A Better Word

In his book What’s So Amazing About Grace? , Philip Yancey tells the story of a prostitute who came to him one day in wretched straits, homeless, sick, unable to buy food for her two year old. She actually confessed that she had even been selling her daughter—who quite shockingly, horrifyingly, appalling—would make more money per night than she could. But she had to do it to support her drug habit. Yancey goes on to say,

If you stop doing bad stuff then things will go good for you. If you don’t stop doing bad stuff then you are going to be judged. If you obey you will be accepted. Don’t come any closer until you’ve cleaned yourself up.

In his book What’s So Amazing About Grace? , Philip Yancey tells the story of a prostitute who came to him one day in wretched straits, homeless, sick, unable to buy food for her two year old. She actually confessed that she had even been selling her daughter—who quite shockingly, horrifyingly, appalling—would make more money per night than she could. But she had to do it to support her drug habit. Yancey goes on to say,

I could hardly bear hearing her sordid story. For one thing, it made me legally liable—I’m required to report cases of child abuse. I had no idea what to say to this woman.

A prostitute came to me in wretched straits, homeless, sick, unable to buy food for her two-year-old daughter. Through sobs and tears, she told me she had been renting out her daughter—two years old!—to men interested in kinky sex. She made more renting out her daughter for an hour than she could earn on her own in a night. She had to do it, she said, to support her own drug habit. I could hardly bear hearing her sordid story. For one thing, it made me legally liable—I’m required to report cases of child abuse. I had no idea what to say to this woman.

At last I asked if she had ever thought of going to a church for help. I will never forget the look of pure, naïve shock that crossed her face. “Church!” she cried. “Why would I ever go there? I was already feeling terrible about myself. They’d just make me feel worse.”

As I thought about this story I couldn’t help but picture our text in . I want you to picture this woman standing before two mountains. Both are crying out. Which one will she heed? She’s absolutely broken and has come to the end of her rope. She feels awful. Plagued with guilt. Feeling trapped. Feeling worthless.

If you stop doing bad stuff then things will go good for you. If you don’t stop doing bad stuff then you are going to be judged. If you obey you will be accepted. Don’t come any closer until you’ve cleaned yourself up.

One mountain counsels her to stop doing this bad stuff. Quit the drugs. Quit her profession. Quit abusing her daughter. And if she does this then things will go well for her. If she doesn’t stop then she is going to be judged and continue down this spiral. If you obey this then you’ll be accepted. This is a fearful mountain. It doesn’t bid her to “come close” it says “go away until you’re clean”. She knows that if she would come any closer she’d likely die. It only further convinces her that she is absolutely unworthy. This mountain is like a mirror—it just projects back upon her the fact that you’re sinful. Her identity on this mountain is of a prostitute.

That second mountain is a bit more like a party—a worship party. Everything on this mountain says come boldly into the presence of God. It doesn’t deny the fact of what she has done but somehow this mountain holds up a different thing—this mountain is all about the record of someone else. Her identity here isn’t that of a prostitute—it’s something else—something much different. She’s accepted here and so she obeys. The acceptance comes first. This isn’t a fearful mountain it’s a festive one. It’s as if sin and death has been conquered here. There weren’t names on that first mountain—just distant and nameless voices which evoked terror. This mountain has names. This mountain proclaims the name of Jesus.

So which one of those mountains have you come to? As a sinner separated from God which one is your story? Clean your act up and I’ll accept you or In my son you are accepted therefore obey? There is a world of difference and that’s the point of our text this morning.

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You haven’t come…You have come. Notice those words in verse 18 and verse 22. Here is what you have. Someone who is in danger of saying, “I'll go with mountain number 1.” And the author of Hebrews is saying, “Are you kidding me?” You are going to sacrifice the better for the fading away shadow? Oh, don’t do that friend. There is fearful judgment if you do that.

And it’s ironic really. That this is both a message of mind-blowing joy and grace but also a message of terrifying judgment. We must heed the voice of Jesus. That’s what this is saying. But it’s not saying it from that first mountain its saying it from the second.

