This Week’s Thoughts

‘Judas went out, and it was night’ (John 13:13). Boy, was it ever. Looking back on that fateful last supper with his Lord, John hit the nail right on the head. He remembered Judas leaving and it all clicked into place. John knew that that night had been about light vs. dark, truth vs. lies, and good vs. evil.

Judas had sat in the place of honour that night. He had broken bread with Jesus to fulfil the Scripture that says: ‘He who eats My bread has lifted up his heel against Me’ (John 13:18, Psalm 41:9). The disciples were shocked when Jesus mentioned betrayal, but Judas knew his role, and Christ confirmed it, saying: “What you do, do quickly” (John 13:27). And off Judas went, into the devil’s dark domain, morally blind, his back forever turned on the Lord of light.

But what, you ask, does this have to do with Jesus’ perfect sacrifice and the New Covenant? Well, where do you trace the New Covenant back to? Maybe Deuteronomy, where Moses saw a day when Israel will gain “a heart to understand” (29:4). Maybe you think of God saying “days are coming when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and with the people of Judah … I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people” (Jeremiah 31:31-33).

Personally, the words “New Covenant” take me to the Last Supper; to the bread and the cup. The last Passover was a demarcation line between God’s Old and New covenants. That is why Paul quoted Jesus word-for-word when he taught on the magnitude of communion to the churches (1 Corinthians 11:23-25). For believers were being brought out from under the weight of the Old Covenant and wrapped in the grace of the New.

I go to the Last Supper when I hear “New Covenant” because of Hebrews 10. As John told us, that night was about light vs. dark, good vs. evil. And is that not the picture Hebrews paints of the Old and New Covenants? For ‘the old system under the law of Moses was only a shadow, a dim preview of the good things to come, not the good things themselves’ (Hebrews 10:1).

I love films. Always have. The highpoint of my childhood weekends was visiting charity shops and being told by mum that I could buy any video less than £1. Did this mean I bought films with an age-rating above my own? You betcha. But mum didn’t seem to mind, and so my love of film was born. A bonus were the trailers that played before the film itself. They were previews of good things to come, but as intriguing and entertaining as they were, they paled in comparison to the feature film that mum’s precious pound had bought me.

So, the Last Supper was about two kinds of shadow. The first was Satan’s shadow, the one that overtook Judas and thought it could overcome Christ. The second was the shadow of the law. This shadow was cast upon the wall for Jews, much like Plato’s allegory of the cave. But, like the prisoners in Plato’s tale, if only the Jews turned from mere shadows, they would behold the true source, the blinding sun that is the light of Christ.

Communion guides us to the Light. We eat the bread and drink the wine in remembrance of Christ’s perfect sacrifice. No longer are we bound to shadow; to animal sacrifices that could not save but reminded Jews of their need to be cleansed (Hebrews 10:3-4). No, we now abide in Christ. We remember Him always. We know our need and receive salvation as a gift (Ephesians 2:8-9), knowing Jesus kept the law on our behalf to welcome us into a New Covenant and a new age of grace.

The post Hebrews – Jesus Compared to the Sacrifices and Covenant first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

I saw a film once that was loosely based on Greek myth. It wasn’t particularly good, and I can’t remember much of the plot, but there are two things from it that I can recall: that it starred Liam Neeson as Zeus, and that he was dying. And it was the reason that he was dying (Zeus, not Neeson) that stuck in my mind more than anything. According to the film, the source of his immortality was human prayer, and people had stopped praying to him.

You do not need to be well versed in Greek myths to know that the lowercase ‘gods’ that muck about in them could not be further removed from the one true God, but this addition on the part of the filmmakers makes them even more alien in concept. To require the work of mortals to continue being divine calls into question just how divine they could be in the first place.

For God does not need our prayers to go on being God. Instead, He hears our prayers for our benefit out of love, not necessity. The same goes for the sacrifices of the old covenant with the Israelites. ‘Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,’ writes the psalmist, for He does not want these things in themselves, and ‘burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require’ (Psalm 40:6). The sentiment is echoed in Isaiah: ‘“The multitude of your sacrifices—what are they to me?” says the LORD. “I have more than enough of burnt offerings, of rams and the fat of fattened animals; I have no pleasure in the blood of bulls and lambs and goats’ (Isaiah 1:11).

