Unshakeable

Good morning, CTK. My name is Chuck, and I'm a campus minister for Reformed University Fellowship—a campus ministry at NC State that's a part of this church's denomination. I'm a long-time member, so I know many of you well. But if I don't know you, let me add my greeting to you and would love to get to know you better.

Today, we're going to continue looking at the book of Hebrews, which really revolves around a question that I want you all to consider: Would you trade this for this?

The reality is that there is a part in almost all of us that wants to say yes. But you still have this, don't you? A lot of people are considering that. In a recent survey, 38% of smartphone users said that they're seriously considering the downgrade. But yet, they don't pull that trigger. Why is it that they are like this?

It's because there are problems that come with our smartphone—the constant pings feel like they're pulling us from being present, away from the people we are with, toward something ephemeral and absent. We have trouble with mental health that is connected to this constant scrolling on social media. We see all the problems and wonder if this is the better way. But the reality is that most people that consider changing never follow through. Even those that do go back to a dumb phone end up turning back to their smartphone because there's something greater about it that they just can't let go.

Now, I'm asking you to think about this not as a ploy to have you consider your technology use, but to invite you into the question that the book of Hebrews is about.

The book of Hebrews is about a group of people that have been following Jesus and are beginning to experience problems, persecution, and pressure against them for their faith. This is causing them to wonder if they should turn away from following Jesus and go back to the old life they had in Judaism. They're considering a downgrade. But the author of Hebrews writes this book because he doesn't want the people to turn away from what they have in Jesus, but to hold on to the good that they've experienced in him.

You may not be here considering whether you should switch from Christianity to Judaism. But I do wonder if you sometimes have that same inclination, that same question. As you look at the circumstances of your life, do you wonder: Wouldn't it just be easier to quietly stop following Jesus? Where I no longer have to feel guilt for this sin that everyone else thinks I should just embrace. When I no longer have to spend my Sunday mornings wrestling the little ones into worship but could go have brunch with my friends. When it seems like all the efforts I'm giving toward this faith aren't really bringing me where I want to go.

When you see those problems and challenges in your life, do you wonder: Would it be better to turn back? Would it be better to stop listening to Jesus?

That is the question that the author is answering in this passage. That is the question he wants you to consider because what he wants you to see is that what you would trade away is so much better than anything that you could gain if you were to stop following Jesus. Because what you have in him is an unshakable life that you would never want to lose.

Today, as we look at this passage, our outline is this: a greater choice for a greater voice.

But keeping it in mind, I'm going to invite you, as is our custom, to read aloud God's word. You can find it behind me, or if you'd like to follow along in the pew Bible, page ten sixty-nine. But let us now read together God's word—the word of God for the people of God.

For you have not come to what could be touched, to a blazing fire, to darkness, gloom and storm, to the blast of a trumpet and the sound of words. Those who heard it begged that not another word be spoken to them for they could not bear what was commanded. If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned. The appearance was so terrifying that Moses said, "I am trembling with fear." Instead, you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to myriads of angels in festive gathering, to the assembly of the firstborn whose names are written in heaven, to God who is the judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, to Jesus mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood which says better things than the blood of Abel. See to it that you do not reject the one who speaks. — Hebrews 12:18-25

For they did not escape when they rejected him who warned them on earth—even less when we, if we turn away from him who warns us from heaven. His voice shook the earth at that time, but now he has promised, "Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heaven." Yet once more indicates the removal of what can be shaken—that is, created things—so that what is not shaken might remain. Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful. By it, we may serve God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire. Amen. The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of our Lord stands forever.

It's right for us to pause and pray that he would bless it. Play along with me in your hearts. Father, we do thank you for the blessing of your word and that you speak in real ways through it. And we pray that you would give us eyes to see and ears to hear all your glory and beauty in this passage. We pray this for Jesus' sake. Amen.

Two Mountains

So this passage holds out to us a choice. And the way that the author does it is by doing a direct contrast of two mountains. And the contrast is seen in the fact that each mountain has seven descriptions that are given about that mountain to help you to taste, to experience what it's like to enter into God's presence. Each mountain is a glimpse of what it looks like to come into the presence of God in light of a mediator.

