Song of Solomon: Few portions of Scripture expose the tension between seeing Christ throughout Scripture and devotional imagination more clearly than the Song of Solomon. For as long as I can remember, almost every sermon I have heard from this book began with the assumption that it was a detailed love story between Christ and the church. Before the text was even allowed to speak within its own setting, the interpretive framework was already firmly established. The romantic language throughout the book was almost immediately lifted into spiritual categories concerning communion with Christ. And because so many respected men handled the book this way, those underlying interpretive assumptions often passed by largely unquestioned. Over time, however, I have increasingly found myself wondering not merely whether those sermons sounded devotional, but whether the text itself was actually establishing the meanings being assigned to it.
Scripture unquestionably testifies of Christ. “Search the scriptures… they are they which testify of me.” John 5:39. “To him give all the prophets witness.” Acts 10:43. And beginning “at Moses and all the prophets,” our risen Lord expounded unto His disciples “in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.” Luke 24:27. The issue, therefore, is not whether Christ may rightly be seen throughout Scripture, nor whether marriage itself can point beyond itself unto greater realities fulfilled in Him. Scripture plainly does this elsewhere. Ephesians 5:31-32. The concern arises when the broad truth that all Scripture testifies of Christ becomes a justification for transforming nearly every detail of a passage into devotional symbolism. At that point, an important distinction can begin disappearing: the difference between Scripture unfolding Christ through its own established patterns, and the interpreter assigning spiritual meanings beyond what the text itself actually says.
Part of what makes this discussion difficult is that this interpretive approach has existed for centuries and has been reinforced by many deeply respected men. John Gill especially strengthened this framework within Baptist and grace circles through his extensive commentary on the Song of Solomon, where nearly every image becomes a representation of Christ and the church. Yet Gill himself did not invent this approach. He inherited a much older tradition of allegorical interpretation that had already existed since the days of Origen in the third century and continued developing through Puritan spirituality and many other similar approaches to Scripture over the centuries.
What makes this somewhat interesting to me personally is that I have benefited greatly from Gill over the years, reading substantial portions of his Body of Divinity and many of his commentaries, yet I honestly cannot remember ever seriously turning to his work on the Song of Solomon. Looking back, I suspect some hesitation concerning devotional allegory may have already existed in my mind long before I attempted to take a closer look. And while many of these men were undoubtedly gifted and deeply useful in numerous ways, reverence for respected teachers should never replace careful examination of the methods they employed. A man may greatly help the church while still being wrong in certain longstanding assumptions he inherited.
Part of what makes this approach so persuasive is that it often produces deeply emotional and devotional language concerning Christ. The sermons can sound warm, affectionate, reverent, and spiritually moving. And because the language feels so Christ-centered, many believers naturally hesitate to question the interpretive framework itself, almost as though examining the method somehow risks diminishing love for Christ. But those are not necessarily the same question. The issue is not whether we love Christ or see Him as the center of Scripture. The issue is whether the meanings being assigned are actually governed by the text itself.
One of the strangest contradictions in many circles is how loudly men insist upon strict biblical authority while simultaneously handling portions of Scripture with almost unlimited interpretive freedom. Song of Solomon often becomes the clearest example. Every bodily description becomes a hidden devotional code concerning Christ and the believer. And the obvious question almost never gets asked: Who decided that? Because the text itself never explicitly interprets itself that way, nor do Christ or the apostles ever directly unfold Song of Solomon as a detailed allegory of redemption. In fact, for a book so frequently treated as one of the grandest pictures of Christ and the church, it is striking how completely absent it is from the interpretive framework of the New Testament. Christ never directly appeals to it, and the apostles never explicitly interpret it Christologically the way they do with so many other portions of Scripture. At some point the authority shifts. The text no longer governs the sermon; the sermon governs the text.
At the same time, none of this is meant to deny that Scripture contains types, shadows, figures, and spiritual fulfillment. Nor is it meant to deny that marriage itself ultimately points beyond itself unto Christ and the church. Scripture plainly says so. Ephesians 5:31-32. Human love, covenant union, delight, faithfulness, and fruitfulness all belong to realities established by God Himself and ultimately fulfilled in Christ. What matters is whether the specific meanings being assigned are actually warranted by the text itself.
I think there is a significant difference between recognizing the Christ-centered patterns intentionally woven throughout Scripture and freely spiritualizing passages according to devotional sentiment. That difference becomes important because once allegory is detached from the actual boundaries of the text, the imagination can slowly begin supplying concepts, descriptions, and ways of speaking about Christ that Scripture itself never established.
In an effort to make Christ feel emotionally relatable, devotional language can slowly begin speaking of Him in ways that subtly diminish His absolute fullness, independence, and divine perfection. The language gradually shifts from the majesty of God unto the language of romantic neediness: Christ longing helplessly for affection, Christ emotionally wounded by neglect, Christ portrayed almost as a disappointed earthly lover seeking emotional fulfillment from His people, &c.
Surely most of us have encountered this kind of preaching or devotional language at some point. It may sound deeply spiritual on the surface, but often it subtly reshapes Christ into something far more sentimental than scriptural. The tenderness of Christ is real. His love toward His people is beyond measure. But Scripture never presents Him as emotionally desperate, lovesick, or psychologically dependent upon the attention of man. There is a reverence and majesty to Christ even in the midst of His compassion. And once devotional language loses that balance, we can slowly begin reducing holy things into the atmosphere of emotional romance, until even the glory of Christ starts sounding less like the revelation of Scripture and more like a spiritualized romance novel.
But God is not a deficient being completed by human affection. “He is before all things, and by him all things consist.” Colossians 1:17. The Lord is not sustained by our devotion. He is not rendered imperfect by our weakness. He is not a broken lover emotionally dependent upon the creature for completion. Scripture certainly speaks of God in ways accommodated unto human understanding, yet there remains a profound difference between the Lord graciously revealing Himself unto men and reducing Christ unto sentimental human categories.
And honestly, I suspect this may be one reason why certain forms of modern devotional language often feel uncomfortable to me. At times the language almost ceases sounding theological altogether and begins sounding more like earthly romanticism projected upward toward God. The line between reverence and sentimental familiarity can become surprisingly thin, until the glory, fullness, and self-sufficiency belonging unto God alone are quietly diminished beneath emotional sentiment. Hebrews 1:3. MPJ