Scripture Introduction
We have elevated (in the last centuries) the democratic ideal as the “desire of all nations.” Unfortunately, insisting on the equality of all people seems to denigrate thoughts of God. Rather than high and holy, he is now low and chummy. Instead of a “consuming fire,” he is only a compassionate friend.
With our new, “user-friendly deity,” we also de-emphasize the role of “priest.” A priest bridges the gulf between holiness and sin. He stands between blazing fire and dry stubble. And the Bible makes much of Jesus as the “Great High Priest,” because, as opposed to modern sensibilities, the God of the Bible is great and awesome and exalted—in fact, his eyes are too pure to look on evil. Moses discovered as much when he asked to see God’s glory. God responded: “I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name…. But, you cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live….” (Exodus 33.19 ff.).
Israel recognized God as unapproachable through temple worship, especially when his presence was uniquely visible. At the first dedication service, “fire came down from heaven and consumed the offerings…. And the priests could not enter the house of the Lord because the glory of the Lord filled it” (2Chronicles 7.1-2)
No wonder that Isaiah cried out, when he saw a vision of God, “Woe is me! For I am lost;… my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (Isaiah 6.5).
Biblical authors understand God as completely separate from sin, having nothing to do with wickedness, undefiled and full of perfect hatred for his enemies. Therefore they thrill to meditate on the priesthood. Hebrews 4 does just that. [Read text.]
Introduction
“Let me bend your ear,” is a figure of speech asking you to indulge my telling you something I think is important. The expression may originate in Psalm 78, where Asaph asks the people to “Give ear to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth!” The Hebrew for “incline” is elsewhere translated, “turn.” “Turn [bend?] your ear toward my mouth so that you will hear me.”
Whose ear would you bend? Mr. Bush’s, to convince him the importance of the sanctity of life? Mrs. Clinton’s, to show her that government cannot solve every problem?
We all might like bending the ear of a powerful person, one able to act. That is why the frequently repeated commands to pray so stir our hearts: “pray without ceasing”; “praying at all times in the Spirit”; “in everything by prayer and supplication…let your requests be made known to God.” We hope for no better ear to bend than God’s, for no one can stay his hand.
Now we might expect the Bible to warn against the presumption of prayer. After all, I desire to bend Mr. Bush’s ear, but I do not expect to. I have no standing, no right to address him, no ability to incline his ear to the words of my mouth. And God is infinitely greater than the President; would not his ear be infinitely more unlikely to turn? Yet God insists that we bend his ear.
Now, apparently, converts to Christianity from Judaism questioned a religion without priests. For thousands of years, all access to God was mediated by the Levites, the Jewish priests. God did not allow just anyone to approach him, but only those specially set aside for the purpose. The author of Hebrews, therefore, explains that Christianity (rather than eliminating) actually provides the ultimate priest, the perfect model for whom all Old Testament prototypes were created.
We are a gentile congregation. Therefore, we feel little desire to return to the rites and rules of Judaism. But as he pleads with the Jews to hold fast to God’s great high priest, the author also encourages us to pray fervently.
Last week we considered Elijah, a man like us—not uniquely holy—but with similar passions. Yet he prayed fervently and it did not rain for three years. Where do we find faith to bend the ear of the exalted One? In the priesthood of Jesus. This passage encourages prayer in six ways.
1. We Must Pray Fervently Because Jesus Stands Before God (Hebrews 4.14)
This week, Ellen DeGeneres interviewed Jenna Bush, Mr. Bush’s daughter. Ms. DeGeneres asked if she could call dad anytime she wanted, even though he is the President. Jenna said, Yes; and Ellen said, “Let’s call him right now.”
Throughout the whole thing, Ms. DeGeneres was flippant, clearly uncaring of what our President thought of a surprise call, live, on national television. She has no relationship and nothing to lose.
On the other hand, Jenna Bush was visibly anxious: “They’re going to kill me. I’m going to be in so much trouble,” she said as the call went through. “They may have wanted some warning.” Then when the President was on the line, Jenna said, timidly, “Are you mad, daddy?”
Why was she worried about his reaction? After all, he is her father. It is because Jenna has a relationship with everything to lose. And she was barging into the presence of the President (rudely) with no one to intervene on her behalf.
