THEREFORE, SINCE WE have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. 16Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
IN THE OLD covenant the position of high priest was preeminent; he oversaw the ritual worship of God and functioned as the main representative between the nation and Yahweh. The Old Testament refers to him variously as “the priest” (Ex. 31:10), “the anointed priest” (Lev. 4:3), “the chief priest” (2 Chron. 26:20), and the “high priest” (2 Kings 12:10). This final designation occurs only at Numbers 35:25–32 in the Pentateuch and once in Joshua (20:6). The high priesthood was hereditary (Ex. 29:29–30; Lev. 16:32), a fact to which the author of Hebrews gives extensive attention (Heb. 7:11–28), and normally for life (Num. 18:7; 25:11–13; 35:25, 28; Neh. 12:10–11). Although the high priest shared a number of duties with the other priests, he alone entered the Most Holy Place on the annual Day of Atonement (Lev. 16:1–25).3
The theme of Jesus’ high priesthood occupies the author’s attention from 4:14 to 10:25 (with the exception of the strategically placed exhortation of 5:11–6:20). For him our high priest is “great” for a number of reasons that are explained in chapters 5–10. Because he has been tempted he can sympathize with us (4:15), but, unlike the earthly priests, he is entirely without sin (5:1–3; 7:26–28). He has been appointed by an oath from God (5:4–10; 6:17–20; 7:15–22), which assures his priesthood is eternal (7:16–25). Jesus’ atonement offering has been made in the context of a new (and thus superior) covenant (8:7–13). Moreover, it was presented in the heavenly tabernacle rather than the earthly (8:2; 9:1–28), used superior blood (9:1–28), and, unlike the old covenant offering, only had to be made once for all time (10:1–18).
The present passage (4:14–16) focuses in part on the ministry of Jesus in which he entered the heavenly Most Holy Place to present his superior offering (cf. 8:2; 9:11, 23–24). Furthermore, the title “Son of God” (4:14) echoes a major theme of the book’s first two chapters, where the exaltation and incarnation of the Son are displayed. In 4:14 the title rings a triumphant note, drawing especially on his exaltation (“having gone through the heavens”). That the Son, our high priest, has passed through the heavens provides a firm basis for the exhortation that follows.
The author encourages his hearers with the words “let us hold firmly to the faith we profess” (v. 14). The verb krateo, rendered here “let us hold firmly,” is used forty-seven times in the New Testament. This word can refer to the grasping of a person, such as when Jesus grasped the hand of a sick person (Mark 1:31; 9:27), the women grabbed hold of the resurrected Jesus (Matt. 28:9), or the lame man clung to Peter and John (Acts 3:11). In Hebrews 4:14, however, the word refers to commitment—a use found, for example, in Mark 7:3–4, where the Pharisees are said to “observe” the traditions of the fathers. Similarly, Christians are challenged to “hold to the teachings” they have been given (2 Thess. 2:15), while the heretic in Colossians 2:19 has “lost connection with” (more correctly, “does not hold to”) the Head. By contrast, those in the church at Pergamum “remain true” to Jesus’ name (Rev. 2:13), and the churches of Thyatira and Philadelphia are challenged to remain doctrinally pure, holding fast to their commitments to the Lord (2:25; 3:11).4 The author of Hebrews, therefore, is calling the recipients of this sermon to remain committed to Jesus, holding to their public confession of him as the Son of God.5 Endurance in this commitment finds its basis in the follower’s relationship to Christ as a heavenly high priest.
The author elaborates on Jesus’ high priesthood in verse 15. We have a high priest who, because of his experience of temptation, can sympathize with our weaknesses. Thus, rather than being far removed from our human experience, the powerful, now-exalted Son has been in the thick of it. The word translated “weaknesses” (astheneia) can refer to sickness, physical weakness, general weakness related to being in the flesh, or moral weakness.6 Here the context associates the weakness with a propensity to sin (cf. 5:2–3). Not that Jesus shared in our experience of sin—the author makes it clear he did not—but he did share in our experience of being tempted, a difficult aspect of life that too often leads to sin.
In this passage, therefore, the word “sympathize” does not necessitate a sharing of another’s exact experience, but, as in 10:34—where the hearers are said to have sympathized with prisoners (though not being prisoners themselves)—the word connotes being “compassionate to the point of helping.”7 Our high priest does not stand aloof but cares for us in our human state of weakness.
THE LANGUAGE OF high priesthood. With Hebrews 4:14–16 we move into a section of the book highly dependent on religious language from the Old Testament. For modern readers—especially those whose association with church and church culture is limited—the concepts of high priesthood, faith, temptation, sin, the throne of grace, and mercy may seem obscure at best. One can imagine a secular, hard-edged businesswoman sitting in on a church service in which this passage is being preached. She might stare ahead glassy-eyed as the minister delights in the intricacies of old covenant worship; she might be awed at his obvious education or cringe at her own stark ignorance; and she might not come back—if he does not help her see the phenomenal relevance of this text for her life, work, and relationships. No one likes to attend parties where people use only “insider” language. I am not vying for the “dumbing down” of theology but rather the translation of theological language in a way that communicates.
