We All Need a Priest — But We Need the Right One
There is a moment most people have experienced, whether they admit it or not. It is that quiet, internal conversation that happens when someone invites them to church, or when they sense something pulling them toward God. It sounds something like this: "I would go, but I need to clean myself up first. I have done too much. I am not ready."
It is one of the most common reasons people stay away from the one place designed to help them. And while the impulse behind it is understandable — a recognition that God is holy and we are not — it points to a misunderstanding of something ancient and profound. The problem was never that people needed to clean themselves up before coming to God. The problem was always that people needed a priest. And not just any priest. They needed the right one.
The Weight of Holiness
To understand why a priest matters, you have to understand what it meant to approach God in the ancient world. When the author of Hebrews writes in chapter 4, verse 16 about drawing near to the throne of grace to receive mercy, those words would have landed very differently on first-century Jewish ears than they do on ours today.
For them, drawing near to God was not a casual matter. The throne of grace pointed directly to the mercy seat, that sacred place inside the Holy of Holies within the tabernacle and later the temple. It was the place where God said he would meet with his people. But only one person could enter that space — the high priest — and only once a year, on the Day of Atonement, and only after an exhaustive series of purification rituals.
The thick veil separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple was not decorative. It was a constant, physical reminder that God is holy, that he is different, that you do not simply walk into his presence on your own terms. The stories of Uzzah reaching out to steady the Ark and falling dead, of Aaron's sons offering unauthorized fire before the Lord and being struck down — these were not cautionary tales about a cruel God. They were declarations about the infinite holiness of a God who is unlike anything we have ever encountered.
God is holy, and approaching him is serious business. That has not changed.
Why a Priest at All?
Here is what is easy to miss in all of that weight and reverence: if God did not want a relationship with us, there would be no priest. There would be no sacrifice. There would be no mercy seat.
Hebrews 5, verse 1 gives one of the clearest definitions of a priest found anywhere in scripture. A priest is a human being appointed to act on behalf of other human beings in relation to God, offering gifts and sacrifices for sin. The role exists because God made a way. The barrier between humanity and God is a human problem — sin — and so the representative standing before God on our behalf had to be human.
The sacrificial system was never about satisfying some bloodlust in God. Psalm 50, verses 10 through 12 makes clear that God owns every animal on earth and has no need of them. And Hosea 6, verse 6 cuts to the heart of it: what God desires is steadfast love and the knowledge of him, not burnt offerings. The sacrifice was always meant to be a picture — a proclamation of what sin costs, and a declaration of what God's mercy provides. Every drop of blood spilled on the altar said two things simultaneously: this is what you deserved, and this is how much God wants to forgive you.
The Problem With Human Priests
The priests of the Old Testament were real men with real weaknesses. That weakness was actually part of what made them effective. Hebrews 5, verse 2 says that a high priest can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward precisely because he himself is beset with weakness. A priest who has known failure, who has received mercy himself, can extend that mercy to others with genuine compassion rather than cold religious duty.
But the weakness that made them sympathetic also made them insufficient. Before a priest could offer sacrifice for the people, he first had to offer sacrifice for his own sins. The cycle never ended. Human priests were broken, and the system required constant repetition because no human priest could permanently bridge the gap between a holy God and sinful people.
Something had to break the cycle.
The Priest We Actually Need
Jesus of Nazareth, the eternal Son of God, is the answer to that problem. Hebrews 4, verse 15 describes him as a high priest who is not unable to sympathize with our weaknesses — one who was tempted in every way we are, yet without sin. He is not a distant, untouchable deity who looks down on human struggle with cold indifference. He entered into it. He wept. He suffered. He cried out to the Father with loud prayers in the days of his flesh, as Hebrews 5, verse 7 describes.
And yet he never sinned. He endured the cross — the weight of every human failure, every broken relationship, every act of rebellion against a holy God — and he submitted perfectly to the Father's will. Not because he had no other option, but because his obedience was complete. Where every other priest eventually failed, Jesus did not. He earned a righteousness that he then offers freely to everyone who trusts in him.
The moment Jesus died, something extraordinary happened in the temple. The massive veil separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the world was torn from top to bottom. Not from the bottom up, as a human hand might tear it. From the top down. That was God tearing it. That was God declaring that because of Jesus, the barrier is gone.
The Invitation
Jesus stands as the perfect mediator — one hand reaching toward a holy God in perfect righteousness, the other reaching toward broken, sinful humanity with perfect compassion. He is not asking you to clean yourself up first. He is asking you to come.
Stop trying to earn your way in. One person in all of human history was able to stand before God in perfect righteousness, and his name is Jesus Christ. He is your high priest. Draw near.
