God's Lavish House: The Grammar of Worship Text: 2 Chronicles 4:7-10
Introduction: Against the Gnostic Vapors
We live in an age that is deeply suspicious of stuff. Our modern piety, particularly in its low-church evangelical forms, has been subtly infected with a gnostic virus. Gnosticism, in all its ancient and modern expressions, despises the material world. It teaches that spirit is good and matter is bad. Salvation, therefore, is an escape from the body, an escape from the physical, an escape into a disembodied, ethereal spirituality. This is why so many modern Christians are uncomfortable with robust liturgy, with sacraments that actually do something, and with the tangible, textured, and gloriously material faith described in the Bible. They want a "personal relationship with Jesus" that exists purely in the head and the heart, a faith of feelings and thoughts, untethered from the dirt and sweat and substance of created reality.
But the God of the Bible is not a gnostic. He is the Creator of heaven and earth, and when He made it, He declared it good. He likes stuff. He likes gold and bronze, wood and water, bread and wine. And when He determined to dwell with His people, He did not send them a memo or a set of abstract principles. He had them build Him a house, a lavish house, filled with glorious, heavy, and deeply meaningful furniture. The Tabernacle, and later the Temple, was God's great polemic against the gnostic vapors. It was a declaration that He is Lord of this world, the material world, and that He intends to meet with His people right here, in the thick of it.
The detailed lists of temple furnishings, like the one we have in our text today, are therefore not some dusty inventory for historical curiosity. They are a catechism in metal and fabric. They teach us the grammar of worship. They show us what it means to approach a holy God. And every last detail, from the number of lampstands to the placement of the great bronze sea, is a shadow, a type, a pointer to the ultimate reality that would be fulfilled in the person and work of Jesus Christ, and extended into the life of His body, the Church.
So as we look at this brief description of Solomon's work, we must resist the temptation to treat it as a mere architectural report. We must see it for what it is: a revelation of the nature of God, the pattern of true worship, and a glorious foreshadowing of the gospel. God is not setting up a museum; He is setting the stage for redemption.
The Text
Then he made the ten golden lampstands in the way prescribed for them and he put them in the temple, five on the right side and five on the left. He also made ten tables and placed them in the temple, five on the right side and five on the left. And he made one hundred golden bowls. Then he made the court of the priests and the great court and doors for the court, and overlaid their doors with bronze. And he put the sea on the right side of the house toward the southeast.
(2 Chronicles 4:7-10 LSB)
Tenfold Light (v. 7)
We begin with the lampstands.
"Then he made the ten golden lampstands in the way prescribed for them and he put them in the temple, five on the right side and five on the left." (2 Chronicles 4:7 LSB)
In the original Tabernacle, there was one lampstand, the Menorah, with its seven lamps. It was the sole source of light in the Holy Place, a constant reminder that the light of God's presence and His revelation was singular and central to Israel. But here, in Solomon's Temple, that light is multiplied by ten. This is not a rejection of the old pattern, but an amplification of it. The number ten in Scripture often signifies fullness, completion, or a totality of order, think of the Ten Commandments. The light of God's presence is being magnified, indicating a greater and more established glory.
These lampstands were made of pure gold, signifying both the divine purity of this light and its preciousness. And their purpose was simple: to give light. God does not dwell in darkness. "God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all" (1 John 1:5). To approach Him is to come out of the dark and into His marvelous light. This light is first and foremost the light of His own glorious presence, but it is also the light of His Word. His Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119:105).
But the typology here explodes in the New Testament. Jesus declares, "I am the light of the world" (John 8:12). He is the true Menorah, the fulfillment of all that this golden furniture represented. But it doesn't stop there. In the book of Revelation, the apostle John sees a vision of the risen Christ walking among seven golden lampstands, and Jesus Himself explains the symbolism: "the seven lampstands are the seven churches" (Rev. 1:20). The Church, you see, is the lampstand. We do not generate our own light. Our task is to hold up the light of Christ to a dark world. Solomon's ten lampstands, arranged in perfect symmetry, five on the right and five on the left, beautifully prefigure the Church in its fullness, holding forth the Word of life, shining as lights in the world (Phil. 2:15).
Tenfold Fellowship (v. 8)
Next, we see a similar amplification with the tables.
"He also made ten tables and placed them in the temple, five on the right side and five on the left. And he made one hundred golden bowls." (2 Chronicles 4:8 LSB)
Just as with the lampstands, the Tabernacle had one Table of Showbread, or the Bread of the Presence. On it were placed twelve loaves, representing the twelve tribes of Israel, living in perpetual fellowship with their covenant God. It was a table of communion. Here again, Solomon multiplies this by ten. The invitation to fellowship is magnified. The provision of God is abundant. This is not a meager scrap, but a feast.