In the next pew imagine a long-time church member, who lapses into a catatonic state any time the preacher crosses the canonical line, moving from New to Old Testament literature. There are Christians who have been in church all their lives and have yet to dig below the surface language and ritual to marvel at the God who works out relationships with frail human beings. They have heard the words so many times and too often been bored to tears with shallow explanations. With such parishioners we may face a greater challenge than with the secular seeker. They must be blasted out of their stupor and urged to recognize that while they may know the terms, they have never come to grips with the truth or with God himself! Thus, in bridging the gap between the original meaning of the text and its contemporary significance, we confront the challenge of exploring the meaning of religious language and probing its reflection of truths about our relationship to God.
For some not familiar with Old Testament literature the image conjured by the designation “high priest” might be that of a mythical figure with staff in hand, clothed with long robes and adorned with an aura of mystic light (e.g., a pagan high priest). The “high priest” for them presides over imperceptible religious rituals and stands apart from normal society. The concept, therefore, represents the head figure of some strange religion.
For Christians who have been in church a while, the title “high priest” points to the Old Testament context. They may remember vaguely that the high priest was dressed with special clothing such as the blue robe, the ephod, and the breastplate (Ex. 28:4–39; 39:1–31; Lev. 8:7–9). If especially knowledgeable, our hypothetical Christian might even remember the Urim and Thummim, sacred lots used to discern God’s will (Ex. 28:29–30; Num. 27:21). This image of the high priest portrays a religious figure who represents the people before God. He serves as the go-between in a highly formal, ritualistic worship setting. In this picture God remains closed off from the common person, hidden from view behind a primitive veil.
For Hebrews, however, Jesus’ high priesthood represents above all else open access to God. Building on the Old Testament concept, the author of Hebrews makes much of the uniqueness and superiority of the Son’s high priestly role. Rather than one who stands between God and humanity, Jesus takes us to God, ripping away the moral and ritualistic obstacles that prevented our free entrance to his presence. He not only has passed through the heavens, but he also has paved the way for us to join him in that adventure (e.g., 2:10; 6:20; 10:19–20). Thus, when we communicate the high-priest concept, we must emphasize its signification of a “means of free access to God.”
Jesus, a sympathetic high priest. Our high priest has made our approach to God possible by approaching us. He can sympathize with our weaknesses, offering compassion and help, because he has shared in an important aspect of what it means to be human, having been tempted “in every way, just as we are.” We must ask, “What does this mean?” before we can ask, “What does this mean for us?”
We live in a modern world full of modern tools of sin. There are sins related to weapons, for example, that did not exist in the ancient world. We can sin by shooting another person in cold blood, blowing them up with a bomb, or devastating their health through chemical warfare. Was Jesus tempted to do these acts? Is that what the author meant when he wrote that Jesus was “tempted in every way”? We can steal from someone else by ripping off an insurance company, by cheating on our income taxes, or by embezzling funds through electronic bank fraud. Was Jesus tempted to do these sins? Pornography can be had in printed form, on cable television, in an R-rated movie, or over the Internet. Was Jesus tempted in these ways? Of course not; these things did not exist in the Palestine of the first century.
Although the expressions or tools of sin have changed in the past two millennia, sin’s essential nature remains immutable: hatred, murder, greed, dishonesty, lust. These stalk our human path and “crouch at the door” (Gen. 4:6–7), awaiting any and every opportunity. Certainly the author of Hebrews has in mind the gambit of such spiritual plagues. An interesting question presents itself, however: “If we affirm that Jesus Christ is God-incarnate, how is it possible that his temptations were genuine?”11 (cf. James 1:13). The answer must be found in the paradox of Jesus’ unique nature as the God-man. One way of expressing this paradox is to insist that as human, Jesus felt the full force of temptation, and the temptations he faced were real, inviting him to sin (they would not be temptations otherwise). However, as God he would not and did not sin.12 This position allows us to affirm wholeheartedly Jesus as fully God and fully human.
