Let us suppose for a few minutes that you have been instrumental in leading a colony of emigrants from an area beset with distressing problems, into a new region that offered them real hope for the future. After a little time had passed, word was conveyed to you that some of them were becoming dissatisfied and were considering returning to their previous homeland. You knew that if they did so it would mean disillusionment and death. What kind of an appeal would you make to them in an attempt to get them to remain where they are?
It seems to me that the most effective thing you could do would be to present incontrovertible proof that their new state was better than the old, and that to revert to their former condition would be foolish. If you could cite the special features and advantages of their new state, it would have a greater effect in stabilizing them than anything else you could do. That is exactly the strategy employed by the author of the letter to the Hebrews. There are thirteen chapters in the letter, as we have divided it, and the word "better" occurs thirteen times.
I am not implying that each chapter contains the word "better," but it is an interesting fact that each chapter points up a way in which Jesus and the faith of which He is in the center are superior to the previous economy under which the Hebrews lived. We must be careful here. We dare not suggest that there was nothing good about their prior state. It was God who ordained the law, and wrote the basic covenant with His own finger upon two tablets of stone. It was God who set up the tabernacle worship in the wilderness, after showing Moses a pattern by which this amazing tent was to be constructed. It would be rash to say that God created something of no value. The word "better" is a comparative term. It does not suggest that there is no good at all in the inferior element of the comparison. The law of Moses was perfectly adapted to the purpose for which it was instituted. The system it inaugurated was designed to fulfill the divine purpose until Jesus could come. The writer of Hebrews argues that by calling the present covenant a new one, God made the first one obsolete (8:13).
The New Covenant Scriptures deal with real human problems, and the letters that comprise these sacred writings are ideally constructed to solve those problems. The emphasis in each is different, and often one can determine the purpose of a letter by a word or phrase that recurs frequently. A good example is the letter to the Ephesians. It begins by defining the purpose, will, and pleasure of God, which is to unite all things in Heaven and earth together in one, even Christ (Ephesians 1:10). The word "together" is a key word throughout the letter. Since the letter to the Hebrews was intended to keep those who received it from relapsing into Judaism, we are not surprised to see the word "better" occurring over and over.
In the first chapter we are told that Jesus is better than angels (v. 4). This is very important because the Hebrews believed that God engraved the two tablets of stone through the agency of angels, and that angels conveyed the tablets to Moses. Stephen said they had received the law by the disposition of angels (Acts 7:53). Paul said, "It was ordained by angels in the hand of a mediator" (Galatians 3:19). The writer strikes at the very heart of his argument when he lays down the premise that Jesus was superior to the very origin of the law. In the second chapter of Hebrews we are told that the message of Christ is better than that conveyed by angels under the first covenant. It is admitted that what the angels spoke was effective. Their message was the message of God, and it was binding. Those who did not pay heed to it paid a penalty for disregarding it. Every transgression and disobedience received prompt and certain punishment. It is reasonable to conclude that, if such were the case under a system proclaimed by inferior beings, there will be no escape from the consequences of disregarding a message proclaimed by the Lord.
In the third chapter we are told that Christ is better than Moses. Moses was the apostle of God to ancient Israel. The word "apostle" refers to one sent on a mission. God called Moses at the burning bush and sent him to deliver His people from bondage. While Moses was the lawgiver, he could not be the high priest. His brother Aaron was accorded that honor. Jesus, however, is both "the Apostle and High Priest of our profession" (v. 1). It is admitted that Moses was faithful in God's house, but his faithfulness was that of a household servant working for another.
On the other hand, Jesus was a Son over His own house. He built His house of living stones, and was therefore deserving of more honor than the house. Just as a son is superior to a servant, so Jesus was to be honored above Moses. It is significant that the writer declares of Jesus, "whose house are we, if we hold fast the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm unto the end" (v. 6). That "confidence" is faith in Jesus. That "hope" is the joyful anticipation based upon that faith. To surrender faith in Jesus, to go back to a life of servitude under Moses, would mean forfeiture of the right to be a part of the house Jesus erected. The faithfulness of Moses is not derogated by the writer. He is simply placed in proper perspective with Jesus.
