The Blood of Reality Text: Hebrews 9:11-14
Introduction: From Shadow to Substance
The entire Old Testament sacrificial system was a glorious, bloody, and intricate shadow. It was a divinely-ordained object lesson, a tutor pointing to a reality it could only ever anticipate. Every year, on the Day of Atonement, the high priest would enter the Holy of Holies, that terrifying inner sanctum, with the blood of an animal. He would sprinkle it on the mercy seat, and the sins of the people would be covered, rolled forward, for another year. It was a temporary fix, a stay of execution. It worked, but only as a promissory note works. It was not the payment itself. The blood of bulls and goats could never take away sin; it could only point to the One whose blood could.
We live in a generation that despises this reality. Our modern therapeutic age wants a clean conscience without blood. It wants forgiveness without a sacrifice, and redemption without a price. It wants to feel good about itself without dealing with the objective, damning reality of its guilt before a holy God. It tries to cleanse the conscience with positive affirmations, self-help platitudes, and by simply declaring that sin is an outdated concept. But a conscience informed by such flimsy notions is not a clean conscience; it is a sedated conscience, a willfully ignorant conscience. And it will awaken with a scream on the day of judgment.
The book of Hebrews is a sledgehammer to this kind of thinking. The author is writing to Christians who were tempted to drift back to the shadows of the old covenant, perhaps because the tangible rituals of the temple felt more real than the unseen realities of the new covenant. The writer's argument is relentless: the old was a copy, a sketch. Christ is the original, the substance. The old was a black and white photograph; Christ is the living, breathing person. To go back to the old system after Christ has come is not just a downgrade; it is an act of spiritual insanity. It is to prefer the blueprint over the finished building, the menu over the feast, the shadow over the Son.
In this passage, the writer brings his argument to its sharpest point. He contrasts the work of the Levitical high priest with the work of our great High Priest, Jesus Christ. The difference is not one of degree, but of kind. It is the difference between a leaky bucket and an eternal fountain, between a temporary reprieve and an eternal redemption.
The Text
But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things to come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation, and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy places once for all, having obtained eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling those who have been defiled sanctify for the cleansing of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?
(Hebrews 9:11-14 LSB)
The Heavenly Sanctuary (v. 11)
The first point of contrast is the location of the priestly ministry.
"But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things to come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation..." (Hebrews 9:11)
The Levitical priest served in an earthly tabernacle, a tent made of wood, fabric, and animal skins. It was a masterpiece of divine design, but it was still part of this created order. It was made with hands. But Christ, our High Priest, did not enter a building on earth. He entered the true sanctuary, the heavenly reality of which the earthly tabernacle was merely a copy. He passed through the heavens into the immediate presence of God the Father.
This tabernacle is "not of this creation." This is a crucial point. Christ's priestly work did not just inaugurate a new phase of human religion; it tore a hole between heaven and earth. When He ascended, He did not just go "up." He entered a different order of reality, the control room of the cosmos. The old tabernacle was a localized, physical place. The new tabernacle is the court of heaven itself, where the real business of the universe is conducted.
He is the high priest of "good things to come." For the Old Testament saints, these things were still in the future. For us, they have arrived. The reality has dawned. We, in our worship, do not go to a physical building to get closer to God. By faith, we are seated with Christ in the heavenly places (Eph. 2:6). We have access, right now, to this greater and more perfect tabernacle. Our worship is not a memorial service for something that happened long ago; it is a participation in the ongoing heavenly liturgy.
The Better Sacrifice (v. 12)
The second contrast is the sacrifice itself. This is the heart of the matter.
"...and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy places once for all, having obtained eternal redemption." (Hebrews 9:12)
The old priest brought the blood of an animal, a substitute that was not of his own substance. But Christ brought His own blood. He was both the priest and the sacrifice. This is a staggering thought. The one making the offering was the offering itself. The blood He presented was not the blood of an unwilling animal, but the blood of the incarnate Son of God, freely offered.
