Chapter Thirteen: Sensory Experience
Revelation light is dawning. Our symbol-cracking shovels are striking the outer layer of the treasure box and we’re now going to continue digging deeper into its mysteries.
We’ve found ourselves at a table. In response to the Shulamite’s desire for rest, the Shepherd led her to the revelation of “Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). Along with this message of Christ’s redemption, a table is also a symbol for fellowship and belonging. It’s important we see this as well.
Tables are where friends and family gather. When sitting around a table there is a sense of equality and shared life. There’s little room to hide at a table. When you sit down, your face is visible to everyone there. Thankfully, food provides a divine buffer for the raw intimacy of conversation, helping us go deeper down the path of connection.
Now you’ll remember the Shulamite’s “mother’s sons,” the ones who brought grief and burnout into her life. These are the ones who put religion above the table of fellowship. This is why Jesus came not only to tear down the veil but to overthrow entire religious temples with their regulations and mantras. He came to break down every sweat-producing system that put rules, performance, and money over the hearts of human beings.
And so, the invitation to a table is truly the answer to her heart’s desires, and it is here she encounters another powerful symbol. This will bring us back to the main meal on the menu, the divine pathway and buffer that will enable us grow in that intimate connection we seek.
Tears of a Tree
A sachet of myrrh is my lover,
like a tied-up bundle of myrrh resting over my heart.
He is like a bouquet of henna blossoms—
henna plucked near the vines at the fountain of the Lamb.
I will hold him and never let him part.
Song 1:13-14 TPT
The Shulamite begins to hold a “bundle of myrrh” over her heart. This ancient spice is symbolically associated with suffering, partly because of the resin that emerges like teardrops on the bark of its tree. In fact, the ancients called it “tears of a tree.” During biblical times, it was also used for embalming bodies in preparation for their burial.
The Shulamite holding myrrh over her heart is a clear visual of someone taking hold of the revelation of Jesus’s suffering and receiving it into the depths of their being. She is smelling the ascending scent of love that flowed from his act of sacrificial love. Though there is still much to learn, the Shulamite is starting to meditate upon the unimaginable… The Creator of heaven and earth suffered and died for her personally.
This is not some religious story she’s thinking about. She is feeding on a tangible reality that has the power to water the growing desert in her soul. The message of the cross was never meant to be an old tale confined just to sermons, religious paintings, and jewelry. It was meant to be a sensory experience. We are called not to just know it in our heads but to take it in like fragrance from a spice rising into the nostrils and affecting all our senses.
On that note, she also takes in the smell of henna blossoms which were known for their especially pleasing fragrance. These spices were found all over an area called En-Gedi, rightly rendered in the above translation as the “Fountain of the Lamb.” In the same way myrrh speaks of death, henna speaks of Jesus’s resurrection. And of course, the two events go hand in hand.
The resurrection of Jesus was the supernatural confirmation of all the glorious truths of redemption we discussed earlier. Now the Shulamite is enjoying the fruit of what the cross accomplished. She is taking in the truth that she is of like value to the King of Glory!
Return of the Dove
If you’re someone who has a hard time accepting this message (i.e. something is stuffing up your spiritual sinuses and keeping you from inhaling its truths), the next passage may help break up the clog.
As the Shulamite partakes of the meal on the table, inhaling and exhaling its smells, a new perspective begins to dawn. Her spiritual senses are awakened. She begins to “hear” the music of creation. Her eyes begin to “see,” especially when the King calls her to behold what he himself sees…
Behold, you are fair, my love!
Behold, you are a fair!
You have dove’s eyes…
To which the Shulamite responds:
Behold, you are handsome, my beloved!
Song 1:15, 16
He calls her “fair” in this translation, but it is usually rendered “beautiful” or “lovely.” With these words, God is cutting through the outer layer of our unbelief. He’s breaking through the burnt-out shell of weariness and declaring the beauty inside. In other words, he’s revealing what the cross has bought back . . . redeemed.
Now our English Bibles translate the Beloved’s word as “fair” or “lovely” while the Shulamite’s returning compliment is rendered “handsome.” But in the Hebrew all these words are the same.