This shouldn’t suggest that the sacrifices of the old covenant were wrong, or contrary to God’s will. He commanded them, after all, and laid out the ceremonial law in great detail for a reason. They provided atonement (albeit provisionally) for the people in a manner that showed them the severity and cost of their sins, and reminded them of their God and what He had done for them. The covenant was made for their benefit, out of God’s love for them. The problem lay in the people.

The people, like the psalmist, continually needed lifting ‘out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire’ (Psalm 40:2) for they were surrounded by their iniquities: ‘my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see. They are more than the hairs of my head’ (Psalm 40:12). They broke the covenant in spite of God’s faithfulness (Jeremiah 31:32), and the sacrifices were made out of habit. A tax, almost, that had to be made to supposedly appease the LORD.

How telling it is that it is easier to make so-called sacrifices and follow detailed ceremony than it is to effect genuine change to the wayward heart. For it is genuine repentance and obedience that God wants for us. To be able to say: ‘I desire to do your will, O my God; your law is within my heart’ (Psalm 40:8). Not for God’s benefit, but for ours.

And so through Jeremiah, God promised a new covenant, unlike the first, whereby He would incline His people to their duty: ‘I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts’ (Jeremiah 31:33). The law would no longer be merely external but internal, and they would all not only know the law but ‘[k]now the LORD’ (Jeremiah 31:34). Do we not have a helper in the Holy Spirit for achieving this end?

And in this new covenant, God said: ‘I will forgive their wickedness and remember their sins no more’ (Jeremiah 31:34), because He was going to provide a sacrifice that was perfect and all sufficient. Not for His benefit, but for ours.

The post Hebrews – Sacrifice and Covenant first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

God is good all the time, and all the time God is good.

Goodness is an essential characteristic of God. He is not evil, nor can He be tempted with evil (James 1:13). One way that God made this goodness known to Israel was by forbidding judges from perverting justice (Exodus 23). And to humanity as a whole, God is so good that He sustains the saved and unsaved alike: “He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteousness” (Matthew 5:45).

Though God is the ultimate good, we are all guilty of seeking His glory before His goodness. We want to see His might, just like Moses, who feared leading Israel and told God: “If Your presence does not go with us, do not lead us up from here … I pray You, show me Your glory!” (Exodus 33:15-18). Yes, God’s glorious power means He can do anything, but He wills to do what is good.

So, having displayed His glorious power against Pharaoh, parted the Red Sea, and led Israel safely to Sinai, God cut a covenant with His people. The Lord of heaven and earth, the creator of time and space, chose a slave nation, freed them, nursed them in the desert, all so He might make Himself known to them. And how did Israel respond when Moses went up the mountain to receive the Law? They ‘assembled about Aaron and said to him, “Arise, make us gods who will go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up from the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him” (Exodus 32:1).

When Moses returned, his reaction was severe. He smashed the 10 Commandments, ground the golden calf to dust, and forced Israel to drink their abomination. But when Moses went back up Sinai to beg forgiveness, God shocked him and responded with grace, saying: “Whoever has sinned against Me, I will blot him out of My book. But now go, guide the people where I told you. Behold, My angel shall go before you” (Exodus 32:33-34). Even after their betrayal, God refused to clean house and find a new people.

Understandably, Moses now had big doubts about the road ahead. The stiff-necked treachery of Israel was no small concern. This brings us to an all-important request: ‘Then Moses said, “I pray You, show me Your glory!” (Exodus 33:18).

Moses was desperate, and God was kind. He went from promising to send an angel to telling Moses that His very presence would go with Israel. But it still wasn’t enough. Moses was broken. He needed to see God’s glory, and boy did God show it … just not how Moses expected. God’s glory came with this declaration: “I Myself will make all My goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim the name of Yahweh before you; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and I will show compassion on whom I will show compassion” (Exodus 33:19).

God showed His glory alright. He did it by revealing His goodness, His grace, and His unmerited compassion. Glory in Hebrew means heft and honour. It describes a weighty reputation, a vast wealth, or an untold splendour. But God’s glory is different and unique. God’s glory is tied to His divine kindness on lowly mankind.

