Following the Tracks: Eucharist as Oasis in Wilderness

The Song of Songs refuses a glossy view of love. The text opens the door to fear, shame, longing, and the strange ache of distance. The woman cries, Tell me, you whom my soul loves, where you pasture your flock, for she is hungry, vulnerable, and frustrated among rival shepherds. Love is not only the destination where everything is safe, it is also the journey where everything is up in the air. The poetry names the wilderness, and it does not pretend the wilderness is not dangerous.

The man answers with teasing love. Follow the tracks. He contests his absence by pointing to traces, little deposits of his presence that can be discerned and followed. Love often feels like tracking, like becoming a devoted student of another person, because the beloved cannot be possessed or reduced. The image then sharpens. I compare you, my love, to a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots. Exodus and battle flicker behind the line. Beauty confounds the powers. The woman is not merely at risk, her beauty is a weapon that throws the enemy into disorder.

The woman finds her footing in this word. While the king was on his couch, my nard gave forth its fragrance. Her scent disturbs his peace. The mighty man is miniaturized into a sachet of myrrh that lies between her breasts. She enjoys her power to awaken him. Then comes the oasis. My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En Gedi. Desert turns green, intimacy builds a house, our couch is green, the beams are cedar, the rafters pine. Love makes a forest in the sand.

The church lives this pattern. The Christian life is a wilderness walk toward the Bridegroom. The Bridegroom has left tracks in Scripture and in the dense web of liturgical symbols, bells and smoke, vestments and movements. To follow the tracks is to come to Word and worship. Beauty remains a weapon, not the gold of self-display but the adornment of good works that confound accusation. Then the bold turn. Prayer entices God. Incense goes up and disturbs the King’s peace. The priest at the altar stands in the person of the Bride and entreats God to condescend, to be miniaturized, not as a sachet but as bread. Mary stands behind the scene. God descends in love, and the Eucharist turns the desert into an oasis, viaticum for the way. The destination intrudes into the journey, and the Bride can say, My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En Gedi.

Key Takeaways

• 1. Love is a wildernessed journey. Love does not only secure a safe arrival, it trains courage and fidelity on the road. The ache and the fear are not signs of failure but the terrain of faithfulness. The text names the desert so the soul can meet God there with honest hunger. [38:41]
• 2. Follow the tracks of presence. The Bridegroom leaves deposits that contest the lie of absence. Scripture, sacraments, and holy habits are footprints that must be studied with patience and desire. Tracking forms devotion, because the beloved is too glorious to be reduced to an easy map. [49:55]
• 3. Beauty wages war through virtue. The mare among Pharaoh’s chariots announces a paradox, holiness disorients the powers. Adornment with good works throws accusation into confusion, because goodness gives darkness nothing to grip. Virtue is not decoration, it is warfare that moves quietly and prevails. [43:29]
• 4. Prayer disturbs the King’s peace. Incense rises, and the King on his couch is moved. The church’s pleading does not manipulate God, it reveals His chosen vulnerability to love. Intercession draws heaven down into the desert, because God delights to be moved by His Bride. [53:28]
• 5. The Eucharist is oasis and viaticum. At the altar the destination intrudes into the middle of the road. God becomes near and small, bread that strengthens for the next mile and foretastes the feast to come. Communion plants trees in sand and sends the pilgrim on with a green memory in the mouth. [56:32]

Youtube Chapters

• [00:00] - Welcome
• [36:46] - Why Song of Songs now
• [37:07] - Love without triumphal gloss
• [38:41] - Love as journey and wilderness
• [39:05] - Tell me, you whom my soul loves
• [40:52] - Follow the tracks to the pasture
• [42:49] - Mare among Pharaoh’s chariots
• [44:47] - Nard that disturbs the king
• [45:24] - Sachet of myrrh and agency
• [46:41] - En Gedi, oasis in the desert
• [47:40] - Our couch is green
• [49:55] - Traces in Scripture and liturgy
• [50:44] - Beauty as good works
• [52:58] - Incense that entices God
• [55:35] - Eucharist as oasis and viaticum

1. In Song of Solomon 1:7, the woman expresses frustration and vulnerability. What specific fears or struggles does she name in her plea?
2. The man compares the woman to “a mare among Pharaoh’s chariots” (v. 8). What historical or symbolic imagery might this metaphor evoke, based on the sermon’s explanation? [42:49]
3. How does the woman’s description of her beloved shift from a “sachet of myrrh” (v. 13) to a “cluster of henna blossoms” (v. 14)? What do these images suggest about her perspective?
4. The sermon describes incense in prayer as a way to “disturb the King’s peace.” What physical act in worship symbolizes this idea? [53:28]

1. Why might the man respond to the woman’s fear by pointing her to “follow the tracks” (v. 8) rather than giving her a direct answer? How does this reflect the nature of love or faith?
2. The sermon claims beauty “wages war through virtue.” How does the metaphor of the mare among chariots illustrate this paradox? [43:29]
3. The woman says, “Our couch is green” (v. 16) in the wilderness. What does this reveal about how intimacy with God transforms hardship?
4. The Eucharist is called an “intrusion of the destination into the journey.” How does this connect to the imagery of En Gedi as an oasis? [56:32]

1. The wilderness journey of love includes “ache and fear” as part of faithfulness. When have you experienced God’s presence in uncertainty rather than as a quick rescue? How did that shape your trust?
2. “Tracking” God’s presence involves studying Scripture, sacraments, and habits. What specific “tracks” (e.g., a prayer routine, a liturgical practice) help you discern God’s nearness when He feels distant?
3. Good works are called “warfare that moves quietly.” What small, hidden act of kindness or integrity could you practice this week to “confound accusation” in your workplace or family? [50:44]
4. The sermon suggests prayer “entices God” through vulnerability. Is there a longing or frustration you’ve hesitated to bring to God openly? How might you express it honestly this week?
5. The Eucharist is described as both oasis and “viaticum” (provision for the journey). How does receiving Communion strengthen you for challenges ahead? What practical need or fear could you bring to the altar next Sunday? [55:35]