The gift of unshrinkable faith.
Hebrews, Part 12: Holding on to the confession of our faith in frenzied times.
Around the midway point of Hebrews 10, “the turn” happens. Nearly every New Testament letter has a turn somewhere within its pages when the author shifts from talking about the facts of the faith to talking about the reasons why those facts are relevant to the readers. For example, after explaining the untold glories of the gospel of Jesus for three chapters, Paul begins Ephesians 4 this way: “I therefore a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (Eph. 4:1). In light of all that God in Christ has done, “that” means “this.” (The same sort of thing happens in Romans 12:1 and Colossians 3:1.) Technically speaking, “the turn” is when the writer shifts from speaking in the “indicative mood” to speaking in the “imperative mood.” The “indicative mood” is seen in matter-of-fact statements, that is, “This is what’s true.” And what’s true about the Christian faith are the things that Jesus has accomplished. These are things that have happened, that we can be certain about. (Notice the repetition of “since we have” in Heb. 10:19–21.)
By contrast, though, the “imperative mood” is seen when those facts are applied to you and for you. Since these things are true, therefore we should respond like “this” or like “that.” We can imagine the writer answering the question, “Okay, so what?” What’s to be done now? What do those facts mean? And what do they mean “for us”? What sort of impact should those facts have on us? What should change in light of those facts being true? The facts of the gospel, of course, mean everything, and they change everything, too (Heb. 10:22–25). They have far-reaching implications for the life of the church. Indeed, they are pressing facts that are true in any age, not only for the church “back then,” but also for the church “right now.” Therefore, in light of what’s been declared in Hebrews so far, what does it mean that Jesus is our Priest?
We shouldn’t withdraw.
The first imperative mentioned by the writer is the freedom by which we are able to approach God himself (Heb. 10:22). We are called to “draw near” and come close to the place where God is found, that is, the Holy of Holies. And, as he says, we can “draw near” confidently (Heb. 10:19). When we draw near, we do not do so walking on eggshells. We need not timidly wonder, “Will God accept me? Does God love me?” Those questions were already answered “once for all” on the cross. Therefore, we can get close to God the Father “in full assurance of faith,” without even the slightest thought of hesitation or apprehension. We can “draw near” to God boldly because the blood of Jesus washes us, sanctifies us, and makes us clean (Heb. 10:22).
Since God’s Son did what he did on the cross, sinners are invited into communion with God himself. The way is clear because Jesus our Priest has “opened for us a new and living way” (Heb. 10:20). God’s presence is no longer shrouded under legal restrictions according to the old Mosaic code. When Jesus gave himself up to die as the “once for all” sacrifice for sin, every Tabernacle barrier was torn down. He “opened” the way for all to approach God himself by having his flesh torn open in death. Now, access to the Father is unhindered, unrestricted, and free for all who believe. It’s not likely you think twice about crossing the threshold into the sanctuary of the church, a fact which would surely leave every Old Testament saint utterly dumbfounded. I shudder to think what they’d say when they found out that some believers weren’t making regular use of that access and that freedom.
Some members of that congregation of Hebrews had begun to withdraw. Maybe it was because they felt so perplexed by all the false gospels that were going around, or maybe it was the pressure they felt because of a society that looked down on them, or maybe it was all the persecution they had witnessed — whatever the case, it was causing them to neglect the all-important gathering of the saints. It had become a “habit” for some to neglect the assembly of God’s beloved (Heb. 10:24–25). They were “shrinking back” from the very things that Jesus their Priest wanted to give them. This is why the writer encourages them not to “throw away [their] confidence” by removing themselves from the Body of Christ (Heb. 10:35).
Rather than “shrinking back” and withdrawing, the author of Hebrews reminds this church that they could be confident in both what Christ had done and would one day do. Because of what their great High Priest has accomplished in their stead, they could endure and “live by faith” despite their dismal circumstances. “For you have need of endurance,” the Hebrew writer says, “so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised” (Heb. 10:36). Jesus’s church has every reason in the world to “meet together” and share in the facts of their faith. We have a Priest who has sacrificed himself in order to make us clean, make us whole, and make us his.
We shouldn’t waffle.
Even still, seeing friends and family withdraw from the gathering must’ve been an unnerving sight, to say the least. As the writer has previously conveyed, this withdrawal wasn’t sudden. Those who were withdrawing were those whose faith was “waffling” (Heb. 2:1). A gradual “drift” had crept into the church resulting in some loosening their grip on what they professed to believe, which is why the writer admonishes them to “hold fast” to their “confession” (Heb. 10:23). It was the author’s deepest longing to see this fellowship of believer cling to what they professed to believe. The stakes couldn’t be greater:
For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a fearful expectation of judgment, and a fury of fire that will consume the adversaries. Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses. How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace? For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again “The Lord will judge his people.” It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. (Heb. 10:26–31)
Similar to the passage in Chapter 6, this section near the conclusion of Chapter 10 prompts some to believe that the writer is alluding to the fact that those within the church can lose their salvation. A casual reading of this paragraph might lead you to conclude the same thing, but a thorough study of the passage should result in a different verdict. The writer is not intending to cast the seeds of doubt on the already troubled hearts of the Hebrew believers. Rather, he is amplifying the unshakeable importance of the gathering by intensifying what is at stake for those who withdraw from it. This, to be sure, doesn’t include a forfeit of salvation, but it does include a forfeit of blessings. The rich blessings of the justified life are received and experienced as we live “by faith” alongside other justified sinners, i.e., the church. A habit of withdrawal from the shared experience of grace as we observe and participate in the means of grace results in a burgeoning pattern of sin, which does nothing but leave God’s Spirit “outraged” (Heb. 10:29).
