Your Royal Highness

A scene from Netflix’s The Crown features newly-engaged Princess Diana attempting to greet each member of the royal family in the proper order and manner. Much to the others’ amusement, she stumbles through awkwardly and reveals her need for training, which the rest of the episode chronicles—hours upon hours, for several rigorous weeks.

Maybe this is my American perspective speaking, but the level of investment in these norms of deference and honor, and a complicated web of who outranks whom in institutional position, is baffling. It feels unnecessary. Yet as I watch, I cannot help but compare it to how I approach God.

There is a level of reverence on display in and toward the monarchy that reflects the posture humanity ought to take in approaching God. In fact, how much more should we seek to appropriately and humbly approach him, even to the extent of meticulous training and practice.

Or so we might think.

The bulk of Hebrews chapters 4 through 10 explores Jesus’ high priestly role and how it permanently, perfectly, and completely supersedes Israel’s Levitical priesthood.

The high priest “is appointed to represent the people in matters related to God” (Hebrews 5:1). Because we, frail and fallen human beings, need a representative, an advocate to approach God on our behalf. The problem is that the whole Jewish system—the Temple’s design, blood sacrifice, procedures for worship, etc.—was an illustration of a heavenly reality meant to reveal both our need and the true and better way to God that was to come. To get caught up in the protocol and assume it was the pathway to rightly approach God was to miss the entire point. Even more so today.

Jesus is that true and better way. Instead of ancestry, his priesthood is based on his “indestructible life” (v. 7:16). Instead of a yearly ceremony, his sacrifice was once for all (v. 10:12). Instead of a new priest replacing a former upon death, Jesus’ priesthood is permanent. He lives forever (v. 7:24-25).

And, most vividly, instead of only one priest stepping behind the curtain into the Most Holy Place, and no other priest — ever — Jesus entered the heavenly Holy Place and sat down (v. 8:1). The curtain ripped in two and all who trust in Jesus as their representative can follow him in. Or, as today’s verse states, we can draw near to God with confidence.

A new way has opened and Jesus is constantly at God’s side, advocating that we can come in without fear, without protocol. A common analogy is that, as beloved children of the King, we can come running to his throne and jump into his arms. And he loves it.

I have OCD, so I struggle with anxiety over whether I’ve said the right words or addressed God in the right way when I pray. I feel like I have to repeat the same phrases again and again to be sure they’re heard. But I, and you, can take heart: once we have trusted in Jesus, he is our forever advocate, and we can drop the pretense and speak to God as we would our closest friend.

Heavenly Father, thank you for making a way for me to draw near to you without fear and without pressure of saying the exact right thing. Thank you for Jesus, our great and permanent high priest. Help me to approach you with freedom and confidence as your beloved child. How amazing that truth is! Amen.

Throughout This Day: Next time you pray, pay attention to anything you say or do that could be categorized as ritual. Ritual isn’t bad, to be sure — the repetition in many liturgical traditions is valuable for memorization and anchoring us in what is true — but it can become a false crutch. Ask God if that’s the case with your prayer patterns, and express gratitude that, through Jesus, he accepts and hears you with or without them!