Hebrews 13:7–24

In this case we must say were, not "are," your guides, for their course was closed, as the verse itself indicates. They had been "leading" men among the believers, like Judas Barsabbas and Silas (Acts 15:22). Elders or not, men named this way had a larger and higher sphere than a local office.

This word "remember" is a different word to that translated "remember" in verse 3. There it is a practical remembrance of those in need; here it is the remembrance of those we are apt to forget. They are worthy of remembrance because they have spoken to us the Word of God.

Leaders there will always be, and rightly when it is their faith that carries them ahead of others. But faith must be in the word of God, and must have this to justify itself to others. So true guidance is always by the Word, and this is what keeps it from being simply the following of men. Without this, we can easily go astray in the path of very good men. Peter led Barnabas astray in this way. Paul says, "Follow me"; but he adds, "as I follow Christ."

What were these men? Guides? Does putting a man into an official place make him this? No! Verse 7 speaks for itself. A man who brings to you the Word of God in a moment of difficulty, so that you know it is God's Word, and your soul is guided by it, is a guide. You will own him as such, and remember him in your prayers, and welcome him, when he again comes along.

They had been their leaders, and the believers are told to consider how their course of life ended (in older English, "their conversation"), and to imitate their faith. Some of the Hebrew believers were in danger of drawing back, as others seem to have already done. In earlier days there had been a noble stand and severe endurance for it. Here they are urged to what shone in their departed guides, some of whom, it seems, had resisted to the point of blood.

Their conversation — that is, their whole manner of life and conduct — had a definite end in view. No random mix of motives moved them. One vital issue above all else shaped their actions. We are told to consider this. What was the secret of their stability?

We are to imitate them, but not in detail; we are not to be Peters or Pauls. We are not to take some great Christian as our model, and imitate him. Sooner or later that ends in shame for the one who tries it. But we can always imitate their faith… Thank God for guides. Some of them we knew and loved truly. The precious Word they spoke to us is with us yet. Let us imitate their faith!

When we are left without those to whom God had especially committed His testimony in a dark and evil day, the Holy Spirit would direct our affections into divine channels… Remembering them in this spirit removes the danger of human idolatry. It lets us glorify God in the energy, the courage, the dedication and zeal which they displayed.

In verses 8 and 9 we pass from the leaders who have gone from us to Jesus Christ who remains. Others pass away and others change, but "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." At times we speak of the great men of God who have gone as if their leaving had left us with nothing to fall back on. Speaking that way carries a danger: we slight Christ without meaning to. They have gone, but Christ remains with perfect love in His heart and perfect power in His hand.

They may disappear from the scene, but He stays, and He stays as our unchanging and unchangeable resource. Through all our ups and downs, and even through all our failures and unfaithfulness, if our hearts simply rest on this truth, we never need to lose heart... What comfort to us when we feel our own weakness! And what a cure for our fears, and for our craving for visible help!

It has been pointed out that "The Same" is really a name of God. It appears elsewhere in the Old Testament, though translated in other ways. Isaiah 41:4 and 46:4 are examples, where "I am He" is the same expression. Every creature is changeable: only the Creator does not change. Hebrews 1 says of the Son, "You are the same." And He is the very one called "Jesus Christ the same yesterday and today and forever" in Hebrews 13.

And what is the divine remedy? It is just what the Holy Spirit uses here — "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." We must not cut this verse off from the one that follows: "Do not be led away by diverse and strange teachings." The Holy Spirit wanted to guard these Jewish believers against things that are worthless next to the Christian blessings that are properly ours: priesthood on earth, holy places, offerings, tithes, and the rest. Next to Jesus, who is far older, these things were the real novelties.

Verse 8 introduces a new subject: if there is any link with verse 7, it is a contrast with the faithful servants who were gone. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." He is the unchangeable One. What a safeguard against being carried away by various and strange teachings! Christ truly known satisfies the heart and gives rest to the mind that is otherwise greedy for novelties. So even those who are unsteady by nature become restful and stable by grace, as they grow up to Him in all things.

You can look back on His yesterday and know that He has not changed at all. On the throne of God He is the same gracious Saviour He was on earth. He does now for us just what He did then for people in deep need. Take every account of mercy He showed to the undeserving and the needy on earth, and say: Jesus Christ is the same today.

