The Terrifying Loveliness of the Bride Text: Song of Solomon 6:4-10
Introduction: The War for Beauty
We live in an age that has declared war on beauty. It is a peculiar kind of war, waged not with bombs and bullets but with cynicism and spray paint. Our culture alternately cheapens beauty, turning it into a commodity to be bought and sold in the marketplace of lust, or it deconstructs it, telling us that beauty is a mere social construct, a tool of oppression. The end result is the same: ugliness is enthroned, and the world is leached of its glory. But the Scriptures will have none of this. God is the author of beauty, and He is not an abstract artist. He makes things beautiful, and He calls them beautiful, and He delights in their beauty.
The Song of Solomon is God's great rebuke to a world that has forgotten what beauty is for. It is a book about the white-hot love between a man and a woman, a love that is both intensely physical and profoundly spiritual. And we must insist on both. To treat this book as nothing more than a sanctified sex manual is to miss the symphony for the cymbals. To treat it as a disembodied allegory about Christ and the Church, with no grounding in the creational goodness of marriage, is to spiritualize it into a vapor. The Bible's consistent testimony is that the material world is a theater of God's glory, and a sanctified marriage bed is one of the chief stages in that theater. Marriage is not the gospel, but it is a living, breathing portrait of the gospel. It preaches.
In our text today, the bridegroom, Solomon, erupts in a torrent of praise for his bride, the Shulamite. After a brief period of distance, she has sought him and found him, and his heart is completely overcome. His words are not the sentimental fluff of a modern greeting card; they are robust, vivid, and packed with theological weight. He is describing his wife, yes, but in doing so, the Holy Spirit is describing the Church, the bride of Christ. And what he sees is a beauty that is not just pleasant, but powerful. It is a beauty that is lovely and majestic, pure and terrifying. This is the kind of beauty our sad, gray world has forgotten, and it is the kind of beauty the Church must recover if she is to be a faithful witness to her King.
The Text
You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling, As lovely as Jerusalem, As majestic as an army with banners. Turn your eyes away from me, For they have overwhelmed me; Your hair is like a flock of goats That have leapt down from Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of ewes Which have come up from their washing, All of which bear twins, And not one among them has lost her young. Your temples are like a slice of a pomegranate Behind your veil. There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, And maidens without number; She is the only one my dove, my perfect one; She is the only one of her mother; She is the pure one of her who bore her. The daughters saw her and called her blessed, The queens and the concubines also, and they praised her, saying, 'Who is this that looks down like the dawn, As beautiful as the full moon, As pure as the sun, As majestic as an army with banners?'
(Song of Solomon 6:4-10 LSB)
Ordered and Overwhelming Beauty (v. 4-5a)
The bridegroom begins with a series of comparisons that are anything but tame.
"You are as beautiful as Tirzah, my darling, As lovely as Jerusalem, As majestic as an army with banners. Turn your eyes away from me, For they have overwhelmed me..." (Song of Solomon 6:4-5a)
He first compares her to two capital cities. Tirzah, whose name means "pleasantness" or "delight," was the first capital of the northern kingdom of Israel. It was known for its beauty. Jerusalem, of course, was the capital of the southern kingdom, the city of the great king, called "the perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth" (Ps. 48:2, Lam. 2:15). So he is saying his bride has the beauty of a well-ordered, glorious, and delightful civilization. This is not the wild, untamed beauty of a jungle; it is the cultivated, structured beauty of a city. It is a political beauty. This tells us that true feminine beauty has a civilizational quality to it. A godly woman is a culture-builder in miniature. Her life is not chaotic, but is marked by the pleasant order of Tirzah and the holy grandeur of Jerusalem.
But then the metaphor shifts dramatically. She is not only beautiful and lovely, but "majestic as an army with banners." The word here is terrible, awesome, fearsome. This is not a contradiction. Her beauty is so potent, so well-ordered, that it has the effect of a disciplined, conquering army. This is the Church militant and triumphant. This is not a disorganized rabble; it is an army with banners, with standards, organized by tribe as Israel was in the wilderness (Num. 2). This is a picture of well-ordered love, of disciplined strength. The modern world wants a beauty that is safe, tame, and non-threatening. The Bible gives us a beauty that is majestic and terrifying. It is the kind of beauty that makes evil tremble.
And the effect on the man is profound. "Turn your eyes away from me, For they have overwhelmed me." This is not a feigned modesty. He is genuinely undone by her. Her direct gaze has conquered him. This is the power of sanctified erotic love. In a godly marriage, the woman's loving, respectful gaze has the power to captivate and conquer her husband. In the same way, the pure and devoted worship of the Church, her loving gaze fixed on her savior, is what overwhelms the heart of Christ. He is not a distant, stoic deity. He is a bridegroom who is overcome with love for His bride.
Fruitful and Consecrated Beauty (v. 5b-7)
He then moves from the general impression to specific features, using pastoral imagery that is rich with meaning.