In the fourth chapter we are told that we have a better rest than that provided by Joshua in Canaan. Moses led the people out of slavery, and Joshua led them into a land that flowed with milk and honey, but there remained a greater rest than that. It is pointed out that God rested from His creative efforts upon the seventh day. He did not resume working. The rest He then began is ceaseless and unbroken. It is unending and perpetual. This rest has been promised to the people of God.
The Seventh Day Adventists, preoccupied with the law given through Moses in order to validate their special observation of the seventh day of the week, are mistaken about the "rest" we are promised. It is not the seventh day of the week, but the rest that God began on that day into which we may enter. When we enter into that rest, we will not work creatively again. Our work will be ended, just as God ended His work: "For he that is entered into his rest, he also hath ceased from his own works, as God did from his" (v. 10). The admonition that follows is especially appropriate: "Let us labor therefore to enter into that rest."
In the fifth chapter we are told that Christ has a better priesthood than that under the law. The high priest under the first covenant was not self-appointed. God called Aaron to his office. In the same way, Christ was ordained by divine decree. The distinctiveness of His calling is found in the fact that He was not of the lineage of Aaron. Instead, He was made a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek. Melchizedek was a unique king and priest, in that he had no earthly successor to office.
In the sixth chapter we are told that we have better promises than those given to Israel. There were two requirements of those who would receive the promises of old: faith and patience. The Hebrews were told in the letter that they must exhibit the same qualities. It is said of Abraham, "After he had patiently endured, he obtained the promise" (v. 15). Encouragement is given us to imitate his conduct as we "lay hold upon the hope set before us" (v. 18).
Faith is tested when that which is expected is deferred. Impatience erodes away trust and eats like a cancer at our confidence. It caused Israel to murmur and complain against God. In spite of all the tremendous demonstrations of power in their behalf they reproached God, and many of them died in the wilderness. The superiority of the promises accorded to us should develop in our hearts a spirit that never succumbs to defeat.
In the seventh chapter we are told that Christ is better than Aaron. The reasoning employed here is superb. It is summed up in the conclusion that the descendants of Levi "became priests by the law of a carnal commandment." That is, there was nothing in the law that could convey life. The priesthood was subject to constant change by virtue of the death of the priests. The priests were not perfect. They were subject to frailty as much as those for whom they ministered. Even the high priest had to offer a sacrifice for his own sins. (9:7).
The priesthood of Jesus is different. He is not a priest after the order of Levi, but of Melchizedek. The priesthood of Levi was changeable. That of Melchizedek was unchangeable. The priesthood of Levi was inaugurated without an oath. That of Christ has been validated by the oath of God, which makes it perpetual. The writer says that Jesus is a priest "after the power of an endless life" (v. 16). Further, "The law maketh men high priests which have infirmity; but the word of the oath, which was since the law, maketh the Son, who is consecrated for evermore" (v. 28).
In the eighth chapter we are told that in Christ we have a better covenant. All relationship with God is upon a covenantal basis. God revealed himself as a covenant-making God. Why He did so is a divine mystery. By human rationalization it seems incredible that the one who is sinless in the absolute would choose to be associated in such a manner with sinful man. But God made covenants with Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and with the nation of Israel. All of those covenants are beggared in scope and nature by the one with which God entered into agreement with us.
The writer tells of Moses, who was called up into Mount Sinai and shown a replica of the tabernacle, which was to be built by human hands out of natural materials. He immediately contrasts the order given to Moses under the first covenant with the ministration of Christ, which is termed "more excellent." Jesus is the mediator of the new covenant, as Moses was of the old covenant, so the covenant we now have is founded upon "better promises."