His person is fixed and stable for eternity... But so is everything He deals with or handles, as this letter discloses as it goes on, whether it is His blood, His priesthood, His covenant, or His kingdom. There is no hidden principle of decay, no blemish or cause of death anywhere.

So the practical word for us is this: do not change our confidence or move it away from Him. He does not change, and He does not hand His things over to anyone else. In the sight of all this glorious stability in Christ, our faith is to be stable.

And consider the insolent, overbearing Saul of Tarsus... What meekness, gentleness, patience, tenderness, and lowliness were worked in this striking subject of the grace of God!... And this wonderful change brought about by Him who is the same yesterday, and today and for ever!

The writer speaks of the One who is always the same: Jesus Christ, "the same yesterday, and today, and forever." Then he turns to the saints and says, "Do not be led away by diverse and strange teachings." The One who is unchangeably and eternally the same, and you, who believe on His name, are not going to be blown about by every wind of doctrine. No, the stability and changelessness that marks the Lord Jesus is the character His people are to show and follow.

The One in whom our faith centres is always the same. So there must be a sameness in all the truth that centres in Him too. He can never be the Centre and Theme of doctrines which are various and strange. There is no place for the restless human mind that is never satisfied, always chasing new ideas, however much they contradict each other. Real knowledge of Jesus establishes the heart with grace, and mere variety and novelty lose their attraction. The danger that immediately threatened the Hebrews was strange doctrine brought in from their own former religion, as the mention of "foods" shows.

God's revelation in Christ is infinitely better than the forms and laws of Judaism. But after such a revelation, no advance or improvement is possible. People may bring in new and different doctrines, but they insult the blessed Person of Christ. They are strange in the sense of being foreign to God's revelation. Such doctrines may fool unsteady souls, but as we have seen, stability is found in the Person of Christ.

It is the active grace of Christ that establishes and sustains the soul, not diverse and strange doctrines. Such doctrines look like very intellectual food, but they only feed the mind. So they bring no profit to those who occupy themselves with them. The flesh craves what is new. It wants to exalt itself by presenting truth in a way that differs from everything taught before.

Now do not read verse 9 as if you could to some extent establish your heart with foods. Notice the punctuation; a semicolon after "grace" cuts it off from the close of the verse. Foods do nothing for you; as he tells you in another place — "do not touch, do not taste, do not handle." They bring neither profit nor honour to you. Suppose you accumulate physical religious observances. If Colossians 2 tells me there is no honour in them, this tells me there is no profit in them. When you examine them closely, they all just satisfy the flesh.

Taking up the legal system puts law in the place of grace, earthly in the place of heavenly, physical in the place of spiritual… For the believer caught in it, it means uncertainty instead of certainty, doubt instead of peace, bondage instead of liberty. Instead of communion with God, there is the hiss of the serpent. Grace is the only thing that can dismiss fear, conquer sin, and establish the sovereignty of God over the human heart.

May we know more fully and purely the sweet meaning of that grace. It has met the claims of a broken law, delivered us from bondage, and given us a liberty in which we serve God with wholehearted, willing devotion… Thankful affection for the Lord then becomes the motive, not a mere sense of duty.

Nothing is so hard for our hearts as to stay in the sense of grace, to keep the practical awareness that "we are not under law but under grace." It is by grace that the heart is "established." But nothing is harder for us to grasp than the fulness of grace — that "grace of God in which we stand" — and to walk in its power and awareness.

Faith is nourished by grace, not by questions that breed strife, any more than "by foods," as the apostle somewhat scornfully speaks of Jewish controversies, "in which those who walked were not profited." And grace is inseparable from Christ, who is "the same yesterday, and today, and forever." Questions apart from Him are met by diverse and strange teachings which only distract the senses.

Would anyone try to draw the Hebrews away? They might taunt them for leaving the altar they once stood before, and for worshipping without one. The patriarchs had their altars. The law recognised one. The Christians seemed to have none. Now they were taught to answer all such taunts. They could meet any objection of that kind with a bold declaration: they had an altar — but one which those who served the tabernacle had no right to eat from. Christians had a privilege that the priests under the law never had.

