Confession time: I’ve preached verse by verse through entire books of the Bible. Romans? 28 weeks and Done. James? Currently Loving it. Amos? We just got through it.
But Song of Solomon?
Let’s just say... I don’t think I’ve got the cajones.
I’m a Reformed theologian. I’ve got a Theological Doctorate in Biblical Exposition. And still—I’m not convinced I have the courage or even the clarity to touch this book from the pulpit anytime soon.
And I’m not alone.
For many pastors, the Song of Songs sits on the shelf of Scripture like a family heirloom you’re too scared to open in public. You know it’s beautiful. You know it’s part of the canon. But it also feels like the kind of thing that could get you emails—lots of emails.
So, what do we do? We quietly avoid it.
- We pretend the poetry is just too “mysterious.”
- We say we’ll come back to it someday.
- We let it collect dust while we preach safer passages.
Here’s the reality: the Song of Solomon is one of the most neglected books in the church today—not because it’s unclear, but because it’s uncomfortable.
It’s a book about beauty. Desire. Longing. Intimacy. It refuses to be squeezed into our neat categories. And so, we sidestep it in favor of epistles with bullet points.
But here’s the question that’s been gnawing at me—and maybe at you too:
If God put it in His Word, why are we so scared to preach it?
- Is it too steamy? Or are we just too squeamish?
- Is it too poetic? Or are we too obsessed with practicality?
- Is it too mysterious? Or have we just failed to ask the right questions?
This post—isn’t a commentary. It’s a challenge.
Because while I still may not have the guts to preach the Song of Solomon next Sunday... maybe it’s time we at least started talking about why we don’t.
And why—just maybe—we should.
The Elephant in the Pulpit – Why We Avoid It
Let’s be blunt: most pastors avoid the Song of Solomon like it’s written in ancient Klingon and illustrated by a Renaissance painter with boundary issues.
The real reasons? It's painfully relatable.
1. It’s Awkward. Like, Really Awkward.
You know what makes grown men panic in a pulpit faster than Leviticus 18?
“Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle...” — Song of Solomon 4:5
And suddenly you’re questioning all your life choices, including the moment you felt called to ministry.
It’s poetic, sure—but it’s also blush-worthy. And when you’ve got the deacons in the front row, teenagers on the third pew, and that one older lady who’s never cracked a smile since the Carter administration—you suddenly feel like you’re reading Fifty Shades of Yahweh aloud.
So we avoid it.
2. It’s Misunderstood and Mistreated
Is it an allegory of Christ and the Church? Israel and Yahweh? A marital manual? Divine erotica with a spiritual twist?
Answer: Yes. Maybe. Kind of. Depends on who you ask.
We don’t preach it because we’re terrified of misinterpreting it. We’d rather be wrong about Revelation than Song of Solomon—at least dragons don’t make us talk about feelings.
3. It Doesn’t Preach “Clean”
You can’t outline this thing like an epistle. There are no imperatives. No doctrine-heavy paragraphs. It reads like a musical duet between two starstruck newlyweds who lost the filter somewhere between verse two and verse five.
There’s no altar call. No parable. No sinner’s prayer.
It’s a love song.
And we don’t know what to do with that in a world where most sermons are structured like TED Talks in ESV packaging.
4. It Offends Our Theological Sensibilities
Let’s be honest: Reformed types are especially guilty here.
- We love heady theology.
- We thrive on precision.
- We feel safest with a well-footnoted commentary and a Greek lexicon.
And Song of Solomon comes crashing in like a perfume-drenched poem screaming, “God made passion and it’s not a sin!”
So we nervously retreat to Romans—where we can talk about justification and wrath and not have to say the word navel.
So yeah, we avoid it.
Not because we’re unfaithful, but because we’re uncomfortable.
But maybe it’s time we asked:
- Are we preaching the whole counsel of God?
- Or just the parts that match our theological vibe?
