The Legal Gospel

Jesus’ death fulfills the requirements of the Old Testament sacrificial system to atone for human sin. Drawing from Leviticus 16 and the Day of Atonement, the blood of goats and bulls symbolically pointed to the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus, whose blood brings true forgiveness and purification. Every person is guilty of breaking God's law, whether through large sins or seemingly minor, socially acceptable ones, and therefore in need of atonement. Jesus, as both high priest and sacrifice, reconciles humanity to God, granting access to His presence and eternal life. Listeners are called to reject self-reliance and embrace the grace offered through Jesus’ sacrifice, reminding them that redemption is available only through His blood, and urging them to respond in faith and gratitude.

Transcript:

Beautiful to worship with you all. Now, as we move into sharing the word, I’m thankful for this opportunity.

I want to start with a quick word about the marriage conference coming up on Friday. We’ve mentioned it a lot this morning, but I’d like to address a question I’ve been getting: “Why would I go to this?”

Some people say, “We have a healthy marriage—why attend?” Others ask, “I’m not married yet—why should I go?” And some, who’ve been married 30 or more years, wonder, “What’s going to change now?”

The short answer is this: there are two ways people tend to view marriage. The world often sees marriage as a covenant or commitment between a man and a woman, where each person makes promises to the other. This is often what you see in a wedding ceremony—vows exchanged, commitments made.

But a biblical marriage is something entirely different. It’s not just a commitment between two people. In a truly biblical sense, marriage is the ordaining of a couple as one flesh for one purpose. It’s something God does to you. He places Himself at the center of your marriage. It’s not just something you do for each other.

This worldly way of thinking—seeing marriage as primarily spouse-centered—has crept into many marriages. But part of the mystery of the gospel is learning to view marriage as God-centered. If that idea feels unfamiliar or challenging, you should consider signing up for the conference on Friday. If you haven’t signed up yet, please do so today or tomorrow. Otherwise, there might not be enough food, and we wouldn’t want you to have to stand in the back!

Now, let’s turn to our series, The Gospel is Bigger Than You Think. To recap briefly, in the first message, we talked about the idea that the gospel is not merely “Jesus died for your sins.” It’s much bigger than that.

The central focus of the gospel message is the work of Christ—from creation through redemption and into the end of all things. At the center of it all is the kingship of Jesus. That is the transforming reality—the hub that moves you from the kingdom of this world into the kingdom of God, even here and now.

It’s that Jesus is king. Today, we’re going to tackle an important question: Where does the idea that Jesus died for my sins come from? Where does the concept of Jesus covering over sins—the breaking of the law that we call sin—and the forgiveness that results from it, fit into the gospel?

I’m calling this message The Legal Gospel. The reason is simple: wherever you have a king, you have a law. If Jesus is king, then there is going to be some kind of law. We have to acknowledge that if God is king, there’s an ordering to the way things ought to work.

Why do kingdoms have laws? Think about why the United States has laws. There are two main purposes. First, laws exist to bring order. Order is essential because, without it, you have chaos. In many ancient empires—most notably Rome—laws were about maintaining order. The Romans were deeply concerned about preventing uprisings. As long as there wasn’t rioting in the streets or rebellion against Roman rule, they were generally indifferent to moral behavior. Their laws were primarily about keeping peace and ensuring stability within the empire.

The second purpose of law is to punish the wicked. This concept comes from passages like Romans 13, where governing authorities are described as servants of God, carrying out justice by punishing wrongdoers. In nations influenced by Judeo-Christian morality, there’s often a sense that governments have a responsibility to maintain both order and righteousness.

If you’re going to have a kingdom—especially the kingdom of God—there must be some kind of legal system in place. There must be a standard where doing what is right aligns with order, and doing what is wrong brings accountability.

What happens when someone does something wrong? There must be restitution. Without restitution, there’s disorder. Restitution is what restores balance. For example, if someone breaks into your house and steals things you need for daily life, you call the police. Let’s say they catch the thief, but your stolen items have already been sold. The authorities might imprison the thief, but they tell you, “Sorry, you’ll have to replace your things on your own.” That’s not restitution—it doesn’t restore what was lost.