And so the first mountain that he gives us is drawn from the experience of the people of Israel when they were in the wilderness. As we see in Exodus chapter nineteen and twenty, when the Israelites had left Egypt, they arrived at Mount Sinai. And there in the wilderness, God says, I'm going to come and I'm going to meet with my people. But there was preparation that would take in order for God's presence to come. And so God told Moses to set up a perimeter all around Mount Sinai to make a line that no creature could cross. And as verse 20 points out, that perimeter was one that had a death threat around it. That even if an animal were to cross that perimeter and touch the mountain, they would be stoned. And this gives us a glimpse of what it means to enter into God's presence in this first mountain.

And perhaps that seems harsh—that God would establish this perimeter and there'd be a threat of death to touch the mountain. And you're wondering, is God perhaps insecure? Does he need a security detail to protect him from the people? No. That's not why God sets the perimeter. It's not to protect himself from the people, but to protect the people from himself. Because to enter into God's presence in this picture is to enter into something that would overwhelm you, consume you, undo you.

Now, let me give you a glimpse of what that could look like. Perhaps some of you were very good in math in high school—like you were the top of your class all throughout high school. And then you get to college and you're sitting in calculus three, and you're struggling through that first problem. But then this girl gets up after twenty minutes, she turns in her exam and she walks out with confidence. How do you feel at that moment? Exactly. Pretty terrible, right? You thought you were great until you realized who actually is great. And you feel humbled. You feel a little bit smaller.

Now, that's a touch of what it is like for a human to enter into the presence of God. To enter into the presence of God is to realize just how ungodly great you are. The apostle Paul puts it this way: God dwells in unapproachable light, whom no man has seen or can see. In other words, his glory is so immense, it's so remarkable, it's so compelling, it's so unseeable, that when we catch a glimpse of it, we feel like we should die.

This is what we actually use in our liturgy from Isaiah chapter six. When the great prophet Isaiah saw a glimpse of the glory of God, he says:

Woe to me, I am ruined. Woe to me, I am undone.

To be around the infinite light of God's perfect holiness is to realize just how dark your soul is, just how dark your life actually is. Which is the interesting way that we see this described in verse 19. Look at how the presence of God is described. It's a blazing fire. But what accompanies that blazing fire? It's not what you would expect, right? The blazing fire descends onto the mountain, but what comes with it? Darkness. Gloom. Isn't that the opposite of what you would expect if you've ever been around a fire? You know the fire casts light, it casts warmth, but the presence of God—this fire descends on the mountain and there's darkness and there's gloom.

Now, why is it? Because that is what it's like to be around the unapproachable light of God. It's like when you've been out on a sunny day and then you walk into a dark room and it seems like the room is so much darker—until your eyes adjust. Why? It's because of the contrast with the brightness that you have left.

This is what it's like to experience God's glory, to be in his presence. It reveals just how dark you are. To be in the presence of his power reveals just how weak you are. And this is why, as verse 19 points out, when God speaks, they say, "I cannot bear to hear that voice."

Haven't you ever wanted to hear God's voice? Haven't you ever thought that hearing God's voice might deal with your doubts or your questions or concerns or give you confidence? But here we see in this passage what happens all throughout Scripture. When people actually hear God's voice, they tremble, they fear, and they say, "I don't want to hear it again."

What this mountain is showing us is the reality of what it's like to see and hear the living God. To see and to hear him as he is, as we are, creates fear, creates trembling, creates a sense of darkness and gloom and a tempest, a storm.

But the scariest thing about this first image, this first mountain, is not all the images as terrifying as they are, but what we see happen to the mediator, to Moses. Moses was the mediator between God and man. He was the one who would go and speak God's word to the people. He was the one who helped the people feel like they could come and be safe around God. He is the mediator. But what does it tell us about Moses when he sees the glory of God? He trembles. He's afraid.

Think with me what that would be like. Let's say you go on a field trip to the nuclear power plant that's just south of our city. Your tour is being led by the safety inspector. It's going great, you're enjoying it, but then you begin to notice the safety inspector start to look around, a little bit confused. He starts checking his phone almost incessantly. You begin to feel a little bit of sweat build up on his brow. Then all of a sudden, he takes off for the door. What do you do? You run. You try to get out that door faster than him. Why? Because if the mediator is afraid, how much more should you be?

That's what the author of Hebrews is wanting you to taste. In the presence of God, if the mediator, the go-between, the one who is there to keep you safe, is trembling, how much more should you?

What he's doing in all these things is saying that this is what your life is like if Jesus is not your mediator. This is what your reality is like if Jesus is not the one who keeps you safe before God.

