The Close To God Life
Hebrews 4:14-16
Saul and Pilar Cruz are a married couple who founded Armonia Ministries in Mexico City. They launched their ministry by planting a church on the edge of a huge garbage dump. As is always the case, starting the church had its challenges. But the biggest challenge was that the people had a difficult time trusting Saul’s leadership. Even though Saul is a gifted strategist and thinker, he often appeared aloof to them. By his own admission, at this point Saul was unwilling to plunge into the pain and poverty of his people.
But all of that changed one Sunday morning when someone burst into their worship service shouting about an emergency in the streets around the church and the dump: the local sewage system had started leaking and then flooding the street. As the sewage gushed, the street was on the verge of collapse. It threatened to sweep away dozens of nearby homes. To make matters worse, the city wouldn’t be able to respond for at least three days.
Saul and a local engineer organized the onlookers and church members to stop traffic and make sandbags. They worked frantically for almost fifteen hours, and by three o’clock the next morning they had finally stopped the flow of sewage. It was cold and drizzling, and Saul was shivering. Exhausted, covered with mud and sewage, he and his church members emerged from the pit and walked back to the church. Some of the women had heated water so the volunteers could wash off the filth.
As they gathered together, Saul started to cry. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I need to pray. I need to thank God, because he just saved us. He saved you. He saved me. Can we pray?” Then Saul put out his hands as they all held hands and knelt to pray. By the time they had finished praying, Saul had earned their trust, becoming their leader and their friend. Later on, Saul would comment, “People need to see you’re for real – that you really care for them, that you’re even ready to put your life on the edge for them.”[i]
Theologians and Bible scholars use the word “incarnation” to describe Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, moving into our world and walking into our suffering. Our God isn’t aloof. Jesus put his life on the line for us, descending into the mud and sewage of our world. And then he died for us, in our place. Why? Because God desires a relationship with you. With me. He wants us to draw close to him. As we continue our journey together through the New Testament book of Hebrews, which is really a sermon in written form, turn with me to Hebrews 4:14-16.
Our pastor, the person who wrote this sermon, calls Jesus our “great high priest.” And today, in 21st Century America, we have absolutely no idea what that means. The imagery he is drawing on here is completely foreign to us, and so when we read passages like this, our eyes kind of gloss over and we start daydreaming about our upcoming round of golf, or day out fishing, or riding a bike, or whatever we daydream about. We check out.
But this passage is actually pivotal to the entire sermon. He is making a statement in this comparison that will transform the way you and I think about – and relate to – God. But to get the point, we have to understand what the high priest did on the Jewish Day of Atonement.
There were a series of “courts,” or courtyards, in the temple. The outer court actually contained three distinct areas, or courts. The outermost was the “court of the gentiles.” It was accessible to all people – Jew and gentile, men and women, and was considered a place of prayer for all nations. Inside that was the “court of women,” where Jewish women could worship. Inside that was the “court of Israel,” which was reserved for ritually pure Jewish men. Inside that was the “court of the priests,” accessible only to priests who were on duty and wearing their priestly garments. This was where they carried out their priestly duties. These were all considered the “outer courts” of the temple.
Inside that was the Holy Place, which contained the golden lampstand, the table of showbread, and the altar of incense. Priests entered the Holy Place through a curtain from the outer court. IT was where the priests on duty performed daily rituals and offered sacrifices. And then, inside that, separated by a veil, was the Holy of Holies. It was the most sacred area of the temple, and contained the Ark of the Covenant. The lid of the Ark was called the Mercy Seat, and was considered the earthly throne of God. Only the high priest could enter the Holy of Holies, and even he could only enter the Holy of Holies once a year, on the Day of Atonement.
On the Day of Atonement, the high priest first offered a bull as a sin offering for himself and the priests. Then he offered a goat as a sin offering for the people. Then, he passed through the door of the outer court, through the curtain into the Holy Place, and then, finally, through the veil and into the Holy of Holies, or Most Holy Place, where he sprinkled the blood of the sacrifices on and in front of the Ark of the Covenant. His high priestly robe had bells sown to the hem so that the priests outside the veil could hear him walking around and know that he was still alive. He entered with incense, creating a cloud of sweet smelling smoke that obscured his vision so that he would not look on God directly.
The details of this day were spelled out in exacting detail in the Law of Moses, and they were observed in exacting detail by the priests. Once a year, the high priest entered the Holy of Holies, passing through three barriers – the door of the outer courts, the curtain into the Holy Place, and the veil setting apart the Holy of Holies. And there, in the Holy of Holies, he stood between the people and God, making atonement for the sins of all.
