We’ve now covered nearly half of the book of Hebrews. The author first showed from the Scriptures that Jesus is better than any other of God’s messengers. The need to do this is lost on most modern Christians, who already accept that premise; but to Jewish Christians in the period leading up to the destruction of the temple and Jerusalem, it was harder to accept, due to their centuries-old traditions and upbringing. Next, he showed that those Scriptures, although written in ancient days to their ancient forebears, were also for those living today—whenever today happens to be. That was important, because those ancient Scriptures have some consequential things to tell us about Jesus, such as his status as high priest. After a brief digression in chapter 6 to encourage growth in his audience, the author picked up with Jesus’ priesthood, referring again to Psalm 110.4:

We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.

(Hebrews 6.19-20)

From here he launches into a thorough study of this little-known figure from Genesis.

For this Melchizedek, king of Salem, priest of the Most High God, met Abraham returning from the slaughter of the kings and blessed him, and to him Abraham apportioned a tenth part of everything. He is first, by translation of his name, king of righteousness, and then he is also king of Salem, that is, king of peace. He is without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, but resembling the Son of God he continues a priest forever.

(Hebrews 7.1-3)

This paraphrase of Melchizedek’s appearance in the Old Testament is all for the purpose of explaining why God appoints his chosen one to Melchizedek’s priesthood in Psalm 110.

See how great this man was to whom Abraham the patriarch gave a tenth of the spoils!

(Hebrews 7.4)

Next, the author connects Abraham’s tribute to Melchizedek with Israel’s tithes to the priestly tribe of Levi. Then he observes that Melchizedek “blessed him who had the promises” (v6). It was almost impossible to honor anyone more highly than the intended audience honored Abraham. Yet, “it is beyond dispute that the inferior is blessed by the superior” (v7). Therefore, the mysterious Melchizedek was greater than Abraham. Why does this matter? Is the point just to tear down the exalted father of God’s people? No, it is to elevate the audience’s honor for

another priest [who] arises in the likeness of Melchizedek, who has become a priest, not on the basis of a legal requirement concerning bodily descent, but by the power of an indestructible life. For it is witnessed of him,

“You are a priest forever,

                        after the order of Melchizedek.”

(Hebrews 7.15-17)

The conclusion toward which the author is driving is hardly one that should have been news to his audience. It’s the confession each one had already made, that Jesus is the Messiah. But whether through carelessness or an ill-guided attempt to compartmentalize their lives into everyday matters, and matters of religion, they were failing to grasp just what that confession means! Jesus is better than everything and everyone they honored and held dear. In fact, not only was the Law of Moses less valuable and less important than the advent of Christ, but it was well on its way to irrelevance.

For on the one hand, a former commandment is set aside because of its weakness and uselessness (for the law made nothing perfect); but on the other hand, a better hope is introduced, through which we draw near to God.

(Hebrews 7.18-19)

Jewish Christians watching the relationship between their nation and Rome grow more and more sour struggled to accept that their identity as God’s people had less and less to do with their physical ancestors and brothers; less and less to do with the nation, land, and political structure that bore them. Jesus said,

“But when you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies, then know that its desolation has come near. Then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains, and let those who are inside the city depart, and let not those who are out in the country enter it, for these are days of vengeance, to fulfill all that is written.…For there will be great distress upon the earth and wrath against this people. They will fall by the edge of the sword and be led captive among all nations, and Jerusalem will be trampled underfoot by the Gentiles, until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled.”

(Luke 21.20-24)

Yet when the fulfillment of these predictions came, they struggled to obey the attendant instructions. Their spiritual and physical vision conflicted, and they trusted their eyes, which saw brothers being persecuted, rather than “enemies of the cross of Christ” coming to the end of which he warned them (Php 3.18).

Today, most gentile Christians care too little about the ways God revealed himself to Israel for our benefit (cf. 1Co 10.11). But even if no Jewish national identity hinders our walk with God, we are susceptible to the same error, with regard to our own accidents of birth and upbringing! It’s good to love parents, family, neighbors, community, and nation. It is not good to side with them, when they oppose Christ. Christians are sojourners in a strange land, not at home in this world. It’s supposed to be this way! Paul tells us, “our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior” (Php 3.20). Come what may, that Savior

is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.