Given the context, however, the author of Hebrews probably has one particular temptation uppermost in his thoughts: the temptation to break with one’s commitments under severe suffering. In 2:18, a verse that foreshadows the one under consideration,13 the author writes, “Because he himself suffered when he was tempted.” In a related passage (5:7–8), a text that might be called “Hebrews’ Gethsemane account,” he adds: “Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered.” For Jesus the ultimate temptation—and the one to which his response would have vast implications for the rest of humanity—was the temptation to try to get around his persecution unto death and to turn his back on God’s will, which was leading him to a Roman cross. Commenting on the temptation account in Matthew and Luke’s Gospels, Philip Yancey writes,
As I reflect on Jesus’ temptations … I realize they centered on his reason for coming to earth, his “style” of working. Satan was, in effect, dangling before Jesus a speeded-up way of accomplishing his mission. He could win over the crowds by creating food on demand and then take control of the kingdoms of the world, all the while protecting himself from danger [italics mine].14
For the listeners the point of Hebrews 4:15 could not have been more relevant. Jesus can sympathize with their temptation to turn and run in the face of persecution. He felt the same urge—but declined it. He can thus help them face the challenge (cf. 12:2–3), and he can help us. Consequently, on the basis of the Son’s sympathetic high priesthood the author challenges the hearers of all Christian centuries to take action in two ways: to “hold firmly to the faith” and to “approach the throne of grace.” The former speaks to our need for stability in the world, the latter to our need for access to resources beyond this world in order to gain that stability.
In 4:14 the concept of a “profession of faith” (or a “confession,” as other translations render the term) must be understood as far more than just a verbal affirmation of truth. Broadly in religious culture, the concept of confession speaks of admitting a wrong that has been done. A profession of faith may be thought of as the act of standing before a congregation to indicate one’s initial commitment to Christ. Perhaps the author has in mind past public commitments made by his hearers. However, to hold to one’s profession means to live out one’s belief through a lifestyle of commitment. One cannot say, “I believe it is true, but because of the circumstances my commitments lie elsewhere.” A Christian profession involves commitment of one’s life, not just a phrase on one’s tongue. To carry out such a commitment, however, demands resources beyond the Christian individual.
Approaching the throne. The image of “approaching the throne” carries at least two messages in the present context. (1) It communicates an act of prayerful worship. The “approach” draws on the Old Testament backdrop of the high priest’s movement into the Most Holy Place. For Jews and Christians of the ancient world this image of approaching God had developed especially into a symbol for prayer. The throne image relates closely in that it represents the power and authority of God. To those of us who do not live in monarchies or in countries in which a king or queen still functions as a figurehead, the throne imagery seems archaic. (2) Yet, it is such a universal image we can grasp it with little effort. The one on the throne has more capacity to help us than anyone else. He holds both the authority and capability we need for our present concerns, and we can be assured his help will be timely.
Thus 4:14–16, focused as it is on the sympathetic high priesthood of Jesus, challenges us to remain true to our Christian commitment and to seek God in prayer for his help in the face of persecution.
HOLDING
FIRMLY
TO
the faith. We live in an “age of reason,” where many seem to think the most reasonable course in any given situation is to “look out for Number One.” Thus, all reason leads to self-preservation. Thomas Paine wrote, “It is necessary to the happiness of man that he be mentally faithful to himself. Infidelity does not consist in believing, or in disbelieving; it consists in professing to believe what he does not believe.”15 In the same spirit, actress Shirley MacLaine states:
The only sustaining love involvement is with yourself.… When you look back on your life and try to figure out where you’ve been and where you’re going, when you look at your work, your love affairs, your marriages, your children, your pain, your happiness—when you examine all that closely, what you really find out is that the only person you really go to bed with is yourself.… 16
Of course Paine has a point. Hypocrisy should be rejected, and mental health in part depends on an integration of our inner beliefs with our outward professions. Yet, this orientation to self-actualization proves above all else a poor position from which to live life and an impossible one from which to live an authentic Christian life.
We can be thankful that the church through the ages has been blessed with powerful examples of those who have stood against such a perspective. These heroes of the faith would reject the view of “self-actualization” as the ultimate goal of life. They would certainly renounce the primary view of the church as a “self-help” center where we get physically fit, emotionally supported, spiritually spoon-fed, intellectually stimulated, socially situated, and fiscally informed (although these may occur as a by-product of our church involvement); and they would call into question Christians who show a predominant self-centeredness in their Christianity.
We must ask ourselves whether our faith is God-centered or self-centered. Are we willing to pay a price for our association with Christ? Is our commitment to someone other than ourselves? Or do we hold that commitment only as long as church “ministers to us,” questioning the “reasonableness” of staying when conflicts within or without threaten our sense of personal well-being?
How different the picture when we consider Martin Luther’s stand at the Diet of Worms on April 18, 1521! Luther, that great leader of the Protestant Reformation, was summoned by Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, in an effort to reconcile Luther and the official church. When asked to recant his teachings the Reformer responded, “I cannot and will not recant anything, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand, I can do no other, so help me God. Amen.” Luther held fast to the faith he professed. He was able to do so because of a deep conviction concerning the lordship and high priesthood of the Son of God, who alone had paid for all his sins, removing the need for an earthly priest as go-between.
