Elisha: The life-giver

They were on their donkeys when Gehazi saw them, hurrying towards him on the road. The woman was out front setting the pace and the prophet followed closely behind. He stopped to catch his breath. When they reached him, he was able to share his bad news. "The child did not awaken, " he panted.

The mother and Elisha continued on towards Shunem without a word. He followed, although he knew where they were heading. He could picture their destination clearly in his mind, having left there a short while ago. It was the woman's home. Atop the home sat a room that she and her husband had made just for the prophet. In the room was a chair and a table and a lamp and a bed. These items were there every visit, welcoming and comfortable. But now there was a sad addition: the woman's son. He had died in her arms that morning. Now his lifeless body lay on the prophet's bed.

He had been sent on ahead. He was given Elisha's staff and told to run. He had been told not to speak to anyone. He had been told, once he reached the house, to lay the staff across the boy's face. Gehazi had done everything he had been instructed. The boy's birth had been a miracle and he was expecting to see another as he placed the staff. But nothing had happened.

When the three arrived at the woman's house, Elijah quickly climbed the stairs to the roof. He strode into the room and closed the door behind him before anyone could follow. He considered the woman's son laid out on his bed. He thought back to the time he had prayed to the Lord that the woman and her husband would be given this child. Now he prayed that their son would be returned to them.

He approached the bed and stretched out on top of the boy, aligning himself with him, eye to eye, mouth to mouth, hand on hand. The boy's body was cool, but as he lay there Elijah could feel hints of warmth returning. He rose and stretched. After pacing the room for a few minutes, he lay down on the boy a second time.

The child sneezed. Then again and again, his head jerking forward slightly each time. Sneeze, sneeze, sneeze, sneeze. Still Elisha did not move. The boy opened his eyes to find the prophet Elisha's face just a hand's thickness from his own. His eyes crossed as he tried to focus.

Elisha rose now, wiping the moisture from his beard. "Gehazi," he yelled, "call the Shunammite!"

A servant and a staff were insufficient to raise the Shunammite woman's son. Only when the prophet lay himself down could the dead be raised to life.

The Bible says that we are all dead in trespasses and sins. God sent His servant Moses with the Law, but like Gehazi with the staff, that was never the solution. The Law could not bring life. Thankfully, God himself arrived to do what His servant could not. Christ came to give life —His life— to those in need. We've are made alive together with him by being joined together with Him. His life has become ours.

(2 Kings 4:8-37; Ephesians 2:4-7)

The veil: The torn flesh

He stood there a moment, before the veil, to admire it.

He knew all the facts, the facts that every priest was taught. It was a curtain of blue, purple, and scarlet thread. It was almost a hand-breath thick. It was made in the wilderness at the command of God. It separated the Holy from the Most Holy Place. But it was one thing to know about the veil or have seen it and another to have to lift it and pass behind it.

His father had warned him that it would be even heavier than he was expecting. That was something only his father, of all men living, would have known and experienced. Now he would know it too. "May the weight remind you of the solemnity of your task." He lowered his head, pushed back against these memories, and the focused again on the veil.

As his eyes traced it from top to bottom, he noticed the glimpse of silver. These were the bases that held the four gold posts from which the veil was hung. Except for the five bronze bases on the posts holding the entrance curtain, everything else in the Holy Place shone with gold in the light of the lamp.

Of course, the unavoidable feature of the veil was the cherubim that were embroider onto it. A warning. He tried not to dwell on them now because they reminded him of the cherubim that God had charged to keep Adam and Eve from returning to Eden. They reminded him of flaming swords.

He ran a last inventory. Censer? Check. Coals from the altar? Incense? Blood from the bull sacrifice? Check. Check. Check.

It was time. He placed two handfuls of incense on the burning coals of the censer. As the fragrant cloud grew and enclosed him, he lifted the veil and carefully stepped into the presence of God.

Matthew tells us that, at the moment Jesus gave up his Spirit, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. This would have been a terrifying event for any priest standing in the temple at that moment. They would have turned at the sound of ripping fabric to find themselves looking, for the very first time, into the Most Holy Place. This would have been unprecedented. Only the High Priest could enter behind the veil and then only once a year and then only under very a prescribed protocol. Only, only, only.

The tearing of the veil indicates that the status quo has changed. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews wrote that every believer, as a priest, can now come into the presence of God with boldness. The reason for this access is that Christ has created a new and living way: by the blood and through the veil. The Greek word translated "new" in Hebrews 10:20 carried with it the idea of something that is recent, but also of something recently slaughtered. That verse also makes it clear that the veil is a picture of Christ's flesh. Our new access is granted by the sacrifice of Christ, through His shed blood and His pierced flesh. It is on the basis of the sacrifice of our High Priest that we can have approach God. Even better, the way is living. It is powerful, perpetual, efficacious. A way has been opened that will never again be closed.

(Levitcus 16; Matthew 27:50-52; Hebrews 10:19-26)

Aaron: The plague barrier

Moses looked at him in panic and yelled: "Aaron! Put fire and incense in your censor! Run! Make atonement for the people! The plague has started! Hurry!" He turned and sprinted toward the altar. It had been a very difficult few days.

Just two days ago, Korah the Levite and some others had risen up in rebellion. They had gathered about 250 community leaders to confront Moses and him, accusing them of taking too much power. "The whole nation is holy, are we not?", the rebels had asked. "Who has put you above everyone else?" Moses assured them that God would make clear who He had chosen. He gave them instructions to appear before the Lord the next day, with censers and incense, at the entrance of the Tabernacle.