That made me think: how can we bear to speak to God? Moses could not see his face; Isaiah feared his holiness; the priests of old trembled to see his glory; the prophets speak of him in universally terrifying terms. I am far more sinful than they—what arrogance prompts me to pray fervently?
“A Great High Priest has passed through the heavens.”
Jenna was nervous putting dad on the spot. But his response, “I want to tell my little girl I love her,” proved him to be a gracious and kind father. She risked much and honored Mr. Bush’s nature by making the call.
In a similar way, we honor God’s provision of Jesus by risking fervent prayer. God’s holiness repulses sinners; so he provides a Son to stand between him and us. Prayer honors the choice of the Father and the work of the Son.
2. We Must Pray Fervently Because Jesus’ Compassion Is Boundless (Hebrews 4.15)
Everyone who strives with God in prayer, knows the feeling of sin disqualifying us from seeking him. We remember Isaiah 59.3: “Your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God, and your sins have hidden his face from you so that he does not hear.” And even when we try to look to Jesus, his perfection seems to remove him as far from us as our sins isolate us from God.
What hope is there? After all, Jesus is God; he could not sin. Can he really sympathize with my weakness?
Let me illustrate. Mr. K___ recently completed an Ironman event to raise money for cancer treatment. He describes it as the most difficult thing he ever endured. Now suppose I say: “I’m inspired; I think I will do the same.” Then I climb down and begin to run. But I stop at the back door and say, “Wow, that was suffering; I really pushed myself.”
If you are training for a marathon, which one of us knows the difficulty you face? Who can sympathize? Not me—I gave up! Here is the principle: Only the One who finishes the race knows the fullness of the struggle. That is Jesus.
Before temptation maxes out, I give in. I can never fully sympathize with your personal struggles. As a pastor, I can relate yours to ones I face; I can listen; I can say Bible stuff. But only the One who never failed knows the greatness of the temptation you face. “His sinlessness increased his sensitivity to sin” (John MacArthur, Hebrews, in. loc., 113).
Dr. John MacArthur, Hebrews, 113: “If you want to talk to someone who knows what sin is about, talk to Jesus. Jesus Christ knows sin, and he knows and understands our weakness…. He has been there.”
3. We Must Pray Fervently Because Jesus Unleashes Mercy and Grace (Hebrews 4.16)
A long time ago, in a nation far away, jealousy combined with self-absorption to drive a certain prime minister to intense hatred. His wrath would not be satisfied merely by punishing the Jew who refused to bow before him; no, he would exterminate the entire race. Only one could save the Jews.
She became queen when the previous beauty offended the pagan king. To find his next wife, an international search selected women and enrolled them into a full year of spa and beauty treatments. From these delights, the king chose Esther as most gorgeous. She was now Queen, though no one knew she was a Jew.
Then Mordecai (a Jew) offended Haman (the prime minister). Haman therefore determined to destroy all Jews. So Mordecai pleaded with Esther to speak with her husband of the treachery.
But Esther said: “All the king’s servants and the people of the king’s provinces know that if any man or woman goes to the king inside the inner court without being called, there is but one law—to be put to death, except the one to whom the king holds out the golden scepter so that he may live” (Esther 4.11).
The original readers of Hebrews 4.16 (“let us draw near the throne,”) immediately pictured scenes like Esther describes. Common people may not approach powerful kings. It has always been so. The throne is sacrosanct, unapproachable, even by the most beautiful woman on the planet.
But God’s throne—while remaining pure and holy—has become the source of grace and mercy. Later when Esther did approach the king, he touched her with his golden scepter, granting her access. Jesus does the same.
When we feel guilty and fear God’s holy hatred of sin, we naturally put off prayer. But this verse pleads with us to do the opposite. A priest helps those who have failed—he extends God’s golden scepter and gives grace sufficient for every need. Those of us full of failure and sin should be marked by the passion in prayer.
4. We Must Pray Fervently Because Jesus Is Appointed By God (Hebrews 5.5-6)
Lest anyone imagine that Christianity is a “B.Y.O.P”—Bring Your Own Priest” kind of religion, these verses remind us that the priesthood of Jesus was God’s idea. We may not put forward any other priest, because God placed his own Son in this role. If we refuse his Christ, we offend him.
In the same way, we insult God when we cower from fervent prayer. God insists: “Bend my ear; prove the perfection of my priestly Messiah; show the glory of my provision and the power of my Son by asking anything in his name.” And Jesus himself says, “Truly, truly, …whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you” (John 16.23). The Father has placed his man in office—let us honor his Christ in fervent prayer.