Run the historical footage ahead a little more than four centuries to World War II. Dietrich Bonhoeffer—German theologian, pastor, seminary professor, and participant in the Resistance movement—had been imprisoned by the Nazis for his role in the latter. In the final days of the war, Bonhoeffer and his fellow prisoners had experienced a strange mixture of hope and panic as they heard the Allied guns on the horizon. Moved from place to place in advance of the American and British forces, the little group of prisoners was finally brought to a schoolhouse in Schönberg.
Time finally ran out for Bonhoeffer. An interrogator from Berlin named Huppenkothen arrived with orders for Bonhoeffer’s immediate trial and execution. On Sunday the theologian was entreated by his fellow prisoners, among them Roman Catholics and even a Communist from Russia, to hold a worship service. He gave an exposition on “By his wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5), and “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3). The sermon touched the others deeply. Following this message Bonhoeffer was called out of his cell and transported to Flossenberg, where he was interrogated, tried, and condemned. The next morning between five and six o’clock, Bonhoeffer, stripped naked beneath the scaffold, knelt to pray one last time in a woodland spring.17 In his final morning meditation to reach the outside world, the professor wrote:
The key to everything is the “in him.” All that we may rightly expect from God, and ask him for, is to be found in Jesus Christ. The God of Jesus Christ has nothing to do with what God, as we imagine him, could do and ought to do. If we are to learn what God promises, and what he fulfills, we must persevere in quiet meditation on the life, sayings, deeds, sufferings, and death of Jesus. It is certain that we may always live close to God and in the light of his presence, and that such living is an entirely new life for us; that nothing is then impossible for us, because all things are possible with God; that no earthly power can touch us without his will, and that danger and distress can only drive us closer to him.18
Bonhoeffer embodied the principles inherent in Hebrews 4:14–16: Perseverance depends on one’s relationship to Jesus, the Son of God. He lived that truth to the very end and left an enduring picture of true Christian faith and stability.
For us, therefore, these verses offer a message of hope and help—as well as a challenge—for our present difficulties that fight against our perseverance in the faith. Some reading this commentary may be facing a high degree of persecution, even death, but most are likely threatened by less dramatic opponents. For instance, you may have a boss that pokes fun at the faith, a former friend who seeks to humiliate you publicly because of your Christian commitment, or a non-Christian spouse who makes your life miserable. Such struggles are both real and threatening.
If we find our grip on the faith “slipping,” ourselves plagued with “conflicts on the outside, fears within,” as Paul once said (2 Cor. 7:5), we must examine our view of Jesus. Do we have a clear picture of him and his high priesthood on our behalf? As seen in the examples of the Luthers and Bonhoeffers throughout the Christian centuries, resolve flows from a depth of conviction and a commitment of life and heart. Once we find such conviction, we will live lives of integrity, our outward actions matching our inner beliefs and our commitments of the past being lived out in the present and into the future.
The approach. As seen in Luther’s plea for God’s help and Bonhoeffer’s fervent prayer in the final seconds of his earthly life, drawing near to God plays a vital role in perseverance in the faith. God offers us help in the face of our needs, and he has given prayer as a means to communicate those needs to him. Not that he does not know them! But prayer is a relational dynamic by which we actively approach God. We get off dead center, reach out beyond ourselves, and look to him in our time of need; and—mystery of mysteries—our seeking of his presence is as much desired by God as it is needed by us. He invites with, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know” (Jer. 33:3), and he promises, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (29:13).
The fact of the matter is, however, that we, along with our mother Eve and father Adam, shrink from that awesome Presence; we find it much more natural to drift or run away from God than to draw near to him. Thus, we leave the church or tune out the preacher, return to old, sinful patterns of life, or simply stop meeting with God for prayer and Bible study. In this fallen world the “gravitational” pull downward of the world, the flesh, and the devil at times make a move toward God seem the most unnatural action in the world.
Writer and naturalist Annie Dillard tells of a cold Christmas Eve when she, then a young girl, and her family had come home from a late dinner out. Ginger ale and a plate of cookies sat on a special table. Dillard had taken off her winter coat and was warming herself on the heat register. Suddenly the front door opened and a person entered whom Dillard never wanted to meet—Santa Claus! The family called to her, “Look who’s here! Look who’s here!” Little Annie ran upstairs. She explains that she feared Santa Claus as “an old man whom you never saw, but who nevertheless saw you. He knew when you’d been bad or good! And I had been bad.” Santa stood in the doorway, ringing the bell and shouting “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” Annie never came down.
