Exodus 28-31

We’ve got a lot to see today, so we’re going to jump right into it. Keep your Bibles open to Exodus, starting in chapter 28—you’ll need them.

Last week we spoke about the tabernacle. God has taken the people of Israel, who had been in bondage in Egypt for centuries, and he has rescued them from their slavery, taken them out of Egypt, and brought them into the desert. Now, Moses is on the top of Mount Sinai with God, in the cloud of his presence, and God is giving him the particulars of the covenant that he has established with the people.

He’s commanded the people to build this tabernacle in the desert, this place of worship which would, essentially, be God’s dwelling place among his people. The point of the tabernacle, as we saw last week, was to illustrate the point that the people’s true home would not be found in a particular country or building; their home would be wherever God is.

But there’s a problem. To understand everything that we see here, we need to understand one thing: we seriously underestimate the gravity of sin. Sin is our rebellion against God, our desire to be our own Masters. We are all sinners, we all have this instinct to reject God in us. When sin came into the world, it corrupted everything, and it separated us from God.

We tend to think of sin as something annoying we have to deal with, but as we’ll see in these chapters, sin is a much bigger deal than we think. If God is showing his people that they now have a home in him, they need someone to bring them into that home, into God’s presence.

This person would be the priest.

The Priest’s Garments (28.1-43)

The first thing we see described in chapter 28 is a kind of uniform for the high priest: it’s what he wears when he goes about his work, a sign that he is acting with God’s authority.

But unlike a suit or my “work uniform”, the high priest’s uniform was full of symbolism.

The first thing we see described is an ephod (v. 6-14). It’s a little like an apron, but made with multicolored linen; it has two shoulder pieces, each holding an onyx stone. The names of the twelve sons of Israel are engraved on each of these stones.

Next we see a breastplate, called the breastplate of judgment (v. 15-30). The breastplate has twelve different stones, set in four rows of three, each with the name of one of the twelve tribes. The ephod and the breastplate, taken together, show the value God places on his people as a nation, and as individual tribes of that nation.

Under the ephod, the high priest wore a blue robe (v. 22-26). He wore coats of fine linen, undergarments to go underneath the whole outfit, and a turban on their heads. On this turban there was a plate of gold, and inscribed on this plate was this engraving: “Holy to the LORD” (v. 27-31).

So think about this for a minute. In 28.29, God says,

So Aaron shall bear the names of the sons of Israel in the breastpiece of judgment on his heart, when he goes into the Holy Place, to bring them to regular remembrance before the Lord.

The names of the tribes of Israel are both on the shoulders of the high priest, and over his heart. So every time the high priest comes into the tabernacle, he’s coming in representing the people; he’s carrying them (figuratively) into God’s presence.

And he has to do so, because as we saw in chapter 19, it is a dangerous thing for sinful people to come into the presence of a holy God. This is why the high priest has bells on the hem of their robe. 28.35:

And it [the robe with the bells on the hem] shall be on Aaron when he ministers, and its sound shall be heard when he goes into the Holy Place before the Lord, and when he comes out, so that he does not die.

Now of course God doesn’t need bells; he doesn’t need a warning that the high priest is coming into his presence. The bells are for the people—even outside the tabernacle, they will hear the sound of the bells as the priest does his work, and be reminded that sinners cannot come into the presence of God alone.

They need a mediator.

The Priests’ Consecration (29.1-46)

But this is where we run into an obvious problem. When someone goes in for surgery, their body is disinfected and made sterile before the surgery can begin, to avoid infection. But before that happens, the doctors and nurses working on them have to disinfect themselves: the wash their hands and put on sterile gowns, to avoid transmitting infection to the patient.

It’s a similar problem here. Because the people of Israel are sinful human beings, they need a mediator to come into God’s presence. But any mediator they could have is also a sinful human being. The priests are just as guilty before God as the people are.

So how will the priests be made holy, in order to bring the people of Israel before God? That’s what we see in chapter 29.

In this chapter, God tells Moses how to “consecrate” the priests. It happens through a process of ceremonial washing, anointing and sacrifice. The word “consecrate” means “to make holy” or “to set apart.”

Everything they do here is symbolic. When the priests wash, they are symbolically making themselves clean to come into God’s presence. When they are anointed with oil, and when they put on their priestly garments, they are symbolically showing that they are acting on God’s behalf. And when they offer the sacrifice, they are symbolically covering their sins to come into God’s presence.

During these sacrifices, something interesting happens. God commands the priests to make a sacrifice. But before they kill the animal, they do something else first. Look at v. 10—God says:

10 “Then you shall bring the bull before the tent of meeting. Aaron and his sons shall lay their hands on the head of the bull.