Think about that. This poetry is about us and God. God is calling her (us!) the same term for beauty that she uses for him. This speaks of our identity as Image Bearers. We are beautiful, lovely, and delightful because we look just like the Beautiful One. (And this is said to her while the veil still lies over her face!)
Earlier, we saw Paul address this with the Corinthian church. He said that when we turn to the Lord, it’s like looking into a mirror. Such is the case with Solomon and the Shulamite using the same term of beauty to describe one another.
And there’s something else the King speaks over her. After calling her divinely beautiful, he makes an absolutely wild declaration. He tells her she has dove’s eyes…
Do you remember the image of the dove hovering over Noah’s floodwaters, or the dove landing on Christ in Jordan River? This bird is a clear symbol of the Holy Spirit, the One who fluttered over the first waters of creation in Genesis 1. By comparing her eyes to doves, he is comparing us to his very Spirit. He is gazing past the false veil and exposing the glory inside!
We’re not stretching this interpretation by making the text say whatever we want. The dove is an obvious symbol sitting gently upon the metaphoric wrapping paper of the poem. Some may choose to stay on the outer “literal” layer and assert that this is some kind of cute nickname an infatuated king gives to his mistress. But we are digging far deeper than that realm of interpretation.
This is speaking to the restoration of our original blessing—the blessing spoken over Adam and Eve, repeated over Noah and his family, then fully unveiled through Jesus in the Jordan River… It is this life-giving truth: You are my lovely, beautiful, delightful child in whom I am well-pleased!
We’re starting to see that the Song of Solomon is essentially one big encounter with this harmonious revelation. This is the “kiss” the Shulamite was seeking from the beginning. The revelation of the cross, the truth of God’s suffering love, the redemption of our true selves. This is the Song of all Songs and it is the same reality that the book of Revelation calls the Song of the Lamb.
This Song is the reckoning that comes upon the hardness of human hearts, transforming the harlot wandering in the wilderness into who she really is…a rising and promised Bride!
Chapter Fourteen: Wine
Immersed in the fragrance of redemption and all its fruits, the Shulamite sings out the following words in a new chorus of confidence…
I am the rose of Sharon.
Song 2:1
In the Passion Translation, there’s a note about this word “Sharon.” One of the ways the original Hebrew for this term can be translated is “his song.” Therefore, the verse is put like this:
I am truly his rose,
The very theme of his song.
Do you see the wonder of this statement? Going all the way back to our expedition through the glass eyes of giant telescopes and the vibrational origins of creation, we remember how the universe is one song and its growing chorus plays on the strings of our DNA. Creation’s ultimate purpose is humanity. We are the very theme of the music God sang out in Genesis 1!
At the same time, the theme of creation is God himself—the One humanity reflects.
Yes, the beauty of the triune Family might be whispered through the families of star systems and animal habitats, but it is only in the intimate relationships of human beings (walking in true love and servanthood) where the infinite dimensions of God somehow unfold into time and space.
As she tastes of redemption’s kiss, the Shulamite is discovering the meaning of her existence. This revelation of being the song of his heart and theme of his music brings her back to her earlier focus:
Like an apple tree among the trees of the woods,
So is my beloved among the sons.
I sat down in his shade with great delight,
And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
Song 2:3
The table of the King has transformed into a new symbol. She now finds herself under the shade of a tree. Thankfully, cracking open the meaning of this symbol doesn’t require much effort since it holds the same essential meaning as the table. In fact, the meaning is even clearer because it was at a literal tree where Christ poured out redemption’s blood. On a hill known as Calvary, Jesus Christ was crucified on wood from a cut down tree.
The Shulamite is truly finding her rest under the truth of what Jesus did. As she comes to see perfect love hanging from a tree, the worth of her own soul is being restored. The severe burns of religion streaking across her soul, the cuts from sin’s thorns in which she’s been entangled, all of it is finding healing. The shadow under which she sits releases a soothing balm of forgiveness and grace over these deep wounds.
We were made to sit under the shade of a smiling Father, a truly good God who stands in our defense and defines us by his love. When taken into the heart, this reality becomes a sweet-tasting fruit to the soul. It’s like eating from the Tree of Life, the place we were originally meant to abide under—and never leave.
