"God may pity me, but he could never understand me." Don't we often feel that way, especially when confronted with the darkest parts of the human heart—both in ourselves and others? In this moving and pastorally rich opening presentation based on Hebrews 4 at Sola's 2025 Binding the Broken conference in Orlando, Michael Horton urges us not to hide ourselves from God but to hide ourselves in God by approaching his throne of grace through our sympathetic high priest, Jesus Christ. You can find the talk on Sola's YouTube channel. The following full transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and flow for those who prefer reading this serious but ultimately uplifting message. (MR Editors).
Introduction
I'm not understood.
If you knew anything about me, then you wouldn't like me.
Nobody knows what it's really like to suffer with [… fill in the blank].
The last person who gets it—who gets me—is God. Because God is, like, way out there. God is holy, God is righteous, God is unable to be tempted. God is far removed from—he doesn't understand. He's the last person I can talk to. I can talk to my therapist before I talk to God about this thing. This thing is so deep. This thing is so horrible. I don't want anybody to know about it. I don’t want to talk to God about it.
God is the one who judges sinners, not the one who understands them.
Now, maybe he pities me. Maybe that's the response that God has to this horrible sin. Because he's omniscient—if you believe in God at all, then omniscience comes with the package—so he knows me, but that just makes me feel worse. The judge of all, who knows me better than I know myself, shaking his head at my very existence and saying, “Poor Mike. So much squandered potential.”
Is a pitiful person better than a God-forsaken one? Friedrich Nietzsche, the philosopher, was contemplating this. In Thus Spake Zarathustra, there’s a section featuring “the ugliest man,” the one who actually killed God. Zarathustra discovered this monster of a man in a corner on the street. You could imagine meeting someone like this, living on the street, not wanting people’s pity. And this despiser of those who show pity claimed to have killed God:
“But he—HAD TO die: he looked with eyes which beheld EVERYTHING,—he beheld men’s depths and dregs, all his hidden ignominy and ugliness.
His pity knew no modesty: he crept into my dirtiest corners. This most prying, over-intrusive, over-pitiful one had to die.
He ever beheld ME: on such a witness I would have revenge—or not live myself.
The God who beheld everything, AND ALSO MAN: that God had to die! Man cannot ENDURE it that such a witness should live.”
Thus spake the ugliest man.
Now, it's true that God's knowledge creeps into our dirtiest corners. That's in our passage today (Hebrews 4), right? The word of God is like a sword that cuts the conscience, that searches out everything. It searches the dirtiest corners. It's like a knife—cuts us open, puts us on display, so that we can't make excuses anymore (4:12–13). We can't deflect our sins onto other people. “The woman you gave me” (Gen 3:12). The devil made me do it. The Gentiles, secular humanists, or the Jews. But God's judgment will expose everything. Even our dirtiest corners.
That's how the passage from Hebrews 4 we’ll focus on begins. But then the preacher turns to a gospel that is far greater than pity.
The Overall Message of Hebrews
Here's our passage. I hope it speaks to you if you feel, sometimes, like the ugliest man—or woman:
Therefore, while the promise of entering his rest still stands, let us fear lest any of you should seem to have failed to reach it. For good news came to us just as to them, but the message they heard did not benefit them, because they were not united by faith with those who listened. For we who have believed enter that rest, as he has said,
“As I swore in my wrath,
‘They shall not enter my rest,’”
although his works were finished from the foundation of the world. For he has somewhere spoken of the seventh day in this way: “And God rested on the seventh day from all his works.” And again in this passage he said,
“They shall not enter my rest.”
Since therefore it remains for some to enter it, and those who formerly received the good news failed to enter because of disobedience, again he appoints a certain day, “Today,” saying through David so long afterward, in the words already quoted,
“Today, if you hear his voice,
do not harden your hearts.”
For if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken of another day later on. So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from his. (Heb 4:1–10)
And then I'm especially focusing on these verses:
Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience. For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.
Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Heb 4:11–16)
Verses one through thirteen have warned the hearers of this sermon—because that's really what Hebrews is, a long sermon that was preached and evidently circulated, so we could call him the preacher if we like—"for good news came to us as to them. But the message they heard did not benefit them because they were not united by faith to those who listened.” They heard the same gospel that we've heard, but they didn't respond to that gospel in faith. Verses two, four, six, ten, and thirteen all issue urgent warnings directed to God’s covenant people: not to go back to Judaism; not to go back to the works of the law; not to go back to the mediation of Moses.
