Christ the Door: The Screen of the Tent Text: Exodus 26:36-37
Introduction: God's Architectural Gospel
We live in an age that prides itself on being practical, on getting straight to the point. Our culture has little patience for symbolism, for types and shadows. It wants the executive summary, the bullet points, the "how-to" guide for a better life. But God is not a modern efficiency consultant. He is an artist, a poet, and an architect. And in the book of Exodus, after delivering His people with a mighty hand, He does not give them a simple mission statement. He gives them a blueprint. He gives them the Tabernacle.
The Tabernacle is not merely a tent for God to dwell in. It is a sermon in wood, fabric, and metal. It is a scale model of the cosmos, a portable Eden, and most importantly, a detailed, three-dimensional prophecy of the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ. Every detail, from the overall structure down to the last thread and peg, is saturated with theological meaning. To rush past these chapters is to walk past a portrait gallery of the Son of God and to shrug. It is to say that we are not interested in the fine details of our own redemption.
Our secular world wants a god it can design itself, a worship it can invent on the fly. It wants a relationship with the divine on its own terms, through whatever door it chooses to build. But the God of Scripture is holy. He is separate. And access to Him is not a free-for-all. He determines the way in. He designs the door. And as we come to the end of Exodus 26, we are given the precise specifications for the door to the Tabernacle proper, the screen that stood at the entrance to the Holy Place. This is not just about ancient tent-making. This is about how a holy God makes it possible for sinful man to approach Him without being consumed. This is the gospel in architecture.
The Text
"You shall make a screen for the doorway of the tent of blue and purple and scarlet material and fine twisted linen, the work of a weaver. You shall make five pillars of acacia for the screen and overlay them with gold, their hooks also being of gold; and you shall cast five bases of bronze for them."
(Exodus 26:36-37 LSB)
The Woven Way (v. 36)
We begin with the description of the screen itself.
"You shall make a screen for the doorway of the tent of blue and purple and scarlet material and fine twisted linen, the work of a weaver." (Exodus 26:36)
This screen is the first thing one would encounter before entering the Holy Place. It is a barrier, but it is also a doorway. It communicates both separation and access. You cannot simply wander into the presence of God. There is a screen, a veil, that must be passed through. The writer to the Hebrews tells us plainly that the veil is the flesh of Christ (Hebrews 10:20). Jesus says, "I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved" (John 10:9). This screen is a magnificent Old Testament portrait of Jesus, the exclusive way to the Father.
And look at how this door is made. It is woven from four materials, each shouting the gospel. First, there is the "blue." Blue speaks of the heavens, of that which is from above. It points to the divine nature of Christ. He is the Lord from heaven. Second, there is "purple." Purple, throughout the ancient world, was the color of royalty, of kingship. This points to Christ as our King, the Son of David who sits on the throne forever. Third, we have "scarlet." Scarlet is the color of blood, of sacrifice. This points to His atoning work, the shedding of His blood for the remission of sins. Without the scarlet thread, there is no access. Finally, there is the "fine twisted linen." This speaks of purity, of perfect righteousness. It represents the spotless, sinless humanity of Christ. He was the unblemished lamb.
These four are not just laid next to each other; they are woven together, "the work of a weaver." This is a picture of the hypostatic union. In the one person of Jesus Christ, these realities are indivisibly intertwined. He is fully God (blue) and fully man (linen). He is our King (purple) and our sacrifice (scarlet). You cannot have one aspect of Christ without the others. Some want a righteous teacher (linen) but not a divine Lord (blue). Others want a heavenly figure but not one who had to shed His blood. But God has woven them together. To try and separate them is to unravel the gospel itself. This screen declares that the only way to God is through the divinely-appointed, royal, sacrificial, and righteous person of Jesus Christ.
The Pillars of Our Profession (v. 37)
This magnificent screen did not just hang in the air. It was supported by a very specific structure.
"You shall make five pillars of acacia for the screen and overlay them with gold, their hooks also being of gold; and you shall cast five bases of bronze for them." (Exodus 26:37 LSB)
The screen hangs on five pillars. Why five? Many see a connection to the first five books of the Bible, the Pentateuch, the Law of Moses. The Law reveals our sin and shows us our need for the very door it upholds. The Law is not the way, but it points us to the way. These five pillars uphold the testimony concerning Christ.
The pillars are made of "acacia" wood. Acacia is a dense, hardy wood that resists rot and insects. It was plentiful in the desert. In Scripture, wood often speaks of humanity. Christ, in His humanity, was incorruptible. He saw no decay (Psalm 16:10). He was tested in the wilderness of this world, yet He never rotted with sin. But this humanity was "overlaid with gold." Gold speaks of divinity and glory. This is another picture of the incarnation. The acacia wood, Christ's perfect humanity, is completely covered and glorified by His divine nature. You could see the gold, but it was supported by the wood. Jesus was a man you could see and touch, but He was at the same time very God of very God.
The screen was attached to these pillars by "hooks also being of gold." The connection between the way (the screen) and the structure that presents that way (the pillars) is entirely divine. Our access to God is not hung on hooks of our own making, our own efforts or merits. The connection is forged in heaven, pure and divine.
But notice where these glorious pillars rest. They stand in "five bases of bronze." As we move through the Tabernacle, the metals tell a story. Outside, at the brazen altar, we have bronze, which speaks of judgment. Inside the Holy of Holies, everything is pure gold, which speaks of God's glory. Here, at the entrance, we have this meeting of gold and bronze. The golden pillars, representing the glorious person of Christ, stand firm in bases of bronze. This means that Christ's glorious work of providing access to God is founded upon His ability to endure the judgment of God on our behalf. He who was pure gold, in a manner of speaking, stood upon the bronze of judgment at the cross. He absorbed the wrath we deserved so that the way into God's presence could be held open for us. The foundation of our access to glory is the judgment He bore.
Conclusion: Entering Through the Woven God-Man
So what does a tent door from three and a half millennia ago have to do with us? Everything. This is not an archaic curiosity for biblical scholars. This is the blueprint of our salvation.
The world, and sadly, much of the modern church, is busy trying to construct other doors into God's presence. There is the door of raw moral effort. There is the door of emotional experience. There is the door of intellectual ascent. There is the door of social justice. Men are weaving their own screens out of materials of their own choosing, hanging them on pillars of their own strength, and setting them in foundations of their own righteousness.
But God has only ever specified one door. It is a man, Jesus Christ. He is the screen, woven of deity and sinless humanity, of kingship and bloody sacrifice. He is upheld by the testimony of God's own Word, a glorious divine person who stood firm upon a foundation of judgment. To try and approach God through any other means is to ignore the divine blueprint and to attempt to break into the house some other way. And Jesus has a word for those who do that: "thieves and robbers" (John 10:1).
This screen at the door of the tent was exclusive. It was the only way in. But it was also a glorious invitation. The colors were rich, the materials precious. It was a beautiful door. The gospel is the same. It is an exclusive claim: no one comes to the Father except through Christ. But it is a gloriously open invitation: "whoever comes to me I will never cast out" (John 6:37). Our task is not to redesign the door to make it more palatable to the modern mind. Our task is to marvel at the door God has designed, and to enter through it with boldness and with gratitude, knowing that the way has been opened for us by the very flesh and blood of the Son of God.