Yesterday, when everyone had gathered, the glory of the Lord appeared to the entire assembly. The Lord told Moses to have the people move away from the tents of the rebels. Then Moses had cried out: "This is how you know that the Lord has sent me, and that I do not claim this role on my own: if the Lord opens up the earth and swallows them and everything that belongs to them." Suddenly, there was a deep rumbling. A small crack appeared and travelled and spread along the surface of ground. The shaking continued; the opening grew wider and deeper. Things began to fall into the gaping hole: first tents, and then animals and people. Screams rose above the noise of the rumbling until the crack closed abruptly with a decisive snap! It was silent for a moment, but then the screaming began again as fire came out from the Lord and consumed the 250 men offering incense at the door of the tabernacle. The remaining people had panicked and fled!

Almost the whole nation had gathered this morning near the Tabernacle. They stood and accused Moses of killing the Lord's people. The crowd might have killed them right there, but the cloud had covered the Tabernacle and the glory of the Lord had appeared again. The Lord spoke to Moses and him, warning them "Get away from this assembly!" And now here he was running through camp, hoping to stop a plague.

He could see the people dying, like a dark wave rolling toward him across the camp. He ran, the censer swaying, incense billowing out around him. He wove his way around the tents to position himself in front of the center of the leading edge. He stopped, spread his arms out wide, closed his eyes, and planted his feet as if to steel himself for the wave that would crash over him. And then...

Nothing.

He opened his right eye a crack. He stood straighter and lowered his arms. Now he opened both eyes and looked around. The plague had reached him and stopped. He stood at the high water mark, at the line separating the living from the dead.

It is a divine truth: Sin must be punished. So it is not a surprise that the rebellion of Korah ended in death for the perpetrators. Nor is it surprising that the people, rising against Moses in the aftermath of Korah's judgement, faced a similar fate. It is not surprising that they were deserving of death. What is surprising is that any were spared.

The means by which they were spared was not anything they did to defend themselves, but rather what someone did on their behalf. The Lord had told Moses and Aaron to separate themselves from the assembly He intended to punish. Yet Moses instructs Aaron to act on the people's behalf, to make atonement for them. He did so by taking fire from the altar and a censer full of incense. Then he ran into danger to stand among the people. We read that Aaron "stood between the living and the dead" and that, when it reached him, the plague stopped. His sacrifice protected the people.

Like Aaron, Christ was not deserving of punishment. He could have stood apart. Instead, He came and stood among the people, bearing the wrath and judgement that they deserved. Those who place themselves under his protection need not fear God's judgement for He has taken that punishment on our behalf. He is the dividing line between the living and the dead.

(Numbers 16:46-50)

Solomon: The son of peace and love

Nathan smiled as he was escorted into the throne room. Not all his audiences with the king had been happy ones, but today's events were cause for celebration.

His smile broadened as he took in the scene. King David was on his throne, glorious in his robes, the crown on his head, the sceptre in his hand. To his right was a second throne, upon which sat Bathsheba. She too was arrayed in royal finery for today's event. His eyes scanned the room and noted all those in attendance: the officials and dignitaries, the musicians, the servants, the ladies-in-waiting. He could sense the joyous anticipation in the room.

Nathan stopped and bowed low before the King.

"Behold, my son Solomon." At this word from David, the nurse standing beside Bathsheba came forward. She held a small bundle of richly coloured blankets in which was swaddled the young prince.

Nathan stepped forward to meet her. He pushed back the edges of the blanket from around the infants's face so as to take a better look at him. He raised his face to smile at the parents. Then he closed his eyes, placed one hand gently on the small head, and raised a prayer of blessing and thanksgiving for the child.

When he was done, Nathan bent low and kissed the child's forehead. "You are loved, Jedidiah," he whispered.

The name Solomon means "peace." No doubt this meaning was a great comfort to David and Bathsheba, as their recent history had been marked by anything but. Their adulterous affair lead to a surprise pregnancy. The pregnancy lead to the murder of Bathsheba's husband Uriah. God then sent Nathan the prophet to confront David about his actions and pronounce judgement on his house. Their son died as part of that punishment.

But now God had given them another son, a son He had told them would be called Solomon. They were at peace with God. Their judgement was over. And they were told that this son would grow and prosper. He would become king, know peace and rest, and would be the one to build the temple in which God's presence would dwell.

So it is even more astounding that the child is given another name by God, Jedidiah, which means "beloved by the Lord." But then again, when telling David about this son who would be born, God did explain that they would have a very special relationship: "He will be My Son and I will be his Father."

Solomon had two names: one used by his human father, and one by his Heavenly Father. The names speak to the different ways Jesus is viewed from a human and a divine perspective. To mankind, Jesus is the means by which we need no longer fear the judgement for our sins. Paul tells the Colossians that He has made "peace with God through the blood of His cross." But from the Father's perspective Jesus is the only begotten Son, the One that He loved. To us He is Solomon, but to God Jesus is Jedidiah.

(2 Samuel 12:24-25; 1 Chronicles 22:6-10)

Noah's ark: The protective covering

"Look!", Ham shouted. Seven heads turned in time to see the giant door closing. They watched silently until it thudded closed, shutting them in, and dropping them into darkness.

Noah lit a lamp. He reached for a bucket of pitch and walked over to seal the edges of the doorway.

He had never gotten used to the smell, which surprised him. When he thought of the hours they had spent coating the wood, inside and out, he figured that he would have habituated by now. But who knew how long he would be sealed up with his family and these animals? With time, he thought, he might begin to appreciate how the pitch overwhelmed other odors.

He stood back to admire his handiwork. Seven days ago the Lord had told them that today would be the day. Of course, the ark was finsihed by then and most of the preparations had been made. But it had still taken most of the hours in those seven days to get everyone and everything loaded aboard and stowed away. It felt good to be still for a change.