Imagine if you then decided to rob the thief’s family to recover your losses. What would happen? The cycle of disorder would continue. Without proper restitution, there’s no order, and without order, there’s no peace. Good laws incorporate a system of restitution—how to make things right when the law is broken.

This concept of making things right is reflected in the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” People often ask me, “How do I forgive someone who has hurt me in a completely unacceptable way?”

Maybe it’s a situation involving abuse or a terrible betrayal. How do you forgive that? My answer often begins with this: there’s a technical difference between forgiveness and restitution. Many people want to believe that God simply forgives sins outright—especially sins they consider less severe or less atrocious. But the truth is, there is a difference between forgiveness and restitution. Without restitution, there can be no peace and no order. Restitution must always be made.

The biblical term for this principle of making things right is a word you might recognize: atonement. This word appears throughout the Bible, and it’s one I’ve heard my entire life. Growing up in church, I’d often hear preachers explain it by saying, “Atonement means at-one-ment—becoming one with God again.” I thought it was just a clever phrase preachers liked to use.

Recently, I dug into the etymology of the word, because that’s the kind of thing I do. I wondered, “I know what the word means, but where does it really come from?” What I discovered surprised me. The word atonement was actually invented within the English language. It isn’t older than English itself. Early Bible translators, even before the King James Version—going back to translations like Wycliffe’s—faced a challenge. They wanted to express this biblical principle of being restored to God, but they couldn’t find a single word in English that captured it. So they created one.

They combined the idea of being “at one” with God—at peace, whole, and united again—and coined the term at-one-ment, which eventually became atonement. I think it’s fascinating that over 500 years ago, Bible translators were using the same creativity that modern preachers do today.

In its essence, atonement means to be made whole, to be restored, to be united with God again. But in the Scriptures, atonement is not just a relational issue—it’s also a legal one. It addresses how we are restored to the King of the kingdom after breaking the King’s law.

This brings us to what theologians call atonement theories, which explore how Jesus’ work restores us to God. Every Christian agrees that Jesus is central to our reconciliation with God—he is the crux of how we’re brought back into God’s presence. But the question remains: what exactly did Jesus do to accomplish this?

This question has sparked significant theological debate. One prominent view emphasizes Jesus’ blood and the legal exchange that occurs to make us right before God. Another perspective, which we discussed a few weeks ago, focuses on the doctrine of Christus Victor—the idea of Christ’s victory over sin, death, and the powers of evil.

You'll remember that Christus Victor refers to Jesus' victory over the spiritual realm, which also extends to his victory over sin and death in the physical realm. That’s the essence of Christus Victor—Christ's victory. On one side, you have the Christus Victor camp saying it’s all about Jesus’ victory. On the other side, you have the legal camp saying it’s all about what Jesus purchased with his blood.

And they argue. But I have a simple question: Por qué no los dos? Why not both? Why not look at these two perspectives and say, "The gospel is bigger than I thought"? Why is it so hard to believe that Jesus’ work—his life, death, resurrection, ascension to the right hand of the Father, and exaltation as King of kings and Lord of lords—extends far beyond any single theory we can comprehend?

There’s nothing in Christus Victor that contradicts the legal gospel. So let’s not pit these ideas against each other. Let’s recognize that Jesus’ kingship has many effects. One of those is Christ’s victory, and another is that he secured restitution with the Father for every way we have broken his law.

You don’t have to pick one atonement theory. In fact, I believe many of them hold some truth. Sure, there are a few historical theories that stand on shaky ground, but most contain valuable insights. So today, we’re going to explore this topic as we always do—starting in the Old Testament.

Why? Because I want to show you that Jesus didn’t invent these concepts. The disciples who wrote the New Testament weren’t making things up either. They were reading the law of God and drawing from the Old Testament. To understand Jesus’ work, we need to ask this question: How did Israel atone for sins under the Old Covenant?

If atonement is something Jesus accomplished, what about all the people who lived before his time? By exploring this, I believe we’ll see Jesus’ death on the cross as even more significant than we ever have before.

Let’s begin with Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday known in English as the Day of Atonement. This was a central event in Israel’s history, and it’s described in Leviticus 16, with additional references in later chapters of Leviticus, Numbers, and a few statements in Deuteronomy. At its core, Yom Kippur involved two primary sacrifices.

