We come now to the final night of our sharing meetings. I am deeply indebted to you for your invitation to address you. I am just as thankful to those who have influenced my life in the past and lighted within my heart the fire of appreciation for the Bible. I can truthfully say the flame grows brighter with each passing day. Occasions such as these we have enjoyed heap the kindling of your own interest upon the conflagration, to make an even more intense glow.
Although you asked me to address you on the letter to the Hebrews, I have limited myself to the first two chapters. I have done so purposely, for two reasons. I felt it better to take a concentrated look at a small scope of territory, than to make a sweeping view of a larger panorama with but a few details filled in. Also, my intent was to demonstrate how thoroughly the testimony to Jesus saturates the letter. The Son is the center and circumference of God's revelation. All that God has revealed revolves around Him, like satellites around our sun.
I am constantly amazed at how my own thinking about Jesus has changed, and my love for Him has grown deeper. I cannot remember the time when I did not know about Jesus. My first knowledge of Him undoubtedly came from the gentle lullabies softly sung by my Danish mother, as she rocked me to sleep. Steeped in the lore of the German Lutheran heritage in which she was reared, her life was one of awe and reverence for the babe of Bethlehem. I drew from her that same warm feeling just as I imbibed the warm life-sustaining milk from her breasts.
My first childish books were about Jesus. They told me but little about His childhood, for little has been recorded. But my own vivid imagination filled out the gaps and supplied what was lacking. By the time I was ready for high school, I knew all of the facts about Jesus. I could recite them glibly and give the details set forth in the sacred Scriptures. It was years later that I came to know Jesus in the real and personal sense, which He defines as eternal life. This was a wholly new dimension of knowledge, a blending of two personalities in an intimacy resulting in one spirit, a joining of the human and the divine, until eternal life became the possession of the human.
Jesus is real! He is real in my life! In some ways He is the only thing that is real. If the real is imperishable and unfading, if it represents existence that is independent and actual, then Jesus is all I have that is real. Without Him I can do nothing! Without Him I would be nothing! I think Paul must have felt that way when he wrote, "It is not I that liveth, but Christ that liveth in me!"
I can sympathize with the Palestinian Jews of the first century. The very air they breathed was full of expectancy. Their prophets had foretold the coming of the Messiah and had pointed to their very day as "the fulness of the times." The proclamation of the facts about Jesus of Nazareth seemed to measure up to every criterion they had been taught. Thousands of them accepted Him, turning away from their sins and being baptized in His name. But He was no longer upon earth. Things went on as before. The soldiers of an occupying foreign force still tramped the streets. The cries for divine intervention seemed to go unheeded.
The temptation to renounce the faith and return to the pageantry of the temple was almost overpowering. The longing to see a visible sacrifice for sins was always present. Every feast day brought a tug to the Jewish heart, every facet of life from birth to death was a fresh reminder of tradition hallowed by long usage.
The writer of the letter to the Hebrews knew the grave danger involved in defecting from the faith. The words of Jesus predicting the utter destruction of Jerusalem were till fresh in his memory. Those who reverted to the law, with its blood of bulls and goats, must deny the efficacy of the atonement of the cross. They would tread underfoot the Son of God. They would count the sanctifying blood of the covenant an unholy thing. For all of them there could be only a fearful anticipation of judgment upon the profligate nation, accompanied by a fiery indignation that would destroy the adversaries.
Ominous signs were everywhere observable. All of the portents mentioned by Jesus as indicative that the time was near were manifest. The letter to the Hebrews was a shout of warning. It was God's warning of the approach of the enemy. It was a storm warning, a tornado alert, the cry of the watchman on the walls. It pointed the way to the only emergency shelter available in the hour of disaster. That shelter was a Person. It was time to remember the words of the psalmist-prophet, "From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I; for thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever: I will trust in the covert of thy wings" (Psalm 61:2-4). Note those words, Thou hast been a shelter for me!
In this final sharing period, I shall limit myself to a discussion of the last five verses of the second chapter of Hebrews. As a summary of the teaching in the letter, W. E. Vine chose three words as a subtitle for his commentary. They are "Christ All Excelling." He refers to the letter as "the great antidote" against defeat and defection. William Barclay lectured on the letter to the Hebrews to students in the University of Glasgow for seven years, before he wrote his commentary upon it. In summarizing the attitude of the writer he says, "He found in Christ the one person who could take him into the very presence of God."
That is good, but Hebrews 2:14, 15, reveals Jesus as the one person who could bring God into the very presence of man. It is fairly apparent to anyone who really thinks, that there are some things in the world that man was utterly incapable of doing. No one man could do them, and all men put together could not do them. There had to be help from outside a realm that was rendered helpless by the curse imposed upon it. No one caught up in the sin-cycle could free us from the effect of sin. No one who had fallen short himself could lift us up to the glory of God. I think it is also reasonable to expect the benefactor to adopt the kind of "space suit" we must wear, to live the same kind of environment in which we "live, and move, and have our being."