His wife walked over and stood beside him. Together they stared at the doorway in silence for a few moments more before she spoke. "Do you think it will hold?"

"It will have to," he replied. "It is the only hope we have."

She slid her fingers into his, still not looking at him but at the door. They lingered there until they heard the first drops of rain hit the roof. Now they looked up. And the sound of the rain grew louder and louder as it beat upon the ark.

God gave Noah detailed instructions for the construction of the ark. Along with the material, He specified the dimensions, the number of decks, and the location of the door and the window. Noah was also told to "coat it with pitch inside and out."

There is some word-play in that particular instruction that gets lost in translation. The noun "pitch" is the Hebrew word kopher. In addition to referring to a tarry substance, it can also describe a sum of money, like a ransom or a bribe. The verb "coat with pitch" is the Hebrew word kaphar, which is more often translated as "atonement." Both these words hint at the figurative significance of the ark.

God's judgement was coming upon mankind. Yet a way of deliverance was prepared. There was protection for those who believed and responded to God's invitation. They would be covered while judgement passed over.

In the Epistle to the Romans, Paul writes "there is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus." God's judgement for sin came down upon the Lord Jesus, but there is protection and deliverance for those who are in Him. He is our covering.

But just like the ark, there are aspects of atonement and ransom to the protection Christ provides. His work on the cross has atoned for our sins, reconciling us to God. The price paid at Calvary has also ransomed us, delivered us, from our slavery to sin. He is one in whom we can have complete and utter confidence. He is the only hope we need.

(Genesis 6–9; Romans 8:1)

Esau: The scented son

As his father blessed him, Jacob exhaled slowly. He relaxed. "That was a close one," he thought to himself.

His mother's plan had been a good one. The clothes, goat skins, and recipes had all made him appear to be his brother. But he hadn't thought to disguise his voice? Stupid! All that preparation was almost wasted the moment he opened his mouth.

His father, who was obviously suspicious, had called him over. Jacob had obeyed. There was nothing to be gained from running away at this point. His father had reached out and grabbed his hands. Isaac felt them. Then he had said: "The voice is the voice of Jacob, but those hands are the hands of Esau." Jacob had given thanks that his father's eyesight had declined. He had then closed his own eyes as his father proceeded to bless him.

He assumed that the worst was now over. But then the old man asked, "Are you my son Esau?" Jacob steeled himself and replied, "I am." "Well, then bring me the food so that I may eat it and bless you."

"WHAT!?! No, no, no, no, no!" he thought to himself. "I thought this was done!" He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he brought the food to his father. He silently prayed that the inside of the goat would be as successful at deceiving his father as the outside had been.

They ate in silence. Seemingly interminable silence, as far as Jacob was concerned. He was silent with fear. Isaac, although he seemed to be enjoying his meal, seemed unsettled as he ate.

When he was finished, and the food was taken away, Isaac spoke: "Come here, my son. Give your father a kiss."

Jacob stood. He approached his seated father and leaned down to kiss him. As he did so, Isaac grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and pulled him closer. Unbalanced, he would have fallen had his father not had such a strong grip on him.

Jacob proceeded to place a kiss on his father's cheek. Isaac, in turn, gave him a kiss of his own. He then inhaled deeply. Jacob found this action oddly frightening. Seemingly satisfied, Isaac released him and allowed him to again stand.

Isaac smiled as he placed his hand on the son —believing him now to be the son that he loved— and proceeded to bless him. He began, "The smell of son is like that smell of a field that the Lord has blessed!"

Esau was the firstborn. The Bible tells us that he was a man of the field, a skillful hunter. It also tells us that he was his father's favorite, the beloved son. So, as Isaac grew older, and his eyesight failed him, he decided that it was time to bestow the customary blessing on his eldest.

He instructed Esau to hunt and then prepare him a meal so that he could receive his father's blessing. Rebekah, who overheard this exchange, then devised a plan whereby her favorite of the two sons —Jacob— would receive that blessing. They dressed him in Esau's clothes, covered his hands and neck with goat hides, and then sent him in with a meal — all steps designed to deceive Isaac.

Each of their techniques worked to some degree; however, it was Esau's clothes that finally convinced Isaac to unleash his full blessing. Jacob smelled like Esau. As he leaned in to kiss his father, he carried the scent of the beloved son. The start of Isaac's blessing makes it clear that this was the factor that finally settled the son's true identity in his mind.

Like Jacob, we dare not approach God the Father smelling like ourselves. There is no blessing for us. But when we approach God clothed with the scent of His dearly beloved Son, we receive spiritual blessings to which we are not naturally entitled. God treats us, in effect, as if we were His Son.

God is not hoodwinked like Isaac was. Yet Paul makes it clear that scent again plays a factor. He writes to the Corinthians to tell them that "our lives are a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God." Because we bear the smell of Christ, God chooses to treat us and bless us as His only beloved Son.

(Genesis 27, 2 Corinthians 2:15)

Jonah: The resurrected prophet

At first, he was sure he was dead. His final memories were just fragments: being thrown; the wind; hitting the water; sinking. The storm had seemed dark, but now he found himself in utter blackness. Cold. Silent. Dead.

The thought of death was almost calming. The slow realization that he was still alive was puzzling. Understanding that he was trapped inside something was ... terrifying! He thrashed. He screamed. It made no difference.

His mind raced. Of course he knew that God was displeased with him. He had known that before he got on the boat. The sudden storm confirmed it. When the sailors said they would throw lots, he knew that it would identify him. He knew he was guilty. That was why he had had them toss him overboard. But he still wasn't sorry. He didn't want to go Assyria. They were a bloodthirsty people. They deserved God's judgement for all they had done. They did not deserve mercy.

