Commentary - Hebrews 10:19-25

Bird's-eye view

The author of Hebrews, having spent the better part of ten chapters laying out the massive theological argument for Christ's supremacy, now pivots to the glorious "therefore." This is where the rubber of high doctrine meets the road of our weekly lives. Because Christ's sacrifice is final, because His priesthood is eternal, and because the Old Covenant has been rendered obsolete, we are now summoned to act. This is not a timid suggestion. This is a trumpet blast. The argument is simple: the way into God's presence is now wide open, so for heaven's sake, let us go in. This section is a threefold exhortation: let us draw near to God, let us hold fast to our confession, and let us consider one another in the assembly. These are not three separate ideas, but three facets of one single, glorious reality. We come to God together, we stand together, and we spur one another on together. The entire Christian life is a corporate enterprise, undertaken in the light of the approaching Day.

Outline

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 19 Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus,

The word "Therefore" is the hinge on which the entire epistle turns. Everything that has been argued thus far, the whole majestic edifice of Christ's superiority to angels, to Moses, and to Aaron, is now brought to bear on us. And who are we? "Brothers." This is a family matter. The access we are granted is not a private, individualistic affair. It is a corporate privilege. We have "confidence" or, as some translations have it, "boldness." This is not the arrogance of the presumptuous, but the settled assurance of a son who knows he is welcome in his father's house. The Old Covenant worshiper approached with fear and trembling, never getting past the outer courts. We are summoned to march straight into the "holy places," the very throne room of the universe. And what is our entry ticket? Not our good works, not our clean thoughts, not our religious sincerity, but one thing only: "the blood of Jesus." This is our only claim, our only plea. The blood of bulls and goats could only cover sin temporarily; the blood of Christ obliterates it permanently.

v. 20 by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh,

How do we travel into this holy place? We come by a "new and living way." It is "new" because the old way is shut down, obsolete, and boarded up. The old way was a way of death, marked by repeated sacrifices that could never truly cleanse. This way is "living" because our High Priest is not dead; He is risen and ministers for us now. It is a living way because it imparts life to those who travel on it. This way was "inaugurated," or opened up, for us by Christ. He was the great trailblazer. And He opened it "through the veil." The author immediately tells us what this veil is: "that is, His flesh." When Christ died on the cross, the literal veil in the temple was torn from top to bottom, signifying that the barrier between God and man was demolished. Christ's body, His flesh, was torn for us, and in that tearing, the way to God was ripped open. We do not come to God by thinking about this; we come to God through this reality. This is why the Lord's Supper is so central. In it, we partake of a living Christ, whose flesh was torn so that the way might be living for us.

v. 21 and since we have a great priest over the house of God,

Our confidence is twofold. First, the way is open (vv. 19-20). Second, we have a man on the inside. And not just any man, but a "great priest." The Levitical priests were frail, sinful men. Our priest is the eternal Son of God. He is great in His person and in His work. And He is not a priest without a portfolio; He is "over the house of God." The house of God is the Church. He is our priest, our head, our governor. He is not an absentee landlord. He is present, active, and ruling His house. This means when we draw near to God, we are not crashing a party. We are being ushered in by the one who runs the place. He is there to welcome us, to represent us, and to ensure our access is secure.

v. 22 let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.

Here is the first of the three great exhortations: "let us draw near." This is the central command. Given the open way and the great priest, what else could we possibly do? To fail to draw near is to insult the blood of Christ. We are to come with a "sincere heart," a heart without hypocrisy. And we are to come in "full assurance of faith." No shuffling our feet, no wondering if we are really welcome. The work is finished. The verdict is in. We are accepted. This assurance is grounded in two objective realities, described in priestly language. First, "our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience." This is the internal reality. Under the Old Covenant, the priest would sprinkle blood to cleanse things ceremonially. Christ's blood has been applied to our hearts, our very conscience, cleansing us from the guilt and accusation of sin. Second, "our bodies washed with pure water." This is the external sign and seal of that cleansing. This is a clear reference to our baptism. In baptism, we were formally and publicly ushered into the visible church, the house of God. Our bodies were washed, marking us as belonging to Him. Baptism is not a mere symbol of our decision; it is God's sign and seal placed upon us, declaring that we are His. It is the rite that fulfills the Old Covenant ordination rituals. We are a nation of priests, and our ordination happened at the font.

v. 23 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.

The second exhortation is "let us hold fast." Having drawn near, we must now stand firm. The Christian life is not a one-time decision, but a marathon of endurance. We are to hold fast to the "confession of our hope." This is the objective truth of the gospel that we profess, that Jesus is Lord, that He died for our sins, and that He was raised from the dead. This is our flag, and we are not to let it drop. We must do so "without wavering." The pressures to compromise, to drift, to soften the edges of our confession are immense. The temptation is to wobble. But our stability does not come from our own grit. We hold fast because "He who promised is faithful." Our grip is only as strong as the one we are gripping. Our hope is not in our ability to hold on, but in God's unbreakable promise to hold on to us. He is faithful. Therefore, we can be steadfast.

v. 24 And let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds,

The third exhortation flows naturally from the first two. We draw near to God and hold fast to our hope, not as a scattered band of individuals, but as a body. "Let us consider." This requires thought, intention, and creativity. It is not something that happens by accident. And what are we to consider? "How to stimulate one another." The Greek word is sharp; it can mean to provoke or to incite. This is not a gentle, sentimental nudge. This is a deliberate prodding, a spurring on. We are to be poking one another, but not with the stick of criticism or judgment. We are to be provoking one another "to love and good deeds." We are to be constant instigators of righteousness in each other's lives. This is active, engaged, and meddlesome Christianity. We are our brother's keeper.

v. 25 not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the day drawing near.

This consideration and stimulation cannot happen if we are not together. The author here gives a negative command: "not forsaking our own assembling together." The corporate gathering of the saints for worship is not an optional extra for the keeners. It is the appointed place where this mutual prodding and encouragement happens. To abandon the assembly is to abandon the primary means of grace God has given for our perseverance. Apparently, even in the first century, it was "the habit of some" to neglect this. The temptation to privatize one's faith is an old one. But the Christian faith is a corporate faith from top to bottom. Instead of forsaking, we are to be "encouraging one another." And this duty has an eschatological urgency: "and all the more as you see the day drawing near." The "day" is the final day of judgment and salvation, the return of Christ. As history barrels toward its appointed climax, the need for corporate faithfulness, for mutual encouragement, for assembling together, does not diminish but intensifies. The darker the night gets, the more closely the sheep need to huddle.

Application

The application of this text is straightforward and profoundly challenging. First, we must come to God. The way is open. If you are holding back because of guilt or a sense of unworthiness, you are trampling on the blood of Christ. Your confidence is not in yourself, but in His finished work. Draw near.

Second, this approach is a sacramental one. Your conscience is clean because of the blood, and your body is washed in baptism. These are not mental abstractions. They are objective realities that God has declared over you. Live like a baptized person. Live like someone whose conscience has been cleared by the highest court.

Third, the Christian life is a team sport. Your personal piety is of no use if it is not worked out in the rough and tumble of the local church. You have a duty not just to show up, but to actively consider how you can provoke your brothers and sisters to greater love and faithfulness. This means you need to know them, pray for them, and be involved in their lives. The Sunday gathering is the central, non-negotiable arena for this activity. Do not forsake it. As the end of all things approaches, let us be found together, holding fast, and stirring one another up, all to the glory of our great God and Savior.