(Hebrews 7.25)

Jeremy Nettles

Our series covering the book of Hebrews by chapter has accelerated of late, for reasons of which you may or may not be aware at this time. Regardless, you can expect to see the next chapter (or so) briefly analyzed in each successive week, until the series terminates with chapter 13. We’ve already been up through chapter five, and a brief review, as always, can help propel us into the next installment.

In chapters 1 and 2, the author of Hebrews used the Scriptures to remind his audience that Christ is better—better than angels, and better than us. Yet because he shared our human experience, he’s an effective mediator between man and God. In chapters 3 and 4 he focused on one Scripture—Psalm 95—to warn Christians against hard-heartedness leading to apostasy. Then, in chapter 5, he reiterated his earlier claim (from 2.17 & 3.1) that Jesus is our new—and better—high priest. He compared Jesus’ priesthood to the Levitical order, but pointed to yet another Scripture to establish that Christ’s priesthood is of a different and better order—that of Melchizedek (5.10).

But now he observes a problem.

About this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing.

(Hebrews 5.11)

This is one of many hints that this book originated as a sermon, but we don’t have time or space to follow up that premise. However, the observation helps to make sense of what follows. From here through the end of the sixth chapter of Hebrews, is a digression from the central argument. The author will pick up where he left off at the end, getting back to his point that “Jesus has gone” into God’s presence “as a forerunner on our behalf” and that he is able to do this because he has “become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek” (6.20); but first, he needs to rake his audience over the coals.

For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.

(Hebrews 5.12-14)

At one time, it was perfectly appropriate for these Christians to be spiritual children—“infants in Christ,” as Paul called a different audience many years prior (1Co 3.1). But the years between their coming to believe in Jesus and the present occasion should have been marked by growth, maturity, a need for more substantial spiritual food, and—what the author implies but doesn’t mention—greater strength, with a longer list of fruits borne. Instead, they were in a state of stunted growth, which—to continue the analogy—would surely end in spiritual death, if not corrected. He pleads with his audience,

Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity…

(Hebrews 6.1)

He doesn’t mean, of course, that believers should forget the basics—things like repentance, faith, baptism, the Holy Spirit, the organization of the church, the coming resurrection, and judgment (vv1b-2). These remain the “foundation” (v1). But a foundation isn’t of much use, unless the intended structure is built atop it!

After another short detour from this tangent, to the effect that people who refuse to grow beyond the basics are rejecting those very basics and their “end is to be burned” (v8), the author softens his tone, extending hope.

Though we speak in this way, yet in your case, beloved, we feel sure of better things—things that belong to salvation. For God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do. And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

(Hebrews 6.9-12)

He doesn’t want his audience to forget, or stop looking for the fulfillment of God’s promises through Christ. Where does he go, for an example to help us better understand this? Same as usual—the Scriptures.

For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, “Surely I will bless you and multiply you.” And thus Abraham, having patiently waited, obtained the promise.

(Hebrews 6.13-15)

Abraham waited a lifetime, and although the fulfillment of God’s promises seemed to grow more and more impossible by the day, he maintained his hope. In the present life he never saw a “a great nation” of offspring (Ge 12.2); he never saw “all the land” of Canaan” given to his “offspring forever” (13.15); he never saw “all the nations of the earth…blessed in him” (18.18). But he did see a son born to aged parents; he did receive a small portion of the promised land; he did see his prosperity amplified to bless the people around him. These shadows served to guarantee the real promises.

