I recently officiated the wedding of Noah and Hannah, a couple I care about deeply, and I thought I’d pass on my wedding reflection. The sermon is a short reflection on the gospel beauty of Song of Solomon 8:6–7.

Before the wedding began, rain poured all day in 90-minute chunks. We borrowed from baseball and opted for a short rain delay. It worked. The clouds parted, a rainbow streamed across the valley, and God joined a man and woman in holy matrimony.

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Noah and Hannah, I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. You and your parents certainly have been waiting for it longer. But I’d say I’ve been earnestly waiting for this day to come around since at least, well, I don’t know . . . August 10, 2020. To be more specific, I’ve been waiting for your wedding day since Monday, August 10, 2020 at 10:24 a.m.

Why 10:24 a.m.? you ask. Well, that is when I received one of the best emails I’ve ever received. For context, the day before I had just officiated the wedding of another couple in our congregation, which you’ll see this email referred to as an “interview.” I’ll tell you now that the email was signed in this way: “Sincerely, Noah, on behalf of the [groom’s last name] – [bride’s last name] Event Planning Corporation.”

But how does the email begin? you say. I’ll tell you.

Dear Mr. Vrbicek, I hope this message finds you well. Thank you for your interest in playing a role in the forthcoming [groom’s last name] – [bride’s last name] wedding. Your desire for involvement is something that we see and appreciate. During the interview conducted yesterday, you were being evaluated under the criteria of eloquence, flexibility, quick-thinking, aesthetic, and overall likability.

This goes on for several paragraphs, eventually asking me to officiate their forthcoming wedding. The email concludes,

Please feel free to reach back out at your convenience. We would love to hear what you are thinking about this opportunity, or if there is anything we can do to make this onboarding process as seamless as possible. We are excited to bring you on board—your skills will be a great asset to our team.

That was 327 days ago. Now here we are: July 3, 2021 at 6-something p.m. I have now long sense been successfully “onboarded to the team,” and I guess in a sense, so have all of us.

So, what do we do now? What do I say now? At this time I want to share a few comments about marriage and Christianity. These comments are for all of us, but I would especially like to share them with you, Noah and Hannah.

There’s that line about “what do you get a guy who has everything,” or “what do you get a gal who has everything.” I’m not attempting to imply that, Noah and Hannah, you have everything. But I do want to say, especially to Noah, that he has heard me speak at many a wedding before, and he has heard everything I have to say at weddings.

In fact, the other year, Noah and I, together, worked at several weddings in a row—Noah played the music, and I led the ceremony. And we made the joke that he and I should just take this “gig on the road.” I’m not sure how lucrative the preacher and musician “wedding gig” is; we never found out. But I bring this up to say that it’s not that Noah has everything, but, again, that he has heard me say everything I typically say at this moment at a wedding.

So, what do I say now, what do I say to two people I care about deeply but feel like you’ve heard it all from me before?

Well, there is one angle on marriage you’ve never heard me talk about before. I tried to talk about it to you once, but you, Noah, got up to leave in the middle of when I was speaking. Hannah, you did not run away from my Sunday school class. Noah said he “had” to go back upstairs to the sanctuary to lead music for the worship service that was taking place because he is one of our worship leaders. A likely story.

I was teaching that particular Sunday school class through the provocative Old Testament book called the Song of Solomon. If you know anything about that book, you know it’s a love poem, at times an explicit love poem, between an engaged couple who eventually get married and go on to do the sorts of things husbands and wives do, which is to say the book can be a little awkward. Perhaps this is why, Noah, you got up to leave in the middle of my class. Because you did, you missed me read and talk about one of the not-awkward but beautiful passages from the end of the book.

