Jesus is a better priest

PROP: Because Jesus is our great high priest, we have a better hope

Good morning, church. It’s a joy to be with you today as we turn our attention to Hebrews chapter 7. In this chapter, the author picks up a thread he began back in chapter 5—the topic of priesthood. For his original Jewish audience, this concept would have been deeply familiar, rooted in their history, worship, and daily life, where for any of us who are non Jewish may not be as familiar with what the author is speaking to in this chapter. But hang in there, and we’ll unpack it together.

Now one important thing to understand is that the writer isn’t just revisiting old ground—he’s reorienting it. He wants to take what they thought they knew about priesthood and turn it on its head. His message is this: Because Jesus is the greater priest, we have a better hope.

To make his point, the author reintroduces a fascinating and somewhat mysterious figure he briefly mentioned in chapters 5 and 6: Melchizedek.

The author is referencing back to Genesis 14, where Abraham has just been on a rescue mission. He finds out that his nephew Lot has been taken captive after the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah are defeated in battle. So Abraham takes a crew of guys, goes and rescues Lot, and as he is returning, he meets a mysterious figure, a man named Melchizedek. Now before we really go any further, we have to stop and ask ourselves the question that some of you may already be asking yourself. Who is Melchizedek?

It’s a fair question—he’s a mysterious figure, and the author of Hebrews doesn’t give us much introduction. But here’s what Hebrews 7 tells us:

For this Melchizedek, king of Salem, priest of the Most High God, met Abraham returning from the slaughter of the kings and blessed him, and to him Abraham apportioned a tenth part of everything. He is first, by translation of his name, king of righteousness, and then he is also king of Salem, that is, king of peace. He is without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, but resembling the Son of God he continues a priest forever. (Hebrews 7:1–3, ESV)

Based on Genesis 14 and this passage in Hebrews 7, scholars generally hold two major views about who Melchizedek is.

Melchizedek as a type of Christ This is the most common view. In this understanding, Melchizedek is a real historical figure who points forward to Jesus—what theologians call a "type." Other people who served as a type of Christ in scripture would be Moses and David, for example. In this instance, the details about Melchizedek we’re given are meant to highlight qualities that foreshadow Christ.

For instance, he’s called king of Salem—a place many scholars believe would later become Jerusalem. He’s also referred to as the king of righteousness and the king of peace—titles that echo the nature and reign of Jesus.

Then there's that unique description: without father or mother or genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life. Some interpret this not as a literal statement, but as a literary device—the absence of recorded genealogy is deliberate. It’s meant to paint a picture that points ahead to Jesus, whose priesthood is eternal and not dependent on lineage.

Melchizedek as a pre-incarnate appearance of Christ The second view goes even further. Some believe that Melchizedek wasn’t just a type of Christ—he was actually Christ Himself, appearing in the Old Testament before His incarnation. This view takes the language of Hebrews 7 very literally, especially the statement that he “remains a priest forever.”

What’s especially interesting is the Greek phrase used here—eis to diēnekes—which appears only three times in the New Testament: once here, and twice in Hebrews 10. And in each case, it refers to the perpetual nature of Jesus’ priesthood and sacrifice. That unique wording has led some to conclude that this Melchizedek isn’t just symbolic, but a theophany, the pre-incarnate Christ.

Personally, based on everything that we see here, this is the view that I choose to take. I believe that Melchizedek was Jesus himself appearing to Abraham.

But regardless of where you land on the question of who Melchizedek is—whether you view him as a historical figure, a theophany, or a type of Christ—what’s most important is this: Melchizedek points us to Jesus, our great high priest who gives us a better hope.

Jesus’ relationship to Abraham (Hebrews 7:1-10)

What’s remarkable is that Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, recognized Melchizedek’s greatness. After returning victorious from battle, Abraham gave him a tenth of the spoils. That’s significant.

Melchizedek is unique because he wasn’t just a king—he was also a priest. These two offices throughout the Old Testament are separate entities. You just have to look at some of the kings of Israel and Judah who tried to take on priestly responsibilities to see that it doesn’t end well for them. God didn’t design the human priesthood to overlap with the office of king. But not only was Melchizedek a priest, he is called a priest of God Most High. This is long before God established the Levitical priesthood in Exodus, and yet, Abraham gave a tithe to Melchizedek, and Melchizedek blessed him—a clear sign of who was greater. As Hebrews explains, “the lesser is blessed by the greater.”