Yes, we were made to know continually that we are the delight of heaven. The same desire we see in children for their parents’ attention and affection is resonant in every heart, no matter how old we may get. The words “you are my beloved child” were meant to fill our hearts every day. We were made to know we have the Father’s complete and perfect attention and affection.
The Shulamite is taking her fill of this heavenly food and, as a result, she’s ushered into a whole new world…
A New Realm
He brought me to the banqueting house,
And his banner over me was love.
Song 2:4
The Shulamite’s delight in Jesus’s death and resurrection becomes a feast of celebration. We’ve gone from a table to myrrh to a tree and now back to something similar to a table, yet far grander. Suddenly, the Shulamite finds herself transported into what most English translations call “the banqueting house.” Yet, this Hebrew phrase is better translated as a house of wine.
Like the dove, we have found wine to be a clear symbol for the Holy Spirit. In the beginning of the Song, wine was compared to the Shepherd’s love, which is quite fitting when we consider how scripture makes these two statements about God:
God is love…
John 4:8
And in the same chapter…
…God is Spirit.
John 4:24
In this poetic statement, the Shulamite is diving deep into the love of God—which is to say she is drinking in the very Spirit of God. And this isn’t just a little sip. This is now a whole house stocked with barrels upon barrels of sweet, intoxicating love. And like natural wine, it’s a love that changes your disposition and your confidence levels.
Now we’ve also seen how the Spirit of God is the kiss who brought that original blessing of life to humanity. This is what the Shulamite sought after from the beginning when she looked for freedom from her striving. Now she has found not just one small kiss of grace, but an overabundant banquet of love and affirmation.
The “house of wine” represents a rich and full experience of God’s loving Spirit—but it’s important to see how this experience comes after she learns to sit under the finished work of Christ, the key note and secret chord of the entire Song. This little fractal of truth is displayed throughout the entirety of God’s written word. For instance, we find it in the writings of the prophet Isaiah who wrote of the Messiah’s suffering love (Isaiah 53) before going on to describe a feast of fruitfulness that comes out of his sacrifice (Isaiah 54-55).
We also see it in the letter to the Galatians where the apostle Paul drew people’s attention back to the cross, asking them this:
Let me ask you again: What does the lavish supply of the Holy Spirit in your life and the miracles of God’s tremendous power have to do with you keeping religious laws? The Holy Spirit is poured out upon us through the revelation and power of faith!
Galatians 3:5 TPT
This “revelation and power of faith” is all about learning to trust in what God has provided through Jesus. This includes the revelation of the glory hidden inside of us. Isaiah corresponds to this when he says the “wine” of God is not something you need to purchase (Isaiah 55:1). It’s a gift! Our only requirement is trust. When we trust, the veil breaks and a river of life gushes from within.
And that leads to the most stunning conclusion… We are the house of wine! Our bodies are temples of wine and grace. As the veil is cut by the sword of Christ’s cross, this flow of life is effortless and free.
With all of this in her purview, the Shulamite speaks the next phrase with stunning clarity:
His banner over me is love!
The Creator God has planted a flag of victory over her entire life. Whether it’s her past, present, or future—the Shulamite is surrounded and defined by this immense and eternal love of her Creator. This is the true theme and glory of her life. It is why she’s here and where’s she headed.
The awakening has begun. She sees the banner that defines everything else. Unfortunately, as so often happens, something will try to creep in and sew back up these new openings in her veil. Before we get there though, let’s step back and take in another selah.
“Selah”
Hidden within the poetry of scripture is a little line that goes like this:
There is river that makes glad the city of God,
the holy dwelling places of the Most High
Psalm 46:4
If each of us are a house for God, then all of us together form a city. Jesus affirms this when he called his disciples a city on a hill. According to this Psalm, there is a river of life sparkling with delight running through this city … through us. And this river makes every individual “house” glad.
Joy, delight, and relaxation are part of our inheritance. And these are not feelings we can conjure up or force. They are the result of a tangible movement of Life coursing through our being.