When he calls Jesus our “great high priest,” our pastor is emphasizing the greatness of Jesus over even Aaron and the other high priests in Israel’s history. He actually uses a redundant phrase – like he’s saying the same thing twice. Like he’s saying our “high high priest.” The word translated as “great” is “megas,” from which we get our prefix “mega.” It means “great, large, or mighty” and has the sense of something being “exceedingly great.” The greatest.
Why is Jesus the greatest of high priests? Because he entered this world. He lived among us. The eternal one experienced life from the perspective of a created being. And then, having lived that life without sin, without blemish, he offered himself as the once-for-all sacrifice for the sins of all of humanity. And then, just as the high priest passed through the curtains and into the Holy of Holies to stand before the earthly throne of God, Jesus “passed through the heavens” and entered the heavenly throne room of God, and there, having made atonement for the sin once for all, he sat down at the Father’s right hand.
That was something no high priest had ever done. If a priest sat down while on the job, it indicated that his work was done. No priest had ever sat down in the presence of God because the work of the priest, atoning for the people, was never done. Jesus sat down, because in his death and resurrection, the work of atoning for sin was completed. What did Jesus say on the cross? “It is … finished.”
Jesus is our great high priest because he did, once and for all through his death on the cross, what no sacrificial bull or goat and high priest could ever do – permanently atone for sin. And then, having risen from the dead, he passed through the heavens and entered the holiest of holy places, where he sat down at the right hand of the Father.
But there’s another reason Jesus is our “great high priest.” Look at V. 15. Jesus gets it. He gets us. He experienced life just like we do. He was tempted, in every way, just like we are, and yet did not sin. The word for tempted is in the perfect tense. That doesn’t mean much to most of us, unless you’re a grammar geek. But it was very intentionally chosen by our pastor here. It indicates that Jesus experienced temptation throughout his entire life.
The gospels record two “intense” times of temptation in Jesus’ life – his time in the wilderness just before he began his public ministry, in which he was tempted directly by Satan himself; and also in the Garden of Gethsemane, where he was tempted not to go to the cross. But the reality is, he experienced daily temptation just like we all do. He knows what it’s like to be tempted by greed, envy, jealousy, lust, the desire for power, the desire for possessions, the pursuit of comfort above all else.
He knows what being human feels like. Our pastor tells us that he knows our “weaknesses.” He experienced life on this planet from inside a human body. He’s felt sick. He’s felt weak. He grew tired and hot. He got stretched thin emotionally. And he knows our bent toward sin. He saw it firsthand in the lives of others at eye level. He experienced the impact of their sin on himself. But he also experienced our bent toward sin from the inside. From inside his very human body. He had all the same urges, all the same emotions. He was tempted IN EVERY RESPECT, just as we are. And yet did not sin.
In his book “Mere Christianity,” C.S. Lewis says this. “A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means – the only complete realist.”[ii]
And, if his atoning death was to mean anything – if it was going to atone for the deaths of us as human beings, then he couldn’t go through this life in a way that it couldn’t touch him. In a way that the temptation wasn’t real. He had to go through this life such that sin was as real a possibility for him as it is a reality for us. It had to be real. And it was. Just like us. And yet, unlike us, he did not sin.
Jesus gets us. That doesn’t mean that he ignores our sin or excuses it. It means that he is driven to help us. The word translated as “sympathize” here means a whole lot more than what we think of as sympathy – which usually amounts to feeling sorry for someone. It indicates a much stronger bond than that. It means that he sympathizes so much that he begins to actively assist us.
As a therapist, I work with lots of different kinds of people with lots of different challenges and problems. I work a lot with adolescents – a by product of over two decades spent working with teens in a variety of different settings. I work with couples who need help with their marriages – I just sort of floated toward that because as a pastor, we do a lot of work with couples in trouble anyway. I had done quite a bit of work with couples before ever becoming a therapist. And I work with people who have experienced trauma. Trauma of many different kinds. But one type in particular that I work with is parents who have lost children. Why? Because I have experienced that. I get it. I get them. I know what it is like. And because of that, I’m driven to help. I can relate to them in a way many people can’t because I’ve walked the path they’re on.
Jesus has walked the path we are on ourselves. He knows the power of temptation. He knows it better than we do, because whereas we have a bent toward giving in, he never did. He fought temptation to the bitter end without ever giving in. And because of that, because he knows how bad it can get, he is driven to help us.