In the ninth chapter we are told that followers of Jesus have a better sacrifice. Under the first covenant, on the day of atonement the high priest went into the Holy of Holies. No other person ever was allowed access to this place of thick darkness behind the veil, where stood the ark of the covenant with the mercy seat. Because the high priest was human, he had to carry animal blood to sprinkle upon the mercy seat to make an atonement. Only the high priest could penetrate the veil, and then only once annually. The writer of Hebrews declares that this proves that the way into the holiest precinct, where the presence of God was apparent, was not made known as long as the covenant was in effect. He virtually exhausts the vocabulary to demonstrate the inferiority of the legalistic system of old. It was limited as to nature and duration, being only "a figure for the time then present." It was limited as to effect, since its gifts and sacrifices "could not make him that did the service perfect, as pertaining to the conscience." It was involved only with meats, drinks, varied ceremonial cleansings, and ordinances of the flesh, which had been imposed on them "until the time of reformation."
The time of the glorious change was ushered in when Christ arrived as a high priest of good things to come. His was a greater and more perfect tabernacle. It was of divine construction, not made with hands. Jesus did not enter the Holy of Holies with the blood of inferior animals, but by His own blood. As a result He obtained eternal redemption for us. His atonement was once for all. It was once for all time and once for all people. Our sacrifice is as superior as the immaculate Son of God is superior to bulls and goats.
In the tenth chapter we are told that Christ's followers have a better hope. This is important, because when man is hopeless he becomes helpless and miserable. Sometimes he becomes dangerous to himself and to others. The law was inadequate as a shadowy portent of good things to come. It required an endless cycle of animal sacrifices. In spite of the repetitious routine of blood-letting, it could never purge the conscience of sin. The impossibility of cleansing from sin by the blood of inferior animals was continually illustrated.
The coming of Jesus made possible our sanctification through the offering of His body. He offered one sacrifice for sins forever, and then assumed His position of authority at the right hand of God. His absolute conquest of sin and subsequent glorification made it possible for us to have "boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus" (v. 19). Because He is our high priest over the house of God, we can draw near to Him and worship with a true heart, in full assurance of our faith.
Our hearts have been sprinkled from an evil conscience by His blood. Our bodies have been washed in water at baptism. We are able to hold fast the profession of our faith without doubting. All of this is because He is faithful who promised. We can count on God. He is not going to forget or renege. "For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise" (v. 36).
In the eleventh chapter we are told that new believers have a better system of faith. This is a magnificent chapter, with its roll call of the faithful, beginning with Abel, and ceasing only because the writer ran out of time (v. 32). Faith is a firm conviction relative to hope-for things. It is a firm confidence relative to things not seen as yet. Faith enabled Abel to offer a proper sacrifice, Enoch to escape death, and Noah to construct the ark. It prompted Abraham to become a nomad in a foreign land while "he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God."
I never read this chapter without feeling the cadence of marching feet, the tread of patriarchs coming out of the gray mists of the past, and facing the sunrise of the ages. Tramp, tramp, tramp--Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Gideon, Barak, Jephthah, Samson--all strangers and pilgrims on the earth. They were but a handful of the mighty host of conquerors "of whom the world was not worthy."
There is a grave danger, however, that we will misunderstand the reason for the insertion of this chapter. It is easy for us to slip into the error of thinking that this marvelous catalog of worthies has been included to show us how dependent we are upon them. The exact opposite is the case. The last two verses in the chapter are the clue. "And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise: God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect" (vv. 39, 40).
Their faith in God led them to stunning victories. They subdued kingdoms, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire, and accomplished other great feats. All of these things took place before the "Word was made flesh" to dwell among us. Now that Jesus has been here to visit personally and has returned to glory, we realize that even death holds no fear or terror. The ancients looked forward to the "golden age" which is now ours. Something better has been bestowed upon us who live in this final age before the great culmination. What is ours is the crown upon all the promises ever made. Without us, even Abraham, the father of the faithful, never would be able to attain the ultimate. Jesus is the answer to every question, the solution to every problem, the fulfillment of every dream and the revelation of God. He is the keystone that locks the arch of faith together. One leg of that arch embraces the faith of yesterday. The other embraces the faith of today. Jesus locks the old and the new together in an unbreakable unity.