This revelation wasn’t what Moses expected or even wanted, but it’s certainly what he needed. God reminded Moses, Israel, and all the redeemed of all the ages that His identity – His very name! – centres upon His mercy. We did not earn our salvation. Like ancient Israel, we were the least of people and the worst of sinners. Then God passed by us and said: “Live. Live! Come out of sin and be made alive in Christ!” And for that we are eternally grateful.

The post Remembering What God Has Done first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

When Psalm 110 declares the coming Messiah to be ‘a priest forever’ (Psalm 110:4), an important distinction is made, one which the author of Hebrews sees as significant enough to quote and repeat multiple times between chapters five and seven. The Messiah, whom we are blessed to know as Jesus Christ, is ‘a priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek’ (Psalm 110:4, my emphasis). But why is this significant? We looked at who Melchizedek was last week, but why is it important that Jesus be of his order?

Well, once upon a time, there was a girl called Phoebe. Phoebe (for the purpose of this analogy) was a good student, but there was one subject that she excelled at: chemistry. It fascinated her completely; studying and understanding how atoms and molecules and solutions worked behind the scenes of everything. It was clear to everyone that whatever career she chose later down the line, chemistry would lead her to it and be a large part of it.

One day though, on walking into the school laboratory and taking her usual seat, she noticed something was off. The chemistry teacher’s white coat was hanging on the back of the door, but the chemistry teacher himself wasn’t there. Instead, behind his desk, clad in tracksuit and skimming quickly through a textbook, was the PE teacher. When everyone had come into the room, he stood up and explained himself.

He was to be their substitute teacher. Phoebe’s spirits sank.

Over the next few weeks, several substitutes came and taught her chemistry class. Apparently, there was something of a teacher shortage going on, and science teachers in particular were becoming very hard to find. So Phoebe simply had to put up with it. And to give the substitutes their due, they got the job done, and in most case were clearly trying their best. But they were far from ideal. They each had their own interests, and their chemistry knowledge was only textbook deep at best.

But at last, the headmaster said that there was good news. He came into the laboratory before the lesson began one day, and told the class that they needn’t be dismayed much longer, because they were soon going to have someone new.

‘And I promise you,’ he said, pausing for dramatic effect, ‘that they are the best substitute teacher that ever was.’

Would you feel overly encouraged by that? It would be an improvement certainly, but still not quite what was needed.

Every analogy is flawed to some extent, and the above is no different. But, in a loosely similar sort of way, Jesus couldn’t just be another priest in the order of Aaron. As perfect a priest as He is and would have made in that order, besting all who came before, it was a different order entirely that was required. The author of Hebrews writes: ‘[i]f perfection could have been attained through the Levitical priesthood […] why was there still need for another priest to come—one in the order of Melchizedek, not in the order of Aaron?’ (Hebrews 7:11).

An order was required that was better than the order of Aaron. An order was required that predated the order of Aaron. An order was required that had, in fact, blessed the order of Aaron before it began. An order was required that was based on someone who had ‘become a priest not on the basis of a regulation as to his ancestry but on the basis of the power of an indestructible life’ (Hebrews 7:16).

The promise of Psalm 110 was not merely for a better version of what God’s people already had, but for a greater thing altogether. For a priest who was better, a king of righteousness and peace, who brought the bread and wine of a new covenant.

But although Jesus Christ is ‘in the order of Melchizedek’ (Hebrews 5:6), and Melchizedek by all accounts was a good priest and king, Melchizedek himself was but a shadow of Him. Melchizedek was like Jesus, not the other way around; Jesus wasn’t fitting into his mould.

Melchizedek was but a chemistry teacher, but Jesus Christ is a full-blown chemist.

The post Hebrews – Jesus compared to the Priests and Melchizedek first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

When we talk about priests today, we think of different things. Some picture a man in a robe or a backwards collar who goes around blessing people, passing out religious elements, or performing certain rituals. But if you’re currently reading Leviticus – or if you’ve skipped ahead in Hebrews – you probably picture a Jewish priest, with his many duties of service and sacrifice.