So he lay there in the darkness, shivering. One day passed, and then a second, although Jonah could not tell that sun sank or rose. Jonah's could feel his skin soften and pucker, but he could not see its skeletal in the dark.

With time his heart softened too. From deep within his grave in the deep and the dark, Jonah prayed. He began with a note of faith: "In my distress I called to the Lord, and He answered me..." As he finished, he felt movement. A rushing, shaking, constriction, propulsion, and then...

Daylight!

Jonah would not make the list of Top Ten Most Exemplary Prophets. In the four chapters of the book that bears his name, Jonah reveals himself to be rebellious, stubborn, ungrateful, and petulant. I find him quite relatable. Yet God is able to use Jonah —despite his obvious animosity toward his listeners— to bring many Assyrians to repentance. I find this encouraging.

Still, I wouldn't naturally hold up Jonah as a picture of the Lord Jesus. Christ was obedient and submissive. He wept over Jerusalem for the people's obstinancy. Jonah set up camp outside Nineveh in the hopes that God would still destroy the city.

So it is curious that twice in the book of Matthew Jesus identifies himself with Jonah. When the people demands a miraculous sign, He responds that the only one He would provide that was the one of Jonah the prophet: three days and nights in the heart of the earth. Jesus too brought a message of salvation. He too would rise again after three days.

Jesus then puts the onus on the inquirers. Jonah was not a model prophet. He half-heartedly preached his message while half-hoping for vengeance. Despite the limitations of the messenger, the people of Nineveh still repented in sackcloth and ashes. Now one greater than Jonah stood before them and they were without excuse. How would they respond?

(Jonah 1—4; Matthew 12:39—31, 16:1-4)

The scapegoat: The sin bearer

"...Are you sure? I think you may have it backwards."

"No. The bull is sacrificed for the high priest. One goat is chosen to be sacrificed for us. The other becomes the scapegoat."

"But they don't sacrifice the scapegoat too?"

"No, someone takes it out into the wilderness. But before they do, Aaron puts his hands on the goat's head —like this— and confesses all our sins. That way, when the goat is taken out into the wilderness, it takes our sins with it."

"How does Aaron know all my sins, Father? Do you tell him? Do you have to keep a list?"

"That would be a pretty long list, wouldn't it? And mine would be even longer! The truth is that I don't know. I've never seen it happen. I am just thankful that God has provided a way for our sins to be removed..."

On the Day of Atonement, the roles of the two goats were chosen by lot. One was identified as the Lord's and sacrificed for the sins of the people. The other became the azazel, the scapegoat. As Aaron placed his hand on its head, and confessed the sins of the nation over it, the goat was symbolically loaded with those very sins. It was then entrusted to a man appointed to take the goat out of the camp and release it into the wilderness. Because the sins had been laid onto the goat, it carried those sins from the camp when it left. These sacrifices and ceremonies were repeated on an annual basis to make atonement for the sins of the Israelites.

The Lord Jesus is our scapegoat. The apostle Peter wrote that He "bore our sins in His body on the tree". At the end of that verse, Peter quotes from Isaiah 53. Three times in that passage (verses 6, 11, and 13) Isaiah speaks prophetically of the fact that that our sins and iniquities were laid on, and borne by, Him. Our sins have been removed. Taken away. Not just for the year, but for all time.

(Leviticus 16; Isaiah 53; 1 Peter 2:24)

Aaron: The sinless high priest

"Father, where are they taking those animals?"

"Do you remember how this morning I told you that today was a special day? Today is the Day of Atonement. It is a very serious day. Those animals are being taking to the tabernacle as part of some special sacrifices."

"Special? What makes them special?"

"What makes them special? Well, normally we bring animals to the tabernacle to offer them as sacrifices for our own sins. But once a year these special sacrifices are offered to cleanse the whole nation and the high priest. It is really important that they be done properly."

"Why does the high priest need two goats?"

"What do you mean?"

"The bull is so big so it must be the sacrifice for us. So why does the high priest need two goats?"

"No, the goats will be sacrificed for us. One will, anyway. The other will be the scapegoat. It is the bull that will be offered to cleanse the high priest."

"Are you sure? I think you may have it backwards."

The sacrifices of the Day of Atonement do indeed seem to be backwards. A bull is typically four to five times larger than a male goat. On a per capita basis, one would anticipate that the larger sacrifice (the bull) would be offered for the larger group of people (the nation). But instead the larger sacrifice is made for the high priest and his family, while the much smaller goat is offered for the nation.

This seeming contradiction emphasizes for us the importance of the high priest. As the intercessor for his people, as the one who approached God on their behalf, it was critical that the high priest be acceptable in God's sight. The bull was offered annually to atone for the high priest's sins in order that he might carry out his duties. He had to be holy.

The book of Hebrews explains that Jesus is our perfect high priest. He does not need to offer sacrifices for his own sins. He is holy, pure, blameless. He is perfect. Forever. Even better, he does not need to offer daily (or even annual sacrifices) for the people. Unlike any other high priest, he could offer himself as the sacrifice. His sacrifice is all that is needed.

(Lev. 16:1-34, Heb. 7:26-28)

Elisha's stick: The transformer of natures

"No,no,no,no,no,no,noooo!"

He had been attempting to fell the tree. It was going to be a beam in their new building. He had swung the axe back to prepare for the next blow when he felt it lighten unexpectedly. His head spun over his shoulder just in time to see the axe head splash into the depths of the river. Gone.

"What am I going to do?", he wondered. It was a borrowed axe. Borrowed because he lacked the funds to buy his own — or a replacement! He cried out again and struck the tree with the now-headless handle. He stopped and sighed. "Yeah, some prophet I am," he muttered to himself.