What We Lose When We Skip It
We’ve made the case that pastors dodge the Song of Solomon like it’s a spiritual landmine—which, let’s face it, it kind of is if you’re unprepared. But this isn’t just a matter of pastoral anxiety or awkward sermon illustrations. When we skip the Song, we’re not just avoiding a tough text.
We’re robbing our churches of something deeply biblical and profoundly needed.
Here’s what goes missing when we ghost this sacred love song:
A Theology of Desire That Isn’t Perverted
Let’s be real: our culture is absolutely saturated in sexual chaos. Lust is a click away. Marriages are fragile. Purity is mocked. And in this vacuum, the church has largely offered... silence.
Or worse—shame.
We act like desire is something God reluctantly tolerates instead of something He created. We whisper about sex with clinical detachment and then wonder why our people are discipled by Netflix.
Song of Solomon says: desire isn’t dirty. It’s designed.
The love and longing expressed between husband and wife is:
- Bold
- Joyful
- Unashamed
- Holy
If we don’t teach this, culture will fill in the blanks—and it’s already winning.
A Portrait of Marriage That Isn’t a Punchline
Let’s be honest: most marriage sermons sound like TED Talks with a few Bible verses stapled on.
Song of Solomon offers something entirely different:
- Mutual delight
- Emotional intimacy
- Physical affection
- Honor, respect, and desire
This isn’t your average “five communication tips” message. This is poetry drenched in devotion. It’s not trying to fix marriage. It’s celebrating it.
If we skip this, we flatten marriage into obligation and chore charts.
But God painted marriage in full color. And we’re preaching it in grayscale.
A Language of Love That Goes Deeper Than Hallmark
Let’s face it—modern love language is shallow. "I love you" today means "I like how you make me feel right now."
But in Song of Solomon, love:
- Delights in the person, not just their usefulness.
- Praises the beloved in poetic detail.
- Perseveres through distance, difficulty, and doubt.
We need to re-teach our people how to speak love—holy love, covenant love, Song-of-Solomon love—not just emoji-level affection.
A Worshipful Understanding of Beauty
Beauty is not a sin. God invented it.
Yet so much Christian conversation about beauty is cloaked in guilt or suspicion. But the Song dignifies the physical in a way that:
- Doesn’t objectify
- Doesn’t idolize
- But glorifies
This is Eden echoing in poetry. It’s God saying, "Yes, creation is good. Delight in it rightly."
Preaching this teaches our people to see their spouse, their body, even their senses, through the lens of redeemed wonder.
5. A Glimpse of Divine Love Through Earthly Intimacy
Here’s where it gets deep: Song of Solomon isn’t just about marriage.
It echoes a greater love—a covenant pursuit that shadows the Gospel itself:
- The groom seeks the bride.
- The bride is drawn to his voice.
- There’s longing, delay, union, and joy.
Even if you don’t allegorize every verse, you cannot miss the relational intensity that mirrors Christ and the Church.
And if you refuse to preach it, you risk teaching people that God’s love is only abstract, cold, or systematic.
But the Gospel is passionate. God rejoices over His people with singing (Zeph. 3:17). Christ loved the Church and gave Himself up for her (Eph. 5:25).
You lose that tone when you skip this book.
If You Don’t Preach the Song, the World Will Fill in the Gaps
Culture is already catechizing your people—with music, film, advertising, and TikTok algorithms.
It’s preaching:
- That desire is everything.
- That marriage is disposable.
- That beauty is currency.
- That sex is god.
And if the church refuses to speak—not just about what’s wrong but about what’s beautifully right—then we become complicit in letting sin define love.
When we ignore the Song:
- Teenagers grow up thinking purity is repression, not protection.
- Singles have no vocabulary for longing that doesn’t feel shameful.
- Married couples are left with clichés instead of covenantal passion.
- Worshipers start believing God is stoic, distant, and uninterested in their desire and delight.
But when we recover it?
- We give people language for holy desire.