Verses 18-21 is all about the way the Old Covenant was instituted. There is a ton of language here from Exodus and Deuteronomy. One commentator summarizes it this way:

Even Moses trembles with fear. Note further that the images in verses 18–21 are highly impersonal. Here we have fire, storm, gloom, warning, and a “disembodied” voice. Everything about this picture of Sinai says, “Stay away! Don’t come any closer!” The covenant, that meaningful agreement between God and the Israelites, was ratified from a distance because of the unholiness of the people. God resided in the gloom of his mountain, and the people were not allowed even to touch its base. The emphasis, therefore, rests on the unworthiness of the covenant assembly, on God’s judgment of their sin.

But how glorious is verse 22. “But you have come to Mt. Zion”. What does that mean? What is Mt. Zion? It’s synonymous in the Bible with being in the presence of God—the eternal city. And this is about the opposite of that first mountain.

Every aspect of the vision provides encouragement for coming boldly into the presence of God (cf. 4:16). The atmosphere at Mount Zion is festive. The frightening visual imagery of blazing fire, darkness, and gloom fades before the reality of the city of the living God, heavenly Jerusalem. The cacophony of whirlwind, trumpet blast, and a sound of words is muted and replaced by the joyful praise of angels in a festal gathering. The trembling congregation of Israel, gathered solemnly at the base of the mountain, is superseded by the assembly of those whose names are permanently inscribed in the heavenly archives. An overwhelming impression of the unapproachability of God is eclipsed in the experience of full access to the presence of God and of Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant.

Look at verse 24. That’s really, I believe the key phrase in this passage. “The sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” What is that? It’s the blood of Jesus. What does the blood of Abel say? Well turn to .

Cain has killed his brother, Abel. And we read in that “your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground.” What’s it crying? The context helps us to see that it’s crying for vengeance. But as I read this passage notice a couple of things.

“Cursed from the ground. Fugitive. Wanderer on the earth.” And Cain says, “My punishment is greater than I can bear. You’ve driven me away…then it culminates in these sad words, “Cain went away from the presence of the Lord.”

So that’s what the voice of Abel’s blood is crying out. That’s what it does. It’s not a message of forgiveness it’s one of vengeance. And you’ve heard this voice, I’m guessing

The Journal of Biblical Counseling: Volume 29, Number 3, 2015 More than a Proof Text: “When Inner Voices Condemn, Christ Speaks a Better Word” (Hebrews 12:24)

“You are no good.”

“You are a disappointment.”

“You are a failure.”

“You are gross.”

“You are unlovable.”

“You are beyond hope.”

Or maybe it sounds a bit differently: “You are what you have done.” “You are what others have said about you.” “You are what others have done to you.”

You are what you’ve done. You’re a prostitute. You’re an addict. You’re an angry man. You’re a prideful person. You’re a thief. You’re perverted. You’re depression. You’re no good for anybody.

The Journal of Biblical Counseling: Volume 29, Number 3, 2015 More than a Proof Text: “When Inner Voices Condemn, Christ Speaks a Better Word” (Hebrews 12:24)

That same voice can echo in your ear and speak of your sin. It can be in the background noise in your mind and incessantly tell you something damning about who you are … or who you are not. But the blood of Christ speaks a much different word. It speaks of grace, mercy, and forgiveness. He tells you who you really are—a beloved brother or sister, a treasured member of God’s family. And his word is the final word, the better word.

The Journal of Biblical Counseling: Volume 29, Number 3, 2015 More than a Proof Text: “When Inner Voices Condemn, Christ Speaks a Better Word” (Hebrews 12:24)

I’m aware that there is a haunting voice in the background of how you understand yourself. I want you to know that there is more than one voice speaking. The other voice might not be as loud right now, but it is still there. And this other voice says something very different from the one that haunts and accuses.

Because you cling to Jesus, his blood speaks a better word on your behalf. His blood speaks a better word about who you are. Jesus’ blood proclaims a different message about you, and it is not a message that you need to be afraid to hear. It won’t ask you to perform. It won’t tell you that God is angry or disappointed with you. Rather, it is a voice, a word, that speaks a message of God’s grace and mercy that is for you. It speaks a message that God delights in you, forgives your sins, and will make you perfect when you stand in his presence.

I understand that it’s hard to make out the sound of this voice, because the old, familiar, damning one rages and screams and pounds. And I know that it seems incomprehensible that this voice would be one of delight and welcome to you. Rest assured the voice of Christ is there. And it is true. And it is true for you.

