I began yesterday by reading from Song of Solomon, an often overlooked, little book of intense passion. I’ve read it many times before, but yesterday I was struck with questions I’d never pondered before. This post is not about those questions (and lack of answers). Rather, it’s about what stirs and excites us.

In all my church-attending years, I only heard a couple of sermons and maybe a few passing mentions about Song of Solomon. I suppose it’s because the only passion the evangelical church is comfortable discussing is The Passion of the Christ, a movie about Jesus’ death.

But let’s get real for a minute: passion and intimacy is what makes this world spin around. No, I don’t just mean sex; I’m talking about whatever creates a connection between people that makes hearts skip a beat, that excites us, that causes us to let go of our inhibitions. Music does that for me.

Last night, I stood on a concrete floor in a venue for three hours (wearing my cute but grossly-uncomfortable boots, I might add) along with hundreds of other people who share my love for Dawes, a folk-rock band. It’s passion—an intense love—that brought all us strangers together for one night. And we were rewarded with an intimate evening of music.

The band had rhythm and soul oozing from their pores, infecting the audience with vibrations we could feel from our heads to our aching feet. Lead singer Taylor Goldsmith danced all night with the energy of a teenager instead of a 33-year-old, and the audience joined him. Once, I looked across the crowd to a sea of collective head nods pulsing with the beat. That was a moment of ecstasy amidst the doldrums of our daily lives.

With harmonies somewhat reminiscent of the The Eagles, and poignant (and sometimes political) lyrics with a Bob Dylan familiarity, the band kept our attention all evening. And when they stopped playing and directed us to sing the chorus of one of our favorite songs a cappella, we did not disappoint. We lifted our voices into a chorale that seemed to have been practicing together forever.

This morning, as I think back over yesterday, I wonder why the Church often settles for (and encourages) a stale and inhibited lifestyle. There in Song of Solomon are the stirrings almost all of us feel from time to time. The book describes soul desires and bodily urges and what it means to be human…and the Church ignores it.

Last night, I watched a woman having the time of her life; she danced like nobody was watching! I was a bit jealous. Even after quitting church five years ago, sometimes I still find it difficult to forget the forbidden. But if Song of Solomon is any guide, I imagine we were meant to express our pent-up passions and desires for intimacy. And if the Church won’t allow it, the concert hall will.