The Courtyard of Christ: God's Holy Perimeter
Introduction: The Grammar of Worship
We live in a time when men believe worship is something you invent in your garage. It is a matter of personal taste, stylistic preference, and what "moves" you. We think we can approach God on our own terms, with our own set of blueprints. But the book of Exodus, and particularly these latter chapters, stands as a massive, bronze-pillared rebuke to all such sentimental foolishness. God is not looking for creative suggestions from the focus group. He is the one who dictates the terms of His own worship. He gives the blueprints. He specifies the materials. He defines the space. And He does this, not because He is a cosmic micromanager with a flair for interior design, but because every cubit, every metal, every fabric is screaming the gospel.
The instructions for the Tabernacle, first given and now executed, are a detailed lexicon for the language of redemption. If you do not learn this vocabulary, you will be liturgically illiterate. You will not understand how God separates the holy from the common, how He deals with sin, and how a sinner can possibly approach a holy God and live. These chapters are not tedious lists for the spiritually OCD; they are the very architecture of our salvation, laid out in types and shadows.
In our passage today, we see the construction of the court, the outer perimeter of the Tabernacle. This is the first boundary, the first line of demarcation between the world and the presence of God. It is a holy fence. And we must understand that God is a God of boundaries. He creates by separation, light from darkness, land from sea. And He redeems by separation, calling a people out of the world for Himself. This courtyard is the first lesson in that great project. It defines the space where God will meet with man, and it establishes the non-negotiable principle that you must come to Him His way.
The Text
Then he made the court: for the south side the hangings of the court were of fine twisted linen, one hundred cubits; their twenty pillars, and their twenty bases, made of bronze; the hooks of the pillars and their bands were of silver. For the north side there were one hundred cubits; their twenty pillars and their twenty bases were of bronze, the hooks of the pillars and their bands were of silver. For the west side there were hangings of fifty cubits with their ten pillars and their ten bases; the hooks of the pillars and their bands were of silver. For the east side toward the sunrise fifty cubits. The hangings for the one side of the gate were fifteen cubits, with their three pillars and their three bases, and so for the other side. On both sides of the gate of the court were hangings of fifteen cubits, with their three pillars and their three bases. All the hangings of the court all around were of fine twisted linen. The bases for the pillars were of bronze, the hooks of the pillars and their bands were of silver; and the overlaying of their tops were of silver, and all the pillars of the court were furnished with silver bands. The screen of the gate of the court was the work of the weaver, of blue and purple and scarlet material and fine twisted linen. And the length was twenty cubits and the height was five cubits, corresponding to the hangings of the court. Their four pillars and their four bases were of bronze; their hooks were of silver, and the overlaying of their tops and their bands were of silver. All the pegs of the tabernacle and of the court all around were of bronze.
(Exodus 38:9-20 LSB)
A Wall of White: The Righteousness of Christ (vv. 9, 16)
The first thing we see is the boundary itself, the fence that encloses this holy ground.
"Then he made the court... All the hangings of the court all around were of fine twisted linen." (Exodus 38:9, 16)
Imagine an Israelite in the camp. All around is the dusty, gritty reality of the wilderness. But in the center of the camp stands this stark, clean, white rectangle. This is the first thing you see. Before you can approach God, you are confronted by a wall of brilliant white. This "fine twisted linen" is a picture of righteousness. In the book of Revelation, the bride of Christ is arrayed in fine linen, clean and bright, for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints (Rev. 19:8). But the saints have no righteous acts of their own. This is a borrowed righteousness. This is the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ.
This wall declares a fundamental truth: the standard for entering God's presence is perfect righteousness. You cannot approach God covered in the dust of your own efforts or the mud of your own sin. The first thing the courtyard does is exclude. It tells every man, woman, and child that on your own, you are on the wrong side of this fence. This is not a "come as you are" party. This is a holy convocation, and the dress code is absolute perfection. The world hates this. The world wants a God who overlooks, who grades on a curve, who says, "Your best is good enough." But the fine linen fence says otherwise. It says that only perfect righteousness will do. And so, the immediate effect is to drive us to despair of our own righteousness and to look for a righteousness outside of ourselves. That is the beginning of the gospel.
Bronze, Silver, and the Logic of Redemption (vv. 10-12, 17, 19-20)
Now, look at the structure that holds up this wall of righteousness. The details are not arbitrary.