He knew Elisha was working nearby so he ran to him, crying out his name. Elisha paused in his own work to listen. After the situation was explained, Elisha simply asked: "Where did it fall in?"

The man lead him to his half-felled tree and pointed. He watched as Elisha took his own axe, sheared a branch from the tree, and threw it into the water where he had indicated. The axe head bobbed to the surface! He watched as it began to spin and float downstream.

He felt Elisha prod him gently in the ribs with the butt of an axe handle. "Go lift it out", Elisha told him before returning work.

Elisha's life is relayed to us in episodes or vignettes rather than a longer, continuous narrative. In this particular passage, the prophets are undertaking a building program. Elisha is enlisted to join a work party on the banks of the Jordan hewing beams for the new structure. When the loss of a borrowed axe head causes quite a bit of commotion for one of the young prophets, Elisha calmly retrieves it for him from the bottom of the river.

Neither the brevity of the story nor Elisha's casual manner should take away from the miracle of what transpired. A deep and fundamental transformation was accomplished: iron was made to float. This is, of course, un-natural. The nature of a metal axe head is such that it should sink to the bottom of the river as a valuable item irrecoverably lost. Yet, by joining the axe head in the water, Elisha's stick imparts it's wooden nature to the iron. The axe head is transformed. It floats. It is recovered and restored.

A similar transformation happens in the life of a believer. We are being pulled down by a force that we are powerless to counteract. Left unaided, we will be something of value that will be irrecoverably lost. Yet, by joining us in our sin and our death, Jesus too can effect a great transformation. We receive His nature and His standing before a holy God, and we no longer need to fear the inevitable outcome of our fallen natures. We are raised up and lifted out.

(2 Kings 6:1-7; 2 Corinthians 5:21)

Samson: The sacrificial deliverer

He felt the servant take his hand and then grab him just above the elbow. He began to be lead... somewhere. No doubt the plan was to take him back to prison. Though he could barely make himself heard over the crowd noise, he managed to get the servant's attention. "Not yet. Take me to the central pillars. I need to lean against them."

The servant had not needed much convincing. Samson was out of breath from the humiliating performance he had just completed. He was also shaking, partly from exhaustion, but mostly from fury. The crowd shouting taunts had once only spoken his name in whispers. He had been powerful. He had been a fearsome enemy. Now he was reduced to a helpless, blind performer who had to be lead around by the hand. Now he was the entertainment. "Just wait for my final act," he thought to himself.

He could not say for certain, but based on the noise and the heat, he guessed there were a few thousand people at this temple celebration. He stretched out his arms and placed his hands flat on the pillars, fingers pointed upward. He shifted his feet slowly, bending his knees to widen his stance.

Then he hung his head. "O Sovereign Lord," he prayed --something wet hit his chest, eliciting a few cheers from the crowd-- "Remember me. Strengthen me once more. Let me take revenge for my two eyes."

He filled his lungs with air for the final time. Then he pushed with all his might and shouted: "Let me die with the Philistines!"

Samson's ministry was one of death and destruction. The book of Judges concludes his story by stating that he killed more in his death than he did during his life. Although his life had begun under auspicious circumstances --divine announcement, miraculous conception-- Samson never really lived up the promise of those early days. So it is that we see him at the end, humiliated in the presence of his enemies. His final words are a call to God for vengeance. His final act is to sacrifice himself to bring about the death of his enemies.

Samson serves as powerful counterpoint to the Lord Jesus. Jesus' birth was also divine in conception and foretold with angelic proclamation. Yet where Samson's life is characterized by unfulfilled potential, the Son performed all that the Father gave him to do.

It is, however, at the moment of their deaths when the starkest contrasts appear. Certainly there are still similarities: as they die, both men are surrounded by their enemies; they are being taunted and humiliated. But Samson's final thoughts are of death and of vengeance, whereas Christ's final moments are concerned with others. "Father, forgive them," He cried. Samson gave his life so that his enemies might die. Jesus sacrificed Himself so that His enemies might live.

(Judges 16:23-31)

Moses: The incomplete deliverer

He was breathing rather heavily by the time he reached the summit, but not as heavily as he had expected. "Not bad for an old man," he thought to himself.

He stood for a moment to take in the view. Off to the west he could see the Jordan river, the natural border to the land of promise. It was a land that he had heard of, dreamed of, and worked toward for so many years. But it was a land he would never enter himself. He would not have the joy of leading his people into their long-awaited inheritance. That task would fall to his successor.

His eye sight was still excellent, but in these his final moments he wished he could see the land more clearly. And then he felt he was... flying? He wasn't sure. But the distant land seemed to be speeding toward him.

He flew north over Gilead, and then zoomed along the banks of the Jordan. He saw the northern sea and its forests, then he began to move south. He passed over the hill country and into the mountains. Soon the western sea was hurtling toward him. He traveled further south to the Negev, the spot where the spies had entered Canaan almost 40 years earlier. It took him a moment to recognize, for he had never seen it from this perspective. Finally he felt himself returning to his body, past the city of Jericho and then... back. On Mount Nebo.

He was breathing more rapidly now. But not from exertion. It was incredible. What a beautiful land! He had heard the reports of the spies but... What a blessing awaited his people!

Then the Lord spoke to him for what Moses knew would be the final time of his earthly life. "This is the land I promised to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I promised to give it their descendants. And I shall. I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over."

There is no one afforded more respect among the Jewish people that Moses. And rightfully so. Moses was the prophet of God, the law giver, the deliverer of the people.

