On Second Thought
There is something deeply comforting about the image found in Exodus 28:12. Aaron, the high priest of Israel, carried two stones upon his shoulders engraved with the names of the tribes of Israel. Whenever he entered before the Lord, he symbolically bore the people upon his shoulders. The priest did not come before God alone; he came carrying the names, burdens, fears, failures, and needs of the people with him. Those memorial stones were reminders that God’s covenant people were continually represented before Him.
Yet the Old Testament priesthood was always pointing beyond itself toward Someone greater. Hebrews 7:24–25 declares that Jesus possesses an “unchangeable priesthood” because He lives forever. Earthly priests aged, weakened, and died, but Christ remains eternal. He does not merely remember our names engraved on stone; He carries us continually before the Father through His living intercession. The Greek word used for intercession, entynchano (ἐντυγχάνω), means to appeal, plead, or stand in behalf of another. Right now, the risen Christ stands for His people in the presence of God.
That changes the way I think about my spiritual struggles. Too often believers live as though they must carry themselves into God’s presence by their own consistency, discipline, or spiritual performance. But Scripture teaches the opposite. We are carried. Just as Aaron bore Israel upon his shoulders, Jesus bears His redeemed people continually before the throne of grace. Isaiah described the coming Messiah as One upon whose shoulders the government would rest (Isa. 9:6). The shoulders of Christ are strong enough not only to sustain the universe but also to sustain weary believers.
Hebrews 4:14–16 gives us another insightful picture of this priestly ministry. “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.” Jesus understands human weakness from experience, though without sin. He knew exhaustion beside the well in Samaria. He knew grief at Lazarus’s tomb. He knew betrayal in Gethsemane and abandonment at Calvary. The Son of God entered fully into human suffering so that no believer could ever say, “God does not understand me.” When we approach the throne of grace, we approach One who sympathizes with our frailty while possessing the power to redeem it.
There is also a beautiful connection to Deuteronomy 33:12 where Moses blesses Benjamin by saying he would “dwell between His shoulders.” In Hebrew thought, the shoulders represented both strength and nearness. A father carrying a child upon his shoulders provides not only protection but elevation and perspective. The child sees farther because he is being carried higher. That image reveals something precious about the believer’s relationship with Christ. We are not merely tolerated in His presence; we are held securely near His heart and sustained by His strength.
Jude 24 deepens this assurance further: “Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy.” Salvation is not maintained by human grip alone but by Divine preservation. Christ not only saves to the uttermost; He keeps to the uttermost. The same Savior who died for us now intercedes for us. The same Priest who carried the cross now carries His people. Charles Spurgeon once remarked, “If Christ prays for me, though Satan himself accuses, I cannot be condemned.” That truth steadies the soul during seasons of doubt and weakness.
Many believers quietly live with the fear that one failure, one weakness, or one season of stumbling may finally exhaust the patience of God. Yet the priestly ministry of Christ tells another story. Jesus does not abandon His people at the first sign of weakness. He intercedes. He restores. He sustains. Peter discovered this when Jesus told him, “I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not” (Luke 22:32). Peter stumbled badly, but he was not abandoned because Christ had already gone before him in intercession.
On Second Thought
Perhaps the greatest paradox in the Christian life is this: the closer we draw to Christ, the more aware we become of our weakness, yet simultaneously the more secure we become in His grace. Human instinct assumes that weakness disqualifies us from approaching God boldly. Hebrews says the opposite. Because we are weak, we are invited to come boldly to the throne of grace. That feels almost backwards. We imagine boldness belongs to the spiritually impressive, the disciplined, or the victorious. Yet Scripture presents boldness as the privilege of the needy.
There is another unexpected truth hidden within the image of Christ carrying us upon His shoulders. Shoulders are associated with burdens. Jesus Himself said, “Take my yoke upon you.” We often think surrendering to Christ means losing freedom, but in reality it means exchanging unbearable burdens for sustaining grace. The believer carried by Christ is also called to walk with Christ. The One who bears us also teaches us to bear one another’s burdens in love.
What if the very struggles you wish would disappear are also the places where Christ’s priestly ministry becomes most visible? Without weakness, we rarely learn dependence. Without uncertainty, we rarely discover intercession. Without stumbling, we rarely understand preservation. The Savior who carries your name before the Father is not surprised by your humanity. He knew your weakness before He called you, and still He chose to bear you upon His shoulders.
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