Our goal isn’t to pretend that the loud, pounding, accusing voice is not there. Our goal is just to make room for another voice, however soft, however unlikely it feels. We want to make room for the one who speaks a better word.

It might be hard to even recognize this voice if you don’t know what to listen for. So let me help tune your ear to Christ’s voice. You will know it’s his voice when you hear something like this:

“Do not be afraid. I am with you.”

“You are cherished and loved.”

“You are forgiven and rescued.”

Which voices are you listening to? Which one defines you?

And it’s life or death which voice we heed. That’s what verse 25 says, “Don’t refuse him who is speaking.”

It’s interesting to me that the word used for “refuse” is the same word used in when all the guys make excuses for why they can’t go to the great banquet. So refuse doesn’t just mean— “Sir, I won’t do it!” But it might just as easily mean—I’m a bit distracted today, why I’ve just purchased some oxen. Well, you see I’ve just gotten married.

And so likewise in our refusal of Jesus it might not mean that you outright reject him or His voice—it might mean that you’re mixing some blood. Sometimes you want the word of Abel and sometimes the word of Jesus. Why, the word of Jesus is quite nice and well and good but there are other places I go to get my understanding and to get my identity.

The people that Hebrews was originally written to were in danger of falling back and saying, “You know I like the voice which booms from Mt. Sinai a little better”. I don’t know why we do this. But I think we still do this. It’s why I shared the story of the woman at the beginning who said, “Why in the world would I go there”. Because so easily we church folk can fall back into the ministry of Mt. Sinai. Rather than proclaiming a message of reconciliation we proclaim a message of condemnation.

And I think I get why we are so prone to do that. Look at these last verses here and how it’s talking about God shaking the world again. That comes from Haggai. And the author uses it to point to the end of things and he says there is going to a time when God doesn’t just shake the earth but he shakes the heavens and the earth. (Now some might read this and say there will be a massive earthquake in the end. Or they might say this world is going to be annihilated. And I think you could perhaps find some Scripture which points to that.) But I think more what this text is saying is something like this:

Burying a ring. Finding it with a metal detector…shaking all the dirt off. Panning for gold.

So what it’s saying is something similar to what Jesus said about the house built upon the rock. The one built on His Word. Or in our text—built on the better word which his blood speaks.

Now this is kind of a hard message, right. There is a great shaking which occurs much of what you give your life to is but dust and it’s not going to hold up. Only that which is of the unshakeable kingdom is going to last. Or that God is a consuming fire—the only thing that lasts is pure metal.

Everything shaking.

But that message is only a hard message if you’re not within that unshakeable kingdom. I picture a great storm and finding refuge in a cave. You’re safe within it but out there you aren’t going to make it. And sometimes our message sounds harsh to those who aren’t in the place of refuge. “Get in here! Get in the place of refuge. You’re going to die out there. You can’t make it out there on your own.

And sometimes our message sounds harsh. “Get in here! Get in the place of refuge. You’re going to die out there. You can’t make it out there on your own. But we can err in emphasizing the wrong thing. We decry the shakeable stuff and ignore the beauty of the fact that there is an unshakeable kingdom.

And that’s truth. You will not endure the wrath of God against sin. If you reject the better word of Christ it will not go well for you. That’s not because God is mean—it’s because we gave ourselves a disease and then stubbornly refused His antidote. If you’re life and your identity is built on that which is shakeable then it’s going to fall.

But we can err in emphasizing the wrong thing. We decry the shakeable stuff and ignore the beauty of the fact that there is an unshakeable kingdom. And the church can sometimes sound more like Mt. Sinai than the unshakeable Mt. Zion.

You are what you’ve done. No you aren’t! You are cherished. You are loved. Your identity is found in Christ. You are his.

2 Corinthians 6:10–11 ESV

as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything. We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open.

1 Corinthians 6:9–11 ESV

Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.

You had better change and then God will accept you. You’d better clean your act up. You’d better stop it! Get your life straight!

Romans 5:8 ESV

but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Ephesians 2:4 ESV

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us,

Ephesians 2:4–6 ESV

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,

It’s by your effort that you’ll be made righteous. If I do good stuff then God will bless me with good stuff. I need to build and build and work towards building God’s kingdom so that he’ll be pleased with me.