This is the primary lesson in our author’s tangent, and in fact the whole book. Don’t give up hope! This life of waiting seems endless at present, but it will pass in the blink of an eye. God always keeps his promises. So

hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf…

(Hebrews 6.18-19)

Jeremy Nettles

We’ve now been through the first four chapters of Hebrews. Chapter 1 used the Scriptures to demonstrate Christ’s supremacy over angels. Chapter 2 introduced the idea of Christ as mediator between man and God. Chapter 3 allegorized from Psalm 95 to the author’s own audience of Jewish Christians, pointing out that the same dangers faced both. In last week’s article focusing on Hebrews 4, we left off in a somewhat dismal and terrifying place—Israel’s rebellion forming an ominous warning for Christians today, lest we “fall by the same sort of disobedience” (He 4.11) and consequently be denied entry into God’s eternal, promised rest (cf. v1). But it was not the author’s goal to leave us terrified—at least, not at this juncture. Yes, he issued the warning, but he followed it by returning to the observation that Jesus lives to mediate between God and his rebellious people.

Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

(Hebrews 4.14-16)

The author returns now to the point he teased around the end of chapter 2—Jesus is our high priest. He has plenty more to say about this, but before he dissects the idea and its implications, he goes to the practical endpoint—he is our mediator, and a far more effective one than any other high priest! As a result, we can approach God’s throne with “confidence.” The Greek word behind this is παρρησία-parrēsia, which conveys boldness and frankness of speech. The idea is that we don’t need to be afraid of offending God with our weaknesses and unsavory characteristics, because our mediator, while not sharing our faults, has matched, and even exceeded our human experience of suffering and weakness. As a result, he can effectively petition his Father on our behalf, and help us to find mercy and grace when we need it.

The author continues, laying out the duties of a priest, which both Jesus and the Levites carried out for God’s people.

For every high priest chosen from among men is appointed to act on behalf of men in relation to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is beset with weakness. Because of this he is obligated to offer sacrifice for his own sins just as he does for those of the people. And no one takes this honor for himself, but only when called by God, just as Aaron was.

(Hebrews 5.1-4)

Living in a society with a priesthood and sacrifices, the audience may very well take them for granted, and fail to fully recognize the basis for the priestly role. The whole point is to mediate between man and God, because each man has obligations toward God, which he can’t fulfill on his own behalf. The sinful man, for example, has a duty to seek forgiveness and reconciliation with God, whose laws he has transgressed. But he lacks the standing to appear before God and make that request, on account of the very sin for which he needs to atone! There are other factors, too; but this one demonstrates man’s impossible position before God.

Aaron and his descendants were guilty of their own sins, and so couldn’t fully mediate between the righteous God and the wicked sinner. But Jesus both understands the sinner’s weakness, and has conquered those same weaknesses, remaining holy! This makes him the perfect choice for priesthood. This seemed like a new idea. No other New Testament book labels Jesus this way! And yet the author of Hebrews isn’t inventing it of his own accord; it was revealed by the Holy Spirit. In fact, it was revealed a thousand years before Christ was born.

The Lord has sworn

        and will not change his mind,

“You are a priest forever

        after the order of Melchizedek.”

(Psalm 110.4)

The author of Hebrews recognized this (cf. 5.6), but he seems to have been the only one to take note, up to that time. In sorting out the implications of Jesus’ priestly office, he does not disappoint!

In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverence. Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. And being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him, being designated by God a high priest after the order of Melchizedek.

(Hebrews 5.7-10)

He fulfilled several priestly duties, but the ones most important to us culminate in our eternal reconciliation to God—“salvation,” for those who throw themselves on his mercy, accept his mediation, and submit will and body to his instructions.

Perhaps you can tell that the author is not done with this point; in fact, his next few words are, “About this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing” (v11). This will introduce a digression that spans the remainder of chapter 5 and all of chapter 6, before he deftly segues back to the topic by means of the same old quotation, reminding us of Jesus’ priestly order. But for now, just consider that Jesus—God’s own Son—took on human form and learned what it’s like to will something different from his heavenly Father, and yet obey him anyway. How much more do we owe the Father our obedience, who have nothing to offer him, no rights before him, and only a record of rebellion tied to our names?