In Song of Solomon 8:6–7, the woman has a request to her husband, the request to be close to him and that his love would be directed always and only toward her. Then she goes on to say something about the tenacity of the love of God. The woman says to her husband,

Set me as a seal upon your heart,
    as a seal upon your arm,
for love is strong as death,
    jealousy is fierce as the grave.
Its flashes [the holy, jealous flashes of marital love] are flashes of fire,
    the very flame of the LORD.
Many waters cannot quench love,
    neither can floods drown it.
If a man offered for love
    all the wealth of his house,
    he would be utterly despised. (8:6–7)

This passage is the only place in the book that mentions the name of the Lord, the name YHWH. And when she does, she likens their marital love for each other to something drawn from the love of God, which she calls the “very flame of the LORD,” a love so strong it cannot be quenched by many waters.

In other words, the love of God is like a candle shining in the darkness, and if you took that candle on the boat called “Maid of the Mist,” and rode it not just near but even under Niagara Falls, not even the torrent of water pouring down Niagara Falls could put out the very flame of the Lord. The love of God for his people is too hot and too bright to be quenched. 

When I hear the woman in the Song of Solomon talk about the love of God in this way, I hear a woman talking about the covenant love of God. I hear her talking about what Christians call the gospel.

A covenant relationship is not focused on whether the other person upholds their end of the agreement. A covenant relationship is one based on a solemn vow to hold up your end of the agreement regardless of whether the other person does. This is why covenant relationships are so beautiful, why Christianity is so beautiful.

Jesus loves you in the gospel with covenant love. Jesus, knowing exactly who the church is, knowing exactly who his bride is—in all of his bride’s glory, sure, but most especially all of his bride’s shame and depravity and guilt and weaknesses and insecurities and failures—knowing all of this, Jesus still loves his bride. Noah and Hannah, your many failures and manifold weaknesses cannot quench the love of God in Christ for you.

This covenant love of God is why marriage between a husband and wife is a pointer to the love of God. When the world looks at a marriage—although the light is not near as bright or as strong as the love he has for us—marital, covenant love comes from the same sort of flame. Engagements will always come to an end, but marriages, as God intends them to be, should burn without “sickness or health” and “better or worse” quenching the flame of love.

Now, I promised I would say something new. But while I started by saying something new, I’ve ended up talking about the love of God as a covenant love, and in doing so I’ve made the sorts of statements I always make at weddings, indeed themes you, Noah, and probably you too, Hannah, have previously heard me say many times.

This makes me think of something the apostle Paul wrote to a church in an ancient city called Philippi. Paul deeply loved the church and the people in Philippi. From prison in Rome he made it a point to write a letter to them. Many lines from that letter are familiar to Christians today. Paul writes that “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” (2:10–11). Paul writes of how he has “learned in whatever situation . . . to be content,” which he follows with the famous statement that he “can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens [him]” (Phil. 4:12, 13). These are familiar lines. In that same letter he also wrote this: “To write the same things to you is no trouble to me and is safe for you” (Phil. 3:1).

Paul could have plowed new ground. But the best lesson for them, the safest lesson, was to remind them of what they already knew, what he had already taught them. I feel the same. Significant moments in our lives—weddings, funerals, and so on—I believe are not so much for giving new information but opportunities to remind us of what we already know.

Therefore, it’s no trouble to say to you the same sorts of things I always say at a wedding. Noah and Hannah, your marriage is to display this covenant, gospel, “very-flame-of-the-Lord” type of love. Noah, as you love your wife sacrificially and unconditionally, you display the gospel, the unconditional love of Christ for his bride. This is a high and honorable calling. And, Hannah, as you love and support Noah, you display the response to the gospel. You also have a high and beautiful calling.

But more importantly, I want you to know that even though both of you will inadequately display the flame of the Lord in your marriage, remember that you are not saved because you have a perfect marriage or a perfect spiritual life or a perfect anything: Remember, God loves you with a flame that many waters cannot quench. And his covenant love toward you will hold you through better and worse and sickness and health and life and death.

* Photo by Tales and Trees Photography (via a Facebook post)