That's like rewinding the movie. You've been baptized. You profess faith. You've spent years hearing the word, receiving Communion, and maybe even outwardly appearing indistinguishable from believers. And he brings up the wilderness generation. Really, this is fearful—it's a real warning. But then verses fourteen through sixteen turn from dire warning to the comfort of the gospel in Christ: we have a better covenant with better promises, with a better mediator than Moses.
Moses wasn't allowed to enter the promised land because of his moral turpitude. But Jesus the greater Joshua leads us into everlasting rest. We see this in three parts: First of all, we see a glorious high priest, and then a sympathetic high priest, and then a gracious high priest. I'm going to spend most of my time on the sympathetic part, because that really gets to why we're here at this conference.
Our Glorious High Priest
First of all, the writer to the Hebrews, or the preacher, says that Christ is a glorious high priest. Now, high priest has already been used as a title several times, also the Son of God. The Levitical priests were often called the sons of God. And I think that the reference to Jesus as the Son of God is a claim both that he is the eternal Son of the Father and is also a reference to his being a high priest in the order of Melchizedek. He's a glorious high priest and the Son of God, but also tempted and suffered, just like us, yet without sin. What a strange juxtaposition! Great height, great glory on one hand, and great depth and great sorrow on the other.
The author earlier spoke of Jesus as “the high priest of our confession” (3:1). Homologias, “of our confession” or “creed.”
He's the high priest we confess in our creed, which we just did this morning. But the preacher presses his mostly Jewish audience with the question, “What sort of mediator do you have?” What sort of mediator do you need? If you go back to the shadows, then you don't really have one final sacrifice to end all sacrifices. You don't really have reconciliation with God. What kind of high priest are you looking for? One you can see in a temple, watch him pass through the curtain into the most holy place—or one who has actually ended the sacrificial system completely? He “has passed through the heavens: Jesus, the Son of God.”
He's a glorious high priest. No high priest ever did what he did. The high priests would pass through the symbolic curtain, made up of stars on a blue background meant to look like you were ascending from the terrestrial world to the celestial world as you passed through that curtain into the holy of holies. Jesus passed through the actual heavens of which that was a mere copy.
“You shall name him Jesus, for he shall save his people from his sins.” Yeshua, Jesus, is a person like us and yet so different from us. He's the Son of God, not just in who he is but in what he did. He ascended from this earth not to escape it but to secure its redemption. He passed through the heavens in order to take his throne at the Father's right hand, to rule and reign over his enemies and ours until he crushes Satan under his feet.
And in the meantime, he prays for us.
He prays for us more than we pray to him. He’s always praying for us, and Jesus’ prayers are always answered. Passing through the curtain in the temple, he passes through the terrestrial world having accomplished on earth everything necessary that the Father gave him to do, and now sits at the Father's right hand in glory. He's a glorious high Priest.
Our Sympathetic High Priest
He's been glorified, but he's also a sympathetic high priest. Now, this is so common to us. We see pictures of Jesus with sheep, with the woman at the well—we see all these pictures of Jesus as sympathetic. But this was odd for a messianic figure in Jesus’ day.
The messianic figure—the one who was to come, which the prophets look forward to and which Jews, especially the Pharisees, were expecting—was a powerful representative of God's sovereignty. A royal person. A person who would come and immediately drive out the Romans and re-establish a Jewish theocracy.
That's why everybody had to get their act together. Everybody had to become holy—totally separate from the Gentiles—so that the Messiah would come. “God will not send the Messiah until you get your act ready. But when you do, then Messiah will justify you. He will drive away your enemies and there will be a final judgment that will secure your everlasting destiny in the promised land. And from there the conquest will grow till it stretches to the ends of the earth.” That was the belief about the Messiah at the time of Jesus. And so the Messiah would be the most exalted king Israel ever had. But we know from the circumstances even of his birth how unexalted he appeared to be in this world.
We're united to Jesus by nature. We're family, brothers and sisters. The preacher emphasizes in 2:11 that we're from the same flesh and blood. The Son didn't assume angelic or celestial flesh. He assumed our humanity. So, you know, you go to family reunions and people might say, “You look just like your parents or your Uncle Fred.” “Well, you sure do have your mother's eyes.” Jesus has Mary’s DNA. He is completely human.
Our confession, the Belgic Confession, article 18—similarly to the Thirty-Nine Articles—says,
He truly assumed a real human nature with all its infirmities, without sin. For he was conceived in the womb of the blessed Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit, and not by the act of a man. He not only assumed human nature as to body, but also a true human soul in order that he might be a real human. For since the soul was lost as well as the body, it was necessary that he should assume both to save both. Contrary to the heresy of the Anabaptists, who deny that Christ assumed human flesh of his mother, we therefore confess that Christ partook of the flesh and blood of the children. He is the fruit of the loins of David, born of the seed of David according to the flesh, a fruit of the womb of the Virgin Mary, born of a woman, a branch of David, a shoot from the stump of Jesse, sprung from the tribe of Judah, descended from the Jews, according to the flesh, the same seed of Abraham. Since the son was concerned with the descendants of Abraham, therefore he had to be made like his brethren in every respect, yet without sin. And in this way, he is, in truth, our Emmanuel, God with us.