The first sacrifice was for the sins of the people of Israel, and the second was what’s called the scapegoat sacrifice. If you’re familiar with these two sacrifices, I want you to put a pin in the scapegoat for now. We’ll talk about that next week because it addresses something very different than today’s focus. Since the gospel is bigger than we often think, we’re not going to tackle both in one message—I won’t put you through that!

Let’s look at Leviticus 16, starting in verse 13. If you’re following along with the slides, you’ll notice some underlined sections to highlight key portions of the text.

So, here we go. "He is to put the incense on the fire before the Lord, so that the cloud of incense covers the mercy seat that is over the testimony, or else he will die." This passage describes the priest entering the Holy of Holies, bringing a cloud of incense with him so he cannot directly see the throne or the mercy seat on top of the Ark of the Covenant. Without this cloud, he would die, because no one can see the face of God and live.

The text continues: "When he slaughters the male goat for the people's sin offering and brings its blood inside the curtain, he will do the same with its blood as he did with the bull's blood. He is to sprinkle it against the mercy seat and in front of it. He will make atonement for the Most Holy Place in this way for all their sins because of the Israelites’ impurities and rebellious acts. He will do the same for the Tent of Meeting that remains among them because it is surrounded by their impurities. No one may be in the Tent of Meeting from the time he enters to make atonement in the Most Holy Place until he leaves, after he has made atonement for himself, his household, and the whole assembly of Israel.

"Then he will go out to the altar that is before the Lord and make atonement for it. He is to take some of the bull's blood and some of the goat's blood and put it on the horns on all sides of the altar. He is to sprinkle some of the blood on it with his finger seven times to cleanse and set it apart from the Israelites’ impurities."

I want you to see what’s happening here. The priest offers a sacrifice—a goat—for the sins of the people of Israel. This is a single sacrifice made once a year to cover the sins of the entire nation.

Now, let me paint a picture for you. What we’re witnessing is essentially a courtroom scene. You might wonder, "Where is the courtroom in this?" The answer is simple: wherever there is a throne, there is a courtroom.

Even today, in the United States, courtrooms reflect this principle. Judges are addressed as "Your Honor" or "Honorable Justice," titles of reverence for someone who enacts judicial authority. While they are subject to the law, judges have the authority to interpret and enforce the law according to their role. In the ancient world, kings held this judicial authority. In fact, to have judicial authority often meant you were a ruler—whether a king or a governor. Judges and rulers were one and the same.

In the Holy of Holies, the high priest entered a space that mirrored the throne room of God in heaven. The Ark of the Covenant represents this heavenly reality. We’ll see this connection more explicitly in a moment when we look at Hebrews.

The mercy seat on the Ark corresponds to the throne of God in the heavenly court. Surrounding this throne are cherubim, whose wings cover the feet and face of the King. This imagery is consistent throughout the Bible, appearing in passages from the Old Testament and in Revelation.

This is the throne room scene—God seated on His throne, surrounded by cherubim. It’s not just a ritual. It’s a profound picture of divine authority, judgment, and mercy.

When we think about the Ark of the Covenant in the Most Holy Place, we’re picturing God seated on His throne. The high priest brings incense into the room so that he cannot see the mercy seat. The intensity of the incense is unimaginable. It’s not just a faint scent in the corner of the room—it’s like a full fog machine, filling the entire space with smoke so thick he can’t see six inches in front of his face. This is done so the priest can enter the presence of God and not die. The text explicitly says that if he fails to do this, he will die.

On the Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur, one of the high holy days of Israel, people gather from all over. They surround the temple—or the tabernacle during earlier times—waiting and watching. Most people can’t see what’s happening directly, but they wait for the high priest to emerge from the temple. When he does, the people celebrate, knowing their sins have been atoned for.

This gathering of people is significant because it reflects how courtrooms operate. A judge never acts in isolation; there is always an audience—a council and representatives of those affected by the judgment. In ancient times, court proceedings often attracted crowds. Without modern entertainment like social media, television, or radio, people would gather at the courthouse to watch cases unfold. They’d sit there, eating whatever ancient version of popcorn they had, and listen to disputes—“this farmer’s dog killed my donkey” or similar cases. It was a form of public engagement and entertainment.