There is a moment most people have experienced, whether they admit it or not. It is that quiet, internal conversation that happens when someone invites them to church, or when they sense something pulling them toward God. It sounds something like this: "I would go, but I need to clean myself up first. I have done too much. I am not ready."
It is one of the most common reasons people stay away from the one place designed to help them. And while the impulse behind it is understandable — a recognition that God is holy and we are not — it points to a misunderstanding of something ancient and profound. The problem was never that people needed to clean themselves up before coming to God. The problem was always that people needed a priest. And not just any priest. They needed the right one.
The Weight of Holiness
To understand why a priest matters, you have to understand what it meant to approach God in the ancient world. When the author of Hebrews writes in chapter 4, verse 16 about drawing near to the throne of grace to receive mercy, those words would have landed very differently on first-century Jewish ears than they do on ours today.
For them, drawing near to God was not a casual matter. The throne of grace pointed directly to the mercy seat, that sacred place inside the Holy of Holies within the tabernacle and later the temple. It was the place where God said he would meet with his people. But only one person could enter that space — the high priest — and only once a year, on the Day of Atonement, and only after an exhaustive series of purification rituals.
The thick veil separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple was not decorative. It was a constant, physical reminder that God is holy, that he is different, that you do not simply walk into his presence on your own terms. The stories of Uzzah reaching out to steady the Ark and falling dead, of Aaron's sons offering unauthorized fire before the Lord and being struck down — these were not cautionary tales about a cruel God. They were declarations about the infinite holiness of a God who is unlike anything we have ever encountered.
God is holy, and approaching him is serious business. That has not changed.
Why a Priest at All?
Here is what is easy to miss in all of that weight and reverence: if God did not want a relationship with us, there would be no priest. There would be no sacrifice. There would be no mercy seat.
Hebrews 5, verse 1 gives one of the clearest definitions of a priest found anywhere in scripture. A priest is a human being appointed to act on behalf of other human beings in relation to God, offering gifts and sacrifices for sin. The role exists because God made a way. The barrier between humanity and God is a human problem — sin — and so the representative standing before God on our behalf had to be human.
The sacrificial system was never about satisfying some bloodlust in God. Psalm 50, verses 10 through 12 makes clear that God owns every animal on earth and has no need of them. And Hosea 6, verse 6 cuts to the heart of it: what God desires is steadfast love and the knowledge of him, not burnt offerings. The sacrifice was always meant to be a picture — a proclamation of what sin costs, and a declaration of what God's mercy provides. Every drop of blood spilled on the altar said two things simultaneously: this is what you deserved, and this is how much God wants to forgive you.
The Problem With Human Priests
The priests of the Old Testament were real men with real weaknesses. That weakness was actually part of what made them effective. Hebrews 5, verse 2 says that a high priest can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward precisely because he himself is beset with weakness. A priest who has known failure, who has received mercy himself, can extend that mercy to others with genuine compassion rather than cold religious duty.
But the weakness that made them sympathetic also made them insufficient. Before a priest could offer sacrifice for the people, he first had to offer sacrifice for his own sins. The cycle never ended. Human priests were broken, and the system required constant repetition because no human priest could permanently bridge the gap between a holy God and sinful people.
Something had to break the cycle.
The Priest We Actually Need
Jesus of Nazareth, the eternal Son of God, is the answer to that problem. Hebrews 4, verse 15 describes him as a high priest who is not unable to sympathize with our weaknesses — one who was tempted in every way we are, yet without sin. He is not a distant, untouchable deity who looks down on human struggle with cold indifference. He entered into it. He wept. He suffered. He cried out to the Father with loud prayers in the days of his flesh, as Hebrews 5, verse 7 describes.
And yet he never sinned. He endured the cross — the weight of every human failure, every broken relationship, every act of rebellion against a holy God — and he submitted perfectly to the Father's will. Not because he had no other option, but because his obedience was complete. Where every other priest eventually failed, Jesus did not. He earned a righteousness that he then offers freely to everyone who trusts in him.
The moment Jesus died, something extraordinary happened in the temple. The massive veil separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the world was torn from top to bottom. Not from the bottom up, as a human hand might tear it. From the top down. That was God tearing it. That was God declaring that because of Jesus, the barrier is gone.
The Invitation
Jesus stands as the perfect mediator — one hand reaching toward a holy God in perfect righteousness, the other reaching toward broken, sinful humanity with perfect compassion. He is not asking you to clean yourself up first. He is asking you to come.
Stop trying to earn your way in. One person in all of human history was able to stand before God in perfect righteousness, and his name is Jesus Christ. He is your high priest. Draw near.
Pastor Matthew Dionne
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