Love's Complacency, Love's Correction Text: Song of Solomon 5:1-9
Introduction: The Great Dance
The book we call the Song of Songs is a book that makes modern evangelicals nervous. It is unashamedly erotic, filled with intense, passionate, and physical love between a husband and his wife. And because we have, in our sterilized piety, often separated the physical from the spiritual, we don't know what to do with it. We either treat it as a flat-footed manual for the marriage bed, which it is not, or we spiritualize it away into a bland allegory, pretending the two breasts of the bride are the Old and New Testaments. Both approaches gut the book of its power.
The correct approach, the one the apostles themselves teach us, is to see this book for what it is: a glorious, inspired love poem about a real marriage, which is itself a living picture, a type, of the ultimate marriage between Christ and His Church. The Apostle Paul tells us that every marriage is a mystery that points to Christ and the church (Eph. 5:32). If that is true of your marriage, and it is, how much more is it true of the marriage that God Himself placed in the canon of Scripture?
So we must read this on two levels at once, without erasing either one. This is about Solomon and his bride. And it is about Christ and His Bride. The dynamics we see here, the passion, the joy, the conflict, and the reconciliation, are the dynamics of a real marriage. And they are therefore the dynamics of our relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ. This chapter before us is a pivotal one. It moves from the height of marital consummation and joy into a sudden and shocking crisis. It is a story of love enjoyed, love neglected, love lost, and love sought. And in this, it is a profound warning to every Christian and to the church as a whole. It teaches us the dangerous sin of taking the presence of the Beloved for granted.
The Text
“I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have picked my myrrh along with my balsam. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; Drink and imbibe deeply, O lovers.”
“I was asleep, but my heart was awake. A voice! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is full of dew, My locks with the damp of the night.’
I have taken off my long-sleeved garment, How can I put it on again? I have washed my feet, How can I dirty them again?
My beloved sent forth his hand through the opening, And my feelings moaned for him.
I arose to open to my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, On the handles of the lock.
I opened to my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and passed by! My soul went out to him as he spoke. I searched for him, but I did not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me.
The watchmen who go about in the city found me, They struck me and wounded me; The guardsmen of the walls took away my shawl from me.
I call you to solemnly swear, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, What will you tell him? Tell him that I am sick with love.”
“What is your beloved that he is more than any other beloved, O most beautiful among women? What is your beloved that he is more than any other beloved, That thus you call us to solemnly swear?”
(Song of Solomon 5:1-9 LSB)
Consummation and Communion (v. 1)
The chapter opens with the voice of the beloved, the husband. He has come to his bride, who he has previously described as a locked garden (4:12), and now he enters it.
"I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have picked my myrrh along with my balsam. I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk. Eat, friends; Drink and imbibe deeply, O lovers." (Song of Solomon 5:1)
This is the language of marital consummation, of pure and undefiled joy. He has entered his garden; he is partaking of its delights. This is a picture of Christ coming to His church, to His people, and finding His delight in her. When the church is rightly ordered, when she opens herself to her Lord, there is a sweet communion. He is not a reluctant visitor; He comes to feast. He finds His joy in His people.
Notice the final line. The voice shifts to an invitation: "Eat, friends; Drink and imbibe deeply, O lovers." This is the voice of God the Father, giving His blessing upon the union of His Son with His Bride. This is the divine approval and celebration of this holy love. It is a call for all the friends of the bridegroom to rejoice with him. When we are in right fellowship with Christ, the Father rejoices, and all of heaven rejoices with Him. This is the joy of salvation, the feast that the Father has prepared for His Son. This is the high point. But the narrative is about to take a sharp and painful turn.
The Knock of a Spurned Christ (v. 2-3)
The scene shifts abruptly. The bride is now speaking. The joy of that initial union has given way to a lazy, drowsy contentment.
"I was asleep, but my heart was awake. A voice! My beloved was knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, My dove, my perfect one! For my head is full of dew, My locks with the damp of the night.’ I have taken off my long-sleeved garment, How can I put it on again? I have washed my feet, How can I dirty them again?" (Song of Solomon 5:2-3 LSB)
Here is a picture of the comfortable, complacent church. She is not entirely dead, her heart is awake, she recognizes his voice. But her body, her will, is asleep. She is comfortable. Christ comes to her, not with harsh demands, but with the most tender appeals: "my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one." He comes desiring fellowship. He has been out in the world, in the damp of the night, and He comes to His own for comfort and communion.
This is a picture of Christ calling us to a deeper walk, to get up and follow Him on some new task, to engage in some form of sacrificial service. He is knocking, as He does at the door of the Laodicean church (Rev. 3:20). And what is her response? It is the response of convenience-first Christianity. "I have taken off my garment... I have washed my feet." In other words, "I'm already comfortable. I've settled in for the night. Coming to you now would be an inconvenience."
She values her own comfort, her own clean feet, more than fellowship with her beloved. She is not actively hostile or adulterous. She is simply lazy. She has begun to treat the presence of her husband as a predictable commodity, something she can attend to when it suits her schedule. This is a profound danger for any believer or any church that has experienced blessings. We enjoy the gifts and forget the Giver. We settle for the comfort of our salvation and refuse the call to costly discipleship that comes with it. We have washed our feet, and we don't want to get them dirty in the world for His sake.