So how do we respond to that? Look at V. 14. For starters, we hold fast to Jesus. The picture here isn’t of lightly holding on to his hand. No. It’s a tenacious, firm grasp. Imagine you are out on a hike and you get too close to the edge of a cliff and slide over the edge, and you manage to catch yourself on a tree root sticking out of the side of the cliff. It’s the only thing between you and a 50’ drop onto the rocks below. You’d be holding on for all you’re worth, wouldn’t you? That’s the kind of grip we need to have on Jesus.
When we want to give in, we keep holding on to Jesus. When we want to turn back, we keep holding on to Jesus. When it would be easier to pretend we don’t follow Jesus, we keep holding on to Jesus.
And what specifically are we to hold fast to? Our CONFESSION of Jesus as Savior and Lord. A confession is a public profession of our faith in Christ. When we are baptized, we are usually baptized in front of others, aren’t we? It’s a public confession that says, “I identify with Jesus. He is my Savior and my Lord. I bow my knee to his authority in my life.”
But I can’t profess my faith in Christ and then live as if I haven’t. I can’t profess Christ and then place my actual commitments elsewhere. The way I live my life needs to stay in alignment with what I confess with my mouth. When I’m tempted to pursue pleasure over Christ, or to pursue power and influence instead of Christ, or safety and security instead of Christ, I persistently refuse to let go of Christ. I keep holding on for all I’m worth.
We hold fast to Jesus, and we draw near to the throne of grace. Look at V. 16. We draw near to the throne of God. Before Jesus, curtains and veils and walls and rituals and incense kept people away from God. But at the moment Jesus died, the temple veil, the veil that separated the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place, was torn in two from top to bottom. It was no longer needed. The ancient high priests stood between the people and God. Jesus, our great high priest, takes us to God. God wants a relationship with you. With me. God wants us to draw close to him.
I tell parents all the time that you don’t want the kind of relationship with your teen where they say, “I messed up. My parents can’t find out.” You want the kind of relationship with your teen where they say “I messed up. I need to tell my dad, he’ll know what to do. Mom will know what to do.” That’s the kind of relationship God wants to have with us. Where we come to him saying, “I messed up. I don’t know what to do. I need you.” And Jesus is right there, at the right hand of the Father, saying, “I’ve already atoned for this.”
The question is, do we WANT to be close to God? Do we dare to tear down our false views of God – false views that cause us to run away from God, try to hide from God, pretend that God doesn’t care about the details of our lives? Do we dare to tear down those false views of God and run into his presence, confident that we’ll receive the mercy of forgiveness and the grace we need to face temptation. And we need both, because sometimes we’ll win over temptation, and sometimes temptation will beat us. We’ll give in. We need both mercy and grace. And they’re right there for the asking. All we have to do is approach God with our hands out, ready to receive.
As a 17-year-old, Anne Graham Lotz, who is the daughter of Billy and Ruth Graham, was involved in a car accident. She was speeding carelessly down a winding mountain road, and she smashed into a car driven by her neighbor, Mrs. Pickering. Anne was too afraid to tell her father about the accident, so for the rest of the day she kept avoiding him. When she finally came home, she tried to tiptoe around her dad, but there he was, standing in the kitchen.
Anne tells what happened next:
I paused for what seemed a very long moment frozen in time. Then I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck …. I told him about my wreck – how I’d driven too fast and smashed into the neighbor’s car. I told him it wasn’t her fault; it was all mine. As I wept on his shoulder, he said four things to me:
“Anne, I knew all along about your wreck. Mrs. Pickering came straight up the mountain and told me – and I was just waiting for you to come and tell me yourself.”
“I love you.”
“We can fix the car.”
“You are going to be a better driver because of this.”
Anne says, “Sooner or later, all of us are involved in some kind of wreck – it may be your own fault or someone else’s. When the damage is your fault, there’s a good chance you’ll be confronted by the flashing blue lights of the morality police. But my father gave me a deeper understanding of what it means to experience the loving, forgiving embrace of my heavenly Father.”[iii]
God wants us to draw close to him. And in Jesus, all that we need to do that is available to us. All we need to do is receive the gift, and run to him. Let’s pray.
[i] Leadership Journal, “Dumping Ground: An Interview with Saul Cruz” (October, 2007)
[ii] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
[iii] Adapted from Anne Graham Lotz, Wounded by God’s People (Zondervan, 2013), pp. 155-156