Only then do they kill the animal and proceed with the ritual sacrifice. They lay their hands on the animal, as a way of symbolically transferring their sin from themselves to the animal. So when they kill the animal, they are symbolically killing their own sin. In v. 20-21, we see that blood from one of the offerings is placed on their ears, their thumbs and their big toes, as a sign that their sin has been paid for.

And at the end of the process, the priests eat some of the sacrifice.

This isn’t new. This is the sign God has already set in place, that they have been accepted into his presence: they eat a meal in his presence.

The point is that before the priests can themselves come near to God, they have to be consecrated. Their sin has to be paid for.

And it’s not only the priests who have to be consecrated, but the altar as well and the tabernacle as well. Some of the blood from the sacrificed animals is thrown on them, and then they are anointed with oil, in order to be set apart and made holy for God.

Let me read this quote from Tim Chester’s commentary (which is really helpful for understanding these passages):

“Notice the flow, or movement, in these chapters. The people’s guilt is transferred to the priests (Exodus 28:38). The priest’s guilt is transferred to the animals. The animals die. The sin, as it were, reaches a dead end, and the end is death. But then 29:37 says, ‘For seven days make atonement for the altar and consecrate it. Then the altar will be most holy, and whatever touches it will be holy.’ Sin is dealt with and now holiness flows back in the other direction.

“The Holy Place, inner tabernacle and altar for burnt offerings are anointed with holy oil and therefore communicate holiness to anything that touches them. We could call this ‘contagious holiness’.”

This was potentially dangerous—if anyone who is not consecrated touches these holy objects, the consequences were always serious. But the task of the priest was so heavy, so dramatic in its implications, that he could touch these objects without dying; since he was consecrated, he is made holy too through this process.

Then, in chapter 30, v. 11-16, we see that the people are called to enroll in a census, in which they each have to pay a sum of money for the upkeep of the tabernacle. Bernard Ramm writes that this is “the way in which the covenant was made personal … each Israelite … willing to be counted.” The people of God are, collectively, brought into God’s presence; but through their participation in the census, they are also individually and personally engaged in this relationship.

The process of consecration and sacrifices and vestments for the priest can seem complicated, so if we need to retain anything it’s this: the people of God meet God in the tabernacle, and they have to meet God through the high priest, who is set apart and made clean for this task.

And what happens when they do meet God through the high priest? What happens in this exchange?

Rest in the Presence of God (30.1-31.18)

We get a clearer picture of where this is heading as we keep reading.

The altar of incense, which stood in the antechamber of the tabernacle along with the table for the bread and the lampstand, was an altar of wood that was covered in gold. This altar for incense is to be placed in a very specific location in the tabernacle.

We read in Exodus 30.6-8:

And you shall put it in front of the veil that is above the ark of the testimony, in front of the mercy seat that is above the testimony, where I will meet with you. 7 And Aaron shall burn fragrant incense on it. Every morning when he dresses the lamps he shall burn it, 8 and when Aaron sets up the lamps at twilight, he shall burn it, a regular incense offering before the Lord throughout your generations.

Now we’re not told explicitly in the text what this altar of incense symbolizes; there are several theories about it. But one in particular stands out as the most likely, I think.

What happens when you burn incense? First of all, the whole room is filled with the smell of it; it’s a very thick smell. Your opinion will vary on that smell; I think incense of almost any kind smells wonderful, but it’s very strong. The point is, if someone is burning incense, you can’t get away from the smell as long as you stay in that place.

And the reason the smell is so thick is because incense makes smoke. You can see it rising from the incense as it burns, and it fills the whole room.

The incense burnt on this altar wasn’t a single stick or a cone; it created a significant amount of smoke, enveloping the veil of the Most Holy Place like a cloud.

One thing you see multiple times in this book is the glory of God being made visible to the people of Israel in the form of a cloud. We saw it in the pillar of cloud that guided the Israelites by day in chapter 14; we saw it when the glory of God descended on Mount Sinai in chapter 19; and we’ll see it again later, in chapter 40, when the tabernacle is finally erected: the glory of God will descend on the tabernacle in the form of a cloud.

The burning of the incense before the Most Holy Place is, I think, God’s way of getting our senses involved in the realization that God is in this place. Every time the priests entered the tabernacle and saw that smoke and smelled that incense, they would be reminded of God’s glory—that this is no ordinary place.

The reality that this is no ordinary place can be seen all over the tabernacle—even down to the way in which the different elements are built.

