticipation popping in me like small fireworks.
Jesus asked me if I wanted something from my favorite cafe shop before we headed to the lake. I nodded and he made a left turn at Star street. I was quiet as he drove. Although no words were uttered I was basking in his presence and healing was taking place in my soul. He didn’t have to speak, just being with him cured me. His very ambiance was like a sauna of internal ointment. I felt like I was home. He was my home—the embodiment of heaven’s love. I wanted nothing more than to be with him.
Jesus smoothly parallel parked the car. After unbuckling his seat belt, he looked up at the twinkling sky, “It will snow soon.”
“That’s my favorite,” I said, “the first snow fall. It’s so pure and white.”
Jesus grinned, “I’m glad you like it, darling.”
A sheepish smile lifted my cheeks, “Thanks for making it. By you all things were made.”
“Through me, to me, and for me,” he breathed. “I like it, too.”
I chortled, “I imagine if you made it, you would.”
His smile became endearing, yet a faint glint of sadness gleamed in his deeply rich eyes. “Then why do so many of my children feel bad about themselves and hinder my love and affection?”
I fell silent.
“An artist cherishes his art. If human artists who create care so much about their work, how much do you think I care about you?”
I wanted to stretch out my hands and give him a picture of what I thought the answer might be, but instead I voiced, “I could never describe how much.”
“Then perhaps you’re beginning to understand. It’s beyond human comprehension without divine interpretation from my Spirit. My sweet, the core of all insecurity is security in anything or anyone else other than me. If people really knew how much they were loved by me and my Father, they would have no insecurity, no fears, no mental or emotional torment.”
I was quiet as we walked into the cafe. My mind was in deep thought about what he had said.
Why did people feel bad about themselves? If all of creation was art by the Master Artist then shouldn’t we all rejoice? Especially we, as mankind, because we were the only creation made in the image of the Artist.
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