But while he was able to deliver them out of the land of oppression, Moses never succeeded in delivering those people into the land of promise. Moses, despite his many great abilities, was human. He was disobedient. And his disobedience kept him from finishing the work that God had entrusted to him. His deliverance was incomplete.

Jesus too has provided deliverance from bondage and oppression. His salvation, however, is complete. The author of Hebrews refers to him as the author and finisher of our faith. The former term refers to a leader or a pioneer who provides an example, while the latter refers to one who fulfills or completes. Paul uses similar language when writing to the church in Philippi: "He who began a good work in you will complete it."

Jesus has already entered the blessing into which He will lead his people. The deliverance that Jesus Christ provides is full. It is complete. It is finished.

(Deuteronomy 34:1-8)

Aaron: The name bearer

By unspoken agreement, they had saved these two particular stones to the end. Bezalel looked down at the turquoise before him and began the task of engraving his name. He completed a letter and paused to look over at Oholiab, who was fully absorbed in his work. Bezalel's eyes caught a flash of blue when Oholiab re-positioned the stone. Back to my work, he thought, and returned to his own stone and his own name.

It was not, of course, his name. No more that it was his stone. The name he was engraving was the name of his tribe: Judah. The stone would be placed in the second row of the breastplate they were creating for the Aaron the high priest. The stone for Dan —the sapphire Oholiab was completing— would be its neighbour.

It struck Bezalel as appropriate that their two tribes should be forever set beside one another on the high priestly garments considering how much time they had spent together. Moses had told them that the Lord himself had chosen them to oversee the craftsmen charged with creating the tent of meeting, its furnishings, and all the sacred garments the priests would wear. After so many weeks of construction and administration that work would soon be completed. And then most of it they would never see again...

Perhaps that was why they had saved their tribe-stones for themselves. Once everything was prepared, it would be Aaron's responsibility go directly into the presence of God. He and Oholiab could never dare do the same; they were not Levites and they were not the high priest. But when Aaron did so, it would be like they were entering with him. He would bear their names on his shoulders and carry them over his heart. And there he would offer sacrifices to God for the people. And for them.

The high priest's garments included, on his shoulders, two onyx stones upon which were engraved the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. On his breastplate were twelve stones. Each bore the name of one of the tribes. Exodus tells us that whenever Aaron entered the Holy Place he was to bear those names as a memorial. They were to be a reminder of the people he represented collectively and of the people he was to care for individually.

We see these two roles outlined at the start of Hebrews 5. The high priest is represent the people to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices on their behalf. He is also to deal gently with those who are ignorant and going astray. The shoulders and the heart. The collective and the individual.

Jesus is also a name bearer. He is our representative to God. He has offered himself as a sacrifice on our behalf. Yet he also deals gently with each of us in our unique blends of ignorance and wandering. He is our high priest. And he is my high priest.

(Exodus 28, 39; Hebrew 5:1-5)

The scarlet cord: The hope of salvation

She secured one end of the rope and then, as silently as possible, lowered the other out her window. She turned to the fugitives and whispered: "Go! Hide in the mountains for three days until the search parties have returned. Then you may return to your people." The two Israelite spies double checked the rope and prepared to lower themselves over the wall. They remembered the oaths that they had given Rahab up on her rooftop in exchange for their safety.

One saw a scarlet cord lying on the table and smiled. It is fitting, he thought, with Passover so near. He grabbed the cord and placed it in her hand. Whispering, he explained: "When we come into the land, place this scarlet cord in this window. Bring your father and mother and all your family here. No one will lay a hand on anyone in this house."

"So be it," she replied as he hoisted himself out the window. She soon felt the tug that indicated both men had made it safely to the ground.

As she pulled the rope back in through the window, she peered intently into the darkness below. She could barely make out their silhouettes as they crept away from the base of the city walls, but they seemed to heed her advice. They were heading toward the mountains and away from the Jordan.

She tied the scarlet cord to her window sill and hung the loose end so that it would be visible to those outside. Like a small trickle of blood high up on the wall. "So be it," she said aloud again before heading off to bed.

Rahab confessed to the two spies that the whole city of Jericho was terrified. True, the Israelites seemed trapped on the other side of the flooding Jordan. But the people of Jericho had heard of all the great works the Lord has accomplished for his people —the crossing of the Red Sea, the defeat of the Amorite kings— and they recognized that the swollen river and their impenetrable walls offered no defense against the God of heaven and earth.

Yet Rahab, after aiding and abetting the Israelite spies, secured from them a promise of protection. This deliverance took the form of a scarlet cord she was to hang in her window. The Hebrew word for cord in Joshua 2 (tiqvah) is most frequently translated elsewhere as hope or expectation. In a very real sense, that scarlet cord was Rahab's hope. It was all that separated her and her family from certain judgement. That cord would get her safely out of the city. It would allow her to live at peace among her former enemies.

In writing to Timothy, Paul describes the Lord Jesus Christ as our hope. It is His blood that protects us from judgement. It is His blood that offers salvation. Only His blood can gives us peace with God.

(Joshua 2:1-24; 1 Timothy 1:1)

Solomon: The king of exceeding wisdom

They had been speaking for hours. Sheba had wise men, of course, but she would have to refer to them simply as "advisers" or "counselors" from now on. They were undoubtedly men of experience, men of great insight, men with extensive knowledge of the natural world. Yet never before had she spoken with anyone of such profound wisdom.

She had begun with a few of her favorite philosophical questions, just to take a measure of the man. She quickly gave up trying to probe the limits of knowledge and moved on to matters of state and politics. Matters of importance. But as their conversation progressed, she found him drawing out the deeper questions which lay hidden in her heart. Some were questions that she had never even dared to voice aloud. Yet, again and again, he brought answers and insight and understanding.