At the beginning of chapter 31, we see God tell Moses to call on two specific people: Bezalel, from the tribe of Judah, and Oholiab, from the tribe of Dan. They were craftsmen, and God says in v. 3 that he has filled them with his Spirit, and given them the ability to design and build all of the things God has been describing to Moses. So it wasn’t just Moses and the priests who needed to be wise and knowledgeable to do what God wanted done here; even the craftsmen needed God’s help to build the tabernacle.

And then finally, we come to the end of God’s instructions for his tabernacle. So it is very telling that it ends like this. Exodus 31.12-17:

12 And the Lord said to Moses, 13 “You are to speak to the people of Israel and say, ‘Above all you shall keep my Sabbaths, for this is a sign between me and you throughout your generations, that you may know that I, the Lord, sanctify you. 14 You shall keep the Sabbath, because it is holy for you. Everyone who profanes it shall be put to death. Whoever does any work on it, that soul shall be cut off from among his people. 15 Six days shall work be done, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of solemn rest, holy to the Lord. Whoever does any work on the Sabbath day shall be put to death. 16 Therefore the people of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, observing the Sabbath throughout their generations, as a covenant forever. 17 It is a sign forever between me and the people of Israel that in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested and was refreshed.’ ”

Why is this question of rest so serious that it is the one commandment God gave before that is reiterated here? And why is it so serious that to not rest properly on the Sabbath was punishable by death?

First of all, just to clear up one common misconception: the law of Moses likely didn’t apply this commandment as strongly as the Pharisees did in the gospels. You probably wouldn’t be put to death for picking up a mat. The kind of work it has in mind would be someone consciously rejecting the Sabbath day and choosing to go out and do his ordinary work (tilling his field, or building something in his workshop).

The first reason this question of the Sabbath is so serious is because working on the Sabbath was a conscious rejection of God himself; it would be like, if on your wedding anniversary, not only did you not celebrate with your wife in any way, but you took another woman out on a date.

The second reason is because the Sabbath is not only a picture of the rest God took after creating the world (as we see here); it is also a picture of the eternal rest promised to God’s people (as we see in the book of Hebrews). The Sabbath is a reminder of what we have when we belong to God—it was a collective and personal affirmation of the goodness of God. The Sabbath is what all the worship in the tabernacle is pointing toward.

And so with all these instructions, God’s time with Moses on the mountain ends in Exodus 31.18:

18 And he gave to Moses, when he had finished speaking with him on Mount Sinai, the two tablets of the testimony, tablets of stone, written with the finger of God.

It’s a powerful image, and a rather ominous foreshadowing of what’s going to come right afterwards, which we’ll see next week.

Pictures of Real Things

Now I’m sure you’ve noticed that these chapters are full of pictures. The incense creating the cloud that’s a picture of God’s glory. The sacrifices that are a picture of God’s wrath against sin. The anointing that is a picture of God’s purification. The clothing of the high priest, a picture of his holy office. And the names graven on these clothes, a picture of the entire people, brought before God.

This can all be a little frustrating if you don’t know where it’s going, because after seeing all these pictures (and sometimes pictures of pictures), what we want to know is, What are these pictures, taken together, supposed to show us?

It’s not immediately evident if you only read the book of Exodus, because this book (and all the books of the Bible) was never meant to be taken on its own. The Bible is one story, told over the course of many books.

So one of the best analyses of this section of Exodus is actually found much, much later, in the book of Hebrews. In Hebrews 9, the author talks about the tabernacle—he talks about its architecture and the different elements in it, and he talks about the sacrificial system, how sacrifices had to be made over and over. So in v. 1-10, the author is highlighting the limitations of the tabernacle.

But then we come to v. 11, and this is where, when I saw it for the first time, God blew my mind.

Hebrews 9.11:

11 But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) 12 he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption.

And he says later in v. 24:

For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf.

The tabernacle is a “copy of the true things.” it’s not the true thing, but a copy of the true thing. The high priest offered sacrifices for the people’s sins and brought them into God’s presence, yes—but he couldn’t stay there. He could only come into the Most Holy Place once a year. His work is a copy.

The true thing is Jesus. We read in Hebrew 9.15:

15 Therefore [Christ] is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance…

Jesus Christ gave himself up as a perfect sacrifice. He paid the price once and for all for our sin. And then he took on the role of High Priest; he carried us into God’s presence—and he’s still there. Which means, so are we, because he brought us in.

That’s what Jesus has done with us, and that is what he is still doing. How often do we sing the song?

My name is graven on his hand.

