Untitled Sermon
We spend a lot of our time and energy trying to solicit compassion from others, putting on display reasons why we deserve more sympathy and attention than other people. We have a deep human desire for sympathy. What we need to realize is that we have an eternal well of sympathy and compassion in Christ.
Once we realize this, we are freed to show deep compassion and sympathy to others. If we have drunk deeply of the compassion available to us in Christ, we no longer have to find ways to get it from others. Go to Christ, who fully sympathizes with your weaknesses, and then you can serve others by showing them the very sympathy and compassion that was shown to you.
But we can also believe that the Bible is true for personal reasons: because we recognize that it contains the voice of someone we know and trust. Jesus said as much: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).
This is the stunning difference between the Bible and every other book in the world. God’s presence is actually encountered in his word. This is a personal, living book.
Whether or not to believe God’s word is not merely a technical, academic question. No, it is a question of salvation. It is a question of eternity. 4:11 tells us that if we do not trust God and believe the promises he offers in the gospel, then what happened to the Israelites will happen to us: we may “fall.”
This promise of rest is open to us too, and the way of entering it is the same: believing God’s word.
Righteous judgment has been replaced by radical mercy. Therefore, let us not shrink from God’s presence. Instead, let us draw near to him with all boldness and confidence, knowing that he is willing to equip us with mercy and grace in our times of need.
Like John 3:16, Hebrews 4:10 powerfully captures the message of the gospel in a single verse. The gospel is not morality. The gospel is not external religion. Nor is it a seven-step program for obtaining a better life. The gospel is the message of Christ’s accomplishments on our behalf so that we might “rest” from our works by trusting in his work. When we trust in Christ’s work, we rest from trusting our own.
The writer has called us to hold on in life’s storms through three things: our confession of Christ, our understanding of Christ, and our prayers to Christ.
And when we come boldly, what happens? “We… receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” We receive “mercy” for our past failures and “grace” to meet our present and future needs. We receive the full heart of God as he mercifully meets us in our sins and misery—and heals us.
Even more, Jesus’ experience of temptation was greater because the stakes were so high—and because he never gave in. As C. S. Lewis explained:
A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means—the only complete realist.
And the reason for praise goes on: “but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin.” This does not mean he experienced every individual temptation we do. He did not experience the specific temptations peculiar to women or married people or the elderly. Neither did he experience the temptations that come from having already sinned. But he did experience the essential temptations that cover, and in his case supersede, whatever we may experience.
The Fact of Sympathy
This was an incredible revelation in its ancient setting. The Stoics believed that the primary attribute of God was apatheia, the inability to feel anything at all. They reasoned that if he could feel, he could be controlled by others and therefore would be less than God. The Epicureans believed that God dwelled in interinudia, the spaces between the worlds, in complete detachment. The Jews, of course, had a far more accurate picture of God. But before Jesus came it was incomplete, for he revealed the revolutionary Fatherhood of God—daring to address him as “Father” and calling his followers to do the same (Matthew 6:9).
But the assertion that God is not only a Father, but has such sympathy that he enters the suffering of this world, was, and is, absolutely staggering. It is impossible for us, with our heritage of Biblical revelation, to appreciate how revolutionary the idea of a sympathetic God was.
Thus, we can appreciate the force of the closing command of verse 14, “Let us hold firmly to the faith we profess”—literally, “Let us hold firmly to the confession.” That confession was explicitly focused in 3:1 on “Jesus, the apostle and high priest.” If you want to get through hard times, hold on to and confess Jesus “the apostle,” the sent one of God, who did everything to procure your salvation for you. Along with this, proudly confess that he is your “high priest.” Own it publicly. Make it the refrain of your soul.
Jesus, our great high priest, after his once-only sacrifice for sins on the cross, passed “through the heavens”—going through the first heaven (the atmosphere), the second heaven (outer space), and finally into the third heaven (the most holy of all places, the presence of God, cf. 2 Corinthians 12:2–4). And there he sat down
How does this double-edged sword work?
First, it is the sword of judgment. Because it is living, it is effectually active. It accomplishes what God purposes for it to do. It is so sharp that it penetrates—piercing through everything. And then it discerns everything in the core of our being—leaving us naked and bare before our God with whom we must reckon. All of this is a gracious cutting. We see ourselves, and we see God, and we long to fly to him and be healed. That was the blessed wound I experienced as a twelve-year-old.
Second, for the believer, it is the sword of sanctification. God’s two-edged sword, his Word, is alive and effectual in our lives. Again it penetrates and discerns our hearts, exposing them to us—leaving us uncovered and laid bare, so that naked we flee to God for dress.
Blessed be the double-edged sword of judgment and sanctification. God cuts us deeply that we might die. God cuts us again with his Word, that we might live.
Whatever the exact use of the metaphor here, its meaning is clear: all creatures are in the grip of God, totally vulnerable, helpless, and “laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”
Almost all commentators agree that the following Greek word means “laid bare” or “exposed.” But there is no consensus as to what exactly the metaphor pictures, because “laid bare” literally means “twist the neck” or “take by the throat.” It can be used for bending back the neck of a sacrificial animal to administer the fatal stroke. It was sometimes used to describe a wrestler’s hold on the opponent’s throat, rendering him helpless. And sometimes it was used to describe how a man being led to execution had a knife placed beneath his chin so that he could not bow his head in shame away from the gaze of the people.
