Author: Ashley McClelland

~This snippet is taken from my book, Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul:

“What makes your beloved better than any other?
What is it about him…?” – Jerusalem Maiden, Brides-to-Be

—Song of Songs 5:9b TPT

Vaporous spicy aromas licked the air with heat. Warm ginger mingled with clove. Pine kissed ground coffee scents. Chai danced with vanilla. And nutmeg blended with buttery pear creating a bath of incense. A group of teenagers sat on a plush, ruby red sofa drinking piquant drinks from decorative mugs. They shared headphones and watched videos on their laptops, which were resting on their legs. An old couple sharing a booth, sat across from one another talking. The wife reached a pale, trembling hand over her husband’s tan, leathery one. His opaque eyes misted as he looked upon her, and I felt his ripe love for her like hot honey in my chest. Some young adults were seated around a wooden oval table doing homework. I guessed they were all a part of a study group. Still there were others scattered about. I passed by a small girl with pigtails happily eating a lemon tart dessert.

When Jesus walked in, I expected him to stand on a table and evangelize. Instead, he walked right up to the counter to greet a comely barista. Her thick, brown hair was weaved in the back and hung like glossy rope with tawny blonde highlights. She had clear green eyes like olive oil and lips the color of crushed raspberries.

“Good evening, sir. How may I help you?” she asked perfunctorily.

She looked frazzled and her day must have been long, for although she looked at Jesus, she didn’t see him. He was just another customer. It was almost as if her pretty eyes were shuttered by the repetitive routine of work. She glanced at me and asked the same question before her eyes fell to the cash register, ready to proceed with her normal protocol.

I ordered an apple spice tea with sweet buttercream drizzle. “Good choice,” she said without feeling.

Jesus remained silent for a few seconds. His eyes scanned her as she stared at the cash register waiting for him to order next. She glanced up at him when he said nothing.

“What would you recommend, Diane?” he asked, with deeply compassionate eyes and a warm smile. I knew he asked that question only to rouse her.

Her eyes quickened slightly, and her shoulders perked up. “That depends. How are you feeling?”

Jesus answered with a bright smile, “I’m feeling like I could use something with a kick of zest in it.”

The corners of Diane’s lips slightly lifted at his charming and welcoming visage. “We have pineapple tea with ginger root. That usually provides a nice kick.”

“That sounds good, but I’d like to hear other options.”

Diane began to read off to Jesus a list of other teas and coffees that were energy boosters. She went through the entire list before he asked, “Which ones are your favorites? For those nights where you need a booster?”

Diane chortled softly. “It would be the spiked cider or the whiskey Irish creamed coffee,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “But if you’re looking for a nonalcoholic solution, I’d recommend the hot chocolate supreme. It has a few shots of caffeine.”

By this time my tea was finished, and I picked up my order before finding a nearby table. I knew Jesus was ministering to Diane.

“What if I didn’t want anything with alcohol or caffeine in it?” Jesus asked, his demeanor still warm.

“Then the pineapple ginger is your best bet, but you can choose from these other teas,” she said fingering a few, her eyes fixed on the list. “Like I said it really just depends on how you feel.”

“How do you feel?” Jesus asked her.

His question surprised her, and I noted a flicker of shock cross her face before she masked it with her customary employee visage.

“I feel like I could use a booster myself,” she said politely.

“I know a booster that you can’t get in a tea or a coffee or anything material but it always works. And I’d like to give it to you if you’re willing.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “It always works?”

Jesus gave a gentle laugh. “It hasn’t failed yet. Millions of people who’ve had this would tell you so, from centuries ago to modern day, from all around the world to right in this city.”

“How much is it?”

“It’s completely free.”

Diane’s eyebrows creased slightly, and she tilted her head trying to discern Jesus. Nothing but waves of love came off him. She glimpsed around. Everyone had been served, and her fellow co-worker had gone into the kitchen.

“What is it?” she asked, partly suspicious.

“Not what, but who.”

Misunderstanding his intent, Diane stated, “I have a boyfriend.”

Jesus nodded. “I know you do, and I’m not coming onto you if that’s what you’re thinking…at least not in that way.”

Diane pressed her lips together. “Then…?”

“It’s Jesus.”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Please, sir, I’ve had enough of religious jargon. And I’m too old to believe or be humored by fairy tales.”

“I would disagree,” Jesus said kindly.

“What would you like to drink?” Diane asked, cutting him off.

“Humor me for a moment, Diane.”

Diane gave an audible sigh and then shrugged. She stared him up and down again before her demeanor softened. “Okay,” she said cautiously.

