Bound in heaven

Man can no more escape being marked by the current ideologies of his day than he can escape the air he breathes. Theologians fare no better in this respect than other mortals, and thus it is only natural to expect that the Reformers' thinking was colored by the humanistic ideology that gained currency during the Renaissance. In that age of transition the focus of interest unmistakably shifted from God and heaven to man and this world.

Such an intellectual climate did not prepare men's minds to appreciate the doctrine of the heavenly sanctuary, and few theologians of the period gave it any attention. The elements of such a doctrine were abundantly present in the writings of both the Old and New Testaments, but the times were not propitious for an appreciation of their true value.

In contrast to the man-centered theology characteristic of the Reformation and its aftermath stands the Scriptural teaching that no step in man's experience of salvation is merely an earthly affair. Jesus makes it abundantly clear that such spiritual experiences as repentance, confession, and forgiveness have repercussions in heaven. Indeed, in the light of the New Testament none of these experiences would have any saving value at all without this heavenly resonance.

For example, although genuine repentance rises mysteriously from the depths of the self, it is never self-initiated. According to the apostle Paul, it is always a response to God's love: "Do you not know that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?" (Rom. 2:4).* Waves of compassion emanate from God's infinite love. Divine mercy evokes a response in man's soul, but it doesn't stop there. The circuit is not completed until man's repentance is accepted, approved, and ratified by heaven. There is "'joy in heaven over one sinner who repents'" (Luke 15:7). God takes notice of the deep movings of repentance in man's soul, and that is all-important if they are to lead to salvation.

What is true of repentance is even more evident of confession, its audible expression. The meek confession of the publican, "'God, be merciful to me a sinner!'" (chap. 18:13), met a joyful response in heaven. "'I tell you,'" said Jesus, "'this man went down to his house justified'" (verse 14). A mere whisper to human ears, the publican's earnest request found a swift answer in the heart of God.

There is also the public confession of faith in Christ in the face of ridicule or death. Such confession, too, has repercussions in heaven: "'So every one who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven'" (Matt. 10:32). The Christian's witness may be apparently drowned in the din of mockery or indifference, but it never escapes Heaven's notice. Much better than in any earthly computer, it is stored forever in Heaven's memory.

Neither is the forgiveness of sins merely an earthly transaction. "'Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven'" (chap. 16:19). Brushing aside all such controversy as who is entitled to wield the power of the keys and what is meant by the verb "to bind," one truth stands out from the text as bright as the noonday: forgiveness of sins is never merely an earthly transaction. Forgiveness of sins has no saving value unless it be ratified by Heaven. The church may forgive; the offended party may forgive; but unless God forgives, that sin will testify against the sinner in the last judgment.

The Scriptures are seldom concerned with forgiveness in general. Their concern is with forgiveness of sins. However unfashionable the concept of sin may be in modern thinking, it remains central in Biblical theology. The very plan of salvation was conceived primarily to deal with the problem of sin. There is that about sin that makes it offensive to God and lethal to man. It disrupts the divine-human harmony and sets human will at cross purposes with God's. It enthrones self where God alone should be. Sin being what it is, forgiveness of sin in the deepest sense remains a divine prerogative. No earthly pronouncement can efface its hideous nature and consequences. That is why forgiveness of sin can never be merely an earthly transaction. Without heavenly ratification, forgiveness can never remove sin's stain and guilt.

To Biblical man, sin is first and foremost an offense against God. Fellow creatures may be wronged in the process, but in the ultimate analysis God is the victim of every sin. Thus David humbly confessed: "Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done that which is evil in thy sight" (Ps. 51:4). Daniel's confessional prayer in behalf of his people expresses the same basic admission: "To us, O Lord, belongs confusion of face, to our kings, to our princes, and to our fathers, because we have sinned against thee" (Dan. 9:8).