And here’s what’s stunning: Levi, the father of the priestly tribe, hadn’t even been born yet, but was still considered “in” Abraham. So when Abraham tithed, it was as if the whole Levitical priesthood acknowledged Melchizedek’s superiority.

The point couldn’t be clearer: this priesthood isn’t just different—it’s better.

Abraham’s act of giving tithes to Melchizedek was more than just a moment in history—it was a signpost. It revealed that a superior priesthood was coming, one not based on lineage or law, but on divine authority, on eternal life, on one who like Melchizedek, has no beginning of days or end of life. It showed us something profound about Jesus’ relationship to Abraham: that Jesus’ priesthood is greater than the priesthood that would eventually come through Abraham’s own descendants.

This is what the author wants his readers to know in the next portion of this letter. About Jesus’ relationship to Aaron.

Jesus’ relationship to Aaron (Hebrews 7:11-28)

While the priestly order of Melchizedek would be established eventually, God did implement a priestly line for his people, the line of Aaron, also known as the Levitical priesthood.

This was the role of the Levitical priesthood—to uphold God’s law that was given to Moses on Mt. Sinai, to stand in the gap, to offer repeated sacrifices, to maintain temporary peace between God and His people. But even from the beginning of this human priesthood, it was pointing toward something greater.

And while the old covenant system played an important role in God’s plan, it was never meant to last forever because it couldn’t truly remove sin. The sacrifices had to be made over and over, year after year, because they were never final. As Hebrews 9 puts it, “the blood of bulls and goats cannot take away sins.”

Paul puts it plainly in Romans 3:20:

“For by works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin.”

In other words, no one will be declared righteous before God simply by obeying the law. Why? Because the law was never designed to justify us—it was designed to expose our sin. It reveals the gap between God’s holiness and our brokenness. The law shows us that we fall short. It convicts us. It confronts us with the reality of our sin—but it can’t cleanse us from it.

So we can’t stand before a holy God one day and say, “I knew right from wrong, so I must be good.” That’s not enough. The law doesn’t justify; it diagnoses.

That’s why a better hope was needed. And that hope would come—not through the line of Aaron, but through the eternal priesthood of Jesus.

It’s a bit like going to the chiropractor. When I first got to Oakwood, I finally got something that I had never had before, a health savings account. This meant I could finally go to the chiropractor and get help for my back which was super messed up from years of working in retail. I finally got some treatment on my back this year, which I desperately needed. But once everything was aligned, they made it very clear: you’ll need to keep coming back. Why? Because life throws your spine out of alignment—lifting kids, hauling gear, or playing dodgeball with the student ministry.

In the same way, we keep doing things that throw us out of alignment with God. We sin. We lie, we gossip, we entertain impure thoughts—you name it. And under the old covenant, every one of those sins had to be paid for, over and over. Because every sin is deserving of death and separation from a holy God.

That’s why something better was needed. That’s why we needed a better hope.

And that better hope came to us—not in a new system, but in a person. Our great high priest, Jesus.

Nowhere is this made more apparent than in Hebrews 7:11

Now if perfection had been attainable through the Levitical priesthood (for under it the people received the law), what further need would there have been for another priest to arise after the order of Melchizedek, rather than one named after the order of Aaron?

The author of Hebrews is speaking directly to Jewish believers who were tempted to turn back—to return to the familiarity of the Levitical priesthood and the old covenant. His question to them is this: If the Levitical priesthood was perfect, why would God promise something else?

If that system could truly save—if it could bring a sinner into right standing before a holy God—then there would be no need for a new priesthood. But the very existence of the order of Melchizedek proves otherwise. God had something better in mind.

These believers would have known their Scriptures. They would have remembered Melchizedek first appearing in Genesis 14, when he blessed Abraham. But he’s mentioned again—much later—in Psalm 110, a passage rich with messianic significance:

The Lord says to my Lord: “Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool.” ... The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, “You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” (Psalm 110:1–4, ESV)

This is David, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, looking forward to Jesus—the one who would be both King and Priest forever.

This is significant for a couple of reasons. One, as the author explains in Hebrews 7:12, “when there is a change in the priesthood, there is necessarily a change in the law as well.” In other words, when Jesus became our great high priest, He ushered in a new covenant. The priesthood changed, and so did the system. We’re no longer under the law, no longer bound by the repeated sacrifices of the old covenant.