5. We Must Pray Fervently Because Jesus Himself Prayed (Hebrews 5.7)
When another is suffering, we sometimes say, “I know how you feel.” We hope to communicate compassion, but we probably do not know how they feel. Sometimes people even respond quite negatively: “No you don’t, and you insult me by implying that your puny problems rise to the level of my struggles.”
Not so for Jesus.
The same idea is here. He prayed to the death for us. He knows the disappointment of hearing, “No,” in answer to pleadings and tears. Yet he asked. Those who trust Jesus pray fervently because he knows how we feel and he promises to comfort.
6. We Must Pray Fervently Because Jesus Suffered To Save (Hebrews 5.8-10)
The phone rings. It is Kremlin. Mr. Putin heard a sermon and invites me to bend his ear. A limousine arrives; attendants open doors, carry luggage, and ensure my every comfort. A police escort takes me to the airport where a private plane waits. When we land in Russia, a red carpet cushions my steps to the military helicopter. We fly to the Kremlin, and when the door opens a red carpet again appears. I am escorted directly to the president’s chamber.
As I push the door open, I may stop and say, “I’m nervous.” I may say, “I forgot what to say.” I may say, “This rise has been too fast; I feel lightheaded.” But one thing I may not say: “I do not believe Mr. Putin will hear me.” Why may I not question the President’s willingness to listen? He has done all the great things; he cannot now refuse me.
Jesus is the source of eternal salvation to all who obey the gospel. For everyone who truly believe in his provision, he saved at the cross, and he saves forever and ever. Having given so much, will he not hear us pray?
7. Conclusion
It is hot in September. Autumn edges out summer, but not yet. The sun’s suffocating heat adds to the tension and intensifies the smell of burning wood. Haze engulfs the campsite and increases the eerie fear. Your stomach gnaws from the required fast. Maybe it is better not to eat; nerves could make you vomit.
Today only may he enter: Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Everyone inches toward tabernacle to see. Parents want to be patient, but hunger combines with worry and they snap at kids. The size of the crowd means few see really well. Kids propped on dads’ shoulders have the best view.
Wow! Look at the priest! That costume must have cost a fortune. He is usually proud as a peacock in it, but today he takes it off. He washes in basin before donning the white tunic, underclothes, sash and turban. Today he is a penitent too.
He moves to the altar of Burnt Offerings. A perfect bull slaughtered. A sin offering for himself and other priests. Now the danger. Scoop up hot coals. Handful of incense. Blood of that bull. The walk to the Holy of Holies. Pulling aside the curtain he pauses: will the sacrifice be accepted or will he become an offering like Nadab and Abihu did? He can feel the rope around his ankle, tied there by other priests—just in case. Coals placed on incense. Smoke covers atonement cover. Now the blood. He practiced, yet, fear threatens his recollection of what to do. Finger in blood. Sprinkled on cover. Seven times in front of the atonement cover. Heart races, back out. Half done. You can feel the collective sigh of the people as they realize that the sacrifice has been accepted by the Holy God.
Now the offering for us. Two goats, lot cast, one sacrificed. Burning. Blood. Sprinkled in Holy of Holies. Out. Confess sin on other goat. Sent into dessert. More washing. Priestly clothes put back on. More sacrifices.
Max Lucado describes the curtain always separating the presence of God from us:
A constant reminder of the distance between God and man. A chasm none can breech. Man on an island, quarantined by sin. God could have left the people isolated. He could have washed his hands of the whole mess, tossed in the towel, started over.
But he did not. God himself breached the chasm. In the darkness of an eclipsed sun, He and a Lamb stood in the Holy of Holies. He laid the Lamb on the altar. Not the lamb of a priest or a Jew or a shepherd, but the Lamb of God. The angels hushed as the blood of the Sufficient Sacrifice began to fall on the golden altar. Where had dripped the blood of lambs, now dripped the blood of life.
“Behold the Lamb of God.” And then it happened. God turned and looked one last time at the curtain. “No more.” And it was torn…from top to bottom. Ripped in two.
“No more!”
“No more lambs!”
“No more curtains!”
“No more sacrifices!”
“No more separation!”
And the sun came out. (Lucado, On the Anvil, modified.)
And we fear he does not incline his ear to hear us pray?