Priests today are offbeat, existing in a religious world all their own. And that goes for all priests, be they Catholic, Buddhist, Shinto, Hindu, or even Zoroastrian. But to Israelites, priests were exalted and intrinsic to the faith. Our word for priest comes from the Latin pontifix. Taken apart, pontifix means bridge-builder, and this is how Jews saw their priests. They were descendants of Aaron whose work bridged the gap from fallen man to transcendent God.

To Jews, religion was access to God. And since they couldn’t go directly to God, they needed a mediator. Priests were those mediators. Those middlemen who received tithes and sacrifices like doves or lambs, then offered them to God to cover sin. “For without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness” (Hebrews 9:22). But we’re getting aheads of ourselves, and of Hebrews.

With such importance assigned to Jewish priests, we could be forgiven for thinking priests don’t arrive in the Bible until Leviticus. But we would be wrong. In fact, the first priest in Scripture is the illusive and illustrative Melchizedek, “the king of Salem and a priest of God Most High” (Genesis 14:18). This Melchizedek appears then disappears just as fast. He brings out bread and wine to Abram and blesses the great patriarch at a moment of triumph. And in return, Abram gives this mysterious kingly priest a tenth of all his war-spoils. End of story…but not quite.

God saw fit to recall Melchizedek not only in Psalm 110 – describing Messiah who was to come – but in even greater detail in Hebrews 5, 6 and 7. Now, if Hebrews succeeds in proving Jesus is a superior priest in every way, it behoves us to see the ways in which even Melchizedek surpassed the Levitical priesthood. To do this, let’s compare and contrast.

While Aaron’s priesthood was national and strictly Judaistic, Melchizedek represented all men as he predated Aaron. Second, Levitical priests were under the rule of Israel’s largely awful kings, never being kings themselves. Third, Aaron’s priesthood did not offer permanent peace or righteousness, but a perpetual need to sacrifice. And fourth and fifth, the priesthood was hereditary and timed. It didn’t matter how noble or crooked you were, Aaron’s heirs served from the age of 25 to 50, then it was forced retirement.

Are you starting to see it? Melchizedek’s priesthood was greater in every way! This king-priest was universal. He ruled and offered worship. He was righteous in name and deed. He had no need to offer sacrifice. And he had no lineage to speak of, no beginning or end to his reign or work on the earth. To ancient Jews, these truths were a brief curiosity sequestered to Genesis 14 and Psalm 110. But to New Covenant believers coming out of Judaism and into Christ, such facts meant the world.

The fact that ancient an king-priest superseded God’s ordained Levitical priest put Jesus into a whole new focus. The true King of Righteousness – Jesus Christ – was here. He came with bread and wine, asking only for tithes of faith. In return, He gives eternal life, not just to Abram’s seed, but to all who trust Him. And “this High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive His mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most” (Hebrews 4:15-16).

The post Hebrews – The Priests and Melchizedek first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

It is with great solemnity that I must deliver this news. If you haven’t yet heard it, I recommend that you find a chair and steel yourself before going further. Perhaps pop the kettle on too.

God is not an Englishman.

It’s true, I’m afraid. As much as I am hoping that there will be cream teas, steam trains, and Exmoor-like rolling hills in Heaven, the King of Heaven does not hail from Ol’ Blighty. And Pentecost, as I see it, is about as clear enough evidence as you can get.

Humour me for a moment, and try to imagine an English Pentecost.

The Holy Spirit coming up to the door to tap on it gently, and perhaps make a polite cough or two until the apostles notice He is there. The crowd, upon hearing words in all of their native languages, thinking little more than, ‘How odd and peculiar,’ with a shrug. Peter, standing up sheepishly to say, ‘Excuse me, sorry to cause a fuss, but if you wouldn’t mind too much, I really think you ought to hear a bit about this Jesus fellow.’ Then, finally, the crowds responding with a collective, ‘Well, thank you very much. You’ve given us a lot of food for thought. But we really ought to be on our way. Why don’t we come back at the same time next week?’

It doesn’t really have the same gusto behind it, does it?

The birth of the church in reality was anything but reserved, and Luke makes sure we know it.

