I am very dark, but lovely,
            O daughters of Jerusalem,
like the tents of Kedar,
            like the curtains of Solomon.
Do not gaze at me because I am dark,
            because the sun has looked upon me.
My mother’s sons were angry with me;
            they made me keeper of the vineyards,
            but my own vineyard I have not kept!
            Tell me, you whom my soul loves,
            where you pasture your flock,
            where you make it lie down at noon;
            for why should I be like one who veils herself
            beside the flocks of your companions?
If you do not know,
O most beautiful among women,
follow in the tracks of the flock,
            and pasture your young goats
            beside the shepherds’ tents.
I compare you, my love,
            to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.
Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments,
            your neck with strings of jewels.
We will make for you ornaments of gold,
            studded with silver.
While the king was on his couch,
            my nard gave forth its fragrance.
My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh
            that lies between my breasts.
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
            in the vineyards of Engedi.

Song of Songs 1:5-14 ESV

There is a clear tonal shift as we move into this next section of the Song of Songs. The poem began with what we called an explosion of eros, a burst of passionate, fiery desire: Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine.

But like all great works of art, there is movement and variation. The greatest of all songs is no exception. It began with the full orchestra, playing vibrantly. But as we move into verse five, we should imagine that the music softens, perhaps the other instruments give way to the strings. Since we hear the first dialogue between the husband and wife, I imagine the violin (the queen of the instruments) answering back and forth with the cello.

Our text divides naturally into three parts. In verses 5-6, the bride speaks about herself, specifically her appearance and her past. In verses 7-8, we read the first exchange between the couple of the book. She desires his presence, and he responds. Finally, verses 9-14 feature their mutual praising of one another.

I HAVE NOT KEPT // VERSES 5-6

She begins: I am very dark, but lovely. Many commentators interpret this simply as insecurity, and while there certainly is an element of that here, her self-assessment is far more nuanced than that. Notice the balance: dark, but lovely. She does not merely lament her appearance; she also asserts her beauty.

To whom is she speaking here? To the daughters of Jerusalem, the city girls. The poem seems to present her as coming from the country, not the capital. She stands before the refined urban women and says, in effect, “I’m not like you, but I am still beautiful.”

She clearly sees being very dark as negative, but we must be quick to note that there is no racial dynamic occurring here. In the ancient world, and still in many places today, skin tone carries social implications. Lighter skin suggests higher social status because it signals the ability to remain indoors and out of the sun. Darkened skin suggested outdoor labor and, therefore, working class.

Indeed, she tells us plainly in verse 6 that the sun has looked upon me. Her darkness comes from working outside. Thus, she is likely from a modest, working background. She is not a wealthy city girl.

Yet she compares herself to two images: the tents of Kedar and the curtains of Solomon. The curtains of Solomon were probably dark, tanned hides. They were luxurious and regal.

Kedar was one of Ishmael’s sons, and it became a region in Arabia that was on the desert frontier. The people were nomadic and dwelt in dark tents. It is essentially a picture of the very edge of the civilized world.

Notice, then, that there is a wild and untamed quality to her. She is not polished like the daughters of Jerusalem, but she possesses an earthy, natural beauty.

She knows that she does not fit the cultural ideal, but she professes her beauty, nonetheless. There is no self-loathing here, only humble self-awareness.

Do not gaze upon me because I am dark,
because the sun has looked upon me.

One commentator suggests that the sense of what she is saying may be: “Do not look at me as only dark.” In other words, “do not reduce me to only that.”

Either way, there is certainly as poetic playfulness to her words. She is essentially saying, “Don’t fix your eyes on my darkness because the sun already did that. The sun has stared me into this complexion.”

She then gives us a glimpse into her past:

My mother’s sons were angry with me;
they made me keeper of the vineyards,
but my own vineyard I have not kept.

Notice both what is said and not said. Her father is never mentioned in the Song. Was he gone, deceased, present but not active? We are not told, but his absence is noticeable.