The Godward thrust of sin, so obvious to David and Daniel, was missed by Abelard and his spiritual heirs. A diminished conception of sin carries with it a diminished appreciation of Christ's atonement. Consequently Abelard could not conceive how Christ's death on the cross could possibly have any objective effect upon God. Its purpose, he taught, was not to make it possible for God to exercise forgiveness, but to make God's forgiveness acceptable to man. According to him, there was no obstacle in God's mind to forgiving the sinner, not even the crying indignity done to His law. The only obstacle was in man's mind. Man must be convinced of God's love before he could accept divine forgiveness. And the incarnation and the cross were a. small price to be paid to convince men. Abelard anticipated in his day the humanistic bias that would come into its own centuries later.

Thus we can see why the doctrine of the heavenly sanctuary renders such immense service to Christian thinking. It obliges theologians to shift attention to the heavenly aspect of God's redemptive purpose. True, man lost in sin is the object of divine search and salvation. But the initiative in that search and salvation lies with God and not with man, as Jesus' parables of the lost sheep and of the lost coin so clearly emphasize. Incarnation is important, but only because it reveals God's infinite love and condescension in the gift of His Son to become man's go'el and High Priest. The cross is important, not because ultimate atonement for sin was accomplished on it:, but because it makes ultimate atonement possible.

The doctrine of the sanctuary reminds man that the final decisions concerning his salvation are made in heaven, and not on earth. Rather than encourage man to introspection and concern with self, the Scriptures encourage him to look upward, where God is sovereignly enthroned: "Turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth!" (Isa. 45:22). To a group of believers whose hope of salvation gravitated around the earthly sanctuary and its magnificent ritual, the author of Hebrews writes: "Now the point in what we are saying is this: we have such a high priest, one who is seated at the right of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, a minister in the sanctuary and the true tent which is set up not by man but by the Lord" (Heb. 8:1, 2).On Him, now during the Christian dispensation, should our eyes be fixed.

In this heavenly sanctuary Christ now performs His priestly ministry on behalf of mankind, a ministry that is just as vital to salvation as was Christ's earthly ministry culminating with His death on the cross. Both form one indivisible whole. Without the incarnation and the blood shed on the cross, there could not be an effectual heavenly ministry, since it is necessary for the priest to have something to offer (see verse 3). Likewise, without Christ's heavenly mediation, those on earth today couldn't benefit from Christ's historical sacrifice. There would be no link connecting what was done on Calvary with man's present need of forgiveness and reconciliation. The merits of Christ's sacrifice must somehow be applied to the repentant sinner today. And this is accomplished by Christ's intercession in the heavenly sanctuary. "Consequently he is able for all time to save those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them" (chap. 7:25).

Having taken upon Himself human nature, the Son naturally assumes the role of Mediator on man's behalf. Made like man in every respect, Christ becomes "a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make expiation for the sins of the people" (chap 2:17). Mediation is just as much a part of Christ's priestly ministry as is the expiation He offered on the cross. We may go further and say that Christ's expiation for sin would remain ineffectual without His ministry of mediation and intercession.

Just as forgiveness of sins is never merely an earthly transaction, so expiation too has heavenly repercussions and is not merely an earthly transaction that took place once for all. Christ's ministry of reconciliation is a heavenly extension of the work of expiation accomplished on the cross, effectively linking the past with the present, the merits of the blood shed on Calvary with the present need of every sinner. Without this heavenly link the chain of salvation would be incomplete and ineffectual.

Christ intercedes for sinners as an advocate pleads for his client. "If any one does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous" (1 John 2:1). On the other hand, Satan stands as an accuser of the .brethren (see Rev. 12:10). With specious reasoning he argues against those who would escape his dominion. He summons the most astute arguments why every individual sinner should be left to his own fate, Satan already appears in this hideous role in the books of Job and Zechariah, which afford us a valuable insight into the scenes transpiring in God's heavenly court. How comforting to know that believers have an Intercessor perfectly qualified to plead for them before God's tribunal! Satan would have their names blotted out of the book of life. His arguments may have an air of legitimacy, but they ignore the merits of Christ's blood.