Now, think about this scene in the context of the Day of Atonement. You’ve got the judge—God on His throne. You’ve got the people—gathered outside, all of them in a sense on trial because they’ve all sinned. And you’ve got the priest, who serves as the defense attorney. His role is to mediate between God and His people, negotiating restitution on their behalf. Theoretically, though it’s not explicitly in the text, Satan—the adversary—could be seen as the prosecutor, accusing the people before God.

This scene reflects what we call a forensic or legal theory of atonement. It portrays a legal exchange taking place. The priest, as the defense attorney, must address the penalty of sin. As he makes his case, he must determine what restitution is required and then enact that restitution so that the people can receive forgiveness.

In essence, this mirrors what defense attorneys do in our legal system. They review the charges, acknowledge where guilt is found, and work to address the penalty so that the matter can be resolved.

Here’s what the priest is doing: he’s coming before the Lord with the restitution payment. This payment is the people’s sin offering. Let’s look at the text. If you focus on the underlined sections, it says, "When he slaughters the male goat for the people's sin offering." The slaughtering of the goat and the sprinkling of its blood all over the place is central to this act of atonement.

I remember the first time I shared the gospel with someone. I was so excited, but I started talking about blood and atonement right away. My theology was correct, but I scared the kid half to death. It was the worst gospel presentation ever. I didn’t lead with God’s love, mercy, or compassion. I didn’t even start with, “You’re a sinner.” I jumped straight to, “Blood has to be shed to cover sins.” It was messy—just like the Old Testament sacrifices.

This is what’s happening in Leviticus. The blood of the animal is shed as an offering for the people. The text says, “It is an atonement for all their sins.” Somehow, the killing of this goat, the shedding of its blood, and the sprinkling of its blood on the altar and in the holy place become an atonement for all the people’s sins.

It also says the Tent of Meeting is surrounded by their impurities. Think about that. I love how Moses uses the word impurities here. It’s a reminder that sin isn’t just an individual issue—it spreads. You might think your sin only affects you, or perhaps it’s a secret sin within your household. But sin affects everything you touch.

When the people of Israel gathered at the Tent of Meeting, their sin spread to the tent and everything else. It spread to each other. Sin doesn’t remain contained—it influences and corrupts everything around it, whether we realize it or not. This is why the Tent of Meeting itself required atonement. Blood was sprinkled on the tent to purify it, cleanse it, and set it apart—to make it holy again.

Now, let’s talk about the blood. How does blood make everything holy? Why does blood purify in the first place? To answer this, let’s look at Hebrews 9:21–22. The author of Hebrews, reflecting on Jesus, also considers how the sacrifices worked in the Old Testament. Here’s what the passage says:

Hebrews 9:21–22 says this: "In the same way, he sprinkled the tabernacle and all the articles of worship with blood." The author is referring to the high priest in the Old Testament, who sprinkled everything with blood. It continues: "According to the law, almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness."

We often quote this verse during the Lord’s Supper, but we rarely talk about why the blood purifies. To understand this, you need to think like an ancient person. If you take the blood out of something, what happens? It dies. That’s why, when a child falls and cuts themselves, they cry—it’s as if they’re experiencing a small form of dying. Blood represents life, and losing it feels catastrophic.

Blood is life. It’s the fuel that powers the body. In the ancient world, blood wasn’t just seen as a physical substance—it symbolized the essence of life itself. Without it, you cease to function. So if blood is life, then it makes sense that life is what purifies.

Now, think about sin. Sin is a destructive force that brings death. Let’s frame this in the context of a king. When you disobey King Jesus, you are introducing death into the world. Sin violates what is good, orderly, and life-giving in God’s kingdom. God’s laws are not arbitrary—they exist to bring peace and order for humankind. They are not like the varying house rules we create based on personal preference. God’s laws are unchanging because they align with what is best for humanity.

This is why we affirm God’s ways and reject the idea that the world could come up with something better. To sin is to violate what is orderly, good, and peace-bringing in God’s kingdom. Sin turns away from life and brings death instead.

That’s why everything needs to be purified with blood—because sin turns life into death. The sprinkling of blood reverses this, turning what was corrupted by death back into life. The shedding of blood is for the forgiveness of sins because it restores life where sin has brought death.