If He expected us to identify with Him, it would appear that He would have to identify with us. Since we move about in a suit of flesh and blood, bones and tissues, He should don that same kind of suit if He wants to live among us. It must not be a sham either. No one should be tricked into thinking He was flesh and blood, if He really was some kind of spiritual being putting on an act.
Our benefactor would need to experience cold to make Him shiver. He would need to know heat to draw sweat from His pores. He would need to become hungry, thirsty, tired, and weak. When His friends died He would have to know the pang of loss. When people were oppressed He would need to feel within His sensitive spirit the same lash that fell upon their quivering flesh. I think He would need to know He was going to die, which is actually worse than death itself, for anticipation always is more joyous or dreadful than the momentary act of realization.
Someone coined the expression "Big D" for Dallas, Texas. I suspect they did so to describe the growth, the indomitable spirit, and the increasing influence of this burgeoning metropolis. I think there were two "Big D's" in the catalog of enemies before which man in his own strength stood helpless: the Devil and Death. We could not overpower the devil because he had something in each of us. The sting of sin, the venom of transgression had been injected. He knew the string to pull to make us dance like puppets. Someone had to confront him who could say, "The prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me" (John 14:30).
We could not overcome death because we always died before we finished the task. When death moved in, it took no thought of our desires and wishes. It allowed not another minute to complete things only half done. The older we became and the longer we lived, the more we realized that the confrontation had to come. There was no use of either pleading or arguing with death. Death always had the final word. It was the "great silencer."
It is interesting that in just one sentence the writer to the Hebrews shows how Jesus disposed of these two brigands. "Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them, who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage" (Hebrews 2:14,15).
It is easy to overlook the importance of some of the words in this statement. As an example, let me mention "forasmuch" and "likewise." These terms found in the King James Version are good old Anglo-Saxon words. The first is actually a combination of three little words meaning "in view of." It is generally rendered "since." "Likewise" is from the Greek word paraplesios, which means "in exactly the same way." The two words sustain a comparative relationship. Whatever is implied in the first is included in the second, and to the same degree. If you can determine the meaning of the first, you have ascertained the meaning of the second.
The children were human. They shared a life of flesh and blood. They existed in physical bodies. They lived in tabernacles of physical tissue. So Jesus moved into exactly the same kind of dwelling. "The word was made flesh, and dwelt among us" (John 1:14). He did not share our fate, for there is no such thing as fate. That is a pagan concept. He shared our lot. He participated in our portion. I like the expression "the same." Jesus identified with us fully.
Jesus shared in flesh and blood so He could use death as a weapon. The devil wielded death as an instrument of human mental torture. It represented the ultimate in his arsenal, the effect of sin, the great failure to measure up. It was the constant reminder of man's abject surrender, loss of sovereignty, and subsequent humiliation and degradation. Jesus stripped himself of His divine armor and stormed the fort in flesh and blood, submitting to death so He could wrench the sophisticated weapon from the hand of the fiend, and use it to destroy the last vestige of his boasted control.
"Deliver" is a word derived from apallasso, and it is a word of great power and comfort. It was used to describe what happened upon the arrival of a rescuing force, such as when a city was under siege and the enemy was driven away, so the frightened inhabitants could reopen the gates and rejoice in their restored freedom. It was employed to indicate the freeing of hostages held for ransom, or the liberation of prisoners taken captive by an invading army. The lives of such prisoners are always in jeopardy. They may be slain in their sleep, or cut down on a march. They exist in constant fear.
I have noticed something of importance when young people who had been enslaved by drugs were being freed, by faith, from their awful clutch. Because many of these could not return to their homes, they established communes in which to live. There they could share in the compassion and understanding of others who had traveled the same road. I visited a number of houses maintained by the "Jesus freaks," as they are called. All of them had the walls, and sometimes the ceilings, papered with Scriptural passages. You could lie in your sleeping bag and look up and read the Word of God. Almost everyone of them had the same large poster prominently displayed. It consisted of a painting of the head of Jesus, and underneath in bold letters: The Liberator!
These young people had recaptured a concept of the mission of Jesus, which had been lost by the contemporary world. We had been treated for centuries to displays of "the infant Jesus," featuring a doll lying in a straw-filled manger with an electric spotlight directed upon its rosy cheeks. We had sung hymns about "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild." We had adored pictures with a feminine aura, depicting Jesus with long hair down to his shoulders, and then when our sons began to imitate the hair length shown in the pictures, we gave them the ultimatum, "Go to the barber or get out until you do!"
