Living Outloud: From Shadows to Substance
We live in a world full of shadows—symbols, rituals, traditions, even fears—that hint at something deeper. But shadows, by nature, aren’t the thing itself. They’re outlines cast by something real. And if we’re not careful, we can spend our lives staring at the wall, missing the Person who casts the light.
That’s the tension Hebrews 7–10 confronts head-on. The law, the priests, the tabernacle, the sacrifices—they weren’t the destination. They were sketches meant to stir longing for the real thing. The writer of Hebrews is pleading with people tempted to cling to a system that could never cleanse the conscience. Why settle for the copy when the original has come?
Jesus is the true high priest. He doesn’t enter a symbolic holy place—he walks into the real one. He doesn’t offer repeated sacrifices—he gives his own blood once for all. The shadows taught us the shape of holiness, but Jesus gives it breath and life.
Halloween and the Hunger Beneath the Horror
This idea isn’t just theological—it’s cultural. Take Halloween, for example. Every October, yards bloom with skeletons, tombstones, and ghouls. It’s all in good fun, right? But Hebrews invites us to ask: what are we playing with?
A plastic skull won’t bite, but death isn’t pretend. Evil isn’t a costume. These are real horrors—and they’ve been defeated not by cleverness or charm, but by Christ. When we treat dark symbols as harmless noise, we risk dulling our discernment. We forget that spiritual stakes are real.
Biblically, the appetite for thrills often masks a deeper fear: the fear of death. Hebrews doesn’t dismiss that fear—it meets it with a stronger word. Jesus disarms death. He doesn’t just distract us from it; he defeats it. So when we see imitation, let’s ask: what reality does this mimic? And are we responding in a way that honors the truth behind it?
Sacred Shadows: Marriage and Church as Living Parables
Not all shadows are sinister. Some are sacred. Marriage, for instance, isn’t just a legal bond or cultural tradition—it’s a living parable of Christ and the church. That’s why Scripture guards it so fiercely. Its shape is meant to preach the gospel without words: covenant, fidelity, sacrifice, joy.
When we distort that picture, we smudge the sermon.
The same goes for the gathered church. Our singing, praying, and shared presence aren’t empty rituals. They echo a higher assembly—the worship around God’s throne. These images aren’t ends in themselves. They’re invitations to look up.
Four Responses That Prove Jesus’ Sacrifice Was Worth It
Hebrews 10 doesn’t leave us in the clouds. It lands with four piercing calls to action:
🛐 Draw near (verse 22): Pray with confidence. Don’t cower at the door. Christ’s blood has opened access.
⚓ Hold fast (verse 23): Refuse to drift. Your hope isn’t anchored in your stamina—it’s anchored in a Promise-Keeper.
💡 Stir up (verse 24): Take creative responsibility for love and good works. Don’t wait for encouragement—invent it.
👥 Don’t neglect meeting (verse 25): Show up with your body and your voice. Presence matters because the Day draws near.
These aren’t just Sunday moves. They’re rhythms that reshape your Monday and beyond.
A Warning Worth Heeding
Hebrews doesn’t flinch from hard truth. If we treat the blood of the covenant as common—if we sin on purpose with a shrug—we trample on the Son of God. This isn’t about a single stumble. It’s about deliberate disregard.
Even here, shadows can numb us. We might cling to Christian forms while ignoring Christ himself. But the cure isn’t fear-driven performance. It’s a fresh gaze at the substance: Jesus our priest, his once-for-all sacrifice, our cleansed hearts, and our new and living way.
So let’s turn from the wall and face the light.
Pray boldly. Grip hope. Spark others to love. Gather eagerly.
Let the shadow do its job—and lead you to the real.
