Where the Journey Takes Us
When it comes to the Christian life, it’s hard to overstate the relevance of the journey metaphor. I’ve been reminded of this all over again as I’ve cracked back open John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress this summer. And interestingly enough, I’ve also been working my way through the Book of Hebrews. Need I say more?
Journey, quest, marathon, getting from here to there through adversity — it is our calling in this world. It’s why we saints this side of heaven have been called the church militant. While we’re here we’re on active duty, running with endurance the race set before us. Many of us are familiar with the running image that opens Hebrews 12. But we also can’t forget how the chapter closes.
The writer of Hebrews wants to run well. There are weights to lay aside, sins to resist, and hardships to endure—but we don’t endure merely for endurance’s sake. We endure for the finish line, the destination, the place the writer of Hebrews says we’ve …. already come.
Hebrews 12:18, 22–24,
For you have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire and darkness and gloom and a tempest …
But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.
Now wait a minute … isn’t that interesting?
In his efforts to encourage our endurance, the writer has told us consider the sufferings of Jesus, and to understand the fatherly discipline of God. Then in verse 18, he turns our attention to a remarkable comparison of two mountains, Mount Sinai and Mount Zion. They are stand-ins for two covenants, the old and the new.
Sinai, the mountain of the old covenant, was terrifying. There was darkness and fire and the blast of a trumpet. God’s voice was so overwhelming that the people begged for him to stop speaking. Even Moses trembled with fear. The writer is clear: we have not come there.
But we have come, verse 22 says, to Mount Zion … and then we find a glorious barrage of images through verse 24. Coming to Mount Zion means coming to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. And in the new Jerusalem there are innumerable angels in festal gathering, that is, thousands and thousands of angels together in joyful celebration. And with them is the universal church gathered as one. This is quite the scene already, but then the writer tells us we’ve come to God the Father, he who is invisible and dwells in unapproachable light, who is the judge of all. In his presence are the “spirits of the righteous made perfect,” likely referring to the Old Testament saints who’ve been cheering us on. Finally, verse 24 says we’ve come to Jesus himself, the mediator of this new and better covenant, whose blood speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.
We have come here, the writer says, but in what way?
As we often see in the New Testament, this is the “already/not-yet” wonder of our salvation. We have already come here by our conversion. By faith, we’ve been delivered from the domain of darkness and transferred into the kingdom of Christ. Heaven is indeed our home, and this glorious company of verses 22–24 is where we belong. And at the same time, we’re not yet there completely. We’re still in this world for now, fighting the fight of faith, running our race with endurance. The “not yet” tells us to keep running, and the “already” encourages us that we can run well. So the writer says a few verses later:
Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire. (Hebrews 12:28–29)
We are called to gratitude and worship, a life wholly given to God today, and destined to be with God forever. A life centered on Jesus Christ, he whose face our eyes will at last behold. Only because of Jesus can sinners like us come into the presence of a holy God and not be consumed. Because of Jesus we come forgiven. We come as God’s children. We have come already, and it’s where this journey takes us.
