The Privilege of drawing near

One thing I have really been loving about this Bible-study series is how each privilege seems to open the door to another one. I start out thinking I am studying one thing, and then somewhere along the way I realise that it is tied to something bigger, deeper, and honestly even more beautiful than I first saw. That has definitely been the case with this study, because the more I sat with what I wrote in my last two posts, the more this next one almost felt unavoidable.

In my post on the indwelling Spirit, I spent time reflecting on the reality that under the new covenant, God does not simply dwell among His people in the way He once did through the tabernacle and temple, but within His people by His Spirit. Then in the post on the seated intercessor, I reflected on the comfort and security of knowing that Jesus is not only the One who died and rose, but the One who still represents us before the Father. I’m not going to rehash those posts here as though I am saying the same thing again in a different outfit, but I do want to pick up where they naturally leave off, because both of them raise the same question in different ways. If the Spirit dwells within us, and if Jesus is our great High Priest who intercedes for us, then what exactly has all of that opened up for us? What does it actually mean that in Christ we can draw near to God?

If I’m honest, “draw near to God” is another one of those phrases that can start to lose its weight because we hear it so often. It sounds beautiful, and it really is beautiful, but it can also become one of those Christian phrases that everybody says, everybody nods at, and hardly anybody pauses to really think about. Personally, I feel like the phrase has started to sound like shorthand for “pray more,” “worship longer,” or “have a deeper devotional life.” And while those things are not wrong, the more I studied this properly, the more I realised that Scripture is saying something much deeper than that. Biblically, drawing near to God isn’t first and foremost emotional language. It’s priestly language, covenant language, temple language, and access language. Once I began seeing that, the whole thing opened up for me in a way I had not really appreciated before.

One thing hermeneutics keeps teaching me again and again is that familiar phrases are often where we become the laziest readers. Because we think we already know what they mean, we stop reading carefully. But Scripture has its own vocabulary, its own patterns, and its own theology, and if we don’t slow down enough to let the text define its own terms, we can end up translating all kinds of shallow meanings into phrases that actually carry a lot of significance. That was definitely true for me here. When Scripture speaks about drawing near to God, it is usually doing so within the wider framework of God’s holiness, human sin, mediation, sacrifice, cleansing, covenant, and divine presence. So this is not just the language of private devotion and spirituality. It belongs to a much bigger story. And really, that story begins with the fact that humanity was made for communion with God. Before sin entered the world, there was no estrangement in the way Scripture later described it. There was no barrier, no exclusion, no veil, no guarded access. But after the fall, humanity was driven out from the presence of God and from that point onward the core question running through the whole Bible is how sinful people can dwell with a holy God. When God later formed Israel as His covenant people, He really did dwell among them, but His presence was no longer approached casually. The tabernacle and then the temple became places of divine nearness, but also places of distance, boundaries, priesthood, sacrifice, cleansing, and restricted access. God was near, but He was not common. He was present, but He was not approached however people felt like approaching Him.

I think that matters more than we sometimes realise, because modern Christian language can sometimes make God sound a bit too casual. We speak so flippantly about intimacy with Him that, without meaning to, we can water down His holiness. But Scripture never does that. Scripture invites us into nearness without ever reducing God to something familiar in the wrong sense. Psalm 24 asks, “Who may ascend onto the mountain of the Lord? And who may stand in His holy place?” and the answer is not light work at all. It speaks of clean hands, a pure heart, and truthfulness before God. Even before we get to the New Testament, the Bible is already teaching us that access to God is a holy privilege, and not something to be presumed upon, or even something that humanity was entitled to. That’s why verses like James 4:8 or Hebrews 10:22 are so rich. They’re not random little devotional lines floating on their own. They’re picking up a thread that has been woven through the whole biblical story. They are answering the question of how those who were once far away from God can now come near to Him, and the answer is not effort, emotion, or self-improvement. The answer is Christ.

That was probably the biggest shift this study brought to me. For a long time, I think I mostly heard “draw near to God” as encouragement towards devotion. I heard it as a prompt to pray more, seek more, tarry longer, and while none of that is wrong, it is still incomplete. In the Old Testament, one of the main Hebrew roots associated with coming near is qarab, and in a lot of contexts it carries priestly and sacrificial significance. It is used in relation to bringing offerings and approaching God in worship. It’s linked to authorised approach, mediation, and covenant relationship. In other words, people do not simply make their own way into the presence of God. If they come near, it is because God Himself has made a way.