This river will assuredly flow when we allow the love of God and the truths surrounding the cross to fill our hearts. Like the Shulamite bringing a bundle of myrrh to her chest, we are called to let the aroma of grace penetrate the chambers of our skull and break the veils that bind up our joy.
Let us take a moment—or two or three—and close our eyes and see Jesus hanging from a tree. Gaze into his eyes of compassion as he looks down upon you, blood dripping from his brow and yet his heart overflowing with a love that is passionate and transforming.
He looks at you and calls you his delightful one.
You are beautiful, lovely, and good.
Very good.
Perfect.
Movement Three: Asleep
Chapter Fifteen: Stolen Again
Rising from the ashes of discord, the Song of the Lamb breaks forth through the mouth of the Shulamite. As she experiences the great banner of her Creator’s love, the Song reaches a climax.
But the story is far from over. There are things that stand opposed to this holy crescendo. Before she can come into full harmony with creation’s original song, something tries to pull her back down into the dust. And this is how it goes sometimes. The journey of grace can seem like two steps forward and one back (and that one step back can feel more like thirteen).
Look carefully at her next words…
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 2:5-6 NASB95
It may be hard to see it at first, but something has shifted here. Up to this point, the Shulamite has taken her seat at the table of grace and begun eating from the truths of redemption. She has inhaled the sweet revelation that she is the very theme of his Song. She’s a temple of his glory, bearing his beauty and likeness. She encountered the One who says, I will never leave you nor will I ever forsake you.
Nonetheless, she suddenly confesses a sense of separation here. The Shulamite uses the word “lovesick” to describe herself. This is one of two times this word is used (see Song 5:8). It signifies her desire to be back in the King’s presence—as though something is in the way of their union.
The word for “sick” in lovesick is the Hebrew term for disease and brokenness. It was also used for grief because it applied to all kinds of loss and pain experienced throughout the world. Such grief is what led her into spiritual harlotry in the first place when she perceived a lack in the love department, which drove her to search for love in all kinds of unhealthy ways.
According to our friend Isaiah, this is the exact thing Jesus took on our behalf at the cross. The same word for sick is used in Isaiah 53:10 where we find a vivid depiction of Jesus’s experience at the tree of Calvary. This gives even more context as to why Jesus brought her to the table of communion before anything else. The cross is truly the answer for this pain in her heart. It was there she sat under the tree and experienced the reality of God’s love and her redeemed union with him.
But here she loses sight of this union once more. And this is typical for someone who encounters the love of God but then goes on to feelsomething contradictory in their life. They hear the song of grace resonating in the depths of their being, but if they’re not careful, false notes of law and fear can seep in and lull them back to sleep. Like Eve in the garden, they start believing once again that they are dark and lacking.
Spiritual Bewitchment
In this treasure map of the written word there is always a struggle with the issue of translation. This is why using a wide variety of biblical translations can be helpful in discerning meaning in the text. Above I’m using a translation that shows the nature of a request. She says, “Let his left hand be under my head, and his right hand embrace me.” This seems an appropriate way to translate it since she just confessed her lovesickness (and we’ll see her sense of separation in other ways as the chapter goes on).
The left hand under the head and the right hand embracing her is a picture of physical intimacy. As we’ve shown, this is pointing to the higher reality of union with God. Therefore, this is a prayer for union and connection. That might seem like good and noble words, but it becomes a problem when it arises from a deceived place, where someone is grieving something that is not truly lost.
When Paul wrote his letter to the Galatians, he was writing to a group of awakened “Shulamites” who had begun to fall back asleep as well. He told these believers how they had been bewitched; that a spell had been cast over their eyes.
What has happened to you foolish Galatians? Who has put you under an evil spell? Did God not open your eyes to see the meaning of Jesus’ crucifixion? Was he not revealed to you as the crucified one?
Galatians 3:1 TPT
In their own form of “lovesickness,” the Galatians were looking for ways to become more connected with God and were going back to the veil of religion in order to do so. Like the Shulamite, they had forgotten the reality of the cross. Paul, therefore, reminds them that the old sick identity is forever crucified with Jesus. They are new creations now, completely one with God (Galatians 6:14-16).