Dillard found out later that this Santa was really a “rigged-up” Miss White, the old lady who lived across the street. Miss White constantly reached out to young Annie, giving her cookies, teaching her finger painting, and generally instructing her about the things of the world. Annie liked Miss White; but one day, six months after the Santa incident, she ran from Miss White again. The lesson of the day involved a magnifying glass. The older lady focused a pinpoint of sunlight on Dillard’s palm to let her feel the heat. The little girl was burned by accident. She ripped her hand away and dashed home crying. Miss White called after her, trying to explain, but to no avail.
Reflecting on how these experiences paralleled her relationship with God Dillard writes,
Even now I wonder: if I meet God, will he take and hold my bare hand in his, and focus his eye on my palm, and kindle that spot and let me burn?
But no. It is I who misunderstood everything and let everybody down. Miss White, God, I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.19
Like Dillard’s Miss White, God calls out after us, trying to explain. He invites us out of our want into his supply, out of our spiritual cold into the warmth of his holy fire, out of our fear into trust and love. Yet we like half-starved, rain-soaked strays run from our source of true help. We fear the throne as a throne of judgment but doubt it as a throne of grace.
No, it is not natural to draw near to God; it is supernatural, and he has called us to himself away from the natural pulls and thoughts of the world. His invitation and promises still stand. Our part is to respond to his call and approach the throne. Our sympathetic high priest has experienced the temptation to bolt and run. He has been with us in our humanness and invites us to be with him at the throne of grace. Therefore, we may approach with unabashed boldness. Let us make that approach today, for we will surely find timely help for whatever we need.
FOLLOWING THE DESCRIPTION of Jesus as a compassionate high priest in 4:15, the author gives a second exhortation: “Let us then approach the throne of grace.” The exhortation flows naturally from verses 14–15 as shown by the conjunction oun (“therefore”; NIV , “then”). Jesus’ compassionate disposition invites us to intimacy with God and makes that intimacy possible.
The exhortation “let us approach” translates a present tense form of the verb, indicating that drawing near to God constitutes an ongoing aspect of the Christian’s relationship with God: “let us constantly approach.” Under the old covenant the only person allowed into God’s presence was the high priest, who entered the Most Holy Place once a year on the Day of Atonement. Under that covenant the high-priestly offering on that day won forgiveness for the people. Yet they were still locked out of the presence of Yahweh.8 But under Jesus’ high priesthood, the people of God find a new and happy situation. They themselves may enter the very presence of God on a continual basis, and can do so with “confidence”—a word that can also be translated as “bold frankness,”9 which in both Hellenistic Judaism and early Christian usage is related especially to the believer’s approach to God in prayer.10
Christians, therefore, should draw near to God with unabashed openness since God alone is the true source of mercy and grace. Because of these provisions we can expect God will “help us in our time of need.” Literally this phrase reads that mercy and grace result in “timely aid.” The author may have in mind the trial of persecution being faced by the community, a trial that was tempting them to reject God’s mercy in Christ. The author assures them that if they remain faithful to their confession and approach God through Jesus’ high-priestly work, God will come through with help in a timely fashion.
THE LANGUAGE OF high priesthood. With Hebrews 4:14–16 we move into a section of the book highly dependent on religious language from the Old Testament. For modern readers—especially those whose association with church and church culture is limited—the concepts of high priesthood, faith, temptation, sin, the throne of grace, and mercy may seem obscure at best. One can imagine a secular, hard-edged businesswoman sitting in on a church service in which this passage is being preached. She might stare ahead glassy-eyed as the minister delights in the intricacies of old covenant worship; she might be awed at his obvious education or cringe at her own stark ignorance; and she might not come back—if he does not help her see the phenomenal relevance of this text for her life, work, and relationships. No one likes to attend parties where people use only “insider” language. I am not vying for the “dumbing down” of theology but rather the translation of theological language in a way that communicates.
In the next pew imagine a long-time church member, who lapses into a catatonic state any time the preacher crosses the canonical line, moving from New to Old Testament literature. There are Christians who have been in church all their lives and have yet to dig below the surface language and ritual to marvel at the God who works out relationships with frail human beings. They have heard the words so many times and too often been bored to tears with shallow explanations. With such parishioners we may face a greater challenge than with the secular seeker. They must be blasted out of their stupor and urged to recognize that while they may know the terms, they have never come to grips with the truth or with God himself! Thus, in bridging the gap between the original meaning of the text and its contemporary significance, we confront the challenge of exploring the meaning of religious language and probing its reflection of truths about our relationship to God.
For some not familiar with Old Testament literature the image conjured by the designation “high priest” might be that of a mythical figure with staff in hand, clothed with long robes and adorned with an aura of mystic light (e.g., a pagan high priest). The “high priest” for them presides over imperceptible religious rituals and stands apart from normal society. The concept, therefore, represents the head figure of some strange religion.