Now in verse 13 the discussion continues, but the focus switches from God’s Word to God as a knowing and reckoning God. This is very natural because God and his Word cannot be separated.
Fellow-believers, if we really want to understand ourselves, we must fill our souls with God’s Word. God’s Word—read, meditated upon, and prayerfully applied—will give us brilliant discernment and profound self-knowledge. James indicates that God’s Word functions as a mirror revealing who and what we really are (cf. James 1:23, 24).
Having established that God’s Word is living and penetrating, the writer adds that it is discerning: “It judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (v. 12c). The root word for “judges” is the word kritikos, from which we derive critic. So the emphasis here is on the discerning judgment of “the thoughts and attitudes of the heart”—the “radical center of human selfhood,” as Philip Hughes calls the heart.
God’s Word is not only living but penetrating, as the next line is so clear in stating: “Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow”
God’s Word is effectual—“living and active” It does what it promises to do. It regards neither age nor education. It can change you if you are twelve or 102. This is why I take seriously every child who sits under God’s Word. If you will listen to God’s Word, it will change your life.
As the writer begins, he directly warns that God’s Word is alive, saying: “The word of God is living and active” (v. 12a). It lives because it endures forever (Psalm 119:89). Even more, it lives because it has life in itself. God is living (3:12), and the Word, as God’s breath (2 Timothy 3:16), partakes of God’s living character. It is alive!
Hebrews 4:12, 13 therefore gives us four reasons we must not disregard God’s Word. The Word of God is: 1) living, 2) penetrating, 3) discerning, and 4) reckoning. Taken positively, these are four immense reasons to celebrate God’s Word.
Finally, can we add to this belief trust? This was the bottom line for the wavering church. Could they trust God to take care of them? There is no rest in this life without trust.
The words for “Joshua” and “Jesus” are exactly the same in the Greek—Jesus was named after Joshua. The Old Testament “Jesus” (Joshua) had led his followers to the land of Canaan. But that was not the real rest but only a type. And that is why the real rest was offered by David in his “Today” and now to us in our “Today.” So the great truth is, there was a “Jesus,” the son of Nun, who failed to lead his people to true rest. But now there is another Jesus, the Son of God, who can. He is the pioneer and captain of our salvation—the ultimate Joshua (cf. 2:10).
The point here is that nothing can prevent the promised rest from taking effect except distrust and disobedience. God’s promised rest stands. Anyone can have it.
There is a now and then to our rest. Now, in Christ, we have entered and are entering our rest. Our experience of rest is proportionate to our trusting in him. A wholehearted trust, for example, brings his rest into our souls in all its divine, cosmic and ideal dimensions. But there is also a future rest in Heaven—the repose of soul in God’s rest,forever joyous, satisfied and working—“work that never becomes toil norneeds repose.”
Fellow-Christians, God does not offer us just any rest. He offers us, in his own words, “my rest”—the repose of his soul—divine rest. It is cosmic in its origination, as old as the universe. And as such, a continuing Sabbath is available to all. It is the ideal rest, for it comes from a loving, almighty God.
Third, it is a working rest. God finished his great work and rested, but it was not a cessation from work, but rather the proper repose that comes from completing a great work. Jesus referred to his Father’s ongoing work saying, “My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working” (John 5:17). God’s repose is full of active toil. God rests, and in his rest he keeps working, even now.
Second, his rest is satisfying
The character of God’s rest is the ideal of all rests. First, it is joyous. Job 38:7 tells us that at creation, “the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy.” They were, of course, echoing the joy of the Creator that he carried into his Sabbath-rest.
The fact that there is no morning or evening mentioned in that verse, as there was with each of the first six days, means that the seventh day, God’s Sabbath, still continues
We note first that he twice quotes Psalm 95:11—“They shall never enter my rest” (vv. 3, 5; cf. 3:11, 18). His purpose is not to imply that his readers will not enter the rest, but rather to show that God calls the rest being offered “my rest” because it is the rest he himself enjoys. This in itself is a stupendous revelation. It means that when we are given rest by him, it is not simply a relaxation of tensions, but a rest that is qualitatively the same rest God enjoys—his personal rest that he shares with us!
The principle is so simple: the more trust, the more rest
First, trust in Christ’s sacrificial death begins our rest by giving us rest from the burden of guilt for our sins and a gnawing conscience. Second, trust in his character as an almighty God and a loving Savior gives us rest as we place our burdens on him. Just as a child sleeps so well in his parents’ arms, so we rest in God.
Belief, the mental acceptance of a fact as true, will simply not bring rest to any soul. Acknowledging that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and Savior of the world will not give us rest. Trust in him is what gives rest to our souls.
We must keep this subtle distinction between belief and trust clear if we are to understand what kind of faith is necessary to have rest in this life
But Israel’s response to the good news was tragically deficient: “the message they heard was of no value to them, because those who heard did not combine it with faith.” Literally, “they didn’t mix it with faith.”
Their experience of Christ was not living up to expectations. Instead of rest, there was turmoil. They had given up their ancient religion but were suffering for their new faith. To some it seemed that the initial experience of rest was a cruel delusion.
St. Augustine, in the fourth century, gave this truth its eloquent, classic expression in his Confessions: “Thou movest us to delight in praising Thee; for Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee” (Book I.1.1).