The Architecture of Access: God With Us Text: 2 Chronicles 3:8-14
Introduction: Building According to the Pattern
We live in an age that prides itself on improvisation. We like to make it up as we go. Our architecture is functional, our art is abstract, and our worship, consequently, is often shallow. We think of ourselves as spiritual, but we have cultivated a deep suspicion of physical forms, of liturgy, of prescribed patterns. We want a relationship with God, but we want it on our own terms, in our own space, designed according to our own aesthetic sensibilities. In short, we want a god who can be contained in a building of our own making, which is to say, a god made in our own image.
The modern evangelical world often treats the meticulous, glorious, and almost terrifying detail of the Tabernacle and Temple as little more than sanctified trivia. We read of the cubits and the talents of gold and the specific placement of cherubim, and our eyes glaze over. We think, "What does this have to do with my quiet time?" But in doing so, we miss the entire point. God is an architect. He is a builder. And the patterns He establishes in the Old Testament are not arbitrary interior design choices. They are the gospel preached in gold and linen, in wood and stone. They are a sermon in three dimensions.
The construction of Solomon's Temple was not an act of human creativity; it was an act of faithful obedience. David received the plans "in writing from the hand of the LORD" (1 Chron. 28:19). This was a divine blueprint. Every detail was pregnant with meaning, and it all pointed forward to a greater reality. The Temple was a physical representation of a spiritual cosmos. It was a scale model of Heaven and Earth, designed to teach Israel the most fundamental truths of reality: that God is holy, that man is sinful, that access to God is impossible on our own terms, and that God Himself would have to provide the way in.
In this passage, we zoom in on the heart of the Temple, the Holy of Holies. This is the epicenter of holiness on earth, the throne room of the great King. And as we examine its construction, we are not just looking at ancient history. We are looking at a picture of our salvation. We are seeing the problem laid out in gold and stone, and we are seeing the solution foreshadowed in fabric and form.
The Text
And he made the room of the Holy of Holies: its length across the width of the house was twenty cubits, and its width was twenty cubits; and he covered it with fine gold, amounting to 600 talents. Now the weight of the nails was fifty shekels of gold. He also covered the upper rooms with gold.
Then in the room of the Holy of Holies he made two cherubim of fashioned work and overlaid them with gold. Now the wingspan of the cherubim was twenty cubits; the wing of one, of five cubits, touched the wall of the house, and its other wing, of five cubits, touched the wing of the other cherub. And the wing of the other cherub, of five cubits, touched the wall of the house; and its other wing of five cubits was attached to the wing of the first cherub. The wings of these cherubim extended twenty cubits, and they stood on their feet facing the main room.
And he made the veil of blue, purple, crimson, and fine linen, and he ornamented cherubim on it.
(2 Chronicles 3:8-14 LSB)
The Weight of Glory (vv. 8-9)
We begin with the construction of the inner sanctum, the Holy of Holies.
"And he made the room of the Holy of Holies: its length across the width of the house was twenty cubits, and its width was twenty cubits; and he covered it with fine gold, amounting to 600 talents. Now the weight of the nails was fifty shekels of gold. He also covered the upper rooms with gold." (2 Chronicles 3:8-9)
The first thing that should strike us is the shape and the substance. The room is a perfect cube, twenty cubits on each side. This geometric perfection signifies something complete, something heavenly. This is the shape of the New Jerusalem that descends from heaven in the book of Revelation (Rev. 21:16). This room is a piece of heaven on earth.
And what is it made of? Gold. Not just a little gold trim, but an overwhelming, breathtaking amount of it. Six hundred talents of fine gold just for the overlay. A talent was about 75 pounds. So we are talking about 45,000 pounds, or over 22 tons, of pure gold. Even the nails were gold. The sheer, almost scandalous, expense is the point. Gold, in Scripture, is the metal of divinity, purity, and glory. It doesn't rust or tarnish. It reflects light with a brilliant radiance. This room was designed to communicate the incalculable worth and untouchable holiness of the God who would dwell there. It was meant to overwhelm the senses and declare that this space was utterly different from any other space on earth. This is God's space.
Our pragmatic, budget-conscious age looks at this and thinks of all the practical things that could have been done with that gold. But this is a failure of imagination, a failure of worship. God is not a line item on a budget. He is the Creator of all wealth, and He is worthy of all glory. The purpose of this room was to teach Israel that approaching God is no small thing. You are entering a space defined by His perfect, radiant, and weighty glory. You cannot come casually. You cannot come cheaply.