And I don’t know about you, but I’m incredibly thankful for that.

I once heard a story about a camp speaker who brought a goat to camp. The kids bonded with it all week—fed it, named it, played with it. And then, on the last day of camp, the speaker killed the goat on stage to demonstrate what a real sacrifice looked like.

Now, I get the power of a vivid illustration… but thankfully, we don’t have to do that anymore. Why? Because Jesus—the Lamb of God—has already been sacrificed once for all. He fulfilled the law. He established a better covenant. And through Him, we have a better hope through our great high priest, who can now stand in the gap between humanity and a holy God.

Because the Levitical priesthood and the old sacrificial system were always meant to come to an end, it makes sense that Jesus wouldn’t come from that line. In fact, He couldn’t.

Under the old covenant, the only way someone could serve as a priest was by being a direct descendant of Aaron, from the tribe of Levi. That lineage wasn’t optional—it was the requirement.

God makes this crystal clear in Numbers 18:7 when He says to Aaron:

“And you and your sons with you shall guard your priesthood... I give your priesthood as a gift, and any outsider who comes near shall be put to death.”

In other words, only those from Aaron’s family could serve in that priesthood. Anyone else—even from another tribe of Israel—was considered an outsider.

But Jesus came as our great High Priest in a new priesthood—one not tied to Aaron, but to the order of Melchizedek. And because it was a new priesthood, it required a new line.

Jesus wasn’t from the tribe of Levi. He was descended from the tribe of Judah—a royal line, the line of King David. Not a priestly lineage.

And yet, Jesus is our High Priest. How?

The author of Hebrews tells us in Hebrews 7:16:

“[He] has become a priest, not on the basis of a legal requirement concerning bodily descent, but by the power of an indestructible life.”

His priesthood isn’t rooted in genealogy—it’s rooted in who He is: the eternal Son of God, risen from the dead, alive forever.

This is a callback to how Melchizedek is described earlier in the chapter—as one who is “without beginning of days or end of life.” The author is showing us that Melchizedek foreshadows Jesus, whose priesthood is not temporary or inherited—but eternal, grounded in His resurrection power and divine life.

The never-ending life of Jesus means His priesthood never ends—and His once-for-all sacrifice still stands today.

In the old priesthood, there had to be a line of succession. The priests were only human—they grew old, they retired, and eventually, they died. So someone always had to be ready to take their place. The priesthood depended on a system of replacement.

But not so with Jesus.

When Jesus died, it wasn’t the end of His priesthood—because His death was only temporary. Three days later, He rose again, defeating death and establishing Himself as our great high priest forever.

This is why the author of Hebrews tells us that Jesus became our priest “by the power of an indestructible life.” His priesthood doesn’t need a successor. It isn’t passed down. It continues eternally—because Jesus lives eternally.

And because His life never ends, His sacrifice never loses its power.

The old priesthood came to an end because its sacrifices were only temporary—offered again and again, year after year. But not so with Jesus.

There was one sacrifice—for all time—that fully paid the penalty for sin.

One sacrifice that could take us from being enemies of God, under His just wrath, to being called His friends.

One sacrifice that could truly justify us—declaring us not guilty before a holy God.

And that sacrifice was Jesus.

This is why Jesus came to earth. He came on a mission: to restore what was broken, to reconcile humanity with our Creator, and to bridge the chasm between us and God—a chasm we could never cross on our own.

But as we’ve seen, sin demands justice. Sin deserves death. Something—or someone—had to die. Blood had to be shed.

Hebrews 9:22 tells us, “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.”

But here’s the problem: no animal sacrifice could permanently deal with sin. No human priest, no matter how devout, could stand in our place—because everyone was guilty. Even the priests who offered sacrifices for the people were guilty of sin. This is partially why they could never declare anyone permanently clean. No one under the penalty of sin could declare someone else free from it.

Only someone perfect, someone innocent, someone without sin could do that.

And only Jesus qualifies. Through his sacrifice on the cross as our high priest, Jesus truly has given us a better hope when he cleansed us of sin once for all.

The author of Hebrews says it perfectly when he says Hebrews 7:18–19:

“For on the one hand, a former commandment is set aside because of its weakness and uselessness (for the law made nothing perfect); but on the other hand, a better hope is introduced, through which we draw near to God.”

To me, this whole passage is ultimately about our better hope.