The gathered apostles, their hearts and minds perhaps still reeling from the roller-coaster of emotions that was witnessing Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension, ‘[s]uddenly [hear] a sound like the blowing of a violent wind’ and see ‘tongues of fire’ (Acts 2:2-3). The crowd outside is in ‘bewilderment’, ‘[u]tterly amazed’ and ‘perplexed’ (Acts 2:6, 7, 12). Peter and the eleven, who had not so long ago been hiding in fear of Jews, now stand to deliver the gospel to them. And those who hear it do not merely take on board the news, but are ‘cut to the heart’ and baptised, and ‘[e]veryone was filled with awe’ (Acts 2:37, 43).

When the Holy Spirit moves, the scene is raw and powerful and unapologetically so. Very un-English indeed.

However, though God is not an Englishman, He is most certainly for the English, to which Pentecost again is about as clear enough evidence as you can get.

Though the crowd was made up of members of ‘every nation under heaven’ (Acts 2:5), each one heard their own language being spoken. In quoting Joel, Peter says: ‘Your sons and your daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit’ (Acts 2:17-18). In other words: ‘everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved’ (Acts 2:21).

Everyone.

If modern English existed in the first century, and a speaker of it somehow stumbled their way into Jerusalem on that day, I have little doubt they would have heard it from the apostles’ mouths as well. And just to make things absolutely crystal, Peter finishes with this: ‘The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call.’ (Acts 2:39)

Kettle boiled yet?

The post Pentecost Sunday 2026 first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

The Bible tells of our rosy start, our sudden fall, and God’s plan to return us to His Promised Land. We all bear God’s image, but we are all ego-centric. Most people try and pave their own way back to Eden, but none can succeed. God alone draws the map. He alone wins us a ‘city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God’ (Hebrews 11:10).

The Promised Land sworn to Abraham and his offspring was and is a physical place. The first 5 books of Scripture end with a longing to return and inhabit God’s promise, but the New Testament reveals that the Promised Land is also more than dirt and borders.

By the time of Christ, Jews prayed for a Messiah to rid their land of Rome. God had created it with care, telling Moses it was “a good and spacious land…flowing with milk and honey” (Exodus 3:8). So the same leaders who were perplexed by Jesus also loved the land and wanted Messiah to reconquer, renew, and return Israel to its rightful heirs: them. Only Jesus saw things different. He saw the truth behind the truth; the eternal kingdom behind the earthly land.

The apostles pondered this as they marked one last Passover with their Lord. The first Passover had been a prelude to Israel’s exodus out of Egypt and into Canaan; out of bondage and into God’s promise. So hopes were high that night in the upper room. Then Jesus dashed them. Once Judas left to betray Him, Christ got down to business, saying: “Dear children, I will be with you only a little longer. And as I told the Jewish leaders, you will search for Me, but you can’t come where I am going” (John 13:33).

What?! The apostles were shocked. Naturally, Peter spoke up first, asking: “‘Lord, where are You going?’ And Jesus replied, ‘You can’t go with Me now, but you will follow Me later’” (John 13:36). How could this be? Wasn’t Jesus – the greater Joshua – meant to claim the Promised Land for His own? Apparently not…

Now, Jesus was not breaking God’s promises. But He was giving a seismic reframing of God’s plan, so He buoyed the disciples up, saying: “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in Me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home. If it were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? Where everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with Me where I am” (John 14:1-3).

The I AM sayings in John are demarcation lines between old and new covenants. They neither destroy nor diminish God’s promises to Abraham, but they do point to eternity. What Scripture hints at, Jesus fulfils! He is the bread of life that feeds us as we journey through the wilderness and into heaven. He is the light of the world that acts as our beacon. He is the door we pass through into the new creation. He is the good shepherd that lays down His life for the flock, dying for our eternal inheritance.

Thomas gets bad press for doubting, but at least he spoke up at the Last Supper when others just trembled. Thomas sought assurance, knowing Jesus loved him enough to give it. He disagreed with Jesus that the disciples knew where He was going, saying: “‘Lord, we do not know where You are going. How do we know the way?’ Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but through Me’” (John 14:5-6). What a mic-drop moment!

Jesus is not one way among many to the Promised Land. Christ is and always will be the only way! As Paul says: “All of God’s promises have been fulfilled in Christ with a resounding ‘Yes!’ And through Christ, our ‘Amen’ (which means ‘Yes’) ascends to God for His glory” (2 Corinthians 1:20). The Promised Land awaits. It truly does. You only have to trust and follow Jesus and He will meet you there.