The Guardians of Holiness (vv. 10-13)
Inside this golden cube, the space is not empty. It is guarded.
"Then in the room of the Holy of Holies he made two cherubim of fashioned work and overlaid them with gold... The wings of these cherubim extended twenty cubits, and they stood on their feet facing the main room." (2 Chronicles 3:10-13)
These are not the chubby, sentimental babies of Renaissance art. These are cherubim, formidable angelic beings who are the guardians of God's holy presence. When Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden, who did God place at the entrance to guard the way to the tree of life? He placed cherubim and a flaming sword (Genesis 3:24). They are God's divine sentinels, His celestial guards. Their presence here is a stark and constant reminder of that first eviction. The way back to God's presence is barred.
These two cherubim are immense. Each has a ten-cubit wingspan, and together their wings stretch the entire twenty-cubit width of the room, from wall to wall. They stand on their feet, alert, ready. And notice their posture: they are "facing the main room." They are looking out, toward the Holy Place, toward any who might approach. Their stance is a warning. It says, "Halt. No entry." They are the personification of the flaming sword, enforcing the separation between a holy God and a sinful people.
They are overlaid with gold because they are agents of the divine government. They operate in the realm of God's perfect holiness. Their very presence declares that God's holiness is not a vague, abstract concept. It is an actively guarded reality. You cannot just wander into the presence of God. You must have a right to be there, and sinful man has forfeited that right.
The Fabric of Separation (v. 14)
Finally, we come to the last line of defense, the veil that seals off this holy space.
"And he made the veil of blue, purple, crimson, and fine linen, and he ornamented cherubim on it." (2 Chronicles 3:14)
If the golden room is heaven's throne room and the cherubim are its guards, the veil is the door. And the door is locked. This was not a flimsy curtain. Jewish tradition tells us it was as thick as a man's hand, a massive, heavy tapestry. Its colors are significant: blue for the heavens, purple for royalty, and crimson for blood and sacrifice. It is a royal, heavenly, and sacrificial barrier.
And what is woven into the fabric? More cherubim. They are embroidered right into the curtain itself. The message could not be clearer. The way is guarded. The way is shut. This veil is the material embodiment of the separation between God and man that was established in the Garden. Sin has created a division that we cannot cross. Only one man, the High Priest, could go behind this veil, and only once a year on the Day of Atonement, and only with the blood of a sacrifice, and not without trembling for his life (Leviticus 16).
This entire architectural arrangement, the golden cube, the guardian cherubim, the impassable veil, was designed to preach one sermon, year after year, century after century. And the sermon was this: God is holy, you are not, and you cannot get to Him on your own.
The Torn Curtain and the True Temple
For hundreds of years, this veil hung in the Temple, a silent, powerful testimony to our alienation from God. It was a symbol of the great problem of the human race. And then, on a Friday afternoon outside Jerusalem, the solution to that problem was accomplished.
When Jesus Christ, the Son of God, cried out "It is finished" and gave up His spirit, the earth shook. And at that very moment, the Gospel of Matthew tells us, "the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom" (Matthew 27:51). Not from the bottom up, as if a man had ripped it. But from top to bottom. God Himself tore it open.
In that moment, the sermon of the Temple architecture reached its dramatic and glorious conclusion. The cherubim stood down. The way was opened. The flaming sword was quenched in the blood of the Lamb. The writer to the Hebrews tells us exactly what this means. He says we now have "confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh" (Hebrews 10:19-20).
Jesus Christ is the true Temple. The overwhelming glory of God that was represented by all that gold dwells fully in Him (Colossians 2:9). He is the one who passed through the veil of His own flesh, taking the full wrath of God for our sin, in order to open the way for us. The cherubim on the veil were a "no trespassing" sign. The torn veil is God's "welcome home" sign.
Because of Christ, the Holy of Holies is no longer a place in Jerusalem. The throne of God is now a throne of grace, and we are invited to "draw near with confidence" (Hebrews 4:16). The architecture of the Temple was designed to teach us about separation. The death of Christ is the architecture of access. He did not just open a door; He became the door. He is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Him. But the glorious news of the gospel is that through Him, anyone may come.