Then instead of saying ‘her brothers,’ she awkwardly calls them my mother’s sons, which is an unusually distant way of speaking. At the end of the poem, we do see that they seem to genuinely care for their sister, but there is emotional distance here. Maybe even conflict. Both the Septuagint and Vulgate translate that they fought with her.

They made her keep the vineyards. But her own vineyard she did not keep. This is clearly a metaphor for her body. While she was tending to her family’s vineyards, she did not have time to tend to her own appearance. She is not an Esther, receiving beauty treatments for a full year before standing before the king.

Her beauty is not manicured; it is weathered. Thus, the complexity. There is confidence in her but also vulnerability. Again, there is a measure of insecurity but not self-loathing.

Her honest self-assessment gives us some important lessons for all relationships, especially marriage.

First, no one enters a relationship without a past. Every person brings their history with them: wounds, habits, family patterns, cultural assumptions. Some are more visibly painful than others, but no one goes through life untouched. We all have our own baggage that we carry.

Particularly when a man and woman marry, those two histories come together. Two cultures merge. Even if both spouses grew up in the same town, every home is different. Conflict is handled differently. Affection is expressed differently. Rhythms of life are different. Over time, we discover that both the most endearing and irritating elements of our spouse are often rooted in their upbringing.

Our past matters. But, crucially, does not define us. The bride acknowledges her history and how it has shaped her, but it is not the final word.

Second, she displays healthy self-assessment. She does not deny her flaws nor does she exaggerate them. She sees herself truthfully.

And that is wisdom for all of us. In our self-evaluation, we should neither be relentlessly self-critical nor blindly self-exalting. We too should strive for sober self-judgment.

TELL ME WHERE YOU PASTURE YOUR FLOCK // VERSES 7-8

In verse 7, the woman now addresses her husband, calling him you whom my soul loves. He is a shepherd, who spends his days out in the fields with his flock. And she knows his rhythm. At midday, he will find shade and rest from the heat of the sun.

She does not want to wait until evening to see him. She imagines him resting alone in the pasture and thinks, “Why shouldn’t I go to him now?” This seems to be more a longing for his presence than the fiery passion that the poem began with. She simply wants to be with him.

But there is a hesitation:

For why should I be like one who veils herself
beside the flocks of your companions?

In that ancient world, a woman veiled in public could signal a couple of things. Mourning was one possibility. But a veil could mark a prostitute. We see this in the story of Tamar, who veiled herself when she positioned herself to seduce Judah. 

The woman fears being misunderstood. If she wanders among the shepherds, looking for her husband, will she be mistaken for an immoral woman? Will others assume that she is soliciting?

So she says, tell me where you are.

Now we hear him speak for the first time:

If you do not know,
O most beautiful of women,
 follow in the tracks of the flock,
and pasture your young goats
beside the shepherds’ tents.

At first glance, that may sound dismissive or impatient. But that is not what is happening. Notice how he addresses her: O most beautiful of women. That is his response to everything that she just said about herself. Her dark complexion. Her untended vineyard.

He does not argue with her assessment. He does not flatter her. He does not deny her history. He simply calls her the most beautiful of women. He tells her how he sees her.

And rather than telling her exactly where to find him, he gives her flirtatious answer. It is playful and coy. “You know where I am. Follow the tracks. Come to the tents.” His flirting reveals intimacy. He is inviting her to come to him.

Indeed, the desire for presence is good. This is especially important to remember in the digital age. The desire for intimacy is good. And not merely sexual intimacy but relational closeness in general.

In marriage, this is one of the clearest indications of health: Do you enjoy being together? Do you look for opportunities to talk, to sit together, to share a meal, to take a walk, etc.?

But this applies beyond marriage as well. We are not made for isolation. Even those of us who are introverted still need community. God made us to know others and being known by others. Again, past wounds can make us guarded, and past betrayals can make us self-protective. But that posture is neither wise nor safe. We were made to need each other.

Do you desire the physical presence of others? Do you pursue it?

In marriage, are you friends with your spouse?