Christ's intercession in behalf of man, carried out even during His earthly ministry (see Luke 22:31, 32), most naturally continues in the heavenly court, "since he always lives to make intercession for them" (Heb. 7:25). It is evident that this intercession does not aim at mollifying God's heart, as if He harbored no love for man in his plight. "God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us" (Rom. 5:8). But if not to evoke love and pity for man on the part of God, what could be the purpose of Christ's intercession in the heavenly sanctuary? Its purpose is to prove before the heavenly intelligences that God is righteous while "he justifies him who has faith in Jesus" (chap. 3:26). In that celestial tribunal attended by untold numbers of angelic witnesses, God's righteous judgments must stand above any shade of doubt. When the last case is examined in the heavenly court, and sentence is pronounced for life and for death, a chorus will swell from myriads of adoring lips, proclaiming: " 'Great and wonderful are thy deeds, O Lord God the Almighty! Just and true are thy ways, O King of the ages'" (Rev. 15:3).

We must not minimize the crucial importance of what goes on in heaven. Man's salvation is vital, but no less vital is the vindication of God's dealings with man in the whole process of redemption. Begun at the cross, that vindication is not finalized until the heavenly tribunal pronounces the last sentence.

Thus the doctrine of the heavenly sanctuary comes as a necessary antidote to the humanistic bias in current theological thinking. The fact that this bias is as old as the Reformation makes it no less false and dangerous. The focus of the salvation process, so long centered upon man and his sin, must at last be shifted to God, who initiates and underwrites the whole plan of redemption. It is understandable that to the Reformers the whole gospel seemed subsumed in the text "The just shall live by faith" (Rom. 1:17, K.J.V.). Blessed as this statement will always remain to evangelical Christians, it is nevertheless evident that its focus is upon man and not upon God.

Granted that such a new emphasis was necessary after centuries of medieval misunderstanding, it does not follow that the insights gained by the Reformers represent the final word in Biblical theology. If the human dimension of salvation had been neglected by the scholastics, the pendulum now swung to a humanistic upsurge that no less neglected the divine aspect. The recovery of the doctrine of the heavenly sanctuary in the middle of the nineteenth century can only be described as providential in redressing the imbalance. Its genius consists in redirecting man's attention to what transpires in heaven, where man's eternal destiny is finally decided.

God's plan for a new emphasis upon the heavenly dimension of salvation is evident from the tenor of the first angel's message: "Tear God and give him glory, for the hour of his judgment has come; and worship him who made heaven and earth, the sea and the fountains of water'" (Rev. 14:7). The trend begun by the Renaissance and accelerated by the scientific revolution initiated in the seventeenth century glorified man and his accomplishments at the expense of God, who was allowed a lesser and lesser role in the world-view being evolved by scientists and philosophers. In the midst of this humanistic fervor the proclamation " 'Fear God and give him glory'" fell like a bombshell, an earthshaking reminder that God is there, that He rules and is in control, that He is Judge.

God's original plan was that man should gain a greater and greater mastery over the earth and its resources. But man foolishly became intoxicated with power and achievement and was blinded to the spiritual dimension of his life, his God-dependent destiny. It is this spiritual myopia of modern thinking that is largely responsible for the mood of hopelessness that hovers over mankind like a deadly miasma. Nothing is more suited to dispel this spiritual smog than the realization that God is there and that man's highest duty is to give Him glory. That is what the first angel's message was intended to accomplish, and that is why the rediscovery of the doctrine of the heavenly sanctuary comes as a shaft of light in the darkness of a humanistically oriented theology. It constrains judgment-bound man to remember his divine origin and his eternal destiny.