That is exactly why Hebrews became the anchor of this study for me. Hebrews 4:14-16 says, “Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has [already ascended and] passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession… Therefore let us with privilege approach the throne of grace [that is, the throne of God’s gracious favor] with confidence and without fear, so that we may receive mercy [for our failures] and find [His amazing] grace to help in time of need.” Then Hebrews 10:19-22 says, “Therefore, believers, since we have confidence and full freedom to enter the Holy Place [the place where God dwells] by means of the blood of Jesus… let us approach [God] with a true and sincere heart in unqualified assurance of faith…” I honestly don’t think those verses can be felt and properly appreciated unless we keep their Old Testament background in mind, otherwise we read them too lightly. Hebrews is not telling us to move away from all that serious Old Testament language of priesthood, sacrifice, holiness, and the sanctuary into something softer and easier. It’s actually doing the opposite by telling us that everything those categories were pointing towards has now been fulfilled in Christ. Under the old covenant, access to God was real, but it was restricted. Priests ministered on behalf of the people, sacrifices had to be offered repeatedly, and the high priest entered the Most Holy Place only under very specific conditions. The veil itself preached a message. It told the truth about restricted access, holiness, and the fact that God couldn’t be approached on sinful humanity’s own terms. So when Hebrews says we now have confidence to enter and to draw near, that’s not a small statement that we should skim past. The God being approached has not become less holy so that we can access Him. The difference is that Christ has become the perfect and final mediator between divinity and humanity.

The Greek word parrēsia carries the sense of boldness, openness, and freedom of access. Not arrogance, familiarity, or entitlement. It is the confidence of people who know they would have no right to stand before God on their own, but who also know they do not come on their own. They come through Christ. And honestly, that does something to me every time I think about it, because it means my nearness to God is not riding on whether I feel like a “good Christian” that day. It is not hanging on whether I prayed enough, got my heart perfectly together, or managed to have a spiritually impressive week. My access rests on something infinitely more stable than me, my emotions, and my efforts. It rests on the blood of Jesus, the priesthood of Jesus, and the intercession of Jesus. That’s also why this study connects so naturally to the previous post on the seated intercessor. The reason I can draw near is not separate from the fact that Christ still represents me before the Father. He is seated because His sacrificial work is finished, and yet He still lives to intercede. So I am never trying to create access for myself. I am never trying to talk God into receiving me. I am never trying to force open a door that Christ has not already opened. I come near because Jesus has made the way and still stands as my mediator.

One detail in Hebrews 4 that has really stayed with me is that we are invited to come to a throne of grace. That word matters. It’s not a sofa or a corner of grace. It’s not a soft little image that removes the majesty of who God is. A throne still speaks of His rule, authority, glory, kingship, holiness, and judgment. God has not ceased to be majestic in order to make us feel welcome. And yet, through Christ, the throne is for the believer a throne of grace, the place where mercy is received and grace is supplied. I love that so much because it means Scripture does not ask us to choose between reverence and intimacy. It gives us both. We are invited near, but never into irreverence. We can come boldly, but never casually.

James 4:8 added another layer to the study that I think is really important because it stopped the whole thing from becoming too soft and sentimental. “Come close to God [with a contrite heart] and He will come close to you. Wash your hands, you sinners; and purify your [unfaithful] hearts, you double-minded people.” What struck me is that James wasn’t writing within a context of dreamy, soft-life spirituality. He is addressing pride, envy, quarrels, compromise, and divided loyalty. So when he says, “draw near to God,” he wasn’t simply saying, “have a better quiet time.” He is calling people back to God through repentance. That really helped me because it showed me that the same biblical theme can function differently depending on the context. In Hebrews, the stress is on access secured through Christ’s priesthood. In James, the stress is on repentance, cleansing, and humble return. Both are true, and actually both are needed. Sometimes drawing near to God feels like comfort, and sometimes it feels like conviction. Most of the time, if I am honest, it is both at once. And there is something really beautiful about that. God doesn’t invite us near just to make us feel safe while leaving us unrefined. His nearness comforts us, but it also purifies us. He brings us close enough to receive mercy, but also close enough for our double-mindedness, pride, and compromise to be exposed. I think there is a kind of mercy in being brought near enough to be changed.