THE VINYARDS OF ENGEDI // VERSES 9-14

In the third section of the text, the couple speaks praise about one another. He speaks first, calling her my love. Some translations render it ‘my darling,’ which probably captures the tone better. It is a term of affection that is only used in this book.

I compare you, my love,
to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots.

To modern ears, that does not seem to be the highest of compliments. Pro-tip: comparing your wife to a horse is unlikely to land well today. But, of course, we must get into the mindset of ancient Israel. Remember that Egypt was the military superpower of the world, and Pharaoh’s horses were legendary. They were strong, majestic, and beautiful adorned. They were symbols of wealth and strength. And the chariots were the elite fighting unit of that time.

But why is she like a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots? There are three possible explanations, which are probably all playing into the beauty of this imagery. First, Pharaoh’s mares would have been richly decorated, especially with jewels, which fits with verse 10.

Second, there are some ancient battle records that mention mares being released onto the battlefield in order to distract the stallions pulling the chariots from the combat. Thus, he would essentially be saying, “You are a head-turner, and my head is fully turned toward you.”

Third, we should also remember that Solomon imported horses from Pharaoh in disobedience of Deuteronomy’s commands (17:16). Thus, there may be a subtle contrast. For Solomon, Pharaoh’s horses were commodities and military assets. But here she is no commodity. She is unique and beautiful.

Your cheeks are lovely with ornaments,
your neck with strings of jewels.

And either he or the chorus adds: We will make for you ornaments of gold, studded with silver.

Pay attention that he does not praise the loveliness of her jewelry but of her cheeks and neck. The jewels she wears enhance and adorn her beauty. They are accessories, not the main focus.

Adornment, in its proper place, highlights beauty, not replace it. Jewelry, clothing, and makeup are all meant to complement one’s own beauty. And that should certainly be done modestly.

In the ancient world, modesty was not about how much skin was being shown because it would have been unthinkable for a woman to show a large amount of skin in public. Instead, modesty referred to avoiding excessive displays of wealth or status.

And that principle still applies to both men and women. It is possible to dress in a way that seeks unhealthy admiration for oneself.

But that is certainly not happening here. He is happy to make her jewelry, but it simply accents what he loves about her and who she is.

She speaks next, responding with three images:

While the king was on his couch,
my nard gave forth its fragrance.
My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh
that lies between my breasts.
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
in the vineyards of Engedi.

First, she again calls him the king. And, again, she focuses largely on his scent. Nard was an expensive perfume. Myrrh was a sweet-smelling resin, often worn in small sachets close to the body. Thus, the imagery is tender and intimate. She wants to hold him close to her, near her heart. Indeed, the Septuagint says that it will lie near her through the night.

Third, she calls him a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of Engedi. Engedi was an oasis near the Dead Sea. Even today, it has lush trees and even waterfalls. And significantly, it is surrounded by harsh, arid wilderness.

Throughout the Song, we encounter vineyards, gardens, blossoms, fruit trees, etc. Garden imagery dominates the poem. Indeed, next week, she will describe him as an apple tree under whose shadow she sits.

But here the vineyard is set within the wilderness. In Scripture, the wilderness is a place of danger, chaos, and testing. In fact, the Israelites probably thought of it as the domain of demons. But it was also where Yahweh brought Israel after leaving Egypt. In the wilderness, He pastored His people, giving them bread from heaven and water from a rock. He was their oasis.

That is the imagery being invoked here. Being with her beloved is like smelling the henna blossoms while in Engedi. She is essentially saying that he is her refreshment, refuge, and rest in the midst of the chaotic wilderness of life.

Their relationship is far deeper than mere romantic infatuation. It is rest and security.

That is how marriage ought to be. An oasis in the midst of life’s chaotic deserts. A place of rest.

The same hope extends beyond marriage to the life of the church. The local body, though made up of imperfect sinners, should be a place of refuge where burdens are shared and grace is given.

Are we cultivating those kinds of relationships?

Are you doing your best to make your home an oasis for your spouse and kids?