The fact that the Shulamite is spiritually asleep is shown by the King’s response. This is where we see Jesus speaking to a group of people called “the daughters of the Jerusalem” who are watching this whole poem play out. As onlookers of the Shulamite’s journey, they represent all of us who are called to learn from her experience and discover our own unveiling.
I adjure you, 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 2:7 NASB95
Again, translation is important. The King speaks of “love” and some versions miss the fact that he is speaking of his love—as in his lovely and precious Shulamite. He’s saying that she is the one sleeping, but instead of forcing her to awake through fear and pressure, he wants us to know that awakening comes by the sweet song of grace. His love is not to be awakened until she pleases.
“Pleases” comes from the Hebrew word for delight and pleasure. It’s use in this sentence reinforces the fact that the religion of our “mother’s sons” cannot bring true awakening. Waking up only comes when you taste God’s goodness and trust in the love that was poured out in Jesus’s death and resurrection.
Thankfully, the King will continue to release his kiss of grace over her life. Though she will remain upon a bed of slumber for some time—her eyes opening and closing behind a sleepy veil—her prayer for the fruits of the cross to satisfy her soul will eventually be fulfilled.
The Historical Lie
A quick note to say that the journey of the Shulamite is the story of Christianity as a whole. The Song of Songs is the story of an individual believer learning to wake up and arise, but it is also the story of the global church throughout history—for there is only one bride is the eyes of the King.
With the coming of Christ, the revelation of the ages dawned upon the world, sparking a revolution that not only split the temple veil in two but also the calendar of our recorded history. Sadly, it was not long after this awakening when things began to shift. The mother’s sons arose and brought chains of legalism into the church. As time went on, there were many other awakenings and reformations, but these were often followed by people quenching the Spirit’s kiss with manmade systems and legalistic teachings.
Thankfully, the Song is far from over. As it goes on, we will see how relentless the Lord is in his pursuit of his on-and-off-again bride. There will be an awakening in her, just as there will be an awakening in you—and in the entire world around you.
Let us keep moving forward then, for we’ve only just begun to strike the gold hidden in this poetry.
Movement Three: Asleep
Chapter Sixteen: Come Away
Her eyes began to open, but sleep has now come back over the wandering Shulamite’s heart. She finds herself in a kind of dream state next, the Shepherd’s words echoing from some seemingly distant space. Beyond the shadows of her lost and barren feelings, the Shulamite acknowledges his voice as it grows in volume and intention.
…The voice of my beloved!
Behold, he comes
Leaping upon the mountains,
Skipping upon the hills.
My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.
Behold, he stands behind our wall;
He is looking through the windows,
Gazing through the lattice.
Song 2:8-10
Instead of a veil, we now see a “wall” between the Shulamite and her King. It’s behind this wall he stands, just as he stood behind the veil, and he calls to her with the same voice of truth. The text shows him peering into the windows on the wall, giving a suggestion that is he perhaps still looking into her eyes, which are like windows into the soul.
But these “windows” are partially closed because of a certain material covering them. In order to see into her, the King must gaze through lattice. We’ll find that this has an interesting connection to the veil and explains more of what it means to be spiritually asleep.
Lattice, which was found on many ancient windows, is a crisscrossed pattern of strips of building material, typically wood or metal. The design is created by crossing these strips to form a weave or grid. Because of this, you only see a partial and broken-up view of what’s outside (or inside) when you stare through it.
This is quite the metaphor for the Shulamite and her exodus out of spiritual harlotry. With latticework over her eyes, there is a degree of light coming through; however, depending on how tightly crisscrossed the lattice is, that light is scattered and broken up.
Such imagery speaks to the journey of humanity who has looked out at God and the world with incomplete light. Mankind has looked and seen a very fractured image of the Creator. As a result, his face is distorted, especially when it mixes with the “wood” of our own broken characteristics. In this incomplete view of God’s face, our own face—our identity—is broken as well. This leads to further lovesickness and enhances our sense of guilt and striving.
