Humanity’s story begins in perfect fellowship with God. Adam and Eve walked with Him, knew His voice, and lived in harmony with His will. That fellowship was shattered in Genesis chapter 3 when rebellion entered the world. Sin did not merely break rules. It broke relationship. Shame replaced peace. Hiding replaced communion.

Why are Christians so obsessed with blood? That’s a strange thing when you think about it. If someone outside the church heard how often we sing about blood, talk about blood, and celebrate blood, they might think we’ve lost it. Normally when we think of blood, we think of violence, pain, or death. But in Scripture, blood is not a symbol of death; it’s a symbol of life.

The earthly system screamed both danger (God’s holiness and wrath) and desire (the longing for access). Hebrews 9:1–10 sets us up to see the contrast: in Christ, guilt is removed, wrath is satisfied, and access is opened once for all.

If Melchizedek is called the King of righteousness and peace, how much more must that be true of Jesus?

Death is uncharted for us. None of us have died. And that’s why it is so frightening. But the best thing when you face something you’ve never done before is to have someone who has already done it and can walk you through it. Jesus has tasted death. He has ascended into the very presence of God as our forerunner. He has gone before us, and He is our anchor.

There are those who seem to be among us, but in the end, reveal that they are not. This is the heart of the third warning in Hebrews. 

Today, we look at Hebrews 5:1–10 to unpack what it really means for Jesus to be our High Priest. He is not just any priest. He is a priest in the order of Melchizedek. That is not a name you hear often, but it is essential for understanding Christ’s role in our lives.

The presence of God is the promise. True Sabbath is not tied to geography or the calendar. It is the presence of God through the person and work of Christ. And today’s passage takes that idea and opens the door even wider. We are invited not just to enter rest. We are invited to draw near to God Himself. Why? Because we have a great High Priest.

You can be delivered from Egypt and still die in the wilderness. You can strive your whole life trying to earn grace, and completely miss it. Salvation is by grace through faith. Not works. Not striving. Just Christ.

Let us not be content with leaving Egypt. Let us press on to the promised land. Let us exhort one another daily. Let us hold fast our confidence in Christ. Let us not harden our hearts. Do not miss the rest.

This is the first warning in the book of Hebrews. And it’s not a soft one. Hebrews 2:1–4 tells us plainly: if we have received a message greater than that of angels, a covenant confirmed by Christ, attested by eyewitnesses, and affirmed by the Spirit through signs and wonders—then we must pay very close attention to it. Otherwise, we will drift. And drifting is not a passive problem—it is the beginning of shipwrecked faith.

Hebrews 1:4 shifts to a new comparison—Jesus is greater than the angels. For many modern readers, this may seem unimportant. “Of course Jesus is better than angels,” we think. But for the first-century Jewish-Christian audience, angels were revered.

Throughout Hebrews, we’ll see a pattern. The author brings up a part of the Old Testament—be it the law, a prophet, or a priest—and then he shows us how Jesus surpasses it. Again and again, we’ll hear: “This was great… but Jesus is better.”

"If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet"

Notice something striking–the disciples did not take the bread for themselves; Jesus broke it and gave it to them. He offered it freely to a table full of sinners.

Baptism visually represents a burial and resurrection. When someone is lowered into the water, it signifies the death of their old self, enslaved to sin. When they rise, it symbolizes their new life in Christ, free from the bondage of sin.

Philippians 3 almost paints a bleak picture of the believer’s journey. Are we called to seek out suffering? Is that the goal? If the Christian life ended in suffering, it would be unbearable.

Paul was never content with complacency. The Christian life is one of continuous movement: “I press on to make it my own because Christ Jesus has made me His own” (Philippians 3:12).

The cross is not just a moment of salvation—it is a daily experience.

There is a truth that is all at once freeing and terrifying. To know Christ, we must destroy the idol of self.