Let us also note how the couple have praised one another (and will continue to do so). She praises his fragrance and his presence. He praises her beauty. The easy application, therefore, would be: make sure you compliment one another.

But the truth is deeper than that. Words are important. Movements like the Word of Faith exaggerate this principle into great error. But the best lies always contain a measure of truth. And words do indeed have weight to them.

They are not empty pockets of air that we cast into the wind.

Yahweh created the world by His Word.

And then He made us in His image.

Our words do not create reality like God’s words, but our words do shape how we perceive and experience reality. They do not do so mystically or absolutely but the effect is nevertheless real.

So, if our takeaway from this passage is to simply be nice to your spouse, our vision is too narrow. Especially how husbands and wives speak about each is formative. Their words shape the atmosphere of the home and how the spouse sees himself or herself.

That is why Scripture constantly warns us against unwise and destructive speech. James even tells us that

the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. (3:6-7)

The same is certainly true in marriage and any other relationship. The unbridled tongue is the cause of an untold number of problems. And yet we, by default, assume that James is exaggerating. Words have weight to them. Persistent, sharp criticism hardens the heart. That is why Proverbs repeatedly warns about the misery of living with a nagging wife. Indeed, the principle applies to everyone but wives would particularly do well to consider it: “a soft tongue will break a bone” (Proverbs 25:15). Tender and affectionate words are far more persuasive. Most men will do nearly anything for a woman who respects him, genuinely likes him, and speaks tenderly to him. Of course, the same certainly applies with men as well.

For this reason, Tiff and I always counsel couples against getting into the habit of belittling jokes, name-calling, and sarcasm. Even when it is meant to be playful, it is forming patterns of speech, which can easily become much harsher in the middle of an argument.

While it is important to speak well to your spouse, it is also important to speak well about them. In the Song, the daughters of Jerusalem are listening to everything that is happening. Their mutual praise is public.

One of the most important rules for a healthy marriage is this: Never diminish your spouse in front of others. Never chip away at their reputation for the sake of a laugh. Never use them as a punchline.

Now that does not mean that you need to flatter them to others or say things that are not true. But you should resolve to never erode their honor. Only speak what would publicly build them up.

Paul tells us to do this with one another as Christians, saying that we must outdo one another in showing honor. Publicly honoring each other should almost be a kind of competition. That, by the way, is the solution to gossip. Resolve to only speak in public things that would honor your brothers and sisters in Christ. Again, that doesn’t mean being dishonest. After all, remember that not speaking is always an option.

But we should remember that in marriage our spouse is our nearest neighbor, our closest brother or sister in Christ. Therefore, that command is also for marriage. Strive to outdo your spouse in showing honor.

CHRIST OUR BELOVED

Now that we have walked through our text, let us take another pass through it to consider how it ultimately points to Christ and His bride, the church.

First, the woman description of herself is perfect for the church: dark but lovely. Read church history, and you will be struck by the darkness of it all. Terrible persecutions and gruesome martyrdoms fill its pages, certainly. But we are also struck by the darkness within the church itself. Well-intended but ultimately horrendous acts were sometimes carried out by our own brothers and sisters in Christ.

But as dark, sinful, and broken as the church is, she is also lovely. It is not the well-manicured beauty that the world expects. Christ still woos His bride in the wilderness. There is a wild and untamed beauty to the church. After all, it is filled with redeemed rascals. Have you heard about Paul? He used to kill the very Christians that now loves. How about Augustine? A bishop who admits that he used to be a slave to his own lust. Or Athanasius? He was exiled seven times for believing in the Trinity. There is certainly a wild beauty about the church.

But the church is lovely. She is the Christ’s bride, after all. As the man does here, Christ speaks over His bride, calling us the most beautiful. Yet Christ did not find us as beautiful. The bride had a harsh past spent under the heat of the sun, but we each have pasts of sinfulness, lived out in vanity under the sun. In Titus 3:3, Paul says, “For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another.”