This table points directly to Christ, who is the true Bread of Life who came down from Heaven (John 6:35). He is the substance of our fellowship with the Father. And this typology finds its weekly expression in the life of the Church at the Lord's Table. When we come to communion, we are partaking of the reality that the Table of Showbread only pictured. We are having fellowship with the Father, through the Son. The hundred golden bowls also speak to this lavishness. These were likely for the drink offerings that accompanied the sacrifices, pointing to the wine of the New Covenant, the shed blood of Christ which seals our fellowship with God.
The ten tables, laden with the Bread of the Presence, are a picture of the expansive, abundant, and full fellowship that God offers His people in Christ. It is not for a select few, but for all the tribes. It is not a stingy provision, but a rich banquet.
Ordered Courts and Bronze Doors (v. 9)
The Chronicler then moves from the interior furnishings to the structure of the courts.
"Then he made the court of the priests and the great court and doors for the court, and overlaid their doors with bronze." (2 Chronicles 4:9 LSB)
Worship has a structure. It has an order. It is not a chaotic free-for-all. God establishes distinctions, and these distinctions are crucial. There was a great court, where the people of Israel could gather. But there was also a court of the priests, a space set apart for those who were consecrated to minister directly before the Lord. This is not elitism; it is divine order. It teaches us that not everyone has the same role, and that nearness to God requires consecration.
In the New Covenant, this distinction is both fulfilled and transformed. Through Christ, the veil is torn, and all believers have been made a kingdom of priests (1 Peter 2:9). We all have bold access into the holiest place through the blood of Jesus. And yet, order remains. The church has elders and deacons, ordained officers who lead the people in worship. We must not despise God's ordained structure in a rush for a false, egalitarian mushiness.
The doors were overlaid with bronze. In biblical symbolism, bronze is often associated with judgment. The altar of burnt offering was made of bronze, the place where sin was judged in the substitute. These bronze doors would have served as a solemn reminder to all who entered: you are entering a place where a holy God dwells, and the only way to approach Him is through a judged substitute. You cannot waltz into His presence on your own terms. The way is through judgment, a judgment that Christ would bear for us on the cross.
The Great Bronze Sea (v. 10)
Finally, we come to the most massive and imposing piece of furniture in the courtyard.
"And he put the sea on the right side of the house toward the southeast." (2 Chronicles 4:10 LSB)
This was not a birdbath. The "sea" was an enormous bronze basin, holding thousands of gallons of water. Its purpose, we are told elsewhere, was for the priests to wash themselves (2 Chron. 4:6). Before they could minister in God's house, they had to be cleansed. This is a non-negotiable principle. You cannot serve a holy God with dirty hands. You must be washed.
The sheer scale of this object is a theological statement. It speaks of a great and abundant cleansing. This is not a sprinkle; it is a sea. It represents a total, comprehensive washing. And what is this, if not a magnificent type of Christian baptism? In baptism, we are washed. We are cleansed from the filth of our sin. Paul tells us we are saved by the "washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit" (Titus 3:5). The bronze sea stood in the courtyard as a constant, massive, unavoidable sermon on the necessity of cleansing.
The sea stood on the backs of twelve bronze oxen, three facing each cardinal direction of the compass. This points to the universal scope of this cleansing. The twelve oxen represent the twelve tribes of Israel, who were to be the foundation of a kingdom that would bless all the nations of the earth. The gospel, the great cleansing from sin, is not just for one people in one place, but is to go out to the north, south, east, and west. The priests were washed in this sea, prefiguring that great day when a people from every tribe and tongue and nation would be washed in the blood of the Lamb.
Conclusion: Furnishing the New Temple
Solomon built a house for God with gold, bronze, and stone. But God is building a new and better temple. He is building His church, and we are the living stones (1 Peter 2:5). And this new temple is furnished with the realities that these old items only pointed to.
The light of the ten lampstands is fulfilled in the church, which holds forth Christ, the light of the world. The fellowship of the ten tables is fulfilled at the Lord's Table, where we feast on Christ, the bread of life. The separation of the courts is fulfilled in the ordered life of the church, a holy priesthood set apart for God's service. And the great cleansing of the bronze sea is fulfilled in the waters of baptism, where God washes us and claims us as His own.
Our faith is not a disembodied, gnostic escape from the world. It is a robust, sacramental, and tangible reality. God meets us in the water, bread, and wine. He makes us His temple. He furnishes our lives with the glorious realities of the gospel. He gives us light, He gives us fellowship, He gives us order, and He gives us a cleansing so vast and deep it can only be called a sea.