Jeremy Nettles

We’ve recently considered the first three chapters of Hebrews. The first chapter asserted that Christ is better than angels; the second made the somewhat obvious observation that he’s better than we are, too—but also that his similarity to us makes him the ideal mediator between us and God. In the third chapter the author began by extending the comparison to Moses, but his method of doing so seemed to take a rapid left turn, into a detailed exegesis of the final section of Psalm 95, making an allegory between the rebellious Israelites, and the Jewish Christians of the author’s own time, who were in danger of repeating their ancestors’ mistake—rebellion growing out of “an evil, unbelieving heart” (He 3.12). As the previous installment predicted, chapter 4 will go even further in applying the ancient Psalm to today’s Christians.

Therefore, while the promise of entering his rest still stands, let us fear lest any of you should seem to have failed to reach it.

(Hebrews 4.1)

Already by this point, the author’s original audience would have been cocking their heads and raising eyebrows. A nice rhetorical tidbit that makes little impression on today’s listeners introduces this chapter. Steeped as we are in two thousand years of Christian thought and tradition, we consider heaven and hell to be basic knowledge, needing little or no explanation. Not so, for the first generations of Christians, for whom “eternal judgment” was an “elementary doctrine” (6.1-2), but whose notion of how exactly that judgment will be carried out, was less clearly defined. So for the author to assert that this promise of “rest” directly applied to his audience of Christians would be a significant leap, one requiring explanation. The author feels this obligation, and so he clarifies:

For good news came to us just as to them, but the message they heard did not benefit them, because they were not united by faith with those who listened. For we who have believed enter that rest, as he has said,

“As I swore in my wrath,

                        ‘They shall not enter my rest,’”

although his works were finished from the foundation of the world. For he has somewhere spoken of the seventh day in this way: “And God rested on the seventh day from all his works.” And again in this passage he said,

        “They shall not enter my rest.”

(Hebrews 4.2-5)

First, he draws the comparison between ancient Israel and God’s people of the author’s own day. Both received a sort of gospel (“good news,” v2), their response to which led either to “benefit” or to “wrath,” depending on whether the hearers believed and complied—the main point of the previous chapter. Then, he makes two subtle points by repeating the Psalm’s final line.

The first point is that the “rest” denied to the audience’s forefathers was not really the promised land, although that was the earthly focus at the time (cf. Jos 22.4 et al.). Rather, it was God’s rest, which most naturally refers to the first Sabbath, following six days of creation in the opening chapters of Genesis. That is truly a rest worth entering!

The second point is even more subtle. In recounting their forefathers’ rebellion and punishment, we might have expected the much later psalmist to say on God’s behalf, “they did not enter my rest.” Yet both the future tense “shall,” and the psalmist’s use of a long-dead generation’s penalty to admonish his own, later audience, indicate that the door to this “rest” has not been closed off! Our author develops this point in the next section as well:

Since therefore it remains for some to enter it, and those who formerly received the good news failed to enter because of disobedience, again he appoints a certain day, “Today,” saying through David so long afterward, in the words already quoted,

“Today, if you hear his voice,

                        do not harden your hearts.”

For if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken of another day later on. So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his.

(Hebrews 4.6-10)

Although none of this seems particularly controversial to Christians today, the author of Hebrews did not consider these points to be widely accepted among his initial audience. His argument seems a bit repetitive and overly thorough to us, but that’s because he was introducing a new concept at the time—not that an eternal reward or penalty awaits each of us, which was already accepted, as we discussed above; but rather that Psalm 95 testifies about that reward, and that its warning applies equally in our time, as in David’s. This is why he follows this lengthy exegesis with a statement about God’s word that we typically extract from its context:

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.

(Hebrews 4.12-13)

In speaking of “the word of God,” partly he’s referring to the “message” of v2, which “did not benefit” Israel’s rebellious forefathers; but mostly he wants Christians to recognize that the Old Testament Scriptures are just as much alive and effective now, as in the days of Moses and David! We must heed them. In the case of Psalm 95, that means guarding against hardened and erring hearts, which will soon overflow into rebellion, inviting wrath. Fleeing this bad example,

Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience.