If sin brings death and blood brings life, then God’s forgiveness of sins is the act of turning death into life. This is why we say Jesus died for the forgiveness of sins. He shed His life—His blood—to purify our impurities and sins, so we could be turned from death to life.

As the Apostle Paul says, "You have been brought from death into life." This reflects the fulfillment of what Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, pointed toward. The ultimate sacrifice of Jesus brought what the Day of Atonement symbolized to its ultimate completion.

Blood, essentially, is the restitution price—it’s what makes things right. When you come before the King after breaking His law, He declares, “Because you’ve broken the law, you’ve turned toward death.” Romans 6:23 says, “The wages of sin is death.” So, what do you do about that? If the wages of sin is death, then death is required. That’s why the text says, “Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins.” Why? Because sin brings death, and blood represents life.

Now, Jamie and I often discuss this concept, and here’s the key point: this is both the price and the natural consequence of sin. God isn’t creating arbitrary rules just to craft a compelling story. His laws are grounded in reality—things work a certain way for a reason. Sin has a built-in consequence. When you sin, bad things happen. Your impurity spreads to other things, corrupting and disrupting everything it touches.

At the same time, there is also a legal transaction taking place. To be made right, a price has to be paid, and that price is blood. Why blood? Because sin brings death, and death can only be offset by life. Blood, which represents life, is required to balance the scales. Think of it like a bank account: sin drains the account, leaving it in debt. Blood restores the account, bringing it back into balance.

Romans 6:23 continues, “But the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Notice the word gift. This restitution is a gift—it’s something God provides so that we don’t have to bear the full weight of our sin.

Now consider how this could have worked differently. On the Day of Atonement, the Israelites could have come before the tabernacle, confessed their sins, and faced the ultimate penalty: death. It would have been entirely legal and just for God to say, “Everyone who has sinned, step forward to be put to death.” That would satisfy the wages of sin. But if God had done that, the nation of Israel wouldn’t have lasted long—there would be no one left.

Instead, because God loves His people, He made another way to address this legal issue of restitution. That way is the blood of the goat on the Day of Atonement. This is what we call substitutionary atonement. God substitutes the life of the animal for the life of the sinner.

Here’s how it works: where you deserve death because of your sin—where you deserve condemnation and eternal separation—God places that death on the goat. The goat’s life is taken so that you can live. That’s the basis of restitution in this system. The goat symbolically atones for the people by standing in their place.

I say symbolically because the goat’s blood doesn’t actually accomplish what the people think it does. This system is ultimately pointing forward to something far greater—a final, once-for-all sacrifice that truly deals with sin.

In Old Testament times, under that covenant, when the sacrifice was offered on the Day of Atonement, the priest would come out of the Holy of Holies, sprinkle the blood on the outer altar, and the people would cheer. They celebrated with days of feasting, rejoicing in the immense forgiveness they had received from God. This act was central to the Israelite faith—and still holds deep significance.

However, the sacrifice didn’t fully accomplish what they believed it did. Why? Because the life of a goat doesn’t have the same value as a human life. Think of it this way: if I come into your house and steal your good silverware—the real silver stuff your grandma had—and then try to make restitution by showing up with a box of plastic utensils, that’s not restitution. Or, if I break your fine china and then apologize by giving you a pack of paper plates, that doesn’t cut it. Similarly, if I steal your TV and return with a cheap poster from Walmart, that’s not an equal exchange.

A goat’s life is not a human life. Goat’s blood is not human blood. The sacrifice of a goat is symbolic—it points to something greater. It is not a technical atonement because it cannot truly match the value of what was lost.

This is why the Old Testament sacrificial system ultimately points forward to a better sacrifice—the institution of the new covenant in Jesus Christ’s blood. The goat’s sacrifice was symbolic, looking ahead to the ultimate atonement found in Jesus.

So how is Jesus the atonement sacrifice of the new covenant? How does His death fulfill what the law requires in Leviticus 16? If all this Old Testament legal imagery feels overwhelming, let’s turn to the New Testament for clarity. Most Christians are more familiar with these passages.

Look at 1 Corinthians 15:3, where Paul writes: “I passed on to you as most important what I also received: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures.” Paul is saying he’s not making this up—this is foundational to the apostolic teaching.