The Second Mountain

And that's why there's a beautiful word that the author gives to us. In verse 22, instead. Because this is what Christians have instead of their experience of the presence of God being like the first mountain. Instead, they have the experience of God of the second mountain.

And so he describes the seven blessings that come with this second mountain, which he tells us is actually Mount Zion, which is a reference to Jerusalem, which was situated on top of this mountain. He's saying the second mountain that the people of God can be brought to is into the presence of Jerusalem, but not the earthly Jerusalem—the heavenly Jerusalem.

The author here is saying that instead of a mountain where God comes and visits his people, in the second picture, you come to live in the presence of God. Instead of God making a quick stop to say hello, your new address, your new home is in his presence.

And instead of the darkness and gloom that we see in the first mountain, what is the sense, the feel, the existential experience of being in the presence of God? Verse 22 tells us it's a myriads of angels and festive gathering. That word "festive gathering" in the Greek is the word actually used to describe the Olympics. It's a nationwide festival. One commentator—I love how he puts it—he says that this word means a rager, an all-out party.

When I think about this image, the thing that comes to my mind is what happened when NC State won the game that put them into the Final Four back in 2024. My family got in the car and we drove down to see the bell tower lit up in red, and it was pandemonium, and it was beautiful. There were cars honking, and people were more out of the car than in the car. The sidewalks were crowded. Vuvuzelas everywhere. People were freestyle rapping about NC State all over the place. It was beautiful.

That is what this is describing. An intense joy that everyone is caught up in, an eruption of excitement to be in the presence of God. This mountain is a rager like that. So different than darkness and gloom, but a delightful rager.

He continues and wants those who are reading this to know that this is their forever and permanent home. So he describes why they belong there in verse 23, saying that all those who are gathering with the angels are the assembly of the firstborn whose names have been written in heaven.

The firstborn in this culture received everything. They had all the rights and the privileges of the family name and the fullness of the inheritance would go to them—and it was something that was guaranteed for them. The author says that here in the second mountain, all those who dwell there have the right of the firstborn. They belong there. They even own it.

And we know that this is something that can't be taken away because, as the author says, the name is written down in heaven. It's like when you don't just get that acceptance letter to college, but you step onto campus knowing your class schedule, knowing where you live—you are enrolled. And that's the sense that the author is describing: that it's not just that you've been accepted into heaven, but even now, you are enrolled. You are present. It is where you belong. And this is something that you cannot lose, the author says, because it comes with the fact that no longer are you worried about your own darkness. No longer are you worried about your own sins or things that could take you away from God's kindness and love.

Verse 23

Because he says that it is filled with the spirits of the people who have been made perfect. The spirits of righteous people made perfect in the presence of the judge of all. What a sharp contrast—that even around the judge of all, you don't break a sweat, you don't worry, because you have been made perfect. It's not that you made yourself perfect, but you have been made perfect, and so you can stand there before the judge without any thought, without any worry, without any fear that someone's gonna kick you out of the party, that someone's gonna discover you actually don't belong, that something's gonna be dredged up from your past that means you have to leave. No. Because you will have been made perfect and you will be righteous.

Now, the author gives us these pictures of what this second experience is like because he wants you to long to have that, and he wants you to long to have it so that you hold on to what gets you there. He wants you to long to have it so that you hold on to the voice that invites you.

The Mediator Makes All the Difference

Because the difference between these two pictures is not that God has changed. It's not that God in the Old Testament was kind of like a mean dad and now he's doing the gentle parenting thing. It's not that God has changed. And it's not that you have changed. You're still the same person of darkness and gloom. But what changes is the mediator. The first picture—what stands between you and that God is Moses. But in the second picture, what stands between you and that God is Jesus. That makes all the difference in the world.

And this is what the author wants us to understand. She wants to show us the power of Jesus as our mediator and the power of what his sacrifice does to us. Because when Jesus' sacrifice is for you, when Jesus' sacrifice is on you, then the consuming fire that comes doesn't bring darkness and gloom, but warmth and light. That when your mediator is Jesus, you don't have to fear in the presence of God, but you can rejoice in the presence of God.

And so in verse 24, the author points to how Jesus's sacrifice was better by mentioning the sprinkling. You see, after the great experience of the people in the wilderness at Mount Sinai, Moses comes down from the mountain and he sprinkles blood onto them—a blood that shows that you are accepted into God's covenant and that because of that, you are okay.