(Hebrews 4.11)

Jeremy Nettles

Centuries after God’s forceful intervention allowed Israel to finally kick its idolatry habit, they had a new problem. Long past were the days of David and Solomon, who ruled not only Israel’s inherited lands, but most of their neighbors as well. Now they were oppressed by Rome, and even their supposedly native king Herod was really descended from Edomites. God had made promises to send David back to them and rekindle the old glory, but hope was wearing thin, and the old, bloated institutions seemed to be losing their relevance in the modern world. One day in the midst of this frustration, a nobody priest finally got his turn to perform the ritual incense offering during yet another hour of prayer, when an angel appeared to him in the temple’s holy place, terrifying the old man.

But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard…”

(Luke 1.13)

Months later, a young woman of a hated town in a hated region was looking forward to her marriage with a local carpenter. She was of the royal lineage, but it didn’t seem to be doing her much good. Her name was the same as seemingly every other young Jewish woman, and her fiancé, a simple carpenter, couldn’t be expected to raise her station in life much. She was a nobody from nowhere, utterly unimportant, until the same angel who’d spoken to Zechariah also confronted her, troubling her greatly (Lk 1.29). But he

said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.”

(Luke 1.30)

A few months later again, the carpenter discovered a problem—his fiancée was pregnant. He knew he couldn’t possibly be the child’s father, so he faced a dilemma. He genuinely cared for Mary. Discovering that she’d been unfaithful to him had not erased his love for her, but this was someone else’s child! The carpenter was another no one from nowhere, deeply conscious of his own royal lineage, but rather than becoming bitter over his family’s decline, he was a just and conscientious man. He’d been dealt a major blow when Mary could no longer hide her baby bump from him, but he decided to spare her as much shame as possible and initiate a quiet divorce. Then

an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife…”

(Matthew 1.20)

Thirty-some years later, some women got up early the day after Sabbath and went to visit a tomb occupied by the remains of a man recently executed. He was the child born of Mary and raised by Joseph. He had grown up, taken over the family business, then left it for a short career of public preaching, whose business model seemed to include accepting occasional donations, and then giving away far more than he ever received, in effort, time, and care as well as money. Against all odds he’d actually made quite a stir with the common people, and eventually had been recognized by the Jewish authorities as a threat to their status—so they killed him. A few women, more nobodies who’d been deeply affected by his teaching, wanted to show one last kindness to his memory—the completion of the burial rites that had been interrupted by the Sabbath. Instead of the body they sought, they found an angel with a terrifying appearance, but who

said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen…”

(Matthew 28.5-6)

Almost thirty more years had passed, when a political prisoner stood on a doomed ship surrounded by despairing men exhausted from several days vainly attempting to ride out a horrible storm on the Mediterranean Sea. His life hadn’t started out this way. He’d been the golden boy, smart as a whip, a rule-follower, a hard worker, with all the self-assurance of a well-maned lion. Due to his age he hadn’t yet risen to a real leadership post in Jerusalem, but he was clearly on his way. An unsentimental go-getter, he’d done every task given to him with zeal, and asked for more. Then, following a strange incident while traveling through the desert one day, it all changed. He traded honor for anonymity, going home to Tarsus, becoming a nobody. When he finally crawled back out of his hole, he was subjected to outright scorn. Former friends turned against him, even conspiring to kill him. He’d been arrested on trumped-up charges, imprisoned without a real trial for years, and now, finally on his way to force a verdict, even the common sailors and soldiers had ignored his warning and foolishly sailed off into this mess, leaving no hope for survival. But an angel appeared to the man,

and he said, “Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before Caesar…”

(Acts 27.24)

§

It’s not that fear is never appropriate. It’s not even that God doesn’t want us to fear him—his word tells us directly, “Fear God” (1Pe 2.17). But while he wants us to regard him, respect him, and acknowledge his power to reward and punish, he doesn’t want fear to be the sum of our relationship. The better we know him, the better we see that his will is for our good, and that his goal is to empower us, not frighten us, “for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2Ti 1.7). When we surrender to God, we find his fearsomeness a comfort. Because of it, we have no reason to fear the dangers of this world. In fact, if we’re on God’s side, our enemies should be afraid of us!

The Lord is my light and my salvation;

        whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life;

        of whom shall I be afraid?

(Psalm 27.1)

Jeremy Nettles