In Galatians and Romans, Paul goes to great lengths to show that Jesus is the fulfillment of the Old Testament, specifically that His death fulfills the mandate of Leviticus 16. There’s a reason Christians no longer observe the Day of Atonement with goat sacrifices.

Actually—spoiler alert—we sort of still do. But there’s a reason we don’t gather once a year with a goat, a priest, and an altar. Instead, Jesus' once-for-all sacrifice has fulfilled and replaced the need for those yearly rituals.

How is Jesus the atonement sacrifice of the New Covenant? Let’s start with Leviticus 16. Jesus’ death fulfills every requirement of the Torah. The goat used on the Day of Atonement had to be perfect, without blemish. When that goat was sacrificed, its blood was taken into the Most Holy Place by the high priest, sprinkled on the mercy seat, and then brought out to be sprinkled on the exterior altar. As the author of Hebrews writes, “Almost everything is sprinkled with blood.” The tabernacle itself, its furnishings—everything was sprinkled with blood to purify the people.

This points to the reality that when Jesus’ blood was shed, it purified not only God’s people but also everything they touch. The blood of Christ purifies the temple of God, which includes His people, their lives, and their communities.

What’s remarkable is that Jesus becomes both the priest and the sacrifice. He offers His own blood in the true Holy of Holies. Hebrews explains this clearly:

“The Holy Spirit was making it clear that the way into the Most Holy Place had not yet been disclosed while the first tabernacle was still standing.” In other words, the earthly tabernacle was a copy—it wasn’t the real thing. It was a shadow pointing to the true tabernacle, the throne room of God in heaven.

The author continues, “This is a symbol for the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the worshiper’s conscience.” The sacrifices of the temple served their purpose as religious rites, but they didn’t actually cleanse the conscience or make people right before God. They dealt with external regulations—food, drink, and ceremonial washings—until the time of the new order.

That new order is the New Covenant in Jesus’ blood. The text goes on to say, “But Christ has appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come.” Jesus enters the true Holy of Holies—the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made by human hands. This is the heavenly tabernacle, the actual throne room of God. Jesus entered not by the blood of goats and calves, but by His own blood, securing eternal redemption once for all.

The book of Hebrews is dense, packed with ideas that require an understanding of the Old Testament, especially the Levitical system. Without Leviticus, the message of Hebrews remains incomplete. You can pull out abstract truths here and there, but to fully grasp Hebrews, you need Leviticus.

Let me explain a few key concepts. First, Hebrews calls the sacrificial system a “symbol for the present time.” The goats offered on the Day of Atonement were symbols pointing forward to something greater. A symbol is a pattern that applies across time and space. So, what is the goat a symbol of? The goat is a symbol of Jesus’ death on the cross. The goat is killed, just as Jesus was sacrificed.

The high priest in the Old Testament doesn’t physically enter God’s presence, but he serves as a symbol of the great high priest, Jesus, who does literally enter God’s presence in the heavenly tabernacle.

These elements of the Old Covenant—the goats, the sacrifices, the priestly duties—are symbols. They are patterns woven throughout scripture that point to a greater reality. The goat was a symbol of the perfect sacrifice to come. Who is that perfect sacrifice? Jesus. The goat itself was just a goat, but it represented something far greater—the ultimate, spotless Lamb of God.

The author of Hebrews speaks of the "time of the new order," referring to the New Covenant established in Jesus' blood. He makes two critical statements: first, that Jesus entered the Most Holy Place not by the blood of goats and calves, but by His own blood. This means Jesus fulfilled His priestly duty to enter God's presence through His own sacrifice.

This leads to the question everyone asks: Why did Jesus have to die? The answer lies in Leviticus: without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins. Forgiveness requires purification, and without purification, no one can enter God’s presence. All of these principles, laid out in Leviticus, explain why Jesus’ death was necessary.

Jesus’ death addresses the legal issue of sin, granting Him the right to enter into the presence of the Almighty King—God the Father. In doing so, He fulfills the dual role of both priest and sacrifice. He is the one who enters God’s presence, acting as the priest, but He does so by offering His own blood, making Him the sacrifice as well.

This is significant because human priests are incapable of entering God’s presence by their own efforts. They are imperfect. Similarly, the blood of goats is insufficient to atone for human sin. That’s why we needed a more perfect priest and a more perfect sacrifice—both of which are fulfilled in Jesus.