Absence and Anguish (v. 4-6)
The bride's lazy reluctance has immediate and devastating consequences.
"My beloved sent forth his hand through the opening, And my feelings moaned for him. I arose to open to my beloved; And my hands dripped with myrrh, And my fingers with liquid myrrh, On the handles of the lock. I opened to my beloved, But my beloved had turned away and passed by! My soul went out to him as he spoke. I searched for him, but I did not find him; I called him, but he did not answer me." (Song of Solomon 5:4-6 LSB)
His attempt to open the door from the outside finally stirs her. Her feelings "moaned for him." She is moved, but she is moved too late. Notice the detail: her hands drip with myrrh on the lock. This shows that he was really there; he left behind the evidence of his visit. This is not a dream. Christ's calls to us are real, and our refusals have real consequences.
She finally rises and opens the door, but he is gone. "My beloved had turned away and passed by!" This is one of the most terrifying experiences in the Christian life. It is not the loss of salvation, but the loss of the felt presence of Christ. It is a divine discipline. When we spurn His gentle knocks, He does not always keep knocking. Sometimes, He withdraws. He does this in mercy, to teach us the foolishness of our complacency. He teaches us the value of His presence by the sharp pain of His absence.
Her soul now goes out to him. The desire she should have had when he was knocking, she now has in spades now that he is gone. She searches, but does not find. She calls, but gets no answer. This is the dark night of the soul, brought on by her own selfish laziness. God's silence is a severe mercy, designed to provoke a desperate, wholehearted pursuit.
Suffering and Sanctification (v. 7-8)
Her frantic search leads her into the dark city, where she meets not her beloved, but the city watchmen. Their response is shocking.
"The watchmen who go about in the city found me, They struck me and wounded me; The guardsmen of the walls took away my shawl from me. I call you to solemnly swear, O daughters of Jerusalem, If you find my beloved, What will you tell him? Tell him that I am sick with love." (Song of Solomon 5:7-8 LSB)
Why would the watchmen, the protectors of the city, treat her this way? In the logic of the story, a woman running frantically through the streets at night would be suspect. But in the typological meaning, this is sanctifying suffering. These watchmen are instruments in the hand of her beloved. Her lazy comfort led to this painful humiliation. God will use hard providences to discipline His bride. They strike her, they wound her, and they take her shawl, a symbol of her identity and protection.
This is what happens when the church seeks comfort over faithfulness. God will allow her to be wounded and stripped. He will discipline His people, and that discipline is often painful and humiliating. But notice the result. This suffering does not destroy her love; it clarifies it. It strips away her self-reliance and drives her to a singular, desperate passion. She turns to the daughters of Jerusalem, the community of believers, and her message is not one of complaint about the watchmen. Her message is about her beloved. "Tell him that I am sick with love." The pain has produced a pure, unadulterated longing. The discipline is working.
This leads to the crucial question that turns the whole narrative.
"What is your beloved that he is more than any other beloved, O most beautiful among women? What is your beloved that he is more than any other beloved, That thus you call us to solemnly swear?" (Song of Solomon 5:9 LSB)
Her lovesick desperation has made others curious. Her intense search, born of her loss and suffering, has turned her into an evangelist. The daughters of Jerusalem see her passion, and they want to know what kind of man could inspire such devotion. "What is so special about your beloved?"
This is the central question of the gospel. When the world sees a church that is desperate for Christ, a church that will endure suffering and humiliation to seek Him, it provokes this question. A comfortable, sleepy, self-satisfied church provokes nothing but a yawn. A church that is "sick with love" for an absent but longed-for Lord is a powerful witness.
Her suffering has given her a testimony. Her pain has given her a platform. Her loss has given her a message. The rest of the chapter will be her glorious answer to this question, a beautiful description of her beloved from head to toe. The discipline has worked. It has moved her from lazy complacency to passionate witness.
Conclusion: Don't Get Comfortable
This passage is a severe mercy to us. It is a warning against the great sin of spiritual sloth. Christ is always coming to us, knocking. He desires our fellowship. He calls us to leave our comfort and follow Him into the world, to get our feet dirty for His sake.
If we make excuses, if we cherish our comfort more than His company, we should not be surprised if we wake up one day to find that the sweetness of His presence is gone. He will not be treated as a convenience. He is a husband to be cherished, a Lord to be obeyed.
And if you find yourself in that place of darkness, where you have searched and not found, and called and not heard an answer, do not despair. That very absence is a mercy. And if you encounter painful, humiliating trials, recognize the hand of the watchmen. It is the discipline of a loving husband, designed to strip you of your pride and rekindle a desperate love for Him alone.
The goal is that we, like the bride, would be so overwhelmed with a holy lovesickness for Christ that the world around us has no choice but to stop and ask, "What is your beloved more than any other beloved?" And when they ask, may God give us the grace to give them a full and glorious answer.