Growing up in the eighties, I distinctly remember one of our rituals in elementary school. When the teacher walked into our classroom, all of us students stopped what we were doing, rose from our seats, and in unison greeted her with a ‘good morning’ or a ‘good afternoon.’

As a student, I had every right to be in that classroom – I had the school uniform, my parents had paid the tuition, I fit into the grade academically. I was confident because I qualified for my classroom. But that confidence didn’t make us kids dismissive about respecting the teacher.

While it’s not an air-tight analogy, I’d like to compare this little snapshot of my childhood with how we approach God’s throne of grace. Yes, we have absolute confidence to enter the Most Holy Place because Jesus paid the price for our sin (Hebrews 10:19). We can go to Him boldly because, by His grace, our filthy rags have been exchanged for robes of righteousness. But, like the students who belong yet are reverential, do we who belong to God also stand in awe and fear of Him?

Hebrews 4: 15 reminds us that ‘we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who was tempted in every way that we are, yet was without sin‘. The author of the book then instructs us in verse 16 to ‘approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need‘.

Jesus, our Great High Priest, was tempted just like we are and, yet, He was perfect in holiness. This sinless God invites sinners like you and me to confidently come before Him in our time of need.

But in appropriating the confidence that Jesus paid for, has our fear of God diminished into mere casualness? Has our confidence morphed into spiritual cockiness? Do we barge into His throne room like we’re checking off our to-do lists, like we’re pandering to God or doing Him a favor? Has our boldness in approaching God devolved into brazenness? Have we become entitled about our place in the throne room?

As we read through Leviticus, we see lists of rituals about how the Israelites were to approach God. God wasn’t giving them hoops to jump through because He delighted in spiritual calisthenics. He delighted in preserving a people for Himself. He was revealing to them His absolute perfection and instructing them to be holy as He is holy (Leviticus 11: 45).

Perhaps, we read these rules and dismiss them as specific to a time period before Jesus came as the once-for-all Lamb. And while that is true, our God is still the same God. He is perfect in holiness (1 Peter 1: 16). He is high and lifted up (Isaiah 57: 15). He is exalted above the nations. He is enthroned on high (Psalm 113: 4-5). He is far above every rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name (Ephesians 1: 21)

That alone should cause us to fall to our knees in awe and wonder.

But that same Almighty God allows – even welcomes – us into the Most Holy place. Sinners like us have the right to come to a Holy God. That astonishing privilege should fill us with a holy reverence for God.

The fear of the Lord is not rooted in anxiety – it’s not about us cowering in trepidation. It’s a fear that is stunned that God invites us into His presence. It’s a fear that trembles at God’s splendor and majesty and holiness. It’s a fear that is overwhelmed by the startling privilege of communing with a perfect God.

As we humble ourselves before Him, as we see that we have confidence that we didn’t earn on our own accord, let it fill us with holy awe. When we understand that Jesus paid the price of securing our boldness to commune with God, let us repent of our pride and brazen entitlement, let us fall to our knees and cry out ‘Holy, Holy, Holy God’, let us delight in fearing His name.

This article was included in Tim Challies’ A La Carte

This article first appeared on Indiaanya

Photo by Elia Pellegrini on Unsplash