The Person of the Lord Jesus is the altar that sanctifies the gift. That is, He gives value to His work of sacrifice. The believer shares in this altar, just as in Israel the man who brought the offering could eat of the peace offerings. But anyone who serves the tabernacle clings to Judaism, which was only a temporary order of things. By that very act he ignores the glory of the Person of Christ and the power of His sacrifice.

We feed on Christ, and our altar is the cross on which He died. This is the only place where Scripture mentions an altar for Christians on earth. And it says plainly how we use it. We do not stand at it. We do not offer on it. We eat what has been offered upon it. But we do not eat at it. No priest under the law made the bronze altar his table. It was the Lord's table. So we Christians have no visible altar, and neither did these Hebrews. Any altar people may put up now would not be the cross on which He died. It would be another altar, and a needless one, because the Lord cannot die again.

They indeed shared in the altar, and we Christians eat what was sacrificed on it. But we feed on the sin offering whose blood was carried inside the sanctuary. That was the very thing God withheld from those who served the tabernacle. So an altar is ours, to eat of what was once brought to it, but not to sacrifice on it. Does the word "altar" suggest to anyone that a sacrificial service should go on? Scripture defines the benefit we get from our altar, and that benefit marks the immense difference between Christianity and Judaism. We share in what no priest could ever partake of.

It is the peace offering he is speaking of, since that was the only offering in which all Israel could have communion with the altar.

How often unbelieving Jews must have flung the taunt at their believing brothers that they now had no altar in which to claim a share! But the fact is, "We have an altar"! And of the Christian's altar the proud, orthodox Jew had no right to eat, having shut himself out by his own unbelief.

The altar — note, it is not called the Lord's table — speaks of the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ. By faith we can take to ourselves all the benefits that come to us through that work. The greatest of these is the privilege of drawing near to God. We can enter the holiest place because His shed blood gives us the title and the boldness to do so. On the other hand, we must "go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured." It is by Him that there, outside the religious world, we can "offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name."

It helps to notice that verse 11 presents the type, verse 12 Christ the antitype, and verse 13 the practical application to the Christian. About the type, two facts are stated... After the bull had been killed, the priest was to dip his finger in the blood and sprinkle it before the Lord in the sanctuary. Then the body was to be carried outside the camp to a clean place, where the ashes were poured out. There it was burnt on the wood with the fire.

Only one kind of sacrifice had blood that could go into the sanctuary and be presented to God. "We have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus." Where, then, is that blood? It is in the sanctuary, on the mercy seat, right before God. There were a great many sacrifices... Of them all, only one offering had blood that could be put on the mercy seat and truly open the way to God. Which one? The one whose body was burned outside the camp.

A holy God must judge sin. When that judgment is carried out in full on a substitute who suffers the penalty, it sanctifies those for whom it is borne — that is, it sets them apart for God according to holiness. So approach to God is by the sin offering rather than the burnt offering.

Seen as judgment, it is the place of being forsaken — a place without God... The body of the sin offering burnt "outside the camp" is a fitting picture of God's holy judgment on sin. Into this place Jesus went... In order that we might have the place of blessing within the veil, He must take our place of judgment outside the camp.

The body burnt outside the camp showed the holiness of God, who must banish sin from His presence, even when Christ bore it. How severe His judgment was, since it consumed the holy victim who bore the sin!... But the ashes of the burnt heifer proclaimed at the same time that sin was not charged to the sinner, and that this great question had been settled for good between Christ and God.

The priest who offered it for sin was to eat it in a holy place — in the court of the tabernacle — and all the males of the priesthood could eat it with him. But the sin offering whose blood was brought into the sanctuary for sin could not be eaten. It had to be burnt in the fire, and that outside the camp.

Two things are clear in this passage. The priest carried the blood of the sin offering into the sanctuary, and the bodies of the sacrificed animals were burnt outside the camp... So we have the double place of the believer. His place before God is in the sanctuary, where the blood was carried. His place on earth is outside the camp, where Christ suffered.

No two places are further apart than inside the veil and outside the camp, yet here they are brought together. Inside the veil was where the glory of God dwelt. Outside the camp was where the sin offering was burned, and no place gives such a sense of distance from God. It is a joy to know that the Holy Spirit shows me Jesus filling up all that lies between these two points.

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.