We were not lovely. Yet Christ loved us. As Paul also says, a person might be willing to die for a righteous man, but Christ did for us will we were still sinners, while we were still unloving and unlovely. But Christ died to make us beautiful. Titus 3:4-7 tells us how that happens:

But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

And because Christ Himself has redeemed us from our sin and made us lovely, He is also now our beloved. He is the very fragrance of eternal life because He is Himself life everlasting. He is our King, our beloved, and our Engedi.

Marriage ought to be an oasis, but it isn’t always. Even the best couples have dry and even hostile seasons.

The church ought to be an oasis, but it isn’t always. Even the best of churches will make mistakes and sin.

Where do we turn when the chaos invades the sanctuary? Christ is the true and perfect Engedi. He is the only oasis that never fails. He is living water for the thirsty soul. He is shade from the vanity of life under the sun. He is rest for the weary and heavy-laden. He is the true vine for the spiritually hungry.

What the man in this Song is imperfectly, Christ is infinitely and fully to His people.

And He speaks a better word over us than even the words of praise in this Song. We heard the words that accurately described us earlier. Foolish. Disobedient. Led astray. But for those who are in Christ that is no longer what we are called. We are now forgiven, washed, beloved, holy, and plenty more. The God whose words formed galaxies and the very ground beneath our feet has called us His children. As Paul said, none of this is “because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy.” If you have repented of your sin and believed in Christ, this is what the Creator of heaven and earth has declared you to be. Of course, our actions do not always reflect that reality… yet. For now, we still wrestle and war against our sin, but upon Christ’s return, He will fully and perfectly beautify His bride once and for all. On that day we will forever be free from sin.

But until that day, He still speaks His Word over us. We hear it in His Scriptures, and we see it in His ordinances.

The reason that we encourage those who trust in Christ to be baptized before taking the Lord’s Supper is because it is the sign of our initiation into God’s family. A sign is not the thing itself, and baptism is not the moment of our salvation but a public testimony of our salvation in Christ.

When Christ was baptized, the Father spoke to Him, saying, “You are my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” The Father spoke His approval and delight over His Son. When we are baptized, we are baptized in the triune Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Baptism is kind of like an adoption ceremony, where the family name is official pronounced over you. And just as Jesus carried the strength and security of His Father’s approval throughout His earthly ministry, we should still reflect on our baptism as an assurance that we belong to the household of God.

Of course, He has also given us a continuous sign of His love at the Table before. In Roman society, slaves were not allowed to eat at the dinner table. But a slave could be set free either by an official declaration or simply by being invited to the dinner table. Can you imagine the wonder of being a slave who was invited to join your master for the first time at the dinner table, knowing that meant your freedom had been granted?

Something similar is declared to us at the Lord’s Supper. At His last supper, Christ said to His disciples, “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you” (John 15:15). As we come to this Table and eat this bread and drink of this cup, our King, our Beloved, our Engedi is speaking to us, calling us Friend, Beloved, Forgiven. Let us come, therefore, to the true oasis for our souls and find our rest in Christ.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

• The bride says, “I am dark, but lovely.” What does this teach us about healthy self-assessment? How is this different from both pride and self-loathing?
• Why is it important in marriage (and friendship) to remember that every person brings a history with them?
• Why is the desire for someone’s presence a sign of relational health? How does modern life (phones, busyness, entertainment, work) make it harder to enjoy simply being with others? In marriage, friendship, and church life, what habits help cultivate real presence?
• The man praises the woman, but his focus is on her, not her jewelry. What does this teach about the purpose of adornment?
• The bride describes her beloved as refreshment in the wilderness. Why is this a powerful picture of marriage?
• In what ways should the home be an oasis instead of another battlefield?
• What kinds of speech habits slowly poison relationships?
• What kinds of speech habits build strong marriages and friendships?
• What would it look like to “outdo one another in showing honor”?
• In what ways is the church like the bride in the Song: imperfect, yet beloved?
• Why is it comforting that Christ loved us before we were beautiful?
• How do baptism and the Lord’s Supper remind us that Christ has spoken His love over us?
• How can we learn to rest in Christ instead of expecting perfect rest from marriage, church, or life?