Religion’s Wall
The apostle Paul was the one who told us how Jesus came to not only tear down a veil, but a dividing wall as well. They are in fact one in the same. This is what is now being depicted in the Shulamite’s story. She’s standing behind this ancient wall which Paul connects to the law of Moses. The law, he says, divides us not only from God but also from one another (see Ephesians 2:14-15).
This relates to the disconnect between Jew and non-Jews, but it also underlines something going on through all humanity. The fear-based and performance-driven nature of legalism takes us on a hamster wheel of comparison and prejudice as we let the insecurity of our personal performance or position dictate our state of peace.
This is why Jesus comes as our peace, to break down this latticework of a broken view of God and self—as well as the broken view of other people, which drives us to fear of community and relationship.
This wall dividing us from God and one another is what the Voice of her Beloved speaks through, a continuation of his kisses of grace and truth. Jesus looks and still sees the true face of the Shulamite. Even though she’s hiding behind the wall, her sees her destiny of loving God and the world with complete abandon. For this reason, the following comes out of his mouth next:
My beloved spoke, and said to me:
“Rise up, my love, my fair one,
And come away.”
Song 2:10
Let’s be very clear about something here. Many teachings are out there regarding this famous call to “come away.” So many of them carry a harsh tone as though Jesus is commanding her to enter a difficult life of religious sacrifice and pain. Now, pain and sacrifice certainly come with the territory of following Jesus, but they are not our pursuit. (They find us quite easily on their own.)
We don’t worship our own sacrifice and painful efforts—we worship before the throne of his sacrifice. The call to “come away” is about leaving the dividing wall of religion! It’s about leaving behind the false grief of separation from God and learning to trust in our union with the Trinity.
This is the invitation. We’re called to rise from our bed of bewitchment where that false sense of darkness and lack makes us think Jesus is gone and our lovesick souls need to engage in some kind of striving effort to get him back.
It is also about waking up from the dream state of this world where we view others through a lattice of blame and judgment.
Much of the Shulamite’s path will involve a deep embrace of the world around her, for her destiny is to awaken others to this magnificent Song of grace. To do so, however, she’ll need to deal with this dividing wall. She’ll need to accept that the wall between her and others is gone by the blood of the Son of Man. All mankind carries holy blood, worthy of his—and our—pursuit.
The Voice comes to her, and with that same secret chord we discovered earlier, she’s invited to embrace its sound even more. But this chord is not just for her, but for the fractured and latticed people all around her.
You are my delightful, pleasing children! You make feel real good inside!!
A Murder Mystery
A final thought here. I mentioned before how artists have a way of unknowingly tapping heavenly truths. This includes screenwriters and directors, which is why I often see the message of the gospel hiding in films. That said, I once watched a movie with absolutely no expectation of seeing God in it, though he spoke through it anyway.
It was Murder on the Orient Express, an adaptation of the old mystery book. The opening scene took place in Jerusalem in front of the Wailing Wall, a scene that caught my attention as I once had a significant experience there (something that took place a few months after my intense trip to Asia when I was blessed with a refreshing visit to Israel, which included some time at the famed wall).
In the scene, a Jew, Catholic, and Muslim—each a leader of the people—are accused of a serious crime and placed in front of the wall. However, the main character of the film, a wise detective, exposes the real culprit as the chief inspector of the police, the one who had hired him in the first place.
My eyes opened wide as the prophetic message enfolded. The wailing wall of Jerusalem, one of the last remnants of Israel’s temple system, represents that painful wall of separation between humanity, which was further depicted by the division between these three sons of Abraham.
Though all of us are all guilty of participating in darkness (which become another element in the film later on), our wise God has taken down the real culprit. The dividing wall of hostility, with its law-enforcing voice of accusation, is what seeks to pin us down to our old and broken identity. But Jesus has erased all of this at the cross. In Christ, God has forged a new world that is restored to the original blessing of his Spirit.
Ironically, I found out while writing this chapter that this movie was released the day after my return from Israel. Though I wouldn’t have guessed it, it spoke to the ultimate murder mystery, when the Lamb of God was murdered by sinful hands in order to free us from the accusation of the law and call us into the awakening of grace.