We have read of the one perfect sacrifice offered up once for all, so never to be repeated. No more sacrifice for sins can there be. No repetition of that sacrifice in any form is required. We have no altar on which to kill a victim. We are not called to offer to our God any sacrifice for sins, with blood or without. Yet do Christians have no sacrifices to offer? They certainly do, and ones God will accept.

It is "by Him" that we offer the praise of our lips to God. He it is who offers up to God, as the great High Priest, all the praises rising from those whom the grace of God has made priests.

What a little breath, breathed out in a few words of praise, is an "acceptable sacrifice"! One can understand Christ's sacrifice being acceptable — the one sacrifice that makes us perfect for ever. But does the same Spirit, after telling us of that, turn round to you and to me, saying, "I look to you to offer sacrifice"? What! Can God accept as a sacrifice a little breath, carrying to my soul the thought of what He has done? Yes! And I am to offer it to Him continually as the fruit of the lips giving thanks to His name.

It is making confession to His name. It is in no way our own righteousness, and it is no mere form.

The proof of our priestly place is remarkably complete. So a special class of priests on earth today, acting for Christians and set apart from them, is a fraud. Scripture does not support it. Scripture stands wholly against it, in plain and full testimony.

Outside the camp the Christian finds himself with God. His altar, and everything needed for worship God accepts, are provided there. It is by Jesus, whom the world disowns, that we are now called to offer the sacrifice of praise. That praise finds no free voice inside the camp.

He is the same yesterday and today and forever, and our blessing through Him is as complete as it is everlasting… No wonder we are called to praise God, not as Jews did now and then, but "continually."

It is not to be only at some specially favoured moment, when everything looks bright and smiling around us… No; the word is, "praise continually." There is no room and no time for complaining and murmuring. There is none for fretfulness and discontent, impatience and irritability, or grumbling about our surroundings, whatever they may be.

Worship gets the first and highest place. Let us never forget this. We might think, in our own wisdom or feelings, that the highest thing is doing good to people — being useful, giving to those in need. But it is not so.

The apostle speaks of two sorts of sacrifices. The first is beyond compare in importance and value. The lower form is doing good and sharing here below, yet it flows from the same faith and love. The spiritual ones are the delight of God; those on the human side are well-pleasing to Him.

Putting both together, we have what we may call the upper and the lower side of the Christian's character — praising God and doing good to men. One thing is certain: they will always go together. Show me a man whose heart is full of praise to God, and I will show you one whose heart is open to every form of human need. He may not be rich in this world's goods. He may have to say, like one of old who was not ashamed to say it, "I have no silver and gold." But he will have the tear of sympathy, the kind look, the soothing word. These things touch a sensitive heart far more than an open purse and the jingling of silver and gold.

He does not say, "But to offer the sacrifice of praise forget not." No. But we may be so happy in our place and portion in Christ that we forget we are passing through a scene of sorrow and need, trial and pressure. So the apostle adds the healthy warning about doing good and sharing… The Christian, as God means him to be, stands with one hand lifted up to God, offering the sacrifice of praise, and the other hand filled with the fragrant fruits of genuine goodness to meet every needy person.

To share in these passages so plainly means the gift of money or other material things that one cannot understand any other meaning being read into the expression in Hebrews 13:16.

But remember: mere giving — a grudging gift, for example, or one given only because someone pressed for it — would not make the gift a sacrifice. As in the sacrifice of praise, the gift must be presented through Christ, to God, in the power of the Spirit. Only such gifts can be called "a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God."

See how the apostle speaks of the material help the Philippians gave for his need. It may have been small when measured by the world's standards. But it was of immeasurable value to God, because the Spirit of Christ produced it… Nothing can be small or of slight value to God which has the fragrance of Christ with it. The "two small coins" of the widow have reached every place where the fragrance of His name is made known.

We have read of the one perfect sacrifice offered up once for all, so never to be repeated. There can be no more sacrifice for sins… Yet do Christians have no sacrifices to offer? Certainly they have, and ones which God will accept… To care for others, serving them in their need, is a feature of Christian sacrifice, and an acceptable one. … To offer these, no priest, no altar, and no fresh victim is needed. Doing good is the activity of the Divine nature shown in the believer — the practical display of Christian love.

These were guides. Does putting a man into an official place make him a guide? No! Verse 7 speaks for itself. A man who brings you the Word of God in a moment of difficulty, so that you know it is God's Word and it guides your soul, is a guide. You will own him as such, remember him in your prayers, and welcome him when he comes again.