He paused to take a long drink from his cup. She did the same and took the opportunity to once again take in the beauty of his banquet room. It was, like the rest of Solomon's palace, glorious in both design and decor. The luxury almost defied description. From the food and drink at his table, to the golden vessels in which they arrived, to the finery of the servant who carried them, it was all unbelievable. Which, she decided with a smile, was entirely fitting.

She put down her cup and turned back to the King. "The reports which reached my land of your great wisdom were true," she confessed. "Every word was true, but I would not believe them until I came and saw it with my own eyes. And now I can state that the reports were inadequate. Indeed, the half has not been told."

The Queen of Sheba traveled a great distance from her southern home to confirm firsthand the stories about Solomon. Her journey revealed that the reports of his wisdom and wealth were merely half-truths, but not in the way she may have first suspected. In Solomon, she found a king that exceeded his reputation. His wisdom exceeded that of anyone with whom she had ever spoken. His wealth and achievements exceeded those of anyone she had ever met. No doubt she stumbled for new superlatives to express the incredible person of the King of Israel.

The Lord Jesus used a single word to compare himself with Solomon: greater. He said that one day the Queen of the South would rise up and condemn that generation. She came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, but they had the privilege of listening to one whose wisdom exceeded that of the ancient king. While we have not witnessed his works firsthand, nor heard his words as they were spoken, we have the preserved testimony of Scripture on the person of the Saviour. The apostle John wrote that the world itself could not contain the books that would be needed to record all that Jesus did. If the ancient reports could not express even half of the greatness of Solomon, then what tiny fraction of Christ's greatness have we been told?

(1 Kings 10:1-13, Luke 11:29-32)

The Passover lamb: The protecting blood

"Abba," a voice asked, "what are you doing?" He felt a tug at his clothes, and he turned to see his son.

"Well, I'm about to put this blood—", he held out the bowl he was holding, "—on the frame of the door with..." His son had picked up the hyssop and was absentmindedly removing its leaves. He snatched it from the boy and continued, "...with this! Tonight the Lord is going to send a destroyer through the land. But we'll be safe in our house once it's been covered in blood."

"Whose blood is it, Abba?"

"Do you remember that lamb that I picked out a few days ago? It is the lamb's blood!" He pointed over at the fire. "Tonight we will feast on the lamb and its blood will protect us!

The boy's gaze shifted back and forth between the roasting lamb and the bowl. Finally, he looked up at his father. Then he burst into tears. "But why?", he sobbed, "that was my favorite lamb! You said he was special!"

He knelt down and took his son's face in his hands. "Because, my son," he explained, "I want you to live!"

The Passover is the defining moment of Jewish history. It marks the beginning of the Jewish calendar and it now commemorate their deliverance from Egypt. The first time it was celebrated, however, it was in preparation for that deliverance. The final plague was about to come upon Egypt: every firstborn, both man and animal, was going to die. Only those protected by the blood of a Passover lamb would be safe. The Israelites had been promised that, when the Lord saw the blood, he would pass over a doorway and not allow the destroyer to enter that house. God himself would protect his people from death on the basis of the blood of a spotless lamb.

Paul wrote to the Corinthians that Christ our Passover was sacrificed for us. It was during Passover that Christ would institute a feast of his own, one that would commemorate a greater deliverance. But on that night it was first celebrated, it was eaten in preparation for that deliverance. Later that evening, Jesus would be taken into custody, beaten, mocked, and eventually crucified. His blood is our protection. In Romans 3:25 we read that, on the basis of Christ's blood, God has passed over our sins. God himself has saved us by the blood of a spotless lamb!

(Exodus 12; 1 Corinthians 5:7)

Abel: The testifying blood

"Cain."

"Yes... um, yes.  Here I am."

"Where is your brother?"

"Which one?"

"Abel.  Where is Abel your brother ?"

"Um, I, well you see... I'm, uh I'm not sure.  I don't know."

"Cain, where is your brother?"

"I don't know!  Am I my brother's keeper?"

"Cain.  What have you done?

"Well, I, um, I―"

"Silence!  Listen. I can hear your brother's blood crying out to me from the ground.  The soil that you have tended and tilled has been filled with your brother's blood.  You are cursed.  You will no longer work that field or any other, for the earth will no longer produce crops for you―"

"What? But I, how―"

"―and you will be forced to wander the earth."

"But, what... but... My punishment is more than I can bear!"

Judgement!  The blood of Abel cried out for judgement.  Though Cain may have believed that he could conceal the murder of his brother, he was soon confronted by God about his actions.  He lied.  He evaded.  But the Lord of heaven and earth told him that, although his brother was not alive to bear witness to what had occurred, Abel's blood was crying out and giving testimony to Cain's actions. And so Cain was put under a curse.  He was sent out of God's presence, his livelihood was taken from him, and he was forced to wander the earth.

In the letter to the Hebrews, the author writes that Jesus' blood speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.   Its testimony is much greater.  Instead of a curse, the blood of Jesus brings a blessing.   Instead of crying for judgement, His blood speaks peace.  Instead of innocent blood bringing enmity with God and separation from God, it is only by His blood that we can stand acceptable in God's presence.  Jesus' blood speaks of better things.

(Genesis 4:1-15; Hebrews 12:22-24)

Adam: The man of dust

As they grew older, Eve loved nothing more than to travel and visit her family. She was, after all, the mother of all living and it brought her great joy to see and experience new life. Children. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. Great-great grandchildren. Great-great-great grandchildren. Not that she ever referred to them by such sterile titles, for each had a name. But more than that, each had a lineage, a pedigree, an unbroken chain of people that connected them uniquely and inextricably to her.