Now, there are two kata phrases, according to phrases in our passage, according to everything, like us, according to everything except for sin. Now, our human nature is not inherently sinful. When Jesus assumed our humanity, the question is, well, then he had to assume the humanity of human imperfect and fallen creatures. No, he assumed the true humanity of Adam and Eve before the Fall. He assumed humanity.
Human nature is not inherently sinful in theological terms. It's an accident rather than essential. It's accidental, not essential to our being. It's something that happened to us. It's not something that we are. We became sinners because of an event, because something happened to us, not because our nature is inherently sinful. God created us good, but we have gone our own way. Like sheep, we're born in sin.
Imagine the holiest human being who ever lived. His temptation by all of the sins—all of the kinds of sins that we face—must have been far more horrendous than any temptations we experience. The holy God incarnate! The one of whom we say, “He can't understand me. He's so far away. He's just my judge.” Yeah, that God. When he moves close to us, actually on earth, in his ministry he comes, as we've heard, to the poor, to the sinners, to the prostitutes, to those who know they need a Savior.
Jesus is tempted with power by Satan in his wilderness temptation, which implies that he probably thought this was Jesus’ weak spot. Surely the second person of the Holy Trinity isn't going to like this place very much, Satan might have thought. I'm going to give him some power over it. All he’s got to do is sign over a little bit of his autonomy. All he has to do is just say, ‘This is for you’—a little pinch to Caesar, a little obedience to Lucifer, and then he can have it all. “I'll give you all the kingdoms of this world,” he tempts Jesus. “You can have power, you can have wealth. You're not going to live like this anymore. You're not going to be a man of sorrows. Man of sorrows! What good is that? I can give you health, wealth, and happiness.”
But that would have been surrendering to Satan and his plot to keep the Messiah from fulfilling his redemptive mission. Remember, we're talking about his humanity here. God is unable to be tempted by evil, says James 1:13. That's true. But Jesus as the eternal Son, equal with God, becomes the most tempted human being in history.
His sinless holiness isn't like that of a child who hasn't been exposed to TV yet. It's not naivete. Nor is it like that of a Stoic who lives (presumably) above all passions in detached bliss. Rather, Jesus directed all his passions toward the Father and his will. He fulfilled every command we've broken. He lived a perfect life of righteousness and holiness, enduring temptations, saying no to Satan and feasting on every word that comes from the mouth of God as our last and faithful Adam. And all who are united to him have that credited to our account through faith alone.
We're united to him in temptation: “tempted in all ways as we are” (verse 15). I mentioned pride and power, where Satan really focused, and he did that with Adam too. He thought, You know, this strategy works on these human beings. Jesus is fully human. I'm going to try it on him too. Pride and power, wealth and glory. That's the temptation.
Jesus was also tempted by fear. Think of Lazarus’ tomb. The word used in John 11 for Jesus’ response doesn’t mean that he wept or he cried a little bit. The verb there is the same for a horse to rear up and snort. Have you seen some of those Middle Eastern funerals, at least televised? What are people doing? Are they like Englishmen, “Keep calm, carry on?” No, they’re throwing themselves on the casket, wailing. That's what Jesus was doing at Lazarus’ tomb. He was facing the last enemy that would take his life too: Death. He was looking Death in the face and even then said, “Lazarus come forth!”
So, Jesus was tempted by fear. He was tempted by poverty and sickness, no doubt; also loneliness; and by abuse and shame from the very people he created and called into covenant with himself.
Now, “in every way” doesn't mean he was tempted by every single sin that we've ever gone through. It's all kinds, all types, all categories.
But then we are united with him in redemption. He is a priest and the sacrifice, the lamb without blemish. But he's also the one who fulfilled all righteousness in his active obedience. And so look at his temptations again:
- Pride and power—Jesus responds with servanthood to God and to us. “I came not to be served, but to serve and give my life a ransom for many.”
- Fear—Trust.
- Poverty and sickness—He answers by restoring life and hope to others who have no hope.
- Loneliness—He creates a new community around himself.
- Abuse and shame—He shows pity, mercy, and justice.
Nevertheless, apart from the gospel, “yet without sin” is just more judgment, isn't it?
