The Ordered Ecstasy of Divine Love Text: Song of Solomon 2:1-7
Introduction: A Garden Locked Against the World
The Song of Solomon is a book that makes modern, sterile evangelicals nervous. It is unashamedly erotic, filled with a lush, physical, and passionate love. And because our age is simultaneously obsessed with and terrified of sex, we don't know what to do with it. We either treat it like a technical manual for the bedroom, which is crass, or we flee into a gauzy, disembodied allegory where the breasts are the Old and New Testaments, which is just bizarre. But the Bible refuses to be embarrassed. God gave us this book to teach us about the goodness of marital love, and He did this so that we might have a vocabulary, a grammar, for the much greater love between Christ and His Church.
We must hold both realities at once. This is a real song, about a real king and his real bride, celebrating a real, physical love. If we strip it of its historical and literal meaning, we make a mockery of the very thing God created to be the picture. But it is a picture. Marriage is not the gospel, but it preaches the gospel. [22, 26] It is a living metaphor, an enacted parable of Christ's love for His people. The love described here is exclusive, overwhelming, and jealous. And so is God's love for us. This song is a garden locked against the prurient and the profane, but its gates are open to all who would understand the ferocious, covenantal love of God in Christ.
In this passage, we have a dialogue of love. The bride speaks, then the groom, and then the bride again. In their words, we see her dawning realization of her own beauty in his eyes, his exclusive delight in her, and the overwhelming, world-altering nature of their love. This is a love that brings them to the feasting table, but it is a military feast. This is a love that is sweet, but it is also strong. It is a love that must not be trifled with or rushed. It has its own timing, its own seasons, and its own sovereign will.
The Text
“I am the rose of Sharon, The lily of the valleys.”
“Like a lily among the thorns, So is my darling among the daughters.”
“Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, So is my beloved among the sons. In his shade I had great desire and sat down, And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He has brought me to his house of banqueting, And his banner over me is love.
Sustain me with raisin cakes, Refresh me with apples, Because I am lovesick.
Let his left hand be under my head And his right hand embrace me.”
“I call you to solemnly swear, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles or by the hinds of the field, That you do not arouse or awaken my love Until she pleases.”
(Song of Solomon 2:1-7 LSB)
Identity in the Beloved's Gaze (vv. 1-2)
The dialogue begins with the bride's declaration of who she is.
"I am the rose of Sharon, The lily of the valleys." (Song of Solomon 2:1)
Now, this is not a statement of pride, but of discovery. She is not boasting; she is marveling. In the previous chapter, she was insecure about her appearance, darkened by the sun. But now, having experienced his love, she sees herself through his eyes. She is not just any flower, but one that grows in the fertile plains of Sharon, a place of renowned beauty. She is a lily of the valleys, a thing of humble purity and grace. This is the voice of a woman who has learned her true value from the one who values her. [30]
This is precisely how the Church finds her identity. The world, the sun of affliction and persecution, beats down on her. She sees her own flaws, her own sin, her own unworthiness. But then the Bridegroom, Christ, looks upon her and declares her beautiful. And in His gaze, she discovers who she truly is. We are nothing in ourselves, but in Christ, we are the rose of Sharon. Our righteousness is a borrowed beauty, a reflected glory. We are lovely only because He loves us.
The groom immediately affirms and elevates her declaration.
"Like a lily among the thorns, So is my darling among the daughters." (Song of Solomon 2:2)
He takes her metaphor and sharpens it. Yes, you are a lily, he says, but your beauty is made all the more striking by its surroundings. Compared to all the other women, the "daughters," you are a lily and they are thorns. This is the language of exclusive, superlative love. For him, she is utterly unique. The world is full of thorny, grasping, and sharp-edged things, but she is a thing of grace and beauty. This is not to say other women are objectively worthless, but that in the covenant of marriage, the husband has eyes only for his bride. His delight in her is total and exclusive.
And so it is with Christ and the Church. He looks out at all the institutions and allegiances of men, all the kingdoms and philosophies of the world, and He sees a field of thorns. But His Church, His bride, is His lily. She is His unique treasure, set apart and incomparably beautiful to Him, not because of her own inherent perfection, but because He has declared her to be so.
The All-Sufficient Groom (v. 3)
The bride responds, matching his praise. If she is a lily among thorns, he is an apple tree among barren trees.
"Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, So is my beloved among the sons. In his shade I had great desire and sat down, And his fruit was sweet to my taste." (Song of Solomon 2:3)
The image is potent. A forest in that region was not a grove of fruit trees. It was filled with oaks and terebinths, trees that offered little to a weary and hungry traveler. But an apple tree, a cultivated tree, is a rare and glorious sight. It offers two things the forest cannot: shade from the oppressive heat and fruit for deep satisfaction. She is saying that all the other men, the "sons," are like the useless trees of the forest. They offer nothing. But her beloved is unique. He provides both protection and nourishment. She doesn't just happen upon his shade; she desires it and deliberately sits down in it. This is an act of trust, of finding rest in his strength. And there, in that place of rest, she partakes of his fruit, and finds it sweet.
