“He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love” (Song of Solomon 2:4).
You’ve heard that verse a hundred thousand times. It sounds poetic; it sounds great. But what in the world does it mean?
Start with the banner itself. Go back to medieval heraldry and you’ll find that every noble house had one. And nothing on it was decoration. Every element meant something — the symbols, the colors, even the direction of a stripe. A stripe one way might stand for courage in battle; another way, peacemaking; another, loyalty. Richard the Lionheart carried the lion. Nobody looked at a banner and said, “I guess he thought lions were cool and red was his favorite color.” A banner declared, to everyone who saw it, whose house you were, what you stood for, and what side of the battle you were on. And it passed down: each generation inherited the banner, changed it a little, and carried it forward.
Now read the verse again: “His banner over me was love.”Men, here is your charge.
Make a Banner
I don’t mean a physical one — though if you want to get nerdy about it, I won’t stop you. I mean this: What does your marriage stand for? What does your family stand for? What direction is your family going? When you got married, you created a new house. What is that house known for?
This banner must be visible — a known thing, not a theoretical one. I have met many men who, if you only listened to them talk, sounded like they were applying for a position in the Trinity. But look at their lives, and every spiritual word collapses, because their actions are far from the words they speak. I dealt with one man for years who loved to tell people — practically on introduction — that long ago he’d fought a great spiritual battle with pride and conquered it. Watch him for two seconds and you’d realize a conquering had indeed happened: pride had conquered him. He staked out public standards he privately trampled. He wanted a fake banner — he understood people would look up and see something, and he wanted them to see the wrong thing.
Here’s the hard truth: if your wife can’t see your banner, you’re not loving her right. And more likely, she can see it — it’s just that the banner you talk about doesn’t match the one you’ve planted in the ground with your actions. If you say one thing and lead in another, your banner is your actions, not your statement.
Don’t Build It Passively — and Don’t Build It Alone
Men, you must not be passive in the construction of your banner. That is the great disease of men in our day. The culture wrings its hands about toxic masculinity, but the epidemic I see is passive masculinity — men on their recliners, just trying to survive their day, while no one leads and nothing gets built. Your banner will not be made by accident. If you do nothing, it isn’t neutral — it’s blank. And hear this: if you don’t raise a banner in your home, somebody else will.
At the same time — communication is necessary. You have to talk to your wife. There needs to be a vocalization of what you’re building as a family. Have you ever actually sat down together and asked: What will our family stand for? What is the ministry of our family? Only a fool wouldn’t listen to his wife; she is the greatest counselor God has placed in your life. Your wife will leave her mark on the banner — she’s the one who makes it beautiful. But she should not be the one forced to design it because you wouldn’t. Nobody can follow if they don’t know the direction. Husbands set the course.
What Goes on the Banner
Prominent virtues. You should pursue all the fruit of the Spirit, but some virtues will be raised higher in your house than others. In our family it’s loyalty — I grew up cheering for the Cubs, the Vikings, and Iowa State, so believe me, I know loyalty. My dad has served the same company for over thirty years; my parents have only ever belonged to one church. During the Crusades there were two monastic orders of warrior monks: the Templars, who aggressively drove the enemy back, and the Hospitallers, who founded hospitals and held the line. Same cause, same battle — different virtues on the banner. Neither was wrong. Decide what’s on yours.
Your family ministry. You don’t serve the Lord by accident. My parents have cleaned the church together for decades — a whole ministry of helps flying over their house. My in-laws are the greatest pastor-supporters I’ve ever met; theirs is the banner of the armor-bearer. Some families fly music, some prayer, some encouragement. Ours flies the fight to abolish abortion — ask my boys if they want to go save babies with Daddy and you’ll ruin their day if the answer is no. What does your house fly?
Your vocation, rightly placed. Work is noble — drive past the endless Help Wanted signs and you’ll see how few believe that anymore. Your vocation may belong on the banner. But the banner of your home must not be a stack of money. Build your family’s identity on Christ, not on dollars.
A Banner Worth Inheriting
A banner is generational. It’s built on what came before you and it stands to be built upon. My banner resembles my father’s; when my sons Thomas and Henry raise their own, I expect they’ll use my blueprints and make something of their own.
Maybe you can’t do that. My grandfather’s banner would have read: fishing, sports, chasing women. That is not a banner to build after. But my dad got saved in his twenties — and God supplies spiritual fathers when physical ones fail. He will place men in your life whose pattern you can build from. Don’t you praise the Lord for that?
So here is the test I apply to myself: is the direction I’m leading my family a banner I want my sons to pick up? Or would I be ashamed to see them follow in my footsteps?
Make a banner. Make it real, make it visible, make it worth inheriting — and never stop carrying it forward for the kingdom of God.
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