This beautiful pattern runs throughout scripture. In everything humans attempt—even in their obedience to God’s commands—they fall short. But Jesus comes to perfect what we could not. He completes it. He meets us in our weakness and lifts us up. He meets us in our humility and fallenness and restores us. He meets us in our sin and pays the price by His own blood to bring us back into God’s presence.

Jesus makes us right with God. Just as He boldly enters the throne room of the Father, we too can enter boldly. As Colossians 1 says, we are brought into God’s presence through Him.

The author of Hebrews adds, “By His own blood, having obtained eternal redemption.” Now, this raises a question: did Jesus’ blood obtain His own eternal redemption, or the redemption of the people? Let’s consider the Levitical system. In the Old Covenant, the priest first sacrificed a goat for his own sins, then for his family’s sins, and only then for the sins of the people.

Notice what Jesus doesn’t do. He doesn’t sacrifice a goat for His own sins—because He has none. He doesn’t sacrifice a goat for His family’s sins. Instead, He goes directly to the people, offering Himself as the sacrifice for their sins.

So, Jesus enters into the presence of God, not by the blood of goats and calves, but by His own blood. Just as the high priest brought the blood symbolically into the throne room of God, Jesus brought the price for your redemption—His own blood—into the true Holy of Holies. When the wages of sin was death, He entered with His blood, the required payment, so that you could be redeemed, so that you could enter in just as He entered in.

This is a complex concept, but if you can walk away with one simple truth, let it be this: there is no one alive today, no one who has ever lived, and no one who will ever live who can stand in God’s presence apart from the blood of Christ. No religion on earth provides an answer to the question of how a sinful, fallen human being can enter into the presence of a holy God.

Every religion recognizes humanity's brokenness in some way. Even new-age spiritualities focus on “becoming a better you,” acknowledging that you’re not what you should be. Every faith tradition is built on the premise that humans are not as they ought to be. But Christianity alone declares that you cannot fix yourself, and that Jesus has made the way.

This is what I want you to hear: Jesus didn’t need redemption, which means He can be your Redeemer. The eternal redemption He obtained is for you.

When Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, He said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” Next Sunday, when we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, I want you to think about the Day of Atonement. Think about how Jesus’ blood was shed and how we symbolically drink His blood in the cup. It is only by His blood—not by the blood of goats or lambs—that we can enter in.

Now, I want to address another question. Many people like the idea of God or spirituality but resist the idea of organized religion. Perhaps that’s you. Maybe you’re hesitant to hear what Christianity really says because of its reputation or because you feel religion is for weak or broken people. You might think, I’m a pretty good person; I don’t need to be redeemed.

So, here’s the real question: Do I need to be restored to the King of kings, or don’t I? Where is the line? Where do we decide who needs redemption and who doesn’t? Who is “too bad” to need Christianity, and who is “good enough” to stand without it?

Let’s answer this: Who needs atonement? Who needs to be made at one with God again? James 2:10 says, “Whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it.” This didn’t make the slides, but it’s critical. To break one part of the law is to be guilty of the whole. And when James talks about the law, he means much more than the Torah.

Yes, the Torah contains around 600 laws, depending on how you categorize them. But James is pointing to something deeper. He’s referring to the very heart of God—the standard of everything that is good, right, and just. That is the law James is talking about.

Within this framework, if you deviate in any small way from the heart of the King, you’re guilty of the entire law. Consider the Ten Commandments. The first few commandments focus on fidelity, allegiance, and loyalty to Yahweh. Then you get into commandments like, “Do not murder,” and you might think, Check, I’m good there.

But then it gets more personal: “Honor your father and mother,” “Do not steal,” “Do not covet,” “Do not commit adultery.” And when you read Matthew 5 and hear Jesus’ teachings about covetousness, adultery, and murder, you start to realize, Wait a minute. Jesus shows us that these commandments aren’t just about outward actions but about the state of our hearts.

Some of you have been redeemed from obvious, Ten Commandment-sized sins. But what about those seemingly smaller, more socially acceptable ones? When you covet your neighbor’s new car, their bigger house, or their fancy pool, you begin to spiral into a mindset of dissatisfaction. You start plotting how you can upgrade your life to match or surpass theirs. Who isn’t guilty of that?