We had forgotten the carpenter with calloused hands. We had forgotten the homeless hiker who could hit the road all day and then pray all night in the mountains. We were so busy making Jesus conform to our twentieth-century, upper-middle-class image, that we lost sight of what He was really like. When Jesus was murdered at the age of thirty-three, He had to have been a tough-muscled, sunburnt, fearless leader, willing to take on the last enemy that shall be destroyed. As J. B. Phillips once put it, "In fact there is no connection between what has been rudely called the 'creeping-Jesus' method and the life and character of the real Christ." Jesus has freed me! He has rescued me from bondage! He has liberated me from the great dread, the relentless shadow, the overwhelming fright!
Hebrews 2:16, as the King James Version has it, is confusing. I think the translators, appointed by the king, missed the point. The words they added in an attempt to supply an ellipsis do no injustice to the truth, and it is quite easy to see how they were motivated in their selection. The verse reads, "For verily he took not on him the nature of angels; but he took on him the seed of Abraham." I do not think, however, that the point at issue is the adoption of angelic nature as opposed to the nature of Abraham's seed. It appears the writer is dealing with the purpose of Jesus' coming. He did not come to deliver angels. No savior was provided for the angels who sinned. There was no provision for removing the chains of darkness in which they were confined.
Jesus came to deliver the seed of Abraham. It was to Abraham and his seed that the promises were made. Since this letter was written to the Hebrews, it was particularly appropriate to refer to the seed of Abraham and to encourage them to trust in one whose advent in the flesh made Him a descendant of Abraham, and the very seed of blessing.
For a number of years I taught an annual in-depth study in the Pentateuch, the five books of Moses. I think I can understand the reason why the writer of the letter to the Hebrews spent so much time emphasizing the high priesthood of Jesus. The contrast between the priesthood of Melchizedek and that of Aaron was calculated to do more than almost anything else to point up the immensity of the difference between the covenant of grace and one based upon a written code.
The approach to God in Judaism was made through the high priest. He alone was allowed to don the beautiful robe which was bound around the waist with "the curious girdle" (Leviticus 8:7). Upon his head was placed the miter with the golden crown containing the words, "Holiness to the Lord" (Exodus 39:30). He wore the breastplate with the twelve precious stones engraved with the tribal names. Inside the envelope-like container formed by the breastplate was the Urim and Thummin, two stones, whose designations meant "lights and perfections" and which gave the legitimate bearer perfect light in judgment and revelation.
It was the high priest alone who was permitted to enter the Most Holy Place to make atonement for the people. Only once per year upon the tenth day of the seventh month, the only day that God specifically commanded to be a day of fasting, the high priest took the blood and went behind the second veil into the thick darkness surrounding the mercy seat. Dipping his finger in the blood, he sprinkled it "upon the mercy seat and before the mercy seat."
The high priest was different from those to whom the law of Moses refers as "the common people." His genealogy, function, dress, and service, all served to keep him aloof and apart. Perhaps this is best impressed upon us by the sacred injunction, "And there shall be no man in the tabernacle of the congregation when he goeth in to make an atonement in the holy place" (Leviticus 16:17). The high priest was untouchable.
The end of the priesthood of Levi, and the ushering in of the priesthood of the order of Melchizedek, brought in a completely new arrangement. Jesus was "made like unto his brethren," and He was both a merciful and faithful high priest. Certainly this could not be affirmed of those who presided at the altar when this letter was written. Many of them were guilty of political conspiracy and compromise. They were often greedy, cruel, and malicious. Sometimes they were so oppressive the people abhorred the ritual, and even were reluctant to go to the temple.
Mercy is the result of understanding. One who knows all of the circumstances that make another what he is, who can take into account the privations and sufferings that have formed his character and contributed to his actions, can be merciful to him. Sympathy is literally "feeling with" another, sharing in his sorrow and feeling his loss as if it were your own. Faithfulness is fidelity and trustworthiness. One who is merciful is one with whom you can commune; one who is faithful is one you can trust, upon whom you can depend. I am thrilled that Jesus is a merciful and faithful high priest.
Suffering and succoring! These are the key words of the last verse in Hebrews 2. The last one is a good old term that was generally in vogue in the England of King James' day. It is an interesting word, which literally meant "to run up from under." I suspect it was a nautical term, having to do with a small boat in distress. It was kept from sinking or coming apart by undergirding it to keep the planks from being ripped off. You read of just such action in Acts 27:17. Eventually the word came to refer to lending a helping hand in any time of crisis. Jesus is able to come to our rescue. He can relieve our distress, and the reason He can do so is that He understands our trials.
The follower of Jesus does not need to give in, give up, or give out! He does not need to be "down and out," because God has made it possible for him to be "up and in." He can substitute gladness for gloom, and smiles for sorrow. No persecution is greater than our Protector. No sin is greater than our Savior. To forsake Jesus is not to go somewhere else. It is to go nowhere. It is to be lost! Jesus is my life, and outside of Him is death!
I want to close these sessions with the benediction that concludes the letter to the Hebrews. I think I have never read anything more beautiful and impressive. Every phrase throbs within my inner being and pulsates in my heart:
"Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is well-pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen" (13:20, 21).
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