The same word is used of Judas and Silas in Acts 15 as the word translated "them that have the rule over you" in Hebrews 13:17. In the Acts 15 passage, no one dreams of giving that word the meaning people try to draw from it in Hebrews 13.

"They are keeping watch over your souls." We are not only to remember true leaders; we are to obey them. They do not press their own claims, but the claims of God. So obeying them is obeying the word of God which they faithfully passed on. The submission commanded is not to the will of man, but to the will of God.

Christ gives spiritual gifts: the gift of teaching, the gift of rule, the gift of pastorship. Wherever He does, Christians have both a duty and a privilege to recognise and value such gifts. Not to do so would be to throw away our own blessings. But we must remember that in every case the gift must be real — a plain, obvious, genuine gift given by God. It is not a man taking a place or position for himself, or being appointed by his fellow man to some so-called ministry.

Of course this gives no support to the crude and outrageous error that pastors give an account of the souls of their flock. Superstition invented that idea, to lift up a clerical order on false grounds. The meaning is that spiritual guides will give an account of their own behaviour in watching over other souls. It is work that calls for much watchfulness over self, patience with others, hard labour, humility, and that warm love which can bear all, endure all, believe all.

But this means an account of their own conduct toward those souls, not an account of other men's souls. Each person will bear his own burden, and whatever or whoever comes between the conscience and God is from the enemy.

How often a real guide can point out something a puzzled believer had not seen! Once it is set before him, he sees at once that it is of God. For if the Spirit gives a word of wisdom to the one, the same Spirit living in the other recognises what is true and right. That comes through the grace of Christ, which sets aside independence as well as worldly desire and every other evil thing. So the Lord is honoured in the leaders just as much as in those who submit to them. Any claim to a priestly class is shut out, and lawlessness stands judged as hateful to God.

"As those who will have to give an account" means, of course, that the leaders account for their own conduct in caring for the souls of others. But it also involves the people they watch over, who may hinder what would have profited them. How many of us recognise responsibility for the souls of others?

Sometimes there is joy in seeing the saints walking in the path of God's will through communion with Christ; but sometimes there is grief when self-will in the saints refuses the will of God, and brings distress and sorrow among the people of God. Whether in joy or in grief, the true leader must act for God.

This vessel of the Holy Spirit, this mightiest servant who ever served in God's name, comes down to the weakest believer and says, "Pray for us." He asks it on the authority of a good conscience. Could you ask another to pray for you if you were planning to do wrong? I will answer for it, you could not.

The apostle does not say, "Pray for us, for we are working hard," or anything like that. What gives him confidence in asking their prayers is that he has a "good conscience."

How many more ask prayer because their conscience is bad! But the inspired writer could ask his brothers to plead with God from the heart, asking God to sustain him in his work as the Spirit led him on. He had no sad need to be put right first from some evil that weighed him down.

People who are always busy with the things of God are always in danger of not having a "good conscience." No one is more likely to fall than the person who is always ministering the truth of God, if he is not careful to keep a "good conscience." Always talking about truth and always dealing with other people tends to harden the conscience... Where there is no diligence in seeking to keep a "good conscience," Satan comes in and destroys confidence between the soul and God, or we fall into false confidence.

In Hebrews 13:18 "honourably" or "rightly" is better than "honestly," which is now limited in English.

In the New Testament these words are not limited to trustworthiness, the way we usually understand them today. They extend to any honourable conduct.

The apostle's lowliness is a lovely example for us. He asks for the prayers he feels he needs. But this is not a request to make lightly. An honest willingness to live rightly before God ought to back it up. To ask for prayer while you want a self-willed, self-pleasing course is an effort to enlist God's help in doing wrong.

Even when I am delivered and reconciled, a conscience that is bad in practice will make me weak before the enemy. Think of a man whose conscience accuses him, and whom the world could accuse too, if it knew. How can he go into the battle with courage? He is afraid the blow will land there, and he has to think about that. He is not free to think, with a simple heart, of nothing but the service in front of him... But if the conscience is good and the walk upright, there is confidence in God, and he need not think about himself. He can do God's work freely.