For Christians who have been in church a while, the title “high priest” points to the Old Testament context. They may remember vaguely that the high priest was dressed with special clothing such as the blue robe, the ephod, and the breastplate (Ex. 28:4–39; 39:1–31; Lev. 8:7–9). If especially knowledgeable, our hypothetical Christian might even remember the Urim and Thummim, sacred lots used to discern God’s will (Ex. 28:29–30; Num. 27:21). This image of the high priest portrays a religious figure who represents the people before God. He serves as the go-between in a highly formal, ritualistic worship setting. In this picture God remains closed off from the common person, hidden from view behind a primitive veil.
For Hebrews, however, Jesus’ high priesthood represents above all else open access to God. Building on the Old Testament concept, the author of Hebrews makes much of the uniqueness and superiority of the Son’s high priestly role. Rather than one who stands between God and humanity, Jesus takes us to God, ripping away the moral and ritualistic obstacles that prevented our free entrance to his presence. He not only has passed through the heavens, but he also has paved the way for us to join him in that adventure (e.g., 2:10; 6:20; 10:19–20). Thus, when we communicate the high-priest concept, we must emphasize its signification of a “means of free access to God.”
Jesus, a sympathetic high priest. Our high priest has made our approach to God possible by approaching us. He can sympathize with our weaknesses, offering compassion and help, because he has shared in an important aspect of what it means to be human, having been tempted “in every way, just as we are.” We must ask, “What does this mean?” before we can ask, “What does this mean for us?”
We live in a modern world full of modern tools of sin. There are sins related to weapons, for example, that did not exist in the ancient world. We can sin by shooting another person in cold blood, blowing them up with a bomb, or devastating their health through chemical warfare. Was Jesus tempted to do these acts? Is that what the author meant when he wrote that Jesus was “tempted in every way”? We can steal from someone else by ripping off an insurance company, by cheating on our income taxes, or by embezzling funds through electronic bank fraud. Was Jesus tempted to do these sins? Pornography can be had in printed form, on cable television, in an R-rated movie, or over the Internet. Was Jesus tempted in these ways? Of course not; these things did not exist in the Palestine of the first century.
Although the expressions or tools of sin have changed in the past two millennia, sin’s essential nature remains immutable: hatred, murder, greed, dishonesty, lust. These stalk our human path and “crouch at the door” (Gen. 4:6–7), awaiting any and every opportunity. Certainly the author of Hebrews has in mind the gambit of such spiritual plagues. An interesting question presents itself, however: “If we affirm that Jesus Christ is God-incarnate, how is it possible that his temptations were genuine?”11 (cf. James 1:13). The answer must be found in the paradox of Jesus’ unique nature as the God-man. One way of expressing this paradox is to insist that as human, Jesus felt the full force of temptation, and the temptations he faced were real, inviting him to sin (they would not be temptations otherwise). However, as God he would not and did not sin.12 This position allows us to affirm wholeheartedly Jesus as fully God and fully human.
Given the context, however, the author of Hebrews probably has one particular temptation uppermost in his thoughts: the temptation to break with one’s commitments under severe suffering. In 2:18, a verse that foreshadows the one under consideration,13 the author writes, “Because he himself suffered when he was tempted.” In a related passage (5:7–8), a text that might be called “Hebrews’ Gethsemane account,” he adds: “Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered.” For Jesus the ultimate temptation—and the one to which his response would have vast implications for the rest of humanity—was the temptation to try to get around his persecution unto death and to turn his back on God’s will, which was leading him to a Roman cross. Commenting on the temptation account in Matthew and Luke’s Gospels, Philip Yancey writes,
As I reflect on Jesus’ temptations … I realize they centered on his reason for coming to earth, his “style” of working. Satan was, in effect, dangling before Jesus a speeded-up way of accomplishing his mission. He could win over the crowds by creating food on demand and then take control of the kingdoms of the world, all the while protecting himself from danger [italics mine].14
For the listeners the point of Hebrews 4:15 could not have been more relevant. Jesus can sympathize with their temptation to turn and run in the face of persecution. He felt the same urge—but declined it. He can thus help them face the challenge (cf. 12:2–3), and he can help us. Consequently, on the basis of the Son’s sympathetic high priesthood the author challenges the hearers of all Christian centuries to take action in two ways: to “hold firmly to the faith” and to “approach the throne of grace.” The former speaks to our need for stability in the world, the latter to our need for access to resources beyond this world in order to gain that stability.
In 4:14 the concept of a “profession of faith” (or a “confession,” as other translations render the term) must be understood as far more than just a verbal affirmation of truth. Broadly in religious culture, the concept of confession speaks of admitting a wrong that has been done. A profession of faith may be thought of as the act of standing before a congregation to indicate one’s initial commitment to Christ. Perhaps the author has in mind past public commitments made by his hearers. However, to hold to one’s profession means to live out one’s belief through a lifestyle of commitment. One cannot say, “I believe it is true, but because of the circumstances my commitments lie elsewhere.” A Christian profession involves commitment of one’s life, not just a phrase on one’s tongue. To carry out such a commitment, however, demands resources beyond the Christian individual.