The typological significance is unavoidable. Christ is that apple tree in the barren forest of this world. [9] The philosophies and religions of men offer no shade from the coming judgment of God, and their fruit is bitter poison. But Christ offers perfect protection, a shade from the wrath of God. We find our rest under the shadow of the cross. And He offers perfect nourishment. His life, His righteousness, His very self is the fruit that we feast upon by faith, and we find it sweet to our souls. "Taste and see that the LORD is good" (Psalm 34:8).
The Banner of Ordered Love (vv. 4-6)
This experience of rest and satisfaction leads to a place of public celebration and overwhelming intimacy.
"He has brought me to his house of banqueting, And his banner over me is love." (Song of Solomon 2:4)
He does not leave her in the shade of the tree; he brings her into his house, a place of feasting and wine. This is a picture of joyous, intimate fellowship. But it is not a private, hidden affair. There is a banner over her, and that banner's inscription is "love." A banner is a military standard. It is a public declaration of identity and allegiance. [23] The tribes of Israel camped under their banners (Numbers 2:2). An army with banners is a fearsome thing (Song of Solomon 6:4). This is not a sentimental, flimsy love. This is a conquering, sovereign, ordering love. He is publicly claiming her as his own. His love for her is the flag under which they march, the standard by which their lives are ordered. This is what Augustine meant by "rightly ordered love." God's love for us in Christ is not chaotic; it is a love that organizes us into an army. [23]
The experience is so intense, it is almost too much for her to bear.
"Sustain me with raisin cakes, Refresh me with apples, Because I am lovesick. Let his left hand be under my head And his right hand embrace me." (Song of Solomon 2:5-6)
She is lovesick, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his affection. This is not a sickness unto death, but an ecstasy that borders on fainting. She needs to be strengthened, sustained with the very fruit he provides. Her response to this overwhelming love is not to flee, but to press in for more intimacy. She longs for his embrace, to be held in a posture of complete rest and security. His left hand supports her head, and his right hand surrounds her. It is a picture of total peace, of a soul that has found its true home in the arms of its beloved.
This is the experience of the believer who truly grasps the love of Christ. It is a love so high and deep and wide that it can overwhelm us. We are undone by grace. And in those moments, we can only ask to be sustained by Him and drawn yet closer into His embrace, to find our rest in His finished work.
The Sacredness of Timing (v. 7)
The section concludes with a solemn charge, a warning delivered to the onlookers.
"I call you to solemnly swear, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the gazelles or by the hinds of the field, That you do not arouse or awaken my love Until she pleases." (Song of Solomon 2:7)
She adjures the "daughters of Jerusalem," the other court ladies, not to interfere. She makes them swear by the gazelles and hinds of the field, creatures that are beautiful, shy, and easily startled. The point is that love is a wild and tender thing. It cannot be forced, manipulated, or rushed. You cannot manufacture this kind of intimacy. It has its own timing, its own will. To try and awaken it before its time is to violate it, to scare it away.
This is a profound principle for both romance and our relationship with God. Our culture believes that passion can be summoned on demand, that intimacy is a technique. This is a lie. True love, the kind that reflects God's covenant, must be allowed to grow according to its own God-given nature and timing. The same is true of spiritual revival. We cannot work it up with emotionalism or clever programs. We can pray, we can preach, we can be faithful, but the Spirit, like the wind, blows where He pleases. You cannot schedule an awakening. You must not try to arouse love before its time.
Conclusion: The Gospel Feast
What we have here is a portrait of the Christian life. We begin as those who are unsure, darkened by the world. But in Christ, we discover our true identity as His beloved. He is our unique provision, our shade and our sustenance in the wilderness of this world. He brings us into His banqueting house, the Church, where we feast at His table. And over us is His banner of love, a declaration to all the principalities and powers that we belong to Him.
His love is an overwhelming thing, a love that makes us lovesick for more of Him. It is a love that holds us and secures us in an everlasting embrace. This love is a gift, a wild and beautiful thing that must be received on its own terms, in its own time. You cannot force the new birth. You cannot manipulate the Holy Spirit.
The invitation of the gospel is the call of the Bridegroom. He stands as the apple tree in the forest. He has opened His banqueting hall. His banner is raised. The whole story of the world is a love story, a romance written by God. The central issue is whether you will see yourself as the lily, beautiful in His sight, and see Him as the apple tree, your only rest and satisfaction. The feast is prepared. Come, sit in His shade, taste His fruit, and rest under the banner of His love.