Even these small, seemingly insignificant sins—coveting, discontentment, jealousy—are destructive. They pull you away from the heart of God. God doesn’t want you thinking that way because it’s not good for you. It leads to unhealthy and destructive behavior. So even these “small” sins, which might seem socially acceptable, make you guilty of breaking the entire law.

In God’s economy, there is no distinction. Every sin causes separation from God and requires atonement. So who needs atonement? Paul answers in Romans 3:23: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” And remember, the glory of God refers to His kingship. Everyone has sinned; everyone has failed to submit to King Jesus in some way.

Yet plenty of people think, I haven’t been that bad. Why would God judge me? But here’s the real question: when God holds out His grace to you, offering His Son so that you might have hope and redemption, why would you reject that? Why would you say, Thanks, God, but I don’t need Jesus. I think I’m good enough, and You’ll accept me anyway?

What kind of arrogant person stands at the gates of heaven and says, Cool that Jesus redeemed all those people, but I got here on my own? Let’s call it what it is—pride and self-righteousness. If you think you’re okay because you’re a “pretty good person” and that God will accept you, you’ve got another thing coming.

James 2:10 makes it clear: “Whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it.” To break one part of the law is to be guilty of the whole law. All have sinned and fallen short of King Jesus’ glory.

This isn’t about personal preferences in religion. This is about the love of an almighty, merciful God who has made a way to rescue and redeem you. Don’t reject that love. Don’t rely on your own goodness when God has offered you everything in Christ.

The Israelites in Leviticus 16 were not allowed to enter the Holy of Holies because of their sin. Yet, through the sacrificial system, they were made at one with God. They were atoned for—not ultimately by the blood of goats and bulls, but by the blood of Jesus. When they showed up on the Day of Atonement, participated in the sacrifice, and celebrated, that was their act of faith. It brought them into covenant with Yahweh and placed them under the blood of Jesus, even though they didn’t yet know His name. This allowed them to enter God’s presence, symbolically pointing to the ultimate atonement Jesus would accomplish.

If you are holding out hope in some form of eternal bliss outside of Jesus—whether it’s based on spirituality, morality, or any other system—then you remain outside the presence of God. And if God is everything good, right, and just, then to be outside His presence is to be in the realm of wickedness, destruction, and decay.

You might say, I’m fine right now. My life is decent. But the Bible reminds us this won’t last. In this time, God causes the rain—the blessings of creation—to fall on both the just and the unjust. But as we see in the book of Revelation, there will come a day when the Kingdom of God is fully revealed, with the new heaven and new earth. On that day, there will be those inside the gates of the Kingdom and those left outside.

You cannot rely on being “a good person” and hope that God will simply accept you. It’s not about whether God is willing to accept you—He has already opened the gates wide and invited you in. The question is whether you will accept His invitation, whether you will believe in Him, follow Him, and trust in the sacrifice of Jesus. Just as the Israelites celebrated the Day of Atonement, looking forward to Jesus’ sacrifice, you can celebrate the Lord’s Supper, looking back on His redemption. You can participate in that redemption every week and remember what Christ has done for you, letting it lead you into the eternal Kingdom of God.

Or you can choose to remain outside the gates, separated for all eternity from everything good, right, and just. Those are the only two options. There’s no sneaking in, no other way. No one can enter arrogantly or by their own merit. Just as the Israelites observed the Day of Atonement, we must constantly remind ourselves that it is not by our strength or effort but only by God’s grace that the legal separation between us and the Creator is resolved.

Let me pray for you.

Prayer:
Lord, we come before You, thankful for the comprehensiveness of Your Word. From Leviticus and even as far back as Genesis, we see our need for restoration to You. You have shown us the patterns and provided the way—even for the Israelites in the wilderness—so they could enter Your presence. You didn’t leave Your people to suffer outside the city gates.

We are grateful that You have opened the gates wide through the blood of Jesus, inviting all to enter if they would forsake allegiance to themselves or the gods of this world and give themselves fully to You—the King of the universe. Your law is good, right, and just in every way.

We ask, Lord, that You cause us to enter in. In Jesus’ name, Amen.