Approaching the throne. The image of “approaching the throne” carries at least two messages in the present context. (1) It communicates an act of prayerful worship. The “approach” draws on the Old Testament backdrop of the high priest’s movement into the Most Holy Place. For Jews and Christians of the ancient world this image of approaching God had developed especially into a symbol for prayer. The throne image relates closely in that it represents the power and authority of God. To those of us who do not live in monarchies or in countries in which a king or queen still functions as a figurehead, the throne imagery seems archaic. (2) Yet, it is such a universal image we can grasp it with little effort. The one on the throne has more capacity to help us than anyone else. He holds both the authority and capability we need for our present concerns, and we can be assured his help will be timely.
Thus 4:14–16, focused as it is on the sympathetic high priesthood of Jesus, challenges us to remain true to our Christian commitment and to seek God in prayer for his help in the face of persecution.
HOLDING
FIRMLY
TO
the faith. We live in an “age of reason,” where many seem to think the most reasonable course in any given situation is to “look out for Number One.” Thus, all reason leads to self-preservation. Thomas Paine wrote, “It is necessary to the happiness of man that he be mentally faithful to himself. Infidelity does not consist in believing, or in disbelieving; it consists in professing to believe what he does not believe.”15 In the same spirit, actress Shirley MacLaine states:
The only sustaining love involvement is with yourself.… When you look back on your life and try to figure out where you’ve been and where you’re going, when you look at your work, your love affairs, your marriages, your children, your pain, your happiness—when you examine all that closely, what you really find out is that the only person you really go to bed with is yourself.… 16
Of course Paine has a point. Hypocrisy should be rejected, and mental health in part depends on an integration of our inner beliefs with our outward professions. Yet, this orientation to self-actualization proves above all else a poor position from which to live life and an impossible one from which to live an authentic Christian life.
We can be thankful that the church through the ages has been blessed with powerful examples of those who have stood against such a perspective. These heroes of the faith would reject the view of “self-actualization” as the ultimate goal of life. They would certainly renounce the primary view of the church as a “self-help” center where we get physically fit, emotionally supported, spiritually spoon-fed, intellectually stimulated, socially situated, and fiscally informed (although these may occur as a by-product of our church involvement); and they would call into question Christians who show a predominant self-centeredness in their Christianity.
We must ask ourselves whether our faith is God-centered or self-centered. Are we willing to pay a price for our association with Christ? Is our commitment to someone other than ourselves? Or do we hold that commitment only as long as church “ministers to us,” questioning the “reasonableness” of staying when conflicts within or without threaten our sense of personal well-being?
How different the picture when we consider Martin Luther’s stand at the Diet of Worms on April 18, 1521! Luther, that great leader of the Protestant Reformation, was summoned by Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, in an effort to reconcile Luther and the official church. When asked to recant his teachings the Reformer responded, “I cannot and will not recant anything, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand, I can do no other, so help me God. Amen.” Luther held fast to the faith he professed. He was able to do so because of a deep conviction concerning the lordship and high priesthood of the Son of God, who alone had paid for all his sins, removing the need for an earthly priest as go-between.
Run the historical footage ahead a little more than four centuries to World War II. Dietrich Bonhoeffer—German theologian, pastor, seminary professor, and participant in the Resistance movement—had been imprisoned by the Nazis for his role in the latter. In the final days of the war, Bonhoeffer and his fellow prisoners had experienced a strange mixture of hope and panic as they heard the Allied guns on the horizon. Moved from place to place in advance of the American and British forces, the little group of prisoners was finally brought to a schoolhouse in Schönberg.
Time finally ran out for Bonhoeffer. An interrogator from Berlin named Huppenkothen arrived with orders for Bonhoeffer’s immediate trial and execution. On Sunday the theologian was entreated by his fellow prisoners, among them Roman Catholics and even a Communist from Russia, to hold a worship service. He gave an exposition on “By his wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5), and “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3). The sermon touched the others deeply. Following this message Bonhoeffer was called out of his cell and transported to Flossenberg, where he was interrogated, tried, and condemned. The next morning between five and six o’clock, Bonhoeffer, stripped naked beneath the scaffold, knelt to pray one last time in a woodland spring.17 In his final morning meditation to reach the outside world, the professor wrote:
The key to everything is the “in him.” All that we may rightly expect from God, and ask him for, is to be found in Jesus Christ. The God of Jesus Christ has nothing to do with what God, as we imagine him, could do and ought to do. If we are to learn what God promises, and what he fulfills, we must persevere in quiet meditation on the life, sayings, deeds, sufferings, and death of Jesus. It is certain that we may always live close to God and in the light of his presence, and that such living is an entirely new life for us; that nothing is then impossible for us, because all things are possible with God; that no earthly power can touch us without his will, and that danger and distress can only drive us closer to him.18
Bonhoeffer embodied the principles inherent in Hebrews 4:14–16: Perseverance depends on one’s relationship to Jesus, the Son of God. He lived that truth to the very end and left an enduring picture of true Christian faith and stability.