So it was that afternoon, as she bounced a young boy on her knee, that she knew him not only as Methusaleh, although that was his name. Rather she knew him as Methusaleh, the son of Enoch, the son of Jared, the son of Mahalel, the son of Cainan, the son of Enosh, the son of Seth. Her Seth. The Seth whom she had bounced on her knee. Just like this.

She studied him as he smiled and giggled. His first tooth was coming in and he was drooling, his fist in his mouth. His eyes blinked and danced as he bounced.

Eve looked over at Adam who sat nearby. Though he was surrounded by activity, his eyes seemed to be fixated on nothing in particular. He was in one of his moods. She hated to see him this way.

"Adam," she said attempting to cheer him up, "I think little Methusaleh looks just like you!"

"I know," he responded sadly. "They all do."

We read in the account of creation that God said, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." So God formed Adam from the dust of the earth and breathed life into him. Yet later, after the fall, we read that Adam had a son named Seth in his own likeness and after his own image.

Adam is the pattern, the mold from which all subsequent human beings have sprung. It is a pattern marked by sin, death, corruption and weakness. "We all bear the image of the man of dust," Paul wrote to the Corinthians.

But Christ has broken the mold. Paul described Jesus as the Second Man, the Last Adam, the Heavenly Man. Through his death and resurrection he has established a new pattern. His is an image of incorruptibility, glory and power. His is the image we one day shall bear.

(Genesis 5; 1 Corinthians 15)

Joseph: The suffering saviour

He noticed that they didn't react. Perhaps they hadn't heard him. Perhaps his tears made his words unintelligible. “I am your brother Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt,” he said again, doing his best to hold his voice steady.

This time his brothers quickly exchanged looks with one to the other. He could tell from their faces that they were shocked. And terrified. So he went on, “But do no be grieved or angry with yourselves. God has sent me ahead of you to preserve life. So it wasn't you who sent me here, but God!”

Then he ran to Benjamin, threw his arms around his brother's neck, and wept. They stood there for some time, holding each other, weeping. Then, one by one, he hugged, kissed, and wept with each of his other brothers.

Those brothers had questions, of course. What had happened to him after they sold him to the Midianite traders? How did he rise to such a position of honour and power? How had he been able to prepare Egypt for such a devastating famine? They talked for many hours as he retraced the strange path that had brought him to this moment.

Then Joseph's mind went to his father, the man who believed him to be dead. He ordered them, “You shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt and of all you have seen. Hurry, and bring my father down here.”

After the death of their father, Joseph's brothers fear that he will finally extract his revenge. They tell him, “Before our Father died, he said `Tell Joseph that he must forgive your sin and the evil you have done against him.'” Again, Joseph's brothers bring him to tears.

Joseph assures his brothers that they need not fear because he recognizes God's hand in all that has transpired. He tells them, “While you meant it for evil, God meant it for good. He has used this situation to save many lives!” Their betrayal, being sold as a slave, the years in prison, were all part of God's plan. They were the means by which he would rise to be the most powerful man in Egypt, second only to Pharaoh, and God would use him to save the nation –and his family-- from the drought, starvation, and death. God raised him from the pit to the palace, from grime to glory, and from a slave to a saviour.

The cross is yet further evidence that God can bring blessing out of man's wickedness. The rulers of Jesus day —Jew and Gentile, spiritual and secular— all wanted to be rid of him, so he was taken and crucified. Yet this great evil was turned on its head. While the rulers meant it for evil, God used it for good. God used the cross to bring salvation to the world. The Son who had died is alive. The Son who was made low is now seated on the throne. Let us tell the Father of His glory and of all that we have seen.

(Genesis 45)

The ram: The God-provided substitute

“Abraham! Abraham!” came the voice from heaven.

Abraham froze. “Here I am,” he replied. The voice continued, “Do not harm the boy! Now I know that you fear God, for you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.”

Abraham quickly put down the knife. His hands were shaking so badly, and his vision was so tear-blurred, that he didn't trust himself to cut the ropes. So he unbound Isaac, slowly, by hand, one knot at a time.

As he raised his head from his work, Abraham saw a form in the thicket. He approached cautiously. It was a ram! The brambles and thorns were wrapped so tightly around its horns that it had become trapped there.

Abraham whispered a prayer of thanksgiving as killed the ram. Then he cut the wreath of thorns from its head, pulled it from the brier, placed it on the altar. He laid the animal where Isaac had lain just minutes earlier. He prepared the body. He lit the wood.

Later, father and son sat side by side watching the sacrifice burn. They were silent as their eyes ran the trail of smoke that ascended into the heavens. Then Abraham swept his hand in a manner to include everything around him: the altar, the sacrifice, the mountain, the land beyond, the stars, Isaac. “The Lord will provide,” he said.

As they were traveling to the mountain God had chosen, Isaac noticed that something was missing. “We have fire and wood, but where is the lamb we are going to offer?” he asked. Abraham replied, “The Lord will provide for Himself the lamb.”

And Abraham was correct; God did. At the last moment, Isaac was spared. He was removed from the altar, and the substitute God had provided took his place. Genesis 22:13 highlights the substitutionary nature of this change by noting that the ram was offered instead of Isaac.

Yet the ram was not the lamb Abraham was anticipating. While the promised lamb would be provided, it would be many generations before Abraham's descendants would hear John the Baptist proclaim, “Behold, the Lamb of God which takes away the sin of the world!”

Paul wrote to the Romans, “For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Jesus was the fulfillment of Abraham's prophecy. God provided a substitute. Jesus did not take the place of an innocent victim, but of guilty sinners. He would not only die for Isaac, but for me and you. For us.

(Genesis 22, Romans 5:6-8)