Ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.
In the Old Testament, God’s true progressive revelation, deity was remote because deity was holy, and man sinful, unfit for the pure presence. This was a necessary phase in the preparation for Christ. Sinai was fenced around, and no unholy foot of man or beast was permitted to approach the holy place. In the lovely Tabernacle, built to teach men that God’s presence was real, but pure and unseen, the Holy of Holies was divided from the rest, a sacred and an awesome meeting-place, where the high priest alone could go after the most solemn preparation and for the purpose of atonement, but once a year.
It is the theme of the New Testament that God was ‘made nigh’ in Christ, not only comprehensible [John 1: 18], but accessible. At history’s consummation, when the work was finished on Calvary, the veil of the Temple was torn from top to bottom, to signify that God was no longer remote but near, open to the coming and supplication of man – and it is this truth which, utterly new and strange to ancient thinking through it was, has been presumptuously taken for granted in the modern world.
Let it be noted that it is the Christian’s mighty privilege. ‘I am the way,’ said the Lord; ‘no man cometh to the Father but by me.’ Through Him alone the suppliant must come, and cannot thus come without surrender and repentance. Granted that surrender, that abandonment of self-will and rebellion, that repentance for sin, it is the suppliant’s right, the penitent’s undoubted privilege, to approach God without fear, without shame, without shrinking, and without other preparation or intermediary. ‘He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin.’ – E.M. Blaiklock: A letter from the Last of the Apostles [ii], 1959.
– Daily Thoughts From Keswick.