Luke 12:32 ESV

“Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.

Build. Build. Work. Work.

Matthew 11:28–30 ESV

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Luke 12

So what word is speaking over you today? The word of Abel? Or are you covered by the blood of Jesus Christ. You can be cleansed today.

Build. Build. Work. Work.

You

And believer, let us be of those who speak from Mt. Zion. Yes, the law matters. Yes, people need to know and understand what sin is. But let us proclaim these things from Mt. Zion. Let us proclaim these things from the perspective of the gospel.

It is true we are far more guilty than we could imagine. There are things in our hearts that we might not even be aware of. If we could really see the depravity of our own hearts it’d likely scare us. But the greater truth is that we are more deeply loved than we would ever dare to dream. Is that what speaks more volumes over your life?

John Newton at the end of his life. I’m a great sinner. But Christ is a greater Savior. Yes, his blood speaks a better word. His blood speaks the final word.

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All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls, 25 but the word of the Lord remains forever.”

And this word is the good news that was preached to you.

Picture a scene. You are standing before the Lord and book upon book is being read telling the story of your life. But this isn’t a sitting around the fireplace and hearing grandpa’s old stories occasion. This is a trial. Your life and your words are testifying as to whether or not you’re to be considered a good person.

Now this isn’t the type of trial you get on the day of your funeral. That’s the day when mostly your friends and family show up and everybody works to remember all the good times and to minimize the bad. This trial isn’t like that. You’ve got critics and sycophants present. You’ve got words against you and words for you. Evidence of words you’ve spoken, written, and even things that you’ve thought. A display of the impact of your life. It’s social media run wild and you’re the topic. It’s your fifteen minutes of fame. And you’re getting torched…with only a few positives throw in here and there.

“He was a hypocrite. His words didn’t match his lifestyle.”

“He was one of the best counselors I ever had. He helped me more than anyone else.”

“He was a terribly sloppy pastor. His hair was often wilder than it should have been, his beard wasn’t neatly trimmed, he seldom wore a suit. He was a bad representation of what a minister of the gospel ought to be.”

“He was the one who shared Jesus with me.”

“His theology was sloppy and inconsistent. He didn’t believe some of the things that I’ve believed for years. I’m not even sure if he was a believer”

“He was incredibly selfish. He viewed everything through the lens of himself.”

“He was a gossip. He slandered others and then was mortally wounded when he was slandered himself.”

“He hurt me.”

“He failed me.”

“He was lazy and passive. He never became the person that he could have been. He buried quite a few talents”.

Some of those opinions are grounded in truth. They match the replay of your life. You really were more selfish than you should have been. You really did cause hurt. But you also were used by God to help people see the glory of Jesus. It’s a mixed bag. Connected with all of these opinions is a mountain of evidence against you. And the Accuser is quick to point out every one of these flaws.

He’s correct. He’s not fabricating a bit. He’s right. You are cursed and gone astray. You fall short of the glory of God. You did hurt people. You did sin against the God of the Universe. You aren’t holy. You do not have any righteousness of your own. You did bury a few talents. You’re not clean. You’ve mucked up your life at times.

Then Jesus stands up…

The gospel gets the last word. That is what 📷 means. All of the critics, all of the defenders, they don’t get the last word. Neither do we. “I did many great things in your name…” The gospel speaks last. And it’s word is definitive.

That’s either really great news. Or it’s terrible.

I picture this scene in my mind and it brings me to tears. It brings me to tears because I know what Jesus will say. I don’t know the specific words that he’ll use. But I know that he has my back. Not because of my own righteousness but because of His. I know that He has truly changed my heart and my life. I know that he sees every ounce of my toil and labor and every bit of my sloppy obedience. I know that he sees my every failure. He knows my every sin against him. And yet he stands in my defense.

“He’s mine.”

Maybe that’s what he’ll say. And when he belts out those words…nothing else matters. All the critics. All the applause. All the mountains. All the valleys. All the days in the darkness of depression. The mountain of my sin against him and others. Every drop of sweat in ministry for others. It all crumbles. And only his Word remains.

It’s not that sin doesn’t matter. It’s not that good doesn’t matter. It’s just that it isn’t definitive. It doesn’t get the last word.

Jesus does.

But this mountain is fearful