The post Hebrews – Jesus Compared to Moses & the Promised Land first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

Do you ever hear a sermon and it awakens a new reality within you? It’s like a key going into a lock. It turns, then something true and wonderful opens up.

I have had this experience several times. One time jumped out at me when I saw this week’s sermon was on Moses and the Promised Land. The message that it brought to mind was about the ending of each book in the Torah. It may not sound like anything special, but stick with me.

Kevin DeYoung had been preaching as a guest pastor at our old church in Colorado. I remember him asking us: “What do the endings of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy all have in common?”

The congregation – including me – went quiet. Pins could have dropped and gone off like gunshots. Then Kevin gave us the answer. “Each book of the Torah,” he said, “ends by looking toward the Promised Land.”

Well fancy that. He was right. How could I have missed it?

Genesis ends with Joseph’s plea for his bones to one day return to Canaan. Exodus ends with the Tabernacle built and God guiding Israel toward the Promised Land. Leviticus ends with property rights for the Israelites’ future home. Numbers ends with Israel camped on the plains of Moab, just across from Jericho. And Deuteronomy ends with Moses up on Mount Nebo, allowed by God to see the Promised Land just before his death.

Pretty great, right? You can see why I wondered how I ever missed this profound link between the first five books of the Bible. For God’s ancient people, the promise of milk, honey, and security was the air they breathed. They had longed for such a land since the days of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We all know this feeling. But how does this relate to our current study of Hebrews?

Ask yourself: what was Moses thinking as he left the plains of Moab and climbed Pisgah Peak? As gazed across at Jericho and the Lord showed him the whole land – from Gilead as far as Dan – just what went through his mind?

The Bible does not tell us. Instead we hear God’s last words to His friend Moses: “This is the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have now allowed you to see it with your own eyes, but you will not enter the land” (Deuteronomy 34:4). And that was that.

Was Moses sad? Maybe. Probably. Was the prophet of God, whom the Lord spoke with face-to-face, as a man speaks with a friend, devastated? Possibly. Or maybe – hopefully – Moses learned from his lapses in faith and realised God knew best. Maybe he saw God’s decisions were fair and perfect, and who is man to argue with his Maker?

But again I ask: how does this relate to our current study of Hebrews? We will see that next week. So in the meantime I’ll ponder this: God gave the Law through Moses, and Moses served well. Then, in the fullness of time, God’s full grace arrived in His perfect Son. Only then was a better Promised Land revealed. And which land was Moses really chasing? The one just across the Jordan, or the one whose architect is God, where your Saviour awaits you…

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This Week’s Thoughts

They were doomed the moment their oxygen tanks exploded. Apollo 13 just didn’t know it yet…

Some of us remember watching the story unfold on the news back in 1970. I expect most of us have seen the movie. Either way, Apollo 13 gave good credence to unlucky numbers and almost saw 3 brave NASA astronauts fail their mission and die in space.

56 hours into their mission to the Moon, Apollo 13’s oxygen tanks had exploded. All hope seemed lost for a safe return. Then a plan was hatched. Why not use the Moon’s gravity to bend the crippled spacecraft’s path into a figure-8 loop? This would give the necessary velocity to return the crew to Earth under limited power.

The slingshot manoeuvre worked! The crew fired the Lunar Module’s engine just enough to adjust their trajectory and the Moon’s gravity did the rest, increasing their speed and ensuring they crash-landed safely in the Pacific Ocean. Funnily enough, I was reminded of this famous slingshot manoeuvre as I read Hebrews 2. I was seeing the many reasons why Jesus is greater than angels, then the author said:

“Jesus, who for a little while was given a position ‘a little lower than the angels’; and because He suffered death for us, He is now ‘crowned with glory and honour.’ Yes, by God’s grace, Jesus tasted death for everyone” (2:9). Is this not the most wonderful account of Christ’s incarnation and atonement? It is not light reading, so the author helps clarify himself, saying: “God, for whom and through whom everything was made, chose to bring many children into glory. And it was only right that He should make Jesus, through His suffering, a perfect leader, fit to bring them into their salvation” (2:10).