My name is written on his heart.

I know that while in heav’n he stands,

No tongue can bid me thence depart.

These are not just words. It’s not just a song we sing. It is the reality into which God has brought us. God’s Son is our tabernacle, he is our high priest and mediator, and he is our sacrifice. He carries us into God’s presence, and as long as he is there, nothing can tear us out of it.

These descriptions of the tasks of the priests, their clothing, their consecration, the sacrifices, and the tabernacle—all of it—are pictures of this much greater reality of what Christ has done for us, what he is still doing for us.

But a long time has passed since the tabernacle. A long time has passed even since the time of Christ. So it’s really easy for us to read about these pictures and feel distanced from them. It’s easy for us to read them without benefiting from them.

So let’s just think about that for a minute. Why do we take pictures? Why do we look at them? We do it for three main reasons. We look at pictures to remember; we look at pictures to recognize; and we look at pictures to rejoice.

Loanne and I were married in the U.S. and moved to France not long after. But when we came to France, our marriage still hadn’t been validated by the French government (the process took a lot longer than expected), so I had to enter the country as a tourist. That meant that I could only legally stay in France for three months, after which I had to go back to America and stay there for another three months before entering the country again.

So I had to go to the U.S. and not see my wife for three months, which is a very long time for newlyweds.

This is going to age us both, but this was before Zoom, before Skype, before Facebook. Neither of us even had a cell phone. I could call Loanne on the landline, but it was expensive. So we spoke once a week, and we could send emails, but I didn’t actually see her for three months.

All I had of her were pictures.

For three months, those pictures were my lifeline. I kept them in my wallet and I pulled them out every five minutes. I looked at those pictures constantly.

And when I came back to France after three months, I got off the plane and saw her waiting for me at the airport. It was very strange, because for a second I didn’t quite recognize her. I’d been looking at her face in those pictures for three months, but her real face, the real person she is, was so much fuller and more beautiful than the pictures.

I’d spent those three months remembering Loanne’s face, but when I finally recognized her, she was so much more than those pictures. So my response was joy: I came to her and I hugged her and I kissed her, and I was home.

It’s the same thing with the pictures we see in the tabernacle, the pictures we see with the priests.

God gives us these pictures so that we might remember. When we read about the instructions for tabernacle and the priests, which were so incredibly detailed, we remember that from the very beginning, God had a plan for the world he created. We see hints of it in Genesis and earlier in Exodus, but we see detail after detail, compounding, when we get to these pictures in the tabernacle. When we read these passages, we remember that this was no accident. God had a very specific plan, and because he loved his people he made a way for us to be reconciled to him, even though we had rejected him.

God gives us these pictures so that we might recognize. The work that Christ did on the cross is a spiritual work, so it’s necessarily a little abstract for us. Our minds have a hard time grasping what he did. So God gave us pictures. He knows that it’s helpful for us to have visual hooks, to help us understand things we’d have difficulty understanding on our own. He gave us these pictures so that, after reading Exodus, when we arrive at the gospels, and the book of Hebrews, we might understand what it is that Christ did. So that we might understand that Christ is our sacrifice, and our high priest, and our tabernacle, that he is the means by which we are made holy, and the mediator who brings us into God’s presence, and that we might grasp what that means.

And finally—perhaps most importantly—God gives us these pictures so that we might rejoice. We look at the pictures, a shadow of what was to come. Then we look at Christ, at what he has done, what he is still doing for us. And we rest in the joy of our assurance, that we’re not the ones who bring ourselves into God’s presence. He is the one who carries us before God—and he is still there. So our salvation is absolutely secure.

Some of you need to hear this. If you have placed your faith in Christ and trusted in his work and repented of your sin, then no matter how imperfect you still are, he’s still at the right hand of God, and he brought you with him. He’s not just carrying you before God; your name is graven on his hand. He lives in you now, by his Spirit, and you are a part of his body.

So you can be happy. You can let go of your doubt, because it’s unfounded. If it was up to you, then you’d have ample reason for doubt; but he is your Mediator. He won’t fail you.

And because he won’t fail you, or any of us, we can rejoice. We can rejoice in what he has done, what he is doing for us still, and what he is still going to do. He has already come to deal with sin; but one day he will come again to bring us home.

The end of Hebrews 9 says this:

27 And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment, 28 so Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.

These chapters, though they may feel dry and distanced from us, are anything but. When we read them, we are reminded of the incredible work God put forward to save us; we recognize the perfect work of our High Priest and Mediator; and we rejoice in the knowledge that if he has saved us, he will not let us go.

He will bring us home.