But may we not often catch ourselves asking others to pray for us in a light, formal way? "Remember me in your prayers" is a very common phrase among us. But do we pay enough attention to the moral basis? Suppose we say, "Brothers, pray for us." Can we go on, as in the presence of the One who searches hearts, and add: "for we trust we have a good conscience, in all things willing to live honestly"?

The verse adds an appeal to their affection (compare Philemon 22). It is beautiful and cheering to know that he counted on the love of the saints in the evil day. He valued their prayers highly, as effective with God.

The Hebrews clearly knew who the writer was. To them it was no mystery... He had been with them in person before, for he hoped their prayers would bring him back to them sooner (verse 19). This remark rules out the names of Luke and Clement, and perhaps Apollos as well. Who knows whether Apollos was ever at Jerusalem, or expected to visit it again? But something hindered Paul's ministry at Jerusalem on his last visit... He had not been in the city a week before the Romans made him a prisoner. How natural that he wanted to be with the Hebrews again!

It is likely, also, that he was in chains for Christ when he addressed his Hebrew brothers. But if so, the chains did not weigh him down. For his confidence was steadfast in the sight of Him who tests the hearts.

The lowliness of the apostle is a lovely example for us. He asks for the prayers he feels he needs. But this is no request to make lightly. An honest willingness to live rightly before God ought to back it up. To ask prayer while wanting a self-willed, self-pleasing course is an effort to enlist God's help in wrongdoing. As to verse 19, he does not seem to mean release from prison, for it seems he was not in prison at the time. But he clearly longed to return to Judea, and sought their prayers to that end.

He sought their sympathy as one who suffered though he had done no wrong. But he longed even more for this: that through their prayers he might visit them once more. It is a gracious picture. He does not remind them of his apostolic dignity. He does not dictate their prayers for himself, as if his freedom were essential to their well-being. Instead he urges his request in warm affection and in the happy spirit of trusting love. He counted on their answer to his love. He counted, also, on the Lord's ready answer to prayers which sought the increase of His people's joy.

The writer of the letter, no doubt the apostle Paul, asks for their prayers: "Pray for us." No one needs the prayers of God's people more than those who are active and prominent in the Lord's work. They are busy preaching and teaching others. How great the danger of going on with a conscience that is not good about themselves! And what defiles or hardens more than that?... Most ask prayer because their conscience is bad. He begs them to pray, so that through their prayer of intercession he might be restored to them the sooner (see Philemon 22). He valued the prayers of God's people.

God is known here as the God of peace. What a title! The blood of Christ has purchased peace. God's glory, righteousness, holiness, and love all stand on our side. Not one attribute is against us, and all His almighty power is for us. So He is the God of peace, and His attitude toward us is always peace — a peace that is eternal, because it rests on the finished work of Christ. God has declared that He accepts that work by raising Him from the dead. This is the only direct reference to our Lord's resurrection in this letter.

He is never called the God of joy. Joy goes up and down and can be disturbed. There may be reason for joy, yet trouble may stop the heart enjoying it. Peace is what nothing can disturb; it is calm as the throne of God!

The blood shed by Jesus gave Him the right to rise from death with the same efficacy for others.

For troubled Hebrews there was a God of peace. He had laid the firm basis of peace by raising from among the dead the One whose heart was that of a faithful Shepherd — great indeed also in the power of resurrection life. And this resurrection matched how precious His death was. The blood of the eternal covenant was so valuable that resurrection was the righteous result.

Scripture speaks of the Lord Jesus as (1) the Good Shepherd (John 10:14); (2) the Great Shepherd (Heb. 13:20); (3) the Chief Shepherd (1 Peter 5:4). He is the Good Shepherd in giving His life for the sheep. He is the Great Shepherd in His glorious resurrection. He is the Chief Shepherd in His second coming, when He will reward the under shepherds.

Here in this letter (Heb. 13:20) He is called the great Shepherd, surely marking His excellence as surpassing Moses and Aaron. Long ago God had led His people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron (Psalm 77:20). Would their countrymen remind them of that? The Hebrews could point to a Shepherd who far surpassed both, the Lord Jesus Christ, at once the great, the good, and the chief Shepherd.

Covenant in Scripture means something different from covenant in ordinary language. It is the way God deals with man. It is not an agreement between God and man, or man and God… "The blood of the everlasting covenant" in Hebrews 13 is finished and done with. It will go all the way through, and it is available for all. The blood will never lose its value. It is the groundwork of all God's dealings with man in all ages.