And notice the effect. He entered "once for all." The Greek word is ephapax. It means one time, with permanent and lasting results. The old priest had to do it again, and again, and again, year after bloody year. Why? Because the blood of animals could not actually solve the sin problem. It was a constant, necessary reminder that sin is a deadly serious business that requires the shedding of blood, but it was not the final payment. Christ's sacrifice was not a down payment. It was the payment in full. When He cried "It is finished," He meant it. The work was done. The debt was canceled. The way to God was opened, permanently.
Because the sacrifice was perfect, the result is perfect. He "obtained eternal redemption." He did not make redemption possible for those who would try really hard. He secured it. He obtained it. The verb is in the past tense. The purchase was made, the captives were set free. And this redemption is not temporary, lasting only until the next sin. It is eternal. This is the bedrock of our assurance. Our standing with God does not depend on our performance today, but on Christ's finished work two thousand years ago. His work was final, and therefore our redemption is eternal.
The "How Much More" Argument (v. 13-14)
Now the author makes his argument from the lesser to the greater. He sets up a logical argument that is impossible to refute.
"For if the blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling those who have been defiled sanctify for the cleansing of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without blemish to God, cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?" (Hebrews 9:13-14)
He begins by granting the efficacy of the old system. The blood of animals and the ashes of the red heifer, when applied according to God's law, really did something. They sanctified "for the cleansing of the flesh." This means they removed ceremonial defilement. They made a person ritually clean, allowing them to re-enter the community of worship. They worked for their intended purpose. They cleaned the outside.
But then comes the thunderclap: "how much more." If the shadow could do that, what can the substance do? If the blood of a goat could cleanse your skin, how much more can the blood of the Son of God cleanse your soul? The contrast is absolute. The blood of Christ cleanses the conscience. This is the inner sanctum of a man, the place of his deepest awareness of guilt and shame before God. Animal blood could never touch this. Only the blood of God's own Son, offered "through the eternal Spirit", a Trinitarian act, infinite in its value and power, could wash away the stain of sin from the human conscience.
And what is the result of this cleansing? It is not passive tranquility. It is not just so we can feel better about ourselves. He cleanses our conscience "from dead works to serve the living God." Dead works are all the things we do in our own strength to try to justify ourselves. They are the religious busywork, the moral preening, the frantic attempts to build a resume good enough for God. They are "dead" because they are performed by those who are spiritually dead, and they can only produce death. The blood of Christ liberates us from this whole project. It wipes the slate clean, not so we can sit around admiring the clean slate, but so we can get up and begin to serve the living God. True service, joyful and free, is only possible for the one whose conscience is no longer screaming at him. A guilty conscience makes a man a slave, either to his sin or to his own self-righteousness. A cleansed conscience makes a man a son, free to serve his Father out of love and gratitude.
Conclusion: The Liberated Conscience
This is the heart of the gospel. You cannot cleanse your own conscience. Your good intentions cannot do it. Your apologies cannot do it. Your religious observance cannot do it. These are all dead works, rags soaked in the filth of your own self-justification. The human conscience is stained with real, objective guilt before a holy God, and only a real, objective atonement can cleanse it.
That atonement has been made. Christ, our great High Priest, has entered the true Holy of Holies. He did not present the blood of a mere animal; He presented Himself. His sacrifice was not a temporary measure; it was a once-for-all, eternal accomplishment. The redemption He obtained is not provisional; it is eternal.
Therefore, the central question for every one of us is this: what are you trusting in to make you clean? Are you still trying to scrub the stain away with the filthy rags of your own dead works? Are you trying to quiet your conscience with the world's cheap therapies? Or have you come to the blood? Have you abandoned all hope in yourself and trusted completely in the finished work of Jesus Christ?
When you do, your conscience is truly cleansed. The court of heaven has declared you "not guilty" for His sake. And having been set free from the dead-end job of saving yourself, you are now gloriously free for the real work: to serve the living God. This is not a grim duty, but a joyful privilege. It is the natural response of a heart that has been washed clean by the blood of reality itself.