“I don’t doubt that you’ve had enough of religious jargon. I’ve had enough of it myself. But I do question whether or not you’re being truthful about fairy tales.”

Diane arched an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms.

Jesus continued, “Think of it. Most movies are composed of fairy tales, even the action ones. There’s some level of magic in them—of superhuman strength, of beauty, of endurance, of ideal romance, of triumph and adventure beyond common life. Most songs consist of a yearning for superhuman love. Many best-selling books are littered with these noble ideas that are often fleeting in human experience, yet they are an ever-constant source of ache and desire in the human heart.”

Diane’s lips untightened and her arms slowly uncrossed.

Jesus expounded, “If those aren’t fairy tales, then I don’t know what is. Every human heart longs to experience something more than the dreariness of life. That’s why people stuff themselves with fancies, be it food, relationships, temporary thrills like theme parks, drugs, movies, vacations, promotions, possessions, whatever it be. The soul of man knows there’s something more that it was created for, and so most people numb this yearning by stuffing it with entertainment. The only problem is,” he paused, and his eyes deepened; “Is that they’re trying to fill an eternal ache with temporary things. Worldly things can never mask heavenly desire. Many have tried, and all of them have failed. Do you not find yourself entertained by these things, Diane?”

When Diane didn’t answer, Jesus replied, “I know you do.” His tone was thick with bowls of compassion that rose like sweet fragrance.

“Well, religious people entertain themselves with rules and criticizing others. At least ‘secular’ people seek happiness over hate,” Diane retorted. Although her facial expression was defiant, her voice was strained, and I caught a glimpse of sorrow in her eyes before she drew it back.

Jesus reached out to Diane with such compassion that I felt a lump rise to my throat.

“Religious people do. You’re right. And I’m sorry for everyone that has hurt you. Truly, I am. Many people are so busy making religion their god that they don’t allow God in their religion. Turns out religion is much more easily manageable than God. Those people you speak of are afraid. They may not even know it, but they are. Pride is a form of fear. They seek control, perfection, a way to escape chaos. They are desperate to measure up for fear of rejection, failure, exposure, whatever the fear is. They have so many layers of behavior modifications and thought processes piled on top of their fear that they can’t even detect it. They look to somehow redeem themselves. But there is only one Redeemer. There is only one love that casts out all fear and those who have that are not religious. That’s what I want to offer you tonight.”

Jesus paused and stared deeply into her eyes. “Diane, the happiness that people seek is Jesus. Eternal happiness can be found in nothing else.”

Diane’s eyes watered and she closed them. Her breath shook a little as she tried to compose herself, “You speak as if you know him. No Christian has ever spoken to me like that.”

Jesus reached out and gently touched her arm. She collapsed into tears at his warm touch, and I knew she was feeling his love for the first time. It was as if the pores of her skin opened up to his liquid love. Diane covered her face with her hands and tried hard not to weep so loudly.

Customers noticed and passed curious glances. Some seemed concerned that whoever was touching her had somehow hurt her, but their thoughts quickly turned when he lifted his hand and caressed the side of her face. Diane grabbed and then pressed his hand against her cheek with hers. Her teeth clenched as she sobbed.

“Do you feel that?” Jesus asked, his voice rough with emotion.

“It’s like fire in my heart,” she sobbed, choking on tears. Her skin became damp with sweat from crying so hard and from the heat of his love. Her smooth skin reddened until her nose was like plumb sauce. Her tears, snot, and saliva got on Jesus’ hand, but it didn’t bother him. He was smiling. He was happy and content…

~To read the full story, click here.

For centuries, the female heart has burned with desire for the lasting pleasure of unchanging love. In the course of time, civilizations have risen and fallen, yet the longing for tangible intimacy has never faded. Millions of lyrics have been written to the passionate tune of this fluid yearning.

Unfortunately, few people find the lasting love they’ve longed for, even as children. Life, education, and societal pressures transform what was once a tangible hope into a mythical fairy tale. Industries have reaped unlimited monetary gain from the erosion of this hope. Billions of girls grow up to become women who have long since tossed their dreams of true love in the trash bin of cynicism. Countless others have buried their ache of unmet desire under the disappointment of failed relationships and hopelessness.

Despite most women’s best attempts, this starved craving remains alive, like a stimulating aroma. This ethereal hope goes back to the first relationship, in a place of being so “seen” and “lovingly known” that “she” was naked and unashamed.

This novella was not written to add salt to the gaping wound of unsatisfied need. It was written to satisfy the need completely. Let Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul introduce you to a lasting relationship with Transcendent Love, where reality becomes sweeter than your dreams.