They see the proof and pledge of this in our Lord Jesus, whom God brought up from the dead. He is not only the "good" and "chief" Shepherd but "the great Shepherd of the sheep." His blood belongs to no temporary covenant but to an eternal one. It secures the present redemption and heavenly nearness of those who believe. It is also their sure title to be brought up from death in the same way at His coming.

God's people work His works. But the strength of their effort is the grace in which they stand. Faith is the instrument by which they do things that please God. The apostle's desire was his brothers' perfection in every good work. He looks to the God of peace for that desire to be fulfilled. For God is the Doer of His people's acceptable works. By His Spirit He brings about in them compliance with His will. To own this truth, and act on it in faith, is the perfection of obedience. Jesus has led us in this faith. "The Father who dwells in Me does His works" were His words. He spoke them when He was about to complete in death, for our sakes, the work of that obedience through which we stand blameless before the God of peace (John 14:10).

We are perfect when we are adjusted to the will of God — joined to that will, not out of joint with it. This is the meaning of the word perfect here. Then how good the works will be that we do — works that will last. They are our answer to all that God has done for us and all that Christ is to us.

And what a perfection this will be if it is His work. We may have our standards, our notions of what we would like to be; let us drop them, and give ourselves wholly to God. He will patiently work in us with His own standard in view, which is conformity to Christ. Let us not be afraid of the will of God. Before we knew the God of peace, our hearts naturally thought His will must be against us. But it is not so… He brings good works out of us by working in us. What is external is the result of what is internal. He would have our hearts, our secret inward life, pleasing to Himself, for He desires truth in the inward parts. It is His work to produce the motives within us that are well-pleasing to Him.

There is never any failure on God's side. He has given us all things that pertain to life and godliness. There are unbounded stores in Christ, but we fail in using them.

The prayer is that we may be made perfect in every good work: it is "to do His will." … It is all "through Jesus Christ," the blessed One who has accomplished everything. If it is redemption, it is through Jesus Christ. If it is access to God, it is through Jesus Christ. If it is worship as priests, it is, "Through Him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God." If it is service, if it is doing the will of God, it is still through that same precious One.

The writer desires that God would perfect them in every good work … working in them what is well-pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ. To Him — the Son, as we have seen, and the Heir of all things, and by whom the worlds were made — be glory forever and ever. We read of His person as Divine at the start of the letter, and we are reminded of the same truth at its close. For to what mere creature would the Spirit of God ascribe glory forever and ever, and stress it with the word Amen?

"I appeal to you, brothers, bear with my word of exhortation." The apostle uses the same warm entreaty we have already noticed several times. It suits people who are under grace. The law made stern demands instead, and they were in danger of leaning back toward it.

Notice the tenderness of the writer of these words. He fully identifies himself with his readers. We see it when he says, "Let us go forth therefore to Him outside the camp, bearing His reproach." He then gives further instructions, counts on their fellowship and prayers, and comes to the doxology. He takes no place of authority. He simply adds, as an entreaty, "I appeal to you, brothers, bear with my word of exhortation." Surely the grace of the Spirit, in seeking the welfare of the saints, cannot be matched.

He beseeches them to bear with the word of exhortation — the epistle itself — which, if it strikes against Jewish prejudice, has in it such compensation of blessing.

It is wonderful how the letter turns the whole unfolding of His person, His work and His offices to practical profit, detail by detail. So it is rightly called "the word of exhortation." It will never run out of subjects and varied appeals for the ministry of His servants — servants whose eye looks only to His glory, whose heart values His grace, and whose faith in the crucified Christ follows Him on high and draws near to God in the holiest place.

The writer speaks of it as "a word of exhortation," and that is just what it is. It is also "a letter… in few words." Only two letters are longer than this one. Yet it truly is "in a few words" when we consider the size and scope of what it holds. If we have taken in these "few words," we have gained some knowledge of things so great that all eternity will not exhaust them.

The first application of these words is, of course, to the Jewish believers the letter was sent to. But God's word speaks to everyone. We all constantly need the teaching of this chapter, and indeed of the whole letter, so this word of warning suits us all. We never read such scriptures with profit unless we read them as applying to ourselves. To read them for others is to lose all edification and blessing.