The linking of the first angel's message of Revelation 14 with the doctrine of the sanctuary is not arbitrary. The call to fear God and to give Him glory is founded upon the truth that "the hour of his judgment is come" (verse 6, K.J.V.). In the book of Revelation the final judgment is often associated with the heavenly temple. Thus in Revelation 11 the declaration that it is " 'time for the dead to be judged'" (verse 18) is followed by the announcement "Then God's temple in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant was seen within his temple" (verse 19). John did not need to remind his readers that the ark of the covenant in the Mosaic tabernacle contained the tables of the law (see Deut. 10:5). For someone familiar with the Old Testament, it would be difficult not to associate the judgment with the decalogue and the decalogue with the ark of the testimony standing within the Most Holy Place of the sanctuary.

Likewise, in the last part of Revelation 14, which portrays "one like a son of man" seated on a white cloud and executing judgment upon the impenitent, angels are twice seen coming out of the temple (see verses 15, 17). In the first case an angel comes with instructions for the one "who sat upon the cloud"; in the second instance, the angel comes out of the temple in heaven to join with the Son of man in the work of reaping the harvest of the earth. Three times the heavenly temple is mentioned in Revelation 15 in connection with angels who are about to pour divine judgments upon the earth (see verses 5, 6, 8).

The phrase "I looked, and lo, a white cloud, and seated on the cloud one like a son of man" (chap. 14:14), is easily recognized as a picture borrowed from Daniel 7. There we read regarding the scene of judgment described in verses 9-14: "And behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a son of man" (verse 13). Jesus too was familiar with the prophecies of Daniel, and in His discourse on last-day events He applies Daniel's phraseology to Himself, '"And they will see the Son of man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory'" (Matt. 24:30). He draws from Daniel again when depicting His coming glory before the Jewish Sanhedrin, " 'Hereafter you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming on the clouds of heaven'" (chap. 26:64).

If judgment is recognized as the final step in the proscription of sin and its eradication from the universe, then the analogy of the day of expiation or atonement in the Mosaic dispensation may be used to shed light on the subject. The proceedings detailed in Leviticus 16 can be characterized as the judiciary capstone of the religious year. The Day of Atonement ceremonies, though repeating the daily sacrifices, contained the additional feature of a final disposition of confessed sins. Those who had maintained their repentance and relationship with God had their transgressions blotted out. Those who had abandoned their allegiance to God had their sins retained and were excluded from the spiritual life of the community—an exclusion that was tantamount to eternal death. One can imagine, therefore, with what profound interest the services per formed in the sanctuary that day were followed.

In the Mosaic economy every aspect of the solution of the sin problem was related to the sanctuary. The yearly round of sacrifices and ceremonies foreshadowed to the eyes of faith the various aspects of Christ's ministry: His perfect, once-for-all sacrifice on the cross; His priestly mediation in the heavenly sanctuary in behalf of repentant sinners; and the final judgment, which brings the work of redemption to a glorious consummation. The sanctuary was the best way to proclaim that God alone could provide a remedy for sin and that this remedy must be sought where God offered it. There was no alternative remedy. " Turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth! For I am God, and there is no other'" (Isa. 45:22). Moreover, the fact that this remedy for sin must be sought in the sanctuary and nowhere else should preclude the vain search for any merely human means of salvation. Sinful man must humbly recognize his total dependence on God for forgiveness and life eternal.

This Old Testament emphasis is carried over to the New. The apostle Peter would declare without ambiguity, "And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved" (Acts 4:12). Such radical exclusiveness sounds scandalous to modern man schooled in the humanistic tradition. As the sharp edge of Christian conviction is eroded by the acids of modernism, such an uncompromising stance is considered outmoded by some.

In this age of anthropocentric gospels founded on secular premises, the doctrine of the heavenly sanctuary comes as a timely reminder that salvation finds its only source in God. It cannot be other wise, God, in Christ, is the alpha and omega in the whole history of redemption, and all the phases of the plan of redemption are Heaven-centered. The prophet Ezekiel, in his crowning vision, beheld a river streaming from the temple, whose life-giving water transformed the barren wilderness into a fruitful garden (see Eze. 47:1-12). What more fitting picture could be painted to convey the good news that salvation proceeds from God, who "is in his holy temple" (Hab. 2:20).