But you know what the problem with that sprinkling was? It didn't last. It didn't endure. It had to be done again and again and again. And so think about that: if what keeps you safe has to be regularly repeated, how safe do you really feel in the presence of God? You only feel as safe and secure as long as that sacrifice seems to hold, but it doesn't seem to last. And so you don't really feel that safe.

But what the author of Hebrews wants us to see is that the sprinkling that comes from Jesus is different. The sprinkling that comes from Jesus is not like Moses—a temporary sprinkling to make them know that they are okay for the moment—but a forever sprinkling that causes the people to know that once and for all they are safe. Once and for all they are secure.

Because what Jesus did in his sacrifice was not what Moses did. Moses came down from the mountain. He came descending from God's presence carrying the law. He came descending from God's presence to apply the blood to the people below, away from the mountain.

But what does Jesus do as our mediator? He doesn't go down the mountain, he goes up. He goes up to the top of Mount Zion, up to the Hill of Calvary, and there he sees the darkness. He's at the cross at noon—the brightest moment of day—and darkness descends over the entirety of the scene of the cross. He experiences the darkness. He experiences the gloom. The direction is reversed. Moses goes down, but Jesus goes up.

And as he hangs there, the consuming fire comes down upon him. And that darkness and that gloom. And he stands in the fire and is consumed for us. And because he took the consuming fire on himself, we no longer have to fear it. You see, that's the difference between Jesus and Moses. Moses saw the fire and provided a sacrifice that would help the people to feel safe around that fire but Jesus took that fire onto himself to bring us into the fire. So that we are not forever held away from God's presence with a perimeter that says, do not cross or you will die. But Jesus went into that presence and died so that we can be brought in.

This is what the author wants you to realize that you have in Jesus. You have in him not just a great teacher, not just a great example, but you have a mediator that has forever made you safe in the consuming fire of God's holiness. So that what you experience around that holiness is not darkness and gloom but warmth and light.

And he wants us to understand that this is something that endures so he uses an analogy to draw out how Jesus's sacrifice continues to care for us in verse 24. When he says that his blood says better things than the blood of Abel. This is a flashback to the book of Genesis where Cain and Abel brothers end up in a horrible situation where Cain murders his brother. And Abel, the text says, had his blood speak out to God crying out for justice. And God, the judge of all things had to come and bring justice against Cain to honor the blood of Abel.

But the author of Hebrews said, likewise, Jesus' blood speaks. Likewise, Jesus' blood calls God to act. But Abel's blood was always calling for justice. But Jesus' blood is always proclaiming forgiveness. That we don't have to fear the judge of the universe because we are the souls made perfect by his righteousness. And the author uses the present tense to describe that blood is still speaking even now. It's still speaking to that sin that you have in your mind that you just can't really feel forgiven for. The sin that you feel is an indelible stain on your soul that means that God will never really love you fully. But there'll always be a little bit of distance between you. His blood does not condemn you to God, but it commends you to God.

Charles Wesley puts it this way in a hymn. He says:

Five bleeding wounds he bears received on Calvary. They pour effectual prayers, they strongly plead for me. Forgive him, oh, forgive him cry nor let that ransomed sinner die.

That's capturing what Jesus is sprinkling blood is like. It's a constant intercession on your behalf that cries out to the God of the universe, the judge of all things that you are fully and forever forgiven. And death shall never be what is due to you in the presence of God, but only warmth and only life.

But this comes from the voice of the mediator and this is why in verses 25 through 27, he says, this is the voice that you want to continue to hear. Do you want a different voice speaking for you? Do you want a different voice to represent you? Don't you want this voice? But listen to how he describes it.

See to it then that you do not reject the one who speaks. For if they did not escape when they rejected him who warned them on earth, even less will we if we turn away from him who warns us from heaven. His voice shook the earth at that time but now he has promised, yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens. — Hebrews 12:25-27

Whenever God's voice speaks, it shakes things and shaking throughout the Old Testament is connected to God being the judge of the universe that his voice and his power exposes. Being around his holiness and his greatness exposes everything that is not built upon the foundation of him. We see this in Isaiah when Isaiah sees him. We see it in Amos. We see it in Joel. The prophets always see a shaking coming, bringing justice and undoing anything that is not built on God.

But this verse speaks of a shaking still to come. This verse which is a reference to Malachi is saying that there is a shaking yet to come that will still shake everything. And the author wants you to consider this because he wants you to say, what is it that I am listening to? And when that shaking voice comes, will it undo what I am trusting? Will it undo what I am hearing? Will it undo the things that I think can bring me security, that can bring me comfort, that can bring me joy?