And in many ways, that’s what the entire book of Hebrews is about.

The author is making a passionate plea to his readers—believers who were tempted to turn away from Christ and go back to the law, back to the old covenant, back to a system that could never make them right with God.

And he’s saying: Don’t go back.

Don’t return to what was always meant to be temporary.

Don’t cling to what could never save you.

Instead, look at how all of it—the law, the sacrifices, the priesthood—was pointing you to something greater.

To someone greater.

To Jesus.

He is our better hope.

A better priest.

A better sacrifice.

A better covenant.

And a better Savior.

You don’t have to just take my word for it today—you can take God at His word.

When He appointed Jesus as our great High Priest, He did it with an oath.

Let’s reflect back David’s words that we read earlier in Psalm 110:4:

“The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.’”

That’s not just a promise—it’s a sworn declaration from the unchanging God. And that means Jesus' priesthood is permanent, secure, and eternally trustworthy.

Application So the question becomes: What do we do with this? How does this truth—the eternal priesthood and once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus—actually affect our everyday lives? Because it’s easy to read a passage like this and think, “That’s for someone else. I’m not a Jewish believer tempted to go back to the old covenant priesthood and offer sacrifices again.” And that’s true. But if we’re honest, we all have things we’re tempted to turn back to. Old patterns. Old identities. Old “hopes” that never really delivered. If you’re a follower of Jesus, maybe that temptation for you is to return to your old life—to the things you thought once gave you meaning, comfort, or control before you knew Christ. Things like sex, drugs, success, material gain—whatever you used to cling to. And Satan would love nothing more than to convince you to turn back to those things—things that could never save, never satisfy, and never truly set you free. But maybe for you, the temptation is more subtle. Maybe it’s not about rebellion—it’s about self-reliance. Maybe the thing you’re turning back to is your own priesthood. By that, I mean this: trying to offer your own sacrifices to God. Trying to earn His approval by your goodness. Telling yourself, “I’m a good person. I do good things. I volunteer, I give, I try hard—surely that counts for something.” And in that mindset, you begin to believe: “Maybe I don’t really need Jesus to offer a sacrifice for my sins, because I already offer God my good works.” But hear me: that’s a lie too. Just as much as the lie that sin will satisfy, the enemy wants you to believe that you can save yourself. But the message of Hebrews—the message of the gospel—is that there is only one priest who can truly stand before God on your behalf. Only one sacrifice that is sufficient. Only one hope that is better than all the rest. And His name is Jesus. But we also need to remember this about Jesus: He’s not only our High Priest—He’s also our King. As we saw with Melchizedek, he was a priest, but also a king. One of these wasn’t more important than the other. And if we’re honest, this is something many of us tend to forget. In much of the American church, we’ve reduced the gospel down to a simple line: “Jesus died for my sins so I can be saved.” And while that’s true—and absolutely essential—it’s not the whole story. It’s not the end of a relationship with Jesus; it’s the beginning. As my dad always says, “Jesus isn’t just your fire insurance.” Yes, He saved me from the penalty of sin—but He also saved me to live under His rule. To follow Him. To surrender to Him. To trust Him not only as Savior, but as King—the one who leads, commands, and calls me into something far greater than anything I could build on my own. I can’t emphasize enough the kingship of Jesus. As Peter boldly proclaimed to the crowds at Pentecost: “Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ—this Jesus whom you crucified.” (Acts 2:36) He is our priest, who saves us from sin. And He is our King, who deserves our full obedience. So here’s my challenge to you today: Examine your heart. Are you tempted to turn back to something old—something you know deep down can never satisfy or save you? Instead, turn to Jesus, our better hope. Are you tempted to trust in your own priesthood—to offer your good works, moral living, or personal effort, thinking that will earn God’s approval? Instead, turn to Jesus, our better hope, who alone can save you from the judgment that self-righteousness cannot escape. Are you tempted to treat Jesus like a “get out of jail free” card? To accept His forgiveness but refuse His lordship—still calling the shots in your own life? Turn to Jesus, our better hope, and you will find that His plan for your life is far better than anything you could imagine. And if you’re hearing all of this today and realizing—for the first time—that you’ve never truly turned to Jesus, let today be that day. Don’t leave here without knowing the greatest hope of all: Jesus, our great High Priest. We’ll have people available at the front after the service who would love to pray with you. Or come find me—I would be honored to talk and pray with you as you surrender your life to Christ.