Ephesians 2 made the whole theme even richer because it reminded me that nearness to God was not humanity’s default condition after the fall. Paul says, “But now in Christ Jesus, you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ,” and then says, “For it is through Him that we both have a [direct] way of approach in one Spirit to the Father.” Paul was actually speaking about the Gentiles, about those who were once outside covenant privilege and have now been brought near to God through Christ. So nearness here isn’t only personal, though of course it is personal. It also signifies covenant and community. It’s about being welcomed into the household of God, reconciled into one people, and given access to the Father through the Son by the Spirit. And this does connect back to the post on the indwelling Spirit, though I don’t want to repeat everything I already said there. What I will say is that this privilege of drawing near becomes even more precious when I remember that the God I draw near to isn’t distant in the way people often imagine. By His Spirit, He has already drawn near to us in the most beautiful and significant way. So there is something so sweet about the fact that as believers we approach the throne of grace while also being indwelt by the Spirit of grace. The One we draw near to is also the One who has made His dwelling within His people.

Psalm 73:28 became another anchor for me because it adds such an honest human layer to all of this theology. Asaph says, “But as for me, it is good for me to draw near to God.” What makes that verse hit differently is that it comes after struggle, envy, confusion, and the sight of wicked people who seemed to be doing better than he was. He wasn’t writing from a place of arrival. He was writing as someone who had wrestled with carnal thoughts and feelings and then been reoriented in the presence of God. He didn’t say it is good to finally understand everything. He didn’t say it is good to get the life he thought he should have. He said it is good to draw near to God. I think that is one of the deepest parts of this privilege. God Himself is not just the means by which we get comfort, answers, blessings, or breakthrough. He is the blessing, and the answer, and the breakthrough. Nearness to Him isn’t second best or the free side dish that comes with the main meal. It is the good itself.

I think that is really what this study has done in me. It has restored wonder to something I had started hearing and treating too casually. The God whose holiness once required priesthood, sacrifice, cleansing, and veils has, through Christ, made a way for me to come near. Not to stand at a distance performing for Him. Not to guess whether I am welcome. Not to try and build my own way back. But to come near in confidence because Christ has already opened the way. To come near when I am weak. To come near when I have sinned and need mercy. To come near when I need grace, wisdom, help, and correction. To come near with reverence, repentance, honesty, and confidence in Jesus rather than in myself. The more I think about that, the more I realise this is not something we should ever lose awe for.

The privilege of drawing near is the miracle that the God who couldn’t be approached casually has, through Christ, made Himself fully accessible without ever ceasing to be holy. I think that is the line I keep coming back to. His throne is still a throne, and yet because of Christ it is for us a throne of grace. His holiness is still undiminished, and yet because of Christ we are welcomed near. His majesty is still untouched and unchallenged, and yet because of Christ we are not kept at a distance. There is something so beautiful about a gospel that preserves both the glory of God and the welcome of God at the same time.

As a result, drawing near for me has become less dramatic than people sometimes make it sound, but maybe that is part of the beauty of it. Right now it has looked like slowing down over Scripture and refusing to rush past familiar verses just because I think I already know them. It has looked like praying more honestly and simply, and bringing God my actual thoughts instead of a polished version of myself. It has looked like repenting more quickly when I notice pride, distraction, or double-mindedness creeping in. It has looked like choosing reverence again, even in private, and remembering that access to God should never become common or familiar to me just because it has become accessible. And it has looked like making more room for quiet, because I am realising more and more that drawing near is not always about saying a lot. Sometimes it is simply about becoming still enough to remember who God is, who I am before Him, and what Christ has already made possible for me. None of that sounds spectacular, but all of it feels precious to me right now, and maybe that is the point. Sometimes drawing near looks less like spiritual drama and more like a steady, humble return to the God who has already opened the way.

Stay tuned for episode 3 of the pod.

P, xo