For us, therefore, these verses offer a message of hope and help—as well as a challenge—for our present difficulties that fight against our perseverance in the faith. Some reading this commentary may be facing a high degree of persecution, even death, but most are likely threatened by less dramatic opponents. For instance, you may have a boss that pokes fun at the faith, a former friend who seeks to humiliate you publicly because of your Christian commitment, or a non-Christian spouse who makes your life miserable. Such struggles are both real and threatening.
If we find our grip on the faith “slipping,” ourselves plagued with “conflicts on the outside, fears within,” as Paul once said (2 Cor. 7:5), we must examine our view of Jesus. Do we have a clear picture of him and his high priesthood on our behalf? As seen in the examples of the Luthers and Bonhoeffers throughout the Christian centuries, resolve flows from a depth of conviction and a commitment of life and heart. Once we find such conviction, we will live lives of integrity, our outward actions matching our inner beliefs and our commitments of the past being lived out in the present and into the future.
The approach. As seen in Luther’s plea for God’s help and Bonhoeffer’s fervent prayer in the final seconds of his earthly life, drawing near to God plays a vital role in perseverance in the faith. God offers us help in the face of our needs, and he has given prayer as a means to communicate those needs to him. Not that he does not know them! But prayer is a relational dynamic by which we actively approach God. We get off dead center, reach out beyond ourselves, and look to him in our time of need; and—mystery of mysteries—our seeking of his presence is as much desired by God as it is needed by us. He invites with, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know” (Jer. 33:3), and he promises, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (29:13).
The fact of the matter is, however, that we, along with our mother Eve and father Adam, shrink from that awesome Presence; we find it much more natural to drift or run away from God than to draw near to him. Thus, we leave the church or tune out the preacher, return to old, sinful patterns of life, or simply stop meeting with God for prayer and Bible study. In this fallen world the “gravitational” pull downward of the world, the flesh, and the devil at times make a move toward God seem the most unnatural action in the world.
Writer and naturalist Annie Dillard tells of a cold Christmas Eve when she, then a young girl, and her family had come home from a late dinner out. Ginger ale and a plate of cookies sat on a special table. Dillard had taken off her winter coat and was warming herself on the heat register. Suddenly the front door opened and a person entered whom Dillard never wanted to meet—Santa Claus! The family called to her, “Look who’s here! Look who’s here!” Little Annie ran upstairs. She explains that she feared Santa Claus as “an old man whom you never saw, but who nevertheless saw you. He knew when you’d been bad or good! And I had been bad.” Santa stood in the doorway, ringing the bell and shouting “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” Annie never came down.
Dillard found out later that this Santa was really a “rigged-up” Miss White, the old lady who lived across the street. Miss White constantly reached out to young Annie, giving her cookies, teaching her finger painting, and generally instructing her about the things of the world. Annie liked Miss White; but one day, six months after the Santa incident, she ran from Miss White again. The lesson of the day involved a magnifying glass. The older lady focused a pinpoint of sunlight on Dillard’s palm to let her feel the heat. The little girl was burned by accident. She ripped her hand away and dashed home crying. Miss White called after her, trying to explain, but to no avail.
Reflecting on how these experiences paralleled her relationship with God Dillard writes,
Even now I wonder: if I meet God, will he take and hold my bare hand in his, and focus his eye on my palm, and kindle that spot and let me burn?
But no. It is I who misunderstood everything and let everybody down. Miss White, God, I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.19
Like Dillard’s Miss White, God calls out after us, trying to explain. He invites us out of our want into his supply, out of our spiritual cold into the warmth of his holy fire, out of our fear into trust and love. Yet we like half-starved, rain-soaked strays run from our source of true help. We fear the throne as a throne of judgment but doubt it as a throne of grace.
No, it is not natural to draw near to God; it is supernatural, and he has called us to himself away from the natural pulls and thoughts of the world. His invitation and promises still stand. Our part is to respond to his call and approach the throne. Our sympathetic high priest has experienced the temptation to bolt and run. He has been with us in our humanness and invites us to be with him at the throne of grace. Therefore, we may approach with unabashed boldness. Let us make that approach today, for we will surely find timely help for whatever we need.