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For you have not come to a mountain that can be touched and to a blazing fire, and to darkness and gloom and whirlwind, and to the blast of a trumpet and the sound of words, which sound was such that those who heard begged that no further word be spoken to them. For they could not cope with the command, “If even an animal touches the mountain, it shall be stoned.” And so terrible was the sight, that Moses said, “I am terrified and trembling.” But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to myriads of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood, which speaks better than the blood of Abel. (Hebrews 12:18-24 NASB)
The Book of Hebrews stands as one of scripture’s clearest mirrors, reflecting back the subtle fears and hesitations that keep us from fully committing to Christ. Originally written to Jewish believers caught between two covenants, Hebrews today addresses every believer who occupies a pew outwardly but inwardly remains distant from Christ’s transforming power.
Throughout its pages, Hebrews confronts the dangers of spiritual neglect, knowing truth but failing to live it. It warns starkly against unbelief and exposes tradition as a force that keeps many chained to spiritual complacency. Today, some are stalled by the inertia of familiarity, comfortable in religion, yet resistant to full gospel surrender. Others, having internalized truth, grow weary, impatient, and disillusioned amid life’s trials and global turmoil, wondering where God could possibly be.
Yet perhaps the greatest obstacle Hebrews tackles is fear. Early believers counted the cost and recoiled from persecution; modern believers, particularly in the global north, fear losing internal freedoms, autonomy, comfort, control and the dreaded condemnation that has so wrongly and viciously characterized the gospel of Christ. To both, Hebrews contrasts the dread of Sinai with the joyful invitation of Zion. With gentle boldness, it asks each of us: "What do you truly have to fear?"
What Mount Sinai Teaches Us
"For you have not come to… darkness and gloom and whirlwind, and to the blast of a trumpet and the sound of words, which sound was such that those who heard begged that no further word be spoken to them"—this is the legacy of Mount Sinai. It takes us back to Moses and Israel, when God revealed Himself primarily as judge, manifesting His holiness in fire, thunder, lightning, and a thick, unapproachable cloud. The Israelites trembled at this fiery revelation of God’s judgment, their only emotion one of paralyzing fear. Even Moses, the friend of God, confessed, “I am terrified and trembling.”
Exodus 19 and 20 tell us how God, having delivered Israel from Egypt, isolated them at Sinai, presenting them with His blazing holiness and uncompromising standards. Access to His presence was strictly by invitation, and even then, it was anything but joyful. Sinai offered no assurance of grace, only the stern warning, “Obey or else.” It was not a relationship, but a contract. No pardon was offered, only condemnation, death, and judgment. Paul aptly calls the Law the "ministry that brought death," engraved in stone, wielded as a weapon against those who fell short of God’s glory, a category that includes every one of us (Romans 3:23).
Today, many hesitate to fully commit to Christ because this harsh, intimidating image of God remains their dominant perspective. Even mature believers sometimes struggle to reconcile the God of judgment with the God of grace. Yet, understanding Sinai matters greatly, not because it reveals God’s final stance toward us, but because it reveals our desperate need for mercy. Without Sinai, Zion loses meaning. Forgiveness is irrelevant if we don’t grasp the weight of our sin. A pardon means nothing unless we understand we were once condemned.
The Law of God is no longer meant to terrorize us into despair; rather, it should drive us to deep reverence for the mercy we've received. Sinai exposes our sin and makes clear the just consequences. But for us who have encountered Christ, Sinai no longer represents impending doom, it now magnifies the value of the grace found at Zion. Ultimately, every person must choose their mountain: remain trapped beneath Sinai’s fearful shadow, or journey onward to Zion’s joyful grace. To reject complete submission to Christ because of fear—fear of judgment, fear of losing control, fear of condemnation—is to sentence oneself prematurely. Yet, the path to Zion remains open, freely extended by a God who desires mercy over judgment.
What Zion Promises Us
For you have not come to a mountain that can be touched and to a blazing fire…” These words perfectly capture the heart of the new covenant. Mount Zion symbolizes grace, love, and joyful invitation. Hebrews presents Zion as our refuge, our chosen dwelling place, where we no longer encounter fear and judgment, but beauty, peace, and restoration. Psalm 48:2 describes Zion as “Beautiful in elevation, the joy of the whole earth…the city of the great King… God is known as her refuge.” Psalm 50:2 adds that from Zion, “the perfection of beauty, God shines forth.” How starkly different from the terror and gloom of Sinai!