"their twenty pillars, and their twenty bases, made of bronze; the hooks of the pillars and their bands were of silver... All the pegs of the tabernacle and of the court all around were of bronze." (Exodus 38:10, 20)
We see a pattern here. The bases, the pillars, and the pegs, the things that are in contact with the ground, are made of bronze. In Scripture, bronze is consistently a symbol of judgment. The altar where the sacrifices were burned was the bronze altar. The serpent Moses lifted up in the wilderness was a bronze serpent. Bronze can withstand fire. It speaks of the judgment of God against sin that must be endured.
So, what is this telling us? The entire structure of God's righteousness, the entire system by which we can approach Him, is founded upon judgment. It is planted in the earth of judgment endured. The pegs are driven into the ground, a picture of Christ's cross being fixed in the earth at Golgotha, bearing the judgment of God. Without the bronze foundation of judgment met, the white linen of righteousness would collapse into a heap in the dust.
But then we see the silver. The hooks, the bands, and the overlaying of the tops of the pillars were silver. Silver, throughout the Tabernacle narrative, is the metal of redemption. The atonement money paid by every Israelite was silver (Exodus 30:11-16). It is the price of a soul. So, we have righteousness (linen) held up by pillars founded in judgment (bronze) and connected by the price of redemption (silver). This is the gospel in architecture. Christ endures the judgment we deserved (bronze), He pays the price to buy us back (silver), and He clothes us in His perfect righteousness (linen). It all holds together. You cannot have one without the others. Some people want the white linen of forgiveness without the bronze foundation of judgment. They want a gospel without wrath. But the Tabernacle shows us that such a structure cannot stand.
One Way In: The Gate of Grace (vv. 13-15, 18-19)
So, you are standing outside this wall of perfect righteousness. How do you get in? The text is very clear.
"For the east side toward the sunrise fifty cubits. The hangings for the one side of the gate were fifteen cubits... and so for the other side... The screen of the gate of the court was the work of the weaver, of blue and purple and scarlet material and fine twisted linen." (Exodus 38:13-15, 18)
There is only one gate. Not four gates, one on each side for convenience. One. It is a wide gate, twenty cubits, but it is the only way in. Jesus makes this point with sledgehammer clarity: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me" (John 14:6). And again, "I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved" (John 10:9). This single gate is an offense to our pluralistic age, which wants to imagine many paths leading up the mountain to God. But God's house has only one door.
And notice the gate's orientation. It is on the east side, toward the sunrise. To enter, you must walk west, away from the rising sun. This is a polemic against the sun worship of the pagan nations, like Egypt. You do not worship the creation; you turn your back on it to approach the Creator. But it is also a picture of hope. The sunrise speaks of new beginnings, of light coming into the world. Christ is the "sun of righteousness" who will arise with healing in His wings (Malachi 4:2).
Finally, look at the gate itself. Unlike the stark white of the rest of the fence, the gate is a beautiful tapestry of blue, purple, and scarlet, woven into the fine linen. These are the colors of Christ. Blue speaks of His heavenly origin, His divinity. Purple is the color of royalty; He is the King of Kings. Scarlet is the color of blood, of His atoning sacrifice. And all of this is woven into the white linen of His perfect righteousness, His sinless humanity. The gate is Christ in His person and work. It is beautiful, it is glorious, and it is the only point of access. You do not climb the fence of your own self-righteousness. You come humbly through the beautiful gate of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Conclusion: Entering His Courts
This courtyard is not just a history lesson. It is the pattern for our worship and for our lives. When we come to God, we must come through this courtyard. We are outside, in the wilderness of our sin. We are confronted by the high wall of God's perfect righteousness, a standard we could never meet. We see that this standard is held up by the reality of divine judgment against sin, a judgment we could never endure.
But then we see the gate. We see Christ. We see His heavenly nature, His royal authority, His substitutionary death, and His perfect life, all woven together in a beautiful invitation. And by faith, we enter. We leave the world behind and step onto holy ground.
Once inside, what do we find? We find the bronze altar, where our sin is judged in the person of our substitute. We find the laver, where we are washed clean. We are inside the perimeter of grace. We are separated from the world and separated unto God. This is what it means to be a Christian. It means you are no longer outside the fence. You have come through the gate. You are standing on ground that is made holy by the presence of God.
And so, the layout of this ancient courtyard teaches us how to approach God today. We do not saunter into His presence. We come acknowledging the barrier of His holiness (the linen). We come trusting in the finished work of Christ who bore our judgment (the bronze) and paid our ransom (the silver). And we come only through the one gate, Jesus Christ Himself, in all His glory (the blue, purple, and scarlet). This is the grammar of true worship. Let us learn it, and let us live in it.