The author of Hebrews is wanting in particular to the people of Hebrews who are considering whether or not they want to follow Jesus to say, stop and think about the things that are causing you to question Jesus. As you're experiencing these persecutions and these hardships, you're experiencing things that will be ultimately shaken by God's voice. But are you going to allow those experiences to preach to you a message that says, leave Jesus?

Are you trading for those things that the shaking will show are not secure for what you have in Christ, which he calls a kingdom that cannot be shaken? A life that is secure. Something that gives you confidence not just in the moment of your circumstances, but for the totality of your eternal existence.

You see, what the author of Hebrews realizes is that when we trade away Jesus for anything else, we are trading what is unshakable for what can be shaken. We're trading away what has already been judged by God and proven acceptable to things that will be judged by God and proven insufficient.

The author of Hebrews wants to see that holding on to the mediator, listening to his voice is going to invite into your life shaking—just as the people that this letter was written to were experiencing in their life. But what he wants us to understand is that all of that shaking in the life of a Christian—it's not a judgment. It's not a condemnation. It's not a way that God is shaking people from him, but it's a shaking to him. It's a way that he shakes out of our hands all the things that we would trust in or listen to other than himself. So that in the end, all that we are left with is what will never be taken away from us. So that as we approach the consuming fire of God, all that it is doing is refining away all that is dross so that all that is left is gold.

And so the author wants us to be thoughtful about continuing to listen to Jesus's voice even when that shakes into our life and challenges our idols, challenges our dreams, challenges the sins that we don't want to let go of, challenges the life that we want to live—to bring our whole self into the presence of the Lord knowing that he will shake our very foundations, but not to destroy, but to refine. So that all we have left is what is truly unshakable: a life that is built on him.

Two Practices: Endurance and Worship

What does this look like? The author gives us two quick glimpses of what this looks like. The primary drive of this section of Hebrews is endurance. It's endurance when the shaking happens. It's endurance when things get hard. It's endurance to continue to listen to the voice of Jesus even when other voices are calling you to give up, saying it's too hard.

And we endure because we know the sweetness of that voice. We endure because we know the gift of that voice. We endure because that voice is the one voice in the world where we can go and have security, knowing that there's nothing that will cause that voice to change its thinking, its feeling, its expression of love for us—because it's grounded on the completed work of the mediator.

But the second thing that the author wants us to do is to worship. This is where our text ends in verse 28:

Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful. By it, we may serve God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire. — Hebrews 12:28

This passage begins with fire and it ends with fire. And the author does that to say that the beautiful thing about the picture of the first mountain is we no longer fear that fire, but we welcome it. We no longer stay away from that fire; we go towards it—for the refining, for the heat, for the warmth that it offers. And that is what we do in worship.

In worship, when we gather, what we're doing is trying to get into our hearts the greatness of God so that we can see the ungreatness of ourselves, so that we can see the glory of our mediator, of Christ. And so when we gather for worship, in a sense, it should always be a shaking as we hear the God of heaven speaking his voice into our life, shaking the foundations of our life and the hopes that we have, so that all that is left in our hearts and the voice that we are most attuned to is his voice.

The author wants us to endure with a heart of worship that doesn't fear the consuming fire but draws close.

The Picture from Revelation

I was reading in Revelation 1 recently in my own Bible reading, and there was a picture that I think encapsulates what this looks like. It's the picture of the apostle John as he encounters the glorious Jesus. And what's remarkable about it is that John—as you may remember, was the beloved disciple—and one of his last moments with Jesus is reclining up against Jesus, his head on Jesus's chest. He was close and felt safe with Jesus.

But in Revelation 1, he sees Jesus in a new way as the consuming fire who comes into his presence. And what does John do when he sees the glory of God? He falls down. He can't take it in. It's overwhelming. He worships.

But then what does Jesus do? He goes, finds John on the ground. He touches him. "Do not be afraid. It is I." He lifts him up to see him.

That is what this passage wants for us to experience: to see the glory of Jesus in a way that slays us, and then to feel him lift us up and welcome us into his glorious presence. If you see that, if you hear that, then you want to always follow that voice.

Let us pray.

Father, we thank you for your word and the way that it speaks more deeply than even our own words. And we pray that your spirit would use it to write the truths onto our heart that we're so prone to forget yet so desperately need to hear. We pray these things for Jesus' sake. Amen.