- We show that intimacy isn’t taboo—it’s sacred.
- We create space for joy, longing, beauty, and yes—even physical love—to be discipled under Christ.
Song of Solomon isn’t a side-note. It’s a God-breathed corrective to every false narrative about love the world throws at us.
Preach it faithfully—and your people will:
- See marriage as a garden, not a grind.
- See their spouse as a delight, not a duty.
- See God as a Lover of souls, not a cold accountant in the sky.
If we don’t preach the Song, we’re not just skipping a book. We’re surrendering the battlefield of desire—and leaving our people defenseless in the middle of it.
How to Preach It Without Getting Weird
Alright, pastor—you’ve decided to go where few dare tread. You’re stepping behind the pulpit with Song of Solomon open in one hand and a backup sermon on Psalm 23 just in case the elders start sweating.
Good. Now let’s talk how to preach this book without:
- Turning your sanctuary into a middle school giggle-fest.
- Sounding like you’re narrating a perfume commercial.
- Or getting fired.
Preach It with Reverent Boldness
The Song is holy Scripture. That means we treat it like we would any other inspired text: with humility, reverence, and conviction. Don’t tiptoe through it like it’s radioactive.
But don’t make it clinical either. You’re not dissecting a frog. You’re unfolding a poem.
It’s intimate—but not indecent. It’s poetic—but not pointless. It’s beautiful—and yes, a little spicy.
Hold both reverence and boldness in tension.
Let the Text Be What It Is
Don’t sanitize it. Don’t turn every curve and kiss into a mystical metaphor for sanctification.
It’s a love song between a bride and groom. It’s about:
- Attraction
- Pursuit
- Intimacy
- Celebration
Let it breathe. Let the metaphors sing. Let the poetry hit hearts before you dissect the structure.
And no, you don’t need to allegorize every body part into a Christological symbol. Please don’t turn _“teeth like ewes”_into a shadow of communion.
Don’t Shy Away from Physical Intimacy—But Don’t Make It Cringe
This isn’t a sex ed class. It’s not a comedy sketch. It’s not the time to prove how “real” and “raw” you can be.
Be clear. Be biblical. Be careful. Use discretion without dodging. Teach your people that Scripture isn’t embarrassed by physical love—and neither should we be.
You can say breasts from the pulpit without the room collapsing. But maybe don’t linger on it.
Contextualize for the Congregation
Yes, it’s a book about marital love. But not everyone in the room is married.
Preach:
- The beauty of holy longing for singles.
- The dignity of embodied love for everyone.
- The discipleship of desire for young adults.
- The covenantal joy of lifelong intimacy for married couples.
Everyone has a body. Everyone has longing. Everyone needs to know what God says about those things.
Teach the Book as a Whole—Not as a Prooftext for Date Night
Don’t cherry-pick verses like they’re motivational posters for your next couples retreat.
Preach the narrative arc:
- Desire
- Pursuit
- Union
- Separation
- Reconciliation
- Devotion
There’s tension, vulnerability, maturity. It’s not just hearts and flowers. It’s real love—with the weight of covenant behind it.
Let It Preach Christ—Without Forcing Allegory
The Song is not a Gospel tract in disguise. But it does echo Gospel realities:
- The joy of union.
- The ache of separation.
- The pursuit of the beloved.
- The fierce, jealous, death-defying nature of love (8:6).
You don’t need to force Jesus into every flower and fragrance. But you should help your people see how this kind of love—holy, sacrificial, passionate—finds its ultimate fulfillment in Christ and His Bride.
Expect It to Stir Something—And Shepherd That Well
People are going to feel things. And that’s good.
- Married couples might be convicted.
- Singles might feel seen—or grieved.
- The sexually broken might feel both longing and shame.
Shepherd them.
- Point to grace.
- Speak to wounds.
- Hold out Gospel hope.
And please, for the love of exegetical integrity, follow up your preaching with real pastoral care.
Preach It Like You Believe God Put It There On Purpose
Because He did.
