Church attendance in America has steadily declined throughout my lifetime. What was once the bedrock of our society has crumbled into seemingly shifting sands. The reasons are varied and difficult to outline here. Some of the factors are linked to the ever growing secularization of society while other causes are self-inflicted by the church itself. The recent Pandemic seems to have only exasperated the trend, leaving many to wonder the future of the church.
We aren’t the first ones who have struggled with church attendance, but we are the latest to do so. A group of Jewish Christians meeting in either Palestine or Rome became disillusioned by the Christian faith. They were second generation believers (Heb. 2:3) with a storied past. They had endured hard times facing persecution head on (Heb. 10:32-34), but now they were wavering (Heb. 10:35-36). Possibly enamored by the Jerusalem worship, their small house church couldn’t compete with the memories of the extravagant temple worship. Now they were looking to throw their faith away and revert back into full blown Judaism. We simply know this group from the letter to the Hebrews.
While the argument of the anonymous writer centers on Jesus being better than angels, Moses, the Old Covenant, the priesthood, and sacrifices, the apex of his argument is the heroes of faith in chapter 11. Having crested his thought process, the author gives one more compelling image before bringing his letter to a close. He addresses what happens behind the scenes in the assembly. Ignoring what we might know as the “worship wars” issues, he describes a reality we don’t see. He does so by a compare/contrast of two different and familiar places of worship. The writer moves from “You have not come,” to “You have come.”
You have not come (Heb. 12:18-24) to an unnamed mountain. The writer starts in the negative to describe what is clearly Mt. Sinai and the giving of the Covenant (Ex. 19:10-25). At that mountain the people were forbidden from even touching the mountain. Fear and trembling permeated throughout Israel, even Moses himself was terrified. By reverting back to the Jewish faith, the Christians were returning to Sinai and the deadly fearful holiness of God.
You have come (Heb. 12:22a) to a mountain explicitly named, Zion. He also drops Jerusalem’s name but here he makes a turn. Where we come to is not the physical city of David, but a heavenly one. As we assemble, the physical place transports us spiritually to an entirely different reality.
You have come (Heb. 12:22b-23a) to a multitude of angels joyfully worshiping God. We do not assemble alone, regardless of our size. We are the church of the firstborn, God’s most precious people. First born like first fruits bring a status and privilege we receive from God as our names are written in heaven. Note the confidence of the writer. Our names are written, not might be written, or possibly written, or written only for a select faithful few, or written with disappearing ink. The assurance strikes with confidence: since our names are written in heaven, so don’t bail on your faith now.
You have come (Heb. 12:23b-24) both to God who is the final judge and to Jesus who mediates the new covenant. Drawing from an earlier mention of Abel (11:4) and from Genesis 4:10, where God says Abel’s blood was calling out for justice, Jesus’ blood calls out to something far better than Abel’s cry: redemption.
Right in the middle of these verses the writer says that not only are the multitude of angels present in our assemblies, but so also are the “spirits of righteous men made perfect” (v. 23b). One wonders, who are these men? First, I believe it’s safe to say that the writer is speaking generally of men so that the spirits made righteous are both men and women. Secondly, these are not the heavenly hosts mentioned earlier as he noted for they are the thousands of angels. Since the imagery is of a spiritual Jerusalem surrounded by the angelic hosts, then these spirits made righteous are the men and women of faith who have gone on before us. They are the “great cloud of witnesses” (Heb. 12:1) who are comprised, not only of those from chapter of 11, but also all those who lived by faith even in the face of death. When we assemble, we are not alone. We join the saints whom we’ve loved and respected, but who have already received their reward.
I hear the names and see the faces of all those whom I have admired, and you do too. Some we have personally known and loved. Others we have read about and admired from afar. The Hebrews writer tells us that when we assemble with the saints, we are closer to them then than when we are anywhere. While I’m not sure how much motivation this perspective holds to drive up attendance, the perspective that the assembly is greater than what we see gives clearer motivation to embrace this reminder that showing up for church is beyond this world.
The last Sunday my dad attended services, he broke routine. Usually, mom dropped him off at the door where he walked in and occupied their pew at the front of the auditorium. Mom parked the car then came and sat with dad. On this day mom walked into the auditorium and could not find dad. She sat down, waiting with concern because dad’s health was failing. When services started, he finally joined her on their pew. When pressed as to his whereabouts, dad said he was greeting people. Dad hadn’t greeted anyone for a while. His vulnerability to diseases kept him from shaking people’s hands for some time. Mom realized later that dad was not saying hello, he was telling everybody goodbye.
Now, given the context of Hebrews 12, I wonder. I wonder if dad was not just telling people hello or goodbye, but was in fact, saying, “I’ll see you next week.” And if that is true, it changes everything about the assembly.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., Only God Is Glorified!)