“Well, Jesus pulled it off. Why can't you? Jesus rose from the dead and you can't get out of bed?” Just more judgment. “So what's your excuse?” The good news Jesus gives by his sinlessness is not, “Follow my example.” We are to follow his example. But that's a command.
The good news of the gospel is not “Follow my example,” but, “Look what I've done for you. The trial is over! You're not on trial anymore. God doesn’t pity you—God loves you. God has shown favor toward you.”
Our Gracious High Priest
Therefore, we have a gracious high priest. That's the last part of this passage. Notice how verse fourteen begins: “Since then we have…”
I love this. Since we have. And again in verse fifteen, “For we have…. What do we have? “A gracious high priest.” We have Jesus.
This is amazing, isn't it? This isn't just the powerful, crushing monarch who is coming to establish the imperial reign and crush whoever gets in his way. This is a sympathetic and gracious high priest whom you can have. You can have God! You can possess God because he became small in Jesus Christ. In Christ, God is haveable. The transcendent, sovereign, all-knowing, holy, and righteous God, you are able to have in Jesus Christ.
That's the indicative basis, the promise which forms the basis of the preacher’s imperative to “hold fast” our confession in verse fourteen and to “draw near to the throne of grace with confidence.”
Hold fast. You know, “Just have faith in faith. Just believe. Believe harder, believe stronger. You just need more faith.” That's not what he says. “Since everything I've told you is true,” he says, “on this basis, the only reasonable thing to do is to hold fast to your confession.”
This confession of Christ as our high priest—this homologia, this “confession” that we make—ends with holding fast and drawing near to the throne of grace “with confidence.” Why confidence? How can we do this with confidence?
Think back to where we started this talk. God is the one who sees my dirtiest corners, and so on and so forth. Why, then, with confidence? How can we come to the holy God even at the very moment we are tempted with filthy lusts, with greed, pride, and anger. “I'll wait till I get over it.”
No, the only way you can come to God is with your sins—because you always have sins to bring to him. It's the only condition in which we can come to God as sinners. The preacher doesn't say, “Well, come anyway. God may be a little miffed, but he's too merciful to judge all of that. All of that hellfire and brimstone stuff, that's from a bygone age. Now it’s just, ‘God's nice, we're nice. Let's be nice.’” Nor does he say, “Do a little penance, clean yourself up, maybe spend a few years in purgatory. Just surrender a little more, tithe a little more, and then we'll talk.”
No. He says, “Come with confidence.” How precious this high priest must be that we can come with confidence and find a throne of grace instead of a throne of judgment. Do you realize how terrifying God’s throne is? Go back to Isaiah and his vision of God in his majesty sitting on his throne. It terrified him to the point where he says, “Woe to me, for I am undone. I'm a man of unclean lips and dwell among people of unclean lips, for I have seen the Holy One of Israel.” But now we come with confidence to a throne of grace, not a throne of judgment. He's expiated our sins.
We “come in order to….” I love that. This is a hina clause. We come “in order to” find unmerited mercy and grace. Not we come “in the hope of” finding. We come with confidence in order to get it. That's the only way we can come to him. We come to him for timely help. We come to him for the grace that we need just at the moment we're at the end of our rope. Just at the right time, Christ died for the ungodly (Rom. 5:6). Just at the right time. He helps us in our distress. Call on him. Just at the right time. What is just the right time? When you're a sinner. Just the right time. The only way we can come to him: as sinners.
Conclusion
Jesus is not only the most glorious and exalted high priest in Israel's history, according to the order of Melchizedek, but he descended lower than any prophet, priest or king ever had. Don't look away in disgust at the humiliated and suffering high priest of our confession, whose humiliation goes further than the ugliest man. Don't look away from it. The writer to Hebrews tells us it is there at the cross with flies buzzing and blood dripping, where God is most manifest in the history of the world. That's where we find the mercy seat, as Calvin put it. This ground of assurance is that the throne of God is not arrayed in naked majesty to confound us, but is adorned with a new name, grace, which ought ever to be remembered when we shun the presence of God. For the glory of God, when we contemplate it alone, can produce no other effect than to fill us with despair and dread. So awful is his throne, so he allures us by draping grace like a banner across his throne.
So what would you say to Nietzsche's ugliest man? “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weakness, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are yet without sin. Let us then, with confidence, draw near to the throne of grace that we may receive mercy and find grace to help”—just when we need it.
Let's pray.
Father, thank you for our Savior, who is the Mediator beyond Moses, the greater Joshua, who has led us into the Sabbath rest—into the everlasting promised land. We're not there yet, but we're so united to him that we cannot fail to be joined to him in his session. We pray that you would fix our minds and our hearts on that promise, so that we would come with confidence for that grace we need just at the right time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