The flesh is so easily stirred that we often need the word of exhortation. The spirit of obedience is the only spirit of holiness.

We trust our reader will bear with the word of exhortation. We would think ourselves lacking in faithfulness if we held it back. True, it is not a pleasant task to call attention to practical evils. It is not pleasant to urge the solemn duty of self-judgment, or to press the claims of practical godliness on the conscience. It would be far more welcome to the heart to unfold abstract truth, and to dwell on free grace and what it has done for us.

He would not close his letter without telling them what he knew they would be glad to hear, just as it gladdened his own heart to tell it. One of the prisoners, whose chains they had shared in spirit, was now free. What is more, he fully expected to soon see and share the joy of their reunion in person. He trusted that the Lord, who had won His servant's freedom, might add this further blessing to them both.

The apostle next mentions the release of "our brother Timothy," also a meaningful word for Hebrew Christians. Timothy's father was a Gentile, but he himself was circumcised so as not to offend the Jews in the areas where he was known. He is their brother, by birth and by grace, and he has been released from an imprisonment we read of nowhere else. It is an interesting reference to a man whose faithfulness was clear. Yet it went with a timidity that belonged to his natural character, and that needed the apostle's encouragement.

The apostle counts on their affection for Timothy, and their thankfulness for his freedom. Is there not a deliberate parallel here? For the aim of the whole letter is surely to set these Hebrew believers completely free from Judaism. And Timothy's name (it means "honouring God") is a bright witness to the fruits of true Christian liberty.

The reference to Timothy fits the apostle Paul well. Leaving out his own name is easy to understand, since his own field of service lay among the uncircumcised, and this letter falls outside it. Yet it is just what his heart always felt toward his kinsmen. And it carries the mark of the knowledge of Christ dead, risen and ascended, as suited him beyond other men.

One thing, however, is clear: the letter came before the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70. The temple was still standing, and the temple worship was going on undisturbed.

As far as we know, no evidence exists that would settle the rest of the apostle's personal history after his two years in Rome. It is a point that may interest critics, but solving it would add nothing to the solid blessing of the believer.

This is the third time the chapter speaks of leaders, and again as men worthy of respect. The letter sets aside mere officialism and ritualism. Even so, it takes care to guard against any ignoring of proper godly authority. That authority rests with the men God has given to care for the sheep. But show kindly respect to all the saints as well.

"Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith." … "Greet all your leaders and all the saints" (Heb. 13:7, 17, 24). What were these? They were guides. Does putting a man into an official place make him this? No! Verse 7 speaks for itself. A guide is a man who brings you the Word of God in a moment of difficulty, so that you know it is God's Word and it guides your soul. You will own him as such, remember him in your prayers, and welcome him when he comes again.

Then comes the final greeting to their leaders, of whom he had already spoken. Greet them as people you love and not as people you suspect, and greet all the saints along with them.

The greeting asked for here takes in "all your leaders and all the saints." That call was urgent then, and it fits every time since. How many are apt to be narrow, if not estranged! Not so was the heart of the one who wrote, "Grace be with you all, Amen."

"Those who come from Italy send you greetings." Italy was a strange place for a greeting to come from. It was outside the camp, as it were. If there were Hebrews in Italy, they had left the land of promise. That in itself was a witness that Jerusalem and Palestine were no longer the centre on earth. As pilgrims, they send a greeting to encourage the Hebrew saints to take their place outside the camp too.

The letter very likely came from Rome. If so, we may admire the wisdom that held back any such mention. Naming the city would only have swelled the pride of a later day… Yet the end of verse 24 suggests that saints from Italy, and not from Rome only, were with the writer when and where he wrote. They would be sure to gather round him before he left. And he would gladly pass on their greeting of love to Jews, no longer despised but loved in the Lord. It came from such a centre of the world's pride and selfishness.

The way this greeting is worded leaves room to infer that the letter was not sent to them from Rome. What the previous verse says about Timothy supports this view… The point may interest scholars, but the answer would add nothing to the solid blessing of the believer.

The name of Paul does not appear at the close, any more than at the beginning. In a letter to believers from among the Jews, the reasons for that are obvious. But who else would have spoken of Timothy in this way? The writer was in Italy, and he sends the greeting of those who were there.