Hebrews 13:12–14

The apostle takes advantage of a beautiful type in the law. When a victim came to the bronze altar, the blood did not go into the holiest at all; the animal died outside. But when the blood went into the holiest, the body was taken outside the camp and burned. This, he says, is what we find in Christ. He suffered outside the gate and has now gone into the presence of God, to place us inside the holiest and outside the world.

If as mere outward things they are nothing, then we must look for something deeper in them. The apostle prepares us for this by linking the "outside the gate" with "outside the camp" in what we know had a typical, spiritual meaning. With hanging on the tree he associates also the "curse of the law." And now the meaning becomes apparent. The curse is wrath, separation from God, and all that He owns as His. See now the darkness that settles upon the cross! Is not God light? The light is withdrawn! Listen to the anguished cry of the Sufferer: does He not declare that God has forsaken Him?

The sanctification they speak of is neither practical nor progressive — that kind is the work of the Holy Spirit through the Word. It means that God sets believers apart to Himself as His people on the earth. So everyone who comes by faith under the shelter of the blood of Christ is separated from all the world by that very fact, and set apart to God.

He suffered, not to save His own from hell (although that is true), but that He might sanctify them. He wanted a people who should be absolutely His own, and standing apart from the whole order of things from which He is excluded. This involves reproach, but shall we refuse it? Is He not worthy of the intense devotion of these poor hearts of ours?

Indeed, His blood speaks inside the holiest of all, in such a way as to eternally satisfy and glorify God, and this is sanctification to God. Yet sanctification to God must also involve sanctification from the world — a setting apart in a very real and holy manner. He Himself was forced out of everything that people on earth counted dignified and honourable. His people must expect to share the same rejection with Him, if they would follow Him.

The camp represents a worldly system of religion, adapted to the natural man. God Himself set it up at the start, and it suited man in the flesh — the state God found him in at that time. Worship in this worldly religious system did not need a new nature or spiritual power. It consisted of hearing, seeing, and doing what the natural senses could take in.

He took the outside place, and His voice falls on the ear from there. Do we listen to it? Do we understand it? Should we not consider more seriously the place where Jesus died? Are we to rest satisfied with reaping the benefits of Christ's death, without seeking fellowship with Him in His rejection? God forbid! … Shall we see Him die outside, while we reap the benefits of His death and remain within?

The apostle takes advantage of a beautiful type in the law. When a victim was brought to the bronze altar, the blood was not brought into the holiest at all; the animal was killed outside. But when the blood was carried into the holiest, the body was taken and burned outside the camp. This, he says, is what was found in Christ. He suffered outside the gate and is now gone into the presence of God, to place us inside the holiest and outside the world.

Others have truly described the camp as an earthly religious relationship with God, outside the sanctuary, established on earth, with a separate caste of priests between men and God. This is what Judaism was, and Christ came into it, but hatred cast Him out of it, and it is now utterly rejected. But, as men set it up, it is the place where they dishonour God, set His Word aside, and give flesh room to do what it likes.

The camp was the Jewish religious system originally set up by God and making its appeal to the natural man. It raised no question of new birth; everything depended on natural birth. It had a worldly sanctuary and an ordered ritual (Hebrews 9:1-10). It is only too clear that the religious systems of Christendom have copied the pattern of the camp.

We are not called to go outside under the judgment of God, but we are called to go outside under the reproach of men, and that to the utmost. He suffered as the holy victim under the judgment of God: He endured as the patient martyr under the reproach of men. We cannot share His sufferings at the hand of God, but it is our privilege to share the insults He received from the hands of men. He went outside the camp to bear our judgment: we go outside the camp to bear His reproach.

Is there then no power that will enable us to overcome this shrinking from reproach? Surely there is! And does it not lie in affection for Christ? So the word is, "Let us go to Him." This word is of the first importance, for it gives us a positive reason for leaving the camp order of things. Going out from what we have learned to be evil is merely negative, and no man can live on negatives.

Suppose someone leaves a religious system only because of the evils there. He may form another system, or join a system with more truth and holiness. But it is still a system where Christ alone is not the gathering centre, and where the free action of the Holy Spirit does not give Him the supreme place of rule. So he is still part of the camp of Christendom, though perhaps on the outer edge of it.

For a Jew to leave the camp of Judaism was no light matter: he could expect the same reproach that Israel gave to his Master. There is no real comfort, no shelter, no strength at all for a path of reproach like this. We find them only in the very real presence of the Lord. Do we love Him? Do we trust Him? Then let us gladly bear His reproach. If it pains us, let us rather think of His greater pain.

Soon the unbelieving or half-believing Jew had to learn that here he had no abiding city. But this should always be true to a Christian's faith, whether he lived in Rome or in London, as then in Jerusalem. Like Abraham we look for the city that does not rest on sand but "has the foundations." But it is "to come." Human hands will never build it, however much men may boast.

Christians now must bear the cross, waiting for heaven with Christ. All middle ground is gone with the old covenant. But if we wait for glory, we should praise continually all the more, not less. We should offer to God through Jesus the fruit of lips that confess His name, and not forget the sacrifices of doing good and sharing with others.

They are a pilgrim company — "Here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come." In the outside place we can take up our proper character as strangers and pilgrims. A stranger is one that has no continuing city here; a pilgrim is one that seeks the city to come. We may, sadly, fail in the outside place to be true to our pilgrim character. But in the camp it would be almost impossible to wear that character with any consistency.

Men often have the first part of this verse on their lips. They use it to express reluctant agreement with man's natural emptiness. They do not use it as a plain declaration that the bright attraction of a better and heavenly inheritance has separated them from earthly things. The spiritual man disowns staying here. His desire is wholly in the future. He is waiting, not settling, in his present life. Among the dwellings which the world builds solidly to last, he has an altar and a moving tent.

Yet men have not been lacking who say that the city which God here designs and forms is the earthly Jerusalem. It is impossible to imagine an idea less spiritual or more ruinous to the truth intended. All through the letter, the writer steadily lifts the eyes of his readers to the city out of sight and on high. Abraham saw that city by faith and was glad. Here we have no continuing city, whatever the Jews may receive later on.

Then he says that this lonely path does not continue. "Here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come," one "whose builder and maker is God." And what is the glory of that city? In one word: "The Lamb is its light." So as we are seeking a city to come, we are seeking Christ. We would see Him.

After all, our time on earth is extremely brief at most. "Here we have no continuing city," no place of settled fellowship, for everything here is both greatly damaged and rapidly passing away. "But we seek one to come." What a prospect of unspeakable joy! It is a fellowship of perfect purity and blessedness. There the Person and authority of the Lord Jesus is the very basis of its holy unity and sweetness for eternity. Set against so marvellous an end, how small is whatever reproach and suffering we may bear now for Christ's sake.