Can you see why this reminded me of Apollo 13’s slingshot? Just as their little Lunar Module left Earth and swung around the Moon to return home, crowned as heroes, so Christ left heaven, dwelled and suffered on Earth, then rocketed back to heaven, the ultimate hero and redeemer. Jesus’ salvation mission stands out among many reasons why He is superior to angels. For angels can’t fathom God’s plan of redemption. This is why, when prophets saw the sufferings of Messiah and the glory to come, angels actually longed to look into these things (1 Peter 10-12).

It is Christ’s descent to live among His creation that marks Him out as unique. It was His humbling life and humiliating death that tricked Satan into thinking he had won, when in fact it was Christ who was already exalted as He bled and died for all. Jesus is King; angels are sent as servants. There is only one King; there are many servant angels. Christ is King over the church; angels do His bidding for the church. See the difference?

Jesus is in another league; another dimension to angels. He left heaven, did a slingshot manoeuvre to get back, and in the process He saved us all. As Hebrews says: “Because God’s children are human beings – made of flesh and blood – the Son also became flesh and blood. For only as a human being could He die, and only by dying could He break the power of the devil, who had the power of death. Only in this way could He set free all who have lived their lives as slaves to the fear of dying” (Hebrews 2:14-15).

The post Hebrews – Jesus Compared to Angels and the Torah first appeared on Minehead Baptist Church.

This Week’s Thoughts

It feels like just yesterday that Molly and Elliott were up on stage, starring in their very first nativity. Were they Mary and Joseph? No, not quite. They were, instead, rather startled-looking sheep. But this only showed that they are both little method actors, as the actual sheep at the actual first nativity must also have been startled.

And what startled those first sheep on that first Christmas? Why angels, of course. For “that night there were shepherds staying in the fields nearby, guarding their flocks of sheep. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the radiance of the Lord’s glory surrounded them. They were terrified, but the angel reassured them” (Luke 2:8-10). What an event for lowly shepherds (and their even lowlier sheep) to witness.

Now, when I ask Molly and Elliott about angels in the Bible, they mention events like the one above. When I asked Elliott, as he had his first set of glasses fitted, he recalled Joseph’s angelic warning dream to flee Herod. Elliott then remembered when “an angel of the Lord struck Herod Agrippa with a sickness, because he accepted the people’s worship instead of giving the glory to God. So he was consumed with worms and died” (Acts 12:23). Trust a boy to remember such a gruesome little ditty from church history.

Angels are active in the New Testament. But this leads children and adults to overlook their activity earlier on in Scripture. From the mighty cherubim stationed to the east of Eden with a flaming sword, to the angel who saved Hagar or the spirit being who kept Abraham’s hand from slaying Isaac, angels are all over the Old Testament. They occupied a lofty place in the Jewish mind as formidable, heavenly creatures. That is why Hebrews opens with an argument centred on angels.

So, we all agree that angels are mighty messengers sent out from the throne of Almighty God. But something shifts, and rightly so, when Hebrews compares angels with Jesus, the very Son of God. The point is “that the Son is far greater than the angels” (Hebrews 1:4), and the reasons are many. God never told an angel that they were His Son, and He never declared Himself their Father. Only Jesus was brought into the world and given heavenly angels as worshippers (Hebrews 1:5-7).

The list goes on. Regarding angels, Hebrews says they are servants of God, sent out like winds and flames of fire. “But to the Son He says, ‘Your throne, O God, endures forever and ever. You rule with a sceptre of justice’” (1:8). See the difference? “And God never said to any of the angels, ‘Sit in the place of honour at my right hand until I humble your enemies, making them a footstool under your feet.’ Therefore, angels are only servants – spirits sent to care for people who will inherit salvation” (1:13-14).

Does Hebrews open this way to belittle angels? God forbid. It begins this way to grab our attention. It wants to make a big point right from the get-go. It wants to say: “You adore and revere angels? Well, get a load of Jesus and you’ll see where your affections really ought to lie!” This is Hebrews in a nutshell. Unpacking the Old Testament in order to set our affections on the Son of God, and I for one am ready for the journey. I hope Molly and Elliott (my startled little sheep) are too.

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