In the twelfth chapter we are reminded that children of the King have a better kingdom. We are surrounded by an immense crowd of spectators, looking down upon us from the tiers of seats in the stadium of history. In view of this, we are obligated to make a creditable showing in the race in which we have enrolled. This means discarding the weights that were fastened to our ankles in the training sessions. It means throwing off the cloak of doubt that enshrouded us before coming on the track. It means running with dogged persistence the race before us, keeping our eyes fastened upon Jesus, the former winner who now waits on the throne at the end of the course.
The chapter includes some exhortations and warnings vital to our lives if we would be victorious. It should be read often by those who suffer depression because they feel their lot in life is too heavy to bear. Those who become discouraged because of external conditions, which they regard as the rod of the Lord, will gain a great deal of comfort from what is said about the love of the Lord for those whom He chastens. They are His legitimate children. Punishment is proof of parenthood.
For me, the climax of the whole letter is reached in the great contrast between the events that happened at Mount Sinai in the desert, and at Mount Sion, the dwelling place of God. Israel in the flesh came to the mountain, and they were forbidden to even touch it, under penalty of death. The mountain burned with livid flame, but still was an envelope of darkness. A tempest howled about the people with tornadic force. In the midst of the storm a trumpet sounded loud and clear from the summit of the peak. An awesome voice began intoning, "I am the Lord which brought you out of Egypt, and out of the land of slavery." As the sound echoed among the rocky crags, the terror-stricken people cringed and pleaded that the words cease, because they could not stand them. They were trembling, frightened by the edict that even if a stray beast touched the mountain it would be stoned to death or have a dart thrust through its body. Even Moses later declared that the sight was so terrifying that he literally shook with fear.
In contrast to this picture of alarm, we are come to Mount Sion, the lofty, spiritual eminence, crowned with the city of the living God. This is the "new Jerusalem" described in the glorious imagery of Revelation 21. We have come to an innumerable company of angels, a host of celestial messengers that cannot be counted by man. John declared there were ten thousand times ten thousand, and myriads of myriads (Revelation 5:11). We have come to the general assembly and congregation of the firstborn ones whose names are enrolled in Heaven. We have come to God who is the judge of the universe.
We have come to the spirits of men who were justified and are now perfected. We have come to Jesus, who is the mediator of the new covenant. We have come to the blood sprinkled upon our hearts, which speaks of forgiveness of our sins. It is better than the blood of Abel, which cried out from the earth for avenging. We have received a kingdom that cannot be shaken. No convulsion of the earth, no catastrophe of the elements will move it. It is unshakable and secure. This is the ground of our hope amidst the towering wrecks of time.
In the thirteenth chapter we are told that we have a better altar. The first part of the chapter suggests our responsibilities as citizens in the unshakable kingdom. Briefly summarized, they are as follows: Verse 1: Our obligation to fellow citizens. Verse 2: Proper treatment toward strangers. Verse 3: Our duty toward the unfortunate. Verse 4: Right and wrong use of sex. Verse 5: The life of contentment and unselfishness. Without going into a detailed study, we note that "we have an altar, whereof they have no right to eat which serve the tabernacle" (v. 10). The altar was the center of the system revealed to Moses at Sinai. Atonement for sin was made at the altar. It was there that the blood of an innocent victim was poured out in the presence of God. We have an altar superior to the one made of acacia wood and overlayed with brass. Those who serve at such an altar, trusting in the blood of bulls and goats, have no right to share in the blessings of the altar where our sacrifice was made.
The cross of Jesus is central to the faith. It was there that the sanctifying blood was poured out. One who denies the reality of the cross has no right to its sustaining power. To deny Jesus and return to an inferior system is to invalidate the very purpose and goal toward which all animal sacrifices pointed. It is to love the shadow while rejecting the substance. It is to treasure the negative while refusing to look at the developed picture. It is to choose the fragmentary in preference to the perfect.