Hebrews richly unpacks the immeasurable benefits awaiting us at Zion, declaring we have come to the “city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem.” Through Christ, we now dwell securely in God’s presence. When we approach Him, no longer does judgment wait to condemn us. Instead, we find forgiveness and welcome. We find God approachable as never before. Hebrews paints a vivid picture of angels gathered in joyful celebration, no longer guarding against our approach, as they did at Sinai, but joyfully inviting us in. John MacArthur observes from Psalm 68:17 and Deuteronomy 33:2 that angels at Sinai enforced distance, but at Zion, they welcome us home.
At Zion, we enter “the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven.” Here we step fully into the promises Christ secured before the foundations of the world. Our eternal enrollment in heaven becomes a lived reality, and our spirits commune freely with saints made perfect and with Jesus Himself, the Mediator of this new covenant. Imagine encountering Paul, Moses, and Elijah without the burdens and struggles of earthly life. Imagine seeing Christ face-to-face, unveiled and unrestrained, worshiping freely in spirit and truth without fear or shame.
This is Zion’s promise: that even now, we can taste the first fruits of this eternal joy when we wholly embrace the gospel. And as we do, we become like Zion itself, firm, steadfast, and radiant with the beauty of Christ.
The Third and Final Rock
Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”
The tale of two rocks finds its culmination in a third. From Zion the grace-filled presence of Christ, emerges another rock upon which Jesus builds His church. Often, we mistake Peter alone as that rock, as though Christ’s investiture was purely personal. Yet Peter himself was flawed like the rest of us. What truly marked him as a foundation stone was not his person, but his revelation, that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. This truth, the gospel itself, is the eternal rock upon which Christ’s church stands.
When we, like Peter, fully embrace and proclaim this gospel, we also become rocks. By confessing Christ as Messiah and aligning our lives with His cross-shaped principles, we too are laid into the expanding foundation of His church. As yielded vessels, we receive the keys of the kingdom, granted access to the festive gathering of angels and saints. By God’s grace and empowerment, heaven responds to the actions we take in His name.
Our journey from Sinai to Zion moves us from the fiery Law of judgment to the fiery Word of empowerment. At Sinai, fire brought guilt and condemnation; at Zion and Pentecost, it brings freedom and life. The flame of God remains unchanged, what differs is how we receive it. Where Sinai once saw God breaking out in judgment, Zion now sees God igniting hearts for redemption. What joy, that through Christ, the consuming fire that once terrified now sets our souls ablaze in freedom and purpose!
Choose Your Judgement
In the end, every believer must choose between Sinai and Zion as there is no third way. Hebrews calls Jesus “the mediator of a new covenant,” whose blood “speaks better than the blood of Abel.” Abel’s sacrifice, though accepted, was temporary; the entire story of Exodus reminds us that such offerings had to be constantly repeated, always under the shadow of possible rejection. But at Zion, Christ's sacrifice stands forever complete, forever perfect.
Yet judgment remains inevitable. Each of us, as Romans 14:12 reminds, “will give an account of ourselves to God.” To avoid full commitment to Christ out of fear of judgment is itself a choice, one that defaults to the consuming fire of Sinai. If judgment cannot be avoided, should we not choose the judgment that brings empowerment rather than condemnation? Should we not choose Zion over Sinai? Should we not boldly enter the Holy of Holies following Christ, rather than hiding fearfully on the edges of God’s presence?
The choice is ours and by God we will make the right one.
Prayer
Father,
Today I approach You boldly, not through my own merit or righteousness, but through the grace given to me by Your Son, Jesus Christ. I acknowledge the reality of Sinai, knowing that if judged by my works alone, I could never stand before Your holiness. Yet I praise You for the invitation to Zion, where judgment gives way to mercy, and fear yields to freedom.
Lord, I confess the moments when I've lingered at Sinai, hesitant and fearful. Forgive my doubts, remove any reluctance in my heart, and help me fully embrace the gospel truth, that Jesus is Messiah, Son of the living God. Today, grant me the courage to abandon my efforts at self-righteousness, and instead rest confidently in Christ’s finished work.
Father, as I surrender fully to You, shape me into a rock like Peter, firmly established in Your truth. Empower me to boldly proclaim the gospel, sharing the good news of Your grace without hesitation. Use my life to build Your church, extend Your kingdom, and glorify Your name.
Draw me completely into Mount Zion, where angels rejoice, saints gather, and Your presence invites me to worship freely and without fear. May I never again waver between two mountains but always choose Zion, forever standing in Your grace alone.
This I pray today, in the mighty name of Jesus Christ, my Mediator, my Rock, and my Redeemer.
Amen.