By waffling and withdrawing from the place and people of God’s blessing, you are, likewise, aligning yourself with those whose future is nothing but an “expectation of judgment” (Heb. 10:27). You are punting on the very way in which God designed faith to work. To remove yourself from the church of the living God is to say that you are capable of living “the justified life” on your own, which, of course, is more than a little foolish. There’s no one who doesn’t need the church, even with all of its hurt and headaches. To think otherwise makes about as much sense as saying, “I love God but I don’t love the church.” Perhaps you’ve heard those words before or maybe you’ve said them yourself. Such a sentiment comes from a place of deep wounds.
Maybe you’ve been burned by the church, and that’s what has made you waver in your beliefs. Maybe you’ve even felt like withdrawing completely because of how deep those wounds were driven into your heart, soul, and mind. To you, I can offer no better words than that which the writer offers these wobbly Hebrews: “Hold fast the confession of [your] hope.” By faith, cling to what is true and certain — namely, that you have a Priest who has made you his by shedding his blood for you. This is what the gospel announces to you, and regardless of what anyone says or does, this is your abiding “possession” (Heb. 10:34).
We shouldn’t worry.
It’s worth noting the circumstances during which this letter was written. The situation for the first-century church was worse than awful; things were bleak, as the church’s hope stood “upon the edge of a knife,” as it were (Tolkien, 372). Emperor Nero’s unhinged rage had recently left Rome in ashes with the blame being dropped on the church’s threshold, leading to the deaths of thousands of saints. The notion of watching as your friends and family were dragged into arenas and paraded around as snacks for ravenous lions for the simple fact that they believed that the Teacher of Nazareth who tried and executed as a traitor and blasphemer was, in fact, the long-awaited Messiah is unconscionable. Those days were grim for Christ’s church, as the pressure to waver and withdraw from the faith bore down on them like a vise. This is why the writer comforts them by reminding them that their faith is tethered to a person. “Let us hold fast the confession of our hope,” he says, “without wavering, for he who promised is faithful” (Heb. 10:23).
What God through Christ has accomplished cannot be revoked nor can any of his promises be rescinded. Your belief is sure and steady because he is sure and steady. “He who calls you is faithful,” the apostle Paul says, “he will surely do it” (1 Thess. 5:24). And what has the Lord promised to do? Namely, to build his church. “I will build my church,” Jesus declared, “and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18). No doubt, those words sounded more than a little far-fetched as the tyranny of Rome burned with white-hot fury. There has, perhaps, never been a time when the church seemed more in doubt. The writer, though, addresses these fears head-on:
But recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one. (Heb. 10:32–34)
Despite how tenuous and doubtful it appeared, even still, God was building his church. Even then, his nurturing hand of grace hadn’t been removed from those whom he loved. Despite how worrisome those days surely were, the Hebrew believers were invited to put their faith in the Faithful One whose word of promise is eternally sure (Heb. 10:23, 37–38). And, indeed, as worrisome as our own day might seem, we have the same promise and the same assurance. The church of God was never promised “easy days” for confessing that Jesus is the Christ. As my friend and Mockingbird editor Todd Brewer said recently, “Any close study of church history should [lead us to] marvel that Christianity still exists at all.” The church, let alone the world, has never not felt at least a little flimsy. Neither has there ever been an “opportune moment” to believe in Jesus Christ. No matter how fashionable or quasi-acceptable evangelicalism has been regarded throughout the ages, Christ’s church has never been able to transcend its fragility — and perhaps that’s a good thing since it’s our fragility that often leads us to clutch onto the grace of God all the more.
If the researchers, surveys, and focus groups are to be believed, then church attendance is declining at historic rates. Interest in the church is down and involvement is even lower, leaving pastors and church leaders more stressed, and more burned out, than ever before. Reading those studies can quickly make you question the longevity of the church. “Is the church gonna make it in the generations to come? What do we do with all these padlocked churches? With all these pastors quitting? What’s going on? What do we do? How worried should we be?” However legitimate those questions seem, the incarnate Word of God has the answer: “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” It is these words that serve as the church’s “inexpungable fortress,” as Rev. Alexander Maclaren once put it:
He who sits in the centre, and has the light round him, need not mind much what storms are raging without, and he whose inexpungable fortress is within the depths of God may smile at all the hubbub and confusion down in the valley. (15:2.97)
Notwithstanding the mayhem we might see all around us or the turmoil we might spy on the horizon, our hope and confidence are steadfast. Our worries over what’s happening or what might happen are eclipsed the more we are made to revel in all that God has promised to us in Christ. As frenzied as the times might seem, the word of the gospel gives you and me an unshrinkable faith by motioning us to “come and see what God has done: he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man” (Ps. 66:5). Whenever the church gathers, this is the invitation that is extended to every sinner and saint who are struggling to keep steady in these feverish days. Even as those in the church find themselves to be flimsy and faithless, they are furnished by the Word and Spirit of God with what is solid, finished, and everlasting.
Works cited:
Alexander Maclaren, Expositions of Holy Scripture, Vols. 1–17 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1944).
J. R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of the Lord of the Rings (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1965).