"...Your hair is like a flock of goats That have leapt down from Gilead. Your teeth are like a flock of ewes Which have come up from their washing, All of which bear twins, And not one among them has lost her young. Your temples are like a slice of a pomegranate Behind your veil." (Song of Solomon 6:5b-7 LSB)
The comparison of her hair to a flock of black goats cascading down a mountainside paints a picture of dark, flowing, shimmering beauty. But it's more than that. Gilead was a place of rich pasture. This is a picture of health and vitality. Furthermore, goat's hair was used to weave the curtains of the Tabernacle (Ex. 26:7). Her hair, her glory, is being compared to the consecrated material of God's dwelling place. Her beauty is a holy beauty.
Her teeth are like a flock of ewes, freshly washed, perfectly white. But there is more. Every single one bears twins, and none has been lost. This is a picture of perfect symmetry, yes, but more importantly, it is a picture of astounding fruitfulness and perfect preservation. There is no barrenness, no loss. This is a portrait of life and abundance. Applied to the Church, this is a picture of her members, washed clean by the blood of the Lamb, and intended for supernatural fruitfulness. In God's economy, there is no loss. Every one of His sheep is accounted for, and they are destined for abundance.
Finally, her temples behind her veil are like a slice of pomegranate. The pomegranate, with its multitude of seeds, is another potent symbol of fruitfulness. But the image is seen "behind your veil." This points to a beauty that is modest. It is not flaunted for the whole world. Its deepest glories are reserved for her husband. The blush on her temples hints at the rich, fruitful life within, but it is a life consecrated to one man. This is a direct rebuke to our exhibitionist culture. The Church's true fruitfulness, her deepest thoughts, are veiled from the world. They are for Christ alone. Her holiness is not for public consumption; it is for her Lord's private delight.
Uniquely Chosen and Praised (v. 8-10)
The bridegroom now sets his bride in contrast to all other women, declaring her absolute uniqueness and the universal acclaim she receives.
"There are sixty queens and eighty concubines, And maidens without number; She is the only one my dove, my perfect one... The daughters saw her and called her blessed, The queens and the concubines also, and they praised her, saying, 'Who is this that looks down like the dawn, As beautiful as the full moon, As pure as the sun, As majestic as an army with banners?'" (Genesis 6:8-10 LSB)
Solomon, of all people, knew about having a multitude of women. Yet in the economy of this covenant love, all the others fade into the background. She is "the only one." She is his dove, his perfect, undefiled one. This is the language of election. In a world of many religions, many philosophies, many powers, Christ has only one bride. The Church is not one option among many. She is His unique, chosen, and perfect one, not because of her own inherent perfection, but because He has declared her so. He has set His love upon her, and that makes her unique.
And this uniqueness does not go unnoticed. Everyone sees it. The daughters, the queens, the concubines, they all see her and praise her. There is no envy, only awe. They see her and call her blessed. This is what happens when the Church lives out her true identity. Her holiness and beauty are so compelling that even the world is forced to stop and admire, even if they don't understand it. A truly beautiful Church is the most powerful apologetic there is.
Their praise culminates in a series of breathtaking questions. "Who is this?" Her appearance on the scene is an event. She looks down "like the dawn," bringing light and hope after a long night. She is "beautiful as the full moon," reflecting a glory that is not her own. The moon has no light of its own; it only reflects the sun. The Church's beauty is the reflected glory of Christ. She is "pure as the sun," radiating a fierce, unadulterated holiness and truth. And finally, the refrain returns: "majestic as an army with banners." Her beauty is not fragile. It is glorious, orderly, and triumphant. It is a conquering beauty.
The Conquering Bride
So what does this mean for us? This passage is a love song, but it is also a commission. It is a portrait of what every Christian wife should aspire to in her relationship with her husband, but on a grander scale, it is a portrait of the Church as Christ sees her and as she is becoming.
We are the bride of Christ. And too often, we think of the Church as something weak, beleaguered, and unattractive. We see her flaws, her spots, her wrinkles. But that is not how the Bridegroom sees her. He sees her as lovely as Jerusalem. He sees her as pure as the sun. He sees her as majestic as an army with banners. Christ did not die for a homely bride. He died to make her glorious (Eph. 5:25-27).
Our task is to live into this identity. We must cultivate the ordered beauty of Tirzah and Jerusalem in our churches, in our homes, and in our hearts. This means a commitment to sound doctrine, holy living, and joyful worship. We must recover a sense of our majestic, militant identity. We are not a debate club or a social service agency. We are an army with banners, marching under the standard of King Jesus. Our love and holiness should be so potent that it is terrifying to the demonic powers and awe-inspiring to the watching world.
And we must remember that our beauty is a reflected beauty. Like the moon, we shine with the light of the Son. Our purity is His purity, imputed to us. Our victory is His victory, accomplished for us. The world asks, "Who is this?" And the answer is that she is the one beloved by the King, the one He has chosen, washed, and glorified. She is the one whose gaze can overwhelm the King of Heaven, not because of her power, but because of His great love. Let us therefore seek to be that bride, beautiful and terrible, for the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.