Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.
The Church as she should be
Though the words before us are allegorical, and the whole Song is crowded with metaphor and parable, yet the teaching is plain enough in this instance; it is evident that the Divine Bridegroom gives His bride a high place in His heart, and to Him, whatever she may be to others, she is fair, lovely, comely, beautiful, and in the eyes of His love without a spot. Moreover, even to Him there is not only a beauty of a soft and gentle kind in her, but a majesty, a dignity in her holiness, in her earnestness, in her consecration, which makes even Him say of her that she is “terrible as an army with banners,” “awful as a bannered army.” She is every inch a queen: her aspect in the sight of her Beloved is majestic.
I. Why it is that the Church of God is said to be an army with banners. That she is “an army” is true enough, for the Church is one, but many; and consists of men who march in order under a common leader, with one design in view, and that design a conflict and a victory. But why an army “with banners”? Is not this, first of all, for distinction? How shall we know to which king an army belongs unless we can see the royal standard? The Church unfolds her ensign to the breeze that all may know whose she is and whom she serves. Unfurl the old primitive standard, the all-victorious standard of the Cross of Christ. In very deed and truth--in hoc signo vinces--the atonement is the conquering truth. Let others believe as they may, or deny as they will, for you the truth as it is in Jesus is the one thing that has won your heart and made you a soldier of the Cross. Banners were carried, not merely for distinctiveness, but also to serve the purposes of discipline. Hence an army with banners had one banner as a central standard, and then each regiment or battalion displayed its own particular flag. An army with banners may be also taken to represent activity. When an army folds up its colours the fight is over. It is to be feared that some Churches have hung up their flags to rot in state, or have encased them in dull propriety. It is high time that each Church should feel that if it does not work, the sole reason for its existence is gone. May we all in our Church fellowship be active in the energy of the Spirit of God. Does not the description, “an army with banners,” imply a degree of confidence? Banners uplifted are the sign of a fearlessness which rather courts than declines the conflict. The warriors of the Cross, unfold the Gospel’s ancient standard to the breeze; we will teach the foeman what strength there is in hands and hearts that rally to the Church of God. Once more, an army with banners may signify the constancy and perseverance in holding the truth. If we give up the things which are verily believed among us we shall lose our power, and the enemy alone will be pleased: but if we maintain them, the maintenance of the old faith, by the Spirit of God, shall make us strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.
II. The Church is said to be terrible. To whom is she terrible? I answer, first, in a certain sense she is terrible to all ungodly men. Even in the most ribald company, when a Christian of known consistency of character has wisely spoken the word of reproof, a solemn abashment comes over the majority of those present; their consciences have borne witness against them, and they have felt how awful goodness is. Not that we are ever to try and impress others with any dread of us; such an attempt would be ridiculed, and end in deserved failure; but the influence which we would describe flows naturally out of a godly life. If there be real goodness in us--if we really, fervently, zealously love the right, and hate the evil--the outflow of our life almost without a word will judge the ungodly--and condemn them in their heart of hearts. Holy living is the weightiest condemnation of sin. There will be always in proportion to the real holiness, earnestness, and Christ-likeness of a Church something terrible in it to the perverse generation in which it is placed; it will dread it as it does the all-revealing day of judgment. So is there something terrible in a living Church to all errorists. They do not dread those platform speeches in which they are so furiously denounced at public meetings, nor those philosophical discussions in which they are overthrown by argument: but they hate, but they fear, and therefore abuse and pretend to despise, the prayerful, zealous, plain, simple preaching of the truth as it is in Jesus. Even to Satan himself the Church of God is terrible. He might, he thinks, deal with individuals, but when these individuals strengthen each other by mutual converse and prayer, when they are bound to each other in holy love, and make a temple in which Christ dwells, then is Satan hard put to it. It is not every Church that is terrible thus, but it is a Church of God in which there is the life of God, and the love of God; a Church in which there is the uplifted banner, the banner of the Cross, high-held amid those various bannerets of truthful doctrine and spiritual grace, of which I have just now spoken.
III. Why is the Church of Christ terrible as an army with banners? First, because it consists of elect people. The elect shall overcome through the blood of the Lamb, and none shall say them nay. Ye are a royal priesthood, a peculiar people, a chosen generation; and in you the living God will gloriously declare His sovereign grace. The Church, again, consists of a praying people. Now prayer is that which links weakness with infinite strength. We cry unto the Lord, and He heareth us; He breaketh through the ranks of the foe; He giveth us triumph in the day of battle: therefore, terrible as an army with banners are those who wield the weapon of all-prayer. Again, a true Church is based upon eternal truth. Men who love the truth are building gold and silver, and precious stones; and though their architecture may progress but slowly, it is built for eternity. Ramparts of truth may often he assailed, but they will never be carried by the foe. We are now to observe, that the chief glory and majesty of the Church lies mainly in the banner which she carries. What cause for terror is there in the banner? We reply, the enemies of Christ dread the Cross, because they know what the Cross has done. Wherever the crucified Jesus has been preached, false systems have tottered to their fall. Dagon has always fallen before the ark of the Lord. Rage the most violent is excited by the doctrine of the atonement, a rage in which the first cause for wrath is fear. The terribleness of the Church lies in her banners, because those banners put strength into her. Drawing near to the standard of the Cross the weakest soldier becomes strong: he who might have played the coward becomes a hero when the precious blood of Jesus is felt with power in his soul. Martyrs are born and nurtured at the Cross. Moreover, the powers of evil tremble at the old standard, because they have a presentiment of its future complete triumph. Jesus must reign; the crucified One must conquer. Will each one here say to himself: “An army, a company of warriors, am I one of them? Am I a soldier? I have entered the Church; I make a profession; but am I really a soldier? Do I fight? Do I endure hardness? Am I a mere carpet-knight, a mere lie-a-bed soldier, one of those who are pleased to put on regimentals in order to adorn myself with a profession without ever going to the war?” And then “terrible.” Am I in any way terrible through being a Christian? Is there any power in my life that would condemn a sinner? Any holiness about me that would make a wicked man feel ill at ease in my company? If I am not a soldier, if I am not a servant of Christ in very truth, and yet I come to the place of worship where Christians meet, and where Christ is preached, the day will be when the church of God will be very terrible to me. (C. H. Spurgeon.)