Many a person in Israel must have sung with genuine spiritual feeling: “I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord” (Ps 122:1). The temple was the place where the presence and glory of God were specially manifested in the Shekinah cloud. It was also the place where sacrifice was offered, where the Israelite might come when conscious of guilt, with a hope of finding pardon from the God who had made the temple His dwelling place on earth.
The Israelite might come bringing a lamb for a sacrifice. He would lay his hand on the lamb’s head, acknowledging before God that he was guilty of sin, that he deserved to die, that he was taking this lamb as a substitute to die instead of him – the innocent in the place of the guilty. He would be glad of the opportunity to come to a gracious God and find forgiveness in the way that He had appointed. And while the sacrifice of a lamb could not in itself take away sin, yet the Children of Israel were thus taught many things about the way of salvation: that the wages of sin is death, yet that God is reconcilable, that He accepts a substitute in the place of the sinner. It was all pointing forward to the Messiah, who would come in the fullness of time to offer Himself up as a sacrifice that could really take away sin.
The believing Israelite would appreciate the suggestion to go to God’s house because, even if no other sacrifice was being offered there at the time, smoke would be ascending from one or other of the daily sacrifices – either the lamb offered for all Israel in the morning or the lamb offered in the evening – continual sacrifices for people who were sinning continually. The Israelite was included in these sacrifices. What reason he had for rejoicing when he could see evidence that God mercifully forgave sinners! Indeed he had every reason to believe that God grants an abundant pardon for sin, a thought which would be intensified for an Israelite of Isaiah’s time when he heard the call, “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon” (Is 55:7).
But let us think of the Israelite who has been at the temple of God, has seen
the sacrifice offered, has believed in the divine provision for the forgiveness of sin, has forsaken his own way and his own thoughts, and accordingly has received mercy and an abundant pardon. Let us think of him when it is again said to him: “Let us go into the house of the Lord”. How glad we may expect him to be as he looks forward to this renewed opportunity of being where God gives vivid light on the way of salvation through a substitute who suffers unto death. He may well anticipate a renewed experience of believing in the Messiah to come, and a renewed sense of abundant pardon.
For the Pharisee whom the Saviour described, a visit to the temple would have been little more than a new opportunity to say his prayers where he might be “seen of men”. On the other hand, the publican who was at the temple at the same time stood “afar off”, not wishing to draw attention to himself. He no doubt viewed a visit to the temple as an opportunity to derive benefit from the means of grace that God had appointed for the good of sinners like himself. There he could view the sacrifices being offered – at least he would be able to see from a distance the smoke of the sacrifices ascending to heaven, God’s dwelling place. Then he could meditate profitably on what he saw. As he did so, he believably prayed, “God be merciful to me a sinner” (Lk 18:13). And he was heard. He went down to his house justified; he was accepted on the basis of the work of Christ as if he had always kept the law of God perfectly; in particular, he was abundantly pardoned on the basis of the sacrifice to be offered by Christ, which was typified by the sacrifices being offered at the temple.
When, at some future time, it would be said to this man: “Let us go into the house of the Lord”, he would surely be glad to go again and, by faith, see something more of the glory of that merciful provision which God had made for undeserving sinners like him. And, having obtained abundant pardon, would he not feel much more free to stand close to, rather than far away from, what was happening the temple – those ordinances which typified the spiritual realities which were now so precious to him?
It was unlikely that Lydia could ever go to the temple in Jerusalem, either from her native Thyatira, or from Philippi, where she sold dyed cloth; certainly she could not go regularly. But by her time in history, it had become unnecessary to do so. The message concerning Christ’s finished work was now going forth to the whole world. Paul and Silas had brought that message to Philippi, and Paul expounded the way of salvation to the little group who had gathered for prayer by the river, outside the city. No doubt he spoke about the sacrifices of the temple, which could not actually put away sin, contrasting them with the one sacrifice of Christ Jesus. Perhaps he used the same words as we find in Hebrews 9:26: “Now once in the end of the world hath
He appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself”. His work was effective; His sacrifice needs no repetition. Whatever Paul’s exact words, they were blessed to Lydia; the Holy Spirit applied them powerfully to her soul. The Lord, we are told, opened her heart, so “that she attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul” (Acts 16:14).
There had been no need for her to go to Jerusalem; a sermon preached there could not have been any more effective than one preached in Philippi. That was perhaps already clear to her. But as she heard about the significance of the rending of the veil of the temple, she would understand better that the temple and its ordinances, the Passover and the other feasts which drew Jews and proselytes year by year to Jerusalem, had all been superseded. She could still learn from the typical significance of such ordinances, but there was no need now for her to observe them.
Suppose, sometime later, after a church had been organised in Philippi, with elders and deacons, someone said to her: “Let us go into the house of the Lord”. It would now have been absolutely right for her to take these words as an encouragement to go to hear God’s Word wherever it was being declared in that city – whether beside a river, in an open field or in a private home. She would no doubt have been glad of the opportunity to go and hear again the same good news that Paul had brought about Jesus Christ and the one, final sacrifice He had offered – this glorious message of salvation that was now being brought to sinners everywhere. As Matthew Henry says, in his remarks on Lydia’s conversion and the events which followed, “Those that know something of Christ cannot but desire to know more, and seek opportunities of increasing their acquaintance with His gospel”.
The meeting place for believers in Philippi was, in some respects, equivalent to the house of God in Jerusalem; it was a place for public worship, where God would reveal Himself, through His Word, to those who gathered there. This is true today also, and if people meet God in public worship – if they see something of Christ’s glory as the Saviour from sin, if the Lord opens their hearts to receive His Word and enables them to look to Him by faith – then they will wish to hear more of this message; they will be glad when it is said to them: “Let us go into the house of the Lord”.
We should pray earnestly that, whenever congregations gather to worship God, the Holy Spirit would be so poured out that the unconverted would have their hearts opened to see Christ Jesus as the Lamb of God, the One whose sacrifice so completely satisfied divine justice. And we should pray that believers would have fresh views of Him as their Prophet, Priest and King. Then we could expect to see genuine spiritual feeling in the singing of the words: “I joyed when to the house of God, Go up, they said to me”.