Growing Through Divine Discipline: Encountering Jesus in the Song of Solomon (Part 3)
We often imagine that our spiritual journey will be a steady climb as we grow closer and closer to God, developing more and more fruit and growing deeper in joy. But the Song of Solomon shows us something different. Right in the midst of growing intimacy, the narrative turns sharply. The maiden who was once intimate with Jesus in the secret place refuses Hiis invitation to the mountains. She misses the key to our intimacy with Jesus: The secret place is where He is.
If He is on the mountains, it’s on the mountains. If He is under the shade tree, it’s under the shade tree. The place of obedience is the place of greatest encounter. It will not look the same in every season, but His nearness can be just as powerful on the mountain as it is under the shade tree.
She is entering a season of divine discipline. She disobeyed His call to come higher and now she’s looking for Him in the familiar place but He’s not there.
She is about to walk through a prolonged “night season” brought on by turning away from His presence. The “night” represents a spiritual darkness and coldness, marked by the absence of the One she loves. In this shadowed season, she struggles to see clearly; vision and spiritual clarity have faded. The warmth of intimacy has grown cold, and she finds herself trying to rekindle the joy of spiritual communion without walking in the obedience that intimacy requires.
Her longing exposes a deeper truth: it is not that the Lord has abandoned her—He has promised never to leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5), but she is seeking Him from a place of disobedience. The seeming separation is not a withdrawal of love, but a divine strategy of mercy. God uses this distance to expose the misalignment of her heart, not to punish her but to invite her back into partnership and wholehearted devotion. The growing ache for His nearness becomes the spark that reignites her courage to seek Him and return in obedience.
This divine discipline carries several redemptive features.
First, the absence of His felt presence is actually a gift of grace, not wrath. It is a redemptive judgment—designed not to shame or condemn, but to draw her back into the fullness of love. Next, Many confuse God’s displeasure with their actions as personal rejection, but that is a distortion. His correction is never His rejection. Rather, His loving discipline flows from deep affection: “For whom the Lord loves He chastens…” (Hebrews 12:6). Third, His chastening is not a sign of abandonment but of belonging. Divine correction is a mark of legitimacy in our relationship with Him—“But if you are without chastening… then you are illegitimate” (Hebrews 12:8). Fourth, We should not fear His correction; it is the tender evidence that we are truly His. Through it, He calls her—and us—into deeper union with Himself.
In this night season of divine discipline, something shifts. A holy resolve awakens within her: “I will rise now… I will seek the one I love” (Song 3:2). Though she had previously resisted His call to “rise up and come away” (Song 2:13), now she responds in obedience. Her pursuit begins—not in a moment of overwhelming emotion, but in the quiet decision to obey. Even though she seeks Him, she does not immediately find Him. This is a profound truth: there may be a stretch of faithful obedience before the felt experience of His presence returns. Still, she presses forward, clinging to the last word He spoke, continuing in obedience despite the silence.
She refuses to stop. Her heart is set—breakthrough or not, she will seek Him until she finds Him. Along the way, she humbles herself and asks the watchmen—those in positions of authority—for help. This humility is costly, especially after walking in disobedience, but her desperation for reunion with the Lord overrides her pride. And then, suddenly, just after passing by them, she finds Him. Overwhelmed with renewed intimacy, she clings to Him and will not let go. Her time of separation has produced a holy violence in her spirit. She now knows the agony of distance and never wants to trade His presence again—not for comfort, not for pleasure, not even for peace. Her love has matured, forged through correction and refined in obedience.
And with this renewed intimacy, a sober warning emerges. She turns to the daughters of Jerusalem and repeats His earlier instruction: “Do not awaken love until it pleases” (Song 3:5). But this time, it comes not from His mouth, but hers. She has encountered the power of awakened love—how it compels, disrupts, and transforms. She is now the voice of caution, urging others not to stir the depths of divine affection until they are ready to embrace the cost. Love awakened by God is beautiful, but it is also consuming. He gives us everything and calls us to offer the same—and she is now willingly, joyfully, giving Him all.
Chapter 3 of the Song invites us into the tension of divine discipline and the beauty of restoration. It reminds us that Jesus is not absent when we feel the ache of separation—He is near, drawing us back through loving correction. He beckons us to rise in the night seasons, to seek Him not just with passion, but with perseverance and humility. Some of us are still lingering in disobedience, aching for the warmth of His presence, and He's gently asking, “Will you rise now and seek Me?” Others have already stepped into the obedient pursuit, pressing on even without immediate reward. Wherever you are, the call is the same: seek Him until you find Him. Will you humble yourself, ask for help, and cling to Him when you do? Will you allow the pain of separation to become the fuel for holy resolve? Where is He in your night, and where are you in your story with Him?