You don’t have to be edgy. You don’t have to be embarrassed. You just have to be faithful.
The Song of Solomon isn’t a trap. It’s a treasure. And your people are starving for what it offers.
The Outcome – What Happens If We Actually Preach This Book
Let me be clear—I haven’t preached Song of Solomon.
Not yet.
Lord knows I haven’t mustered the guts to climb into that pulpit and start reciting verses about flocks of goats, towers of necks, and honeymoon metaphors with Hebrew innuendo.
But if I did? If we preached this book like it actually belonged in the Bible—if we preached it with reverence, boldness, and biblical clarity—here’s what I believe we’d see.
Marriages Would Start to Breathe Again
I’m convinced marriages in our churches are gasping for air—operating more like contractual roommates than covenant lovers.
If we preached this book:
- Spouses might rediscover pursuit.
- Husbands might start praising their wives again—with more than a passing compliment about dinner.
- Wives might feel cherished—seen in poetry, not just performance.
It wouldn’t fix every marriage, but it might just awaken some.
Singles Would Feel Dignified Instead of Doomed
This book doesn’t shame longing. It dignifies it.
If we taught that longing isn’t a flaw—it’s a signpost to something greater—our singles wouldn’t feel like half-souls waiting to be completed.
They’d feel:
- Understood
- Valued
- Discipled in desire, not just told to suppress it
And that changes everything.
The Sexually Wounded Would Begin to Heal
If we preached this book—not as a taboo, but as a truth—we might open the door for:
- Trauma to be named.
- Guilt to be confessed.
- Shame to be disarmed.
Imagine someone hearing that their past doesn’t define them—that there’s a biblical love story bigger than what’s been stolen from them.
We say God redeems broken things. Preaching Song of Solomon might finally show what that means.
The Church Would Learn to Talk About the Body Without Blushing
If we actually discipled people to see the human body as fearfully and wonderfully made, not fearfully and quietly ignored, we’d stop handing that conversation to culture.
We’d:
- Preach beauty without vanity.
- Teach modesty without shame.
- Celebrate embodiment without slipping into idolatry.
The Song shows us how. If we preached it.
Our Worship Would Get Deeper and Fuller
Hear me out.
If we preached a God who doesn’t just tolerate His people—but pursues them with covenant affection... If we showed that the Gospel isn’t just a legal transaction—but a passionate rescue...
Our people wouldn’t just believe in grace. They’d stand in awe of it.
They’d worship like the bride in the Song—longing, delighting, answering when He calls.
Final Thought: If We Preached the Song, We’d Remember God’s Heart Is Bigger Than Our Comfort Zones
I haven’t preached it yet. But I believe if I did—if we did—it would disciple our people in love, beauty, passion, covenant, and Gospel longing in ways that no topical series ever could.
Not because the Song is magic. But because it’s Scripture.
And Scripture does not return void.
“Love is strong as death… its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the LORD.” — Song of Solomon 8:6
So no, I haven’t preached it.
But maybe it’s time we did.
You....And I Can’t Keep Skipping the Spicy Book Forever
If we really believe 2 Timothy 3:16—that all Scripture is God-breathed and profitable—then Song of Solomon isn’t optional. It’s not the weird uncle of the canon. It’s not the book we sidestep until the next marriage retreat.
It’s the Word of God.
Yes, it’s poetic. Yes, it’s passionate. Yes, it might make your elders squirm. But it also shows your people what holy love looks like in a world drowning in counterfeits.
Skip it, and you let culture keep writing the script on desire, beauty, intimacy, and covenant. Preach it, and you reclaim that script for the glory of God.
So maybe it’s time we stopped being afraid of a book God isn’t ashamed of. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for the "right moment."
Maybe it’s time we dusted off the Song, stood in the pulpit, and said,
“Open your Bibles to the Song of Solomon. Yes, that one.”
And then watch what happens.
Thanks for reading.
