Jeff Aultman

In the book of Exodus, after God rescues Israel from Egypt and gives the Ten Commandments at Sinai, something unexpected happens to the story. It slows down. For chapter after chapter, the text gives detailed instructions for building a tent: its curtains, its poles, its furniture, its colors, its measurements down to the cubit. Many readers skim these chapters. But God gives the reason for all of it in one sentence: “Let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell in their midst.” The God who had just shaken the mountain with fire and thunder wanted to live in a tent among His people. And the New Testament says that tent was a picture of something greater. The letter to the Hebrews calls the tabernacle “a copy and shadow of the heavenly things,” built according to a pattern Moses was shown on the mountain. The details mattered because they were pointing to Someone. The clearest link is in John’s Gospel. John 1:14 says, “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The Greek word for “dwelt” is eskēnōsen, from skēnē, the word for tent or tabernacle. Literally, the Word became flesh and pitched His tent among us. And John continues, “We have seen his glory.” In the wilderness, God’s glory filled the tabernacle. In Jesus, God’s glory came and lived in a human body. Now walk through the tabernacle with that in mind. The camp and the courtyard. In Numbers 2, God tells the twelve tribes how to set up camp: three tribes on each side, all facing the tabernacle, which stood in the middle. God was at the center of the life of His people. Around the tabernacle was a courtyard enclosed by white linen curtains, and there was only one way in: a single gate on the east side, woven of blue, purple, and scarlet. Not two entrances. Not many. One. Jesus said, “I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved.” The bronze altar. The first thing you met inside the gate was the altar of sacrifice. Before anyone could go further toward God, blood had to be shed. Every day, animals were offered there, morning and evening. The way into God’s presence started at the place of death. Hebrews says the blood of bulls and goats could never take away sins, and those sacrifices were repeated because they could not finish the work. Jesus, it says, offered Himself once for all. The altar in the courtyard was a long rehearsal for the cross. The bronze basin. Next came the laver, a large bronze basin of water where the priests washed their hands and feet before entering the holy place. Exodus adds a remarkable detail: it was made from the bronze mirrors of the women who served at the entrance. The things people used to look at themselves were melted down to make the place where they were cleansed. Paul later writes that Christ cleanses His church “by the washing of water with the word,” and Jesus told Peter, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.” After the sacrifice comes the washing. The Holy Place. Inside the tent itself, in the first room, stood three pieces of furniture. On one side was the table of the bread of the Presence, with twelve loaves, one for each tribe, set before God continually. Jesus said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger.” On the other side stood the golden lampstand, hammered from a single piece of gold, its branches shaped like almond blossoms. It was the only light in the Holy Place, because no daylight came in. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world.” And in front of the veil stood the golden altar of incense, where incense was burned every morning and evening, rising up before God. Scripture repeatedly links incense to prayer. Hebrews says Jesus “always lives to make intercession” for those who come to God through Him. The smoke of that altar never went out, and neither does His prayer for His people. The veil. Beyond the altar of incense hung the curtain with cherubim woven into it, blocking the way into the Most Holy Place. Only the high priest could pass through it, once a year, with blood. As we saw in the post on the torn veil, Hebrews says the way into God’s presence was opened “through the curtain, that is, through his flesh.” When His body was torn, the veil was torn. The Ark and the mercy seat. Behind the veil was one object: the Ark of the Covenant, a chest of acacia wood overlaid inside and out with gold. Hebrews tells us what was inside it: the stone tablets of the law, a golden jar of manna, and Aaron’s staff that had budded. The law that God’s people had broken. The bread from heaven that had fed them. And a dead stick that came back to life overnight, sprouting buds, blossoms, and almonds. Law, provision, and resurrection, all kept in the presence of God. On top of the Ark was the lid, called the mercy seat, with two golden cherubim facing each other, their wings stretched over it. On the Day of Atonement, the high priest sprinkled blood on the mercy seat, between the law below and the presence of God above. The blood covered the broken law. That is where God said He would meet with His people. In Romans 3:25, Paul says God put Jesus forward as a hilastērion by His blood. That is the same Greek word the Greek Old Testament uses for the mercy seat. Jesus is the place where God’s judgment against sin and God’s mercy toward sinners meet. And then there is one small detail in John’s account of the resurrection that’s easy to miss. When Mary Magdalene looked into the empty tomb, she saw two angels in white, “sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet.” Two angels, one at each end of the place where the blood-covered body had lain, looking at the space between them where the sacrifice had been. Anyone who knew the tabernacle would have recognized that picture. The outside. The tabernacle’s outermost covering was made of tough animal skins (the exact animal is debated). From the outside, the tent was plain and unremarkable. All the gold, the colors, the light, and the glory were hidden inside. Isaiah wrote of the Messiah, “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him.” People passing by saw a carpenter from Nazareth. The ones who came in saw the glory of God. The glory. When the tabernacle was finished, Exodus says, the cloud covered the tent and the glory of the LORD filled it, so that even Moses could not enter. By day, a cloud rested over it. By night, fire. When the cloud moved, Israel moved. When it stayed, they stayed. God was not distant. He was in the middle of the camp, visible every day. People say these chapters of Exodus are tedious instructions for an ancient religious tent. But read them with the New Testament in hand, and they are a map. One gate. A sacrifice. A washing. Bread, light, and prayer. A torn veil. Blood on the mercy seat between broken law and holy God. Every step points to the same Person. And the story does not end with a tent. The Bible closes in Revelation 21 with a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people.” The word for dwelling place is skēnē, tabernacle, again. From Eden to the wilderness, from Bethlehem to the new creation, God has been pursuing the same goal: to live with His people. In Jesus, He came close enough to touch. And through Jesus, the way into His presence is open. You don’t need a tent anymore. You need the One it was pointing to. Jesus is the true Tabernacle, God with us.