Vision](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1781912939/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1781912939&linkCode=as2&tag=ligoniminist-20&linkId=EOX6MGI7I56GVILV)_** (Mentor, 2014)—This is the second volume of a projected 4 volume systematic theology. I enjoyed this one so much that I rewrote the syllabus for my own Christology class in order to incorporate readings from it. I really appreciate that Kelly's work is grounded in extensive exegesis of Scripture and at the same time in constant conversation with the great exegetes and theologians of the past. Hans Van Loon, The Dyophysite Christology of Cyril of Alexandria (Brill, 2009)—Dutch academic publishers apparently buy their paper and ink from the elves of Lothlorien, and as a result this is easily the most expensive book on this list. However, for those who are interested in the development of Christological doctrine in the early church, it is an invaluable study. Given his theological influence over the councils of Ephesus, Chalcedon, and Second Constantinople, Cyril of Alexandria is easily the most important early church father that most Protestants have never heard of, and this study goes a long way in providing a better understanding of his thought. Amy Nelson Burnett, Karlstadt and the Origins of the Eucharistic Controversy (Oxford, 2011)—If you are interested in the doctrine of the Lord's Supper and the historical debates surrounding it, you will find this a most useful volume. After reading it, I can only hope that Burnett eventually completes her originally intended goal of writing a history of the entire Eucharistic controversy. Stephen C. Meyer, Darwin's Doubt (HarperOne, 2013)—I enjoyed Meyer's first major book, The Signature in the Cell, so I was looking forward to this one. Although more technical in many places, I was not disappointed. It is one of the most thoughtful critiques of neo-Darwinism that I have seen. John Williamson Nevin and Charles Hodge, Coena Mystica: Debating Reformed Eucharistic Theology (Wipf & Stock, 2013)—This book contains the text of one of the most fascinating theology debates in American history, the mid-nineteenth century debate between Charles Hodge and John Williamson Nevin over the Lord's Supper. This volume contains materials that have not been printed since the 1840s and which existed only in a handful of libraries. The editors of this series (The Mercersburg Theology Study Series) have done historians of American church history a great service by bringing these materials back into print. L. Michael Morales, The Tabernacle Pre-Figured (Peeters, 2012)—I cannot remember whether I read this in early 2014 or late 2013, but either way, it deserves mention. Dr. Morales served as a colleague at Reformation Bible College for four years, and this book is a reworking of his doctoral dissertation. In it, he examines the creation, flood, and exodus narratives in light of the cosmic mountain theme that runs throughout the Bible. A goldmine for students of biblical theology. James T. Dennison, Jr., ed. Reformed Confessions of the 16th and 17th Centuries in English Translation, 4 vols. (Reformation Heritage Books, 2008–2014)—When the first volume of this collection of Reformed confessions came out in 2008, I could not wait

One of the most important paragraphs in the Bible may very well be Romans 3:21-26. This densely packed paragraph offers a thorough and glorious discussion of justification by faith. Not surprisingly, this paragraph plays a crucial role in the history of doctrine. Martin Luther camped out here. And not surprisingly, the roots of this paragraph extend throughout the Bible itself. Two key places deserve notice. The first takes us back to Exodus, while the second comes near the end of John's Gospel.

First, consider Exodus 25:22. The context here concerns the description of the tabernacle and specifically the key piece of furniture in the tabernacle, the ark of the covenant. On top of the ark is the mercy seat, flanked on either end by two cherubim (Ex. 25:19). At this very place, at the mercy seat, God meets His people. Exodus 25:22 declares, "There I will meet with you."

The connection to Romans 3 concerns the Greek word used for the Hebrew word for mercy seat. The Greek translation of the Old Testament, known as the Septuagint, uses the word hilasterion to translate the Hebrew word. (The Hebrew word is kappuret, related to the word for atonement, which is kippur.) This Greek word, hilasterion, usually gets translated as "propitiation" in the New Testament. "Propitiation" only occurs a handful of times in the New Testament. One of those times comes in Romans 3:25. Referring to Christ and His work of redemption, Paul states that God put forward Christ "as a propitiation." Christ is the acceptable, wrath-satisfying sacrifice on our behalf.

And then there is John 20:12. Mary Magdalene had come to the tomb of Christ only to find it empty. As she stooped down to look in, "She saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet." Back in Exodus 25, two carved angels took their places at either end of the mercy seat.

Now all we need to do is connect the dots. God desires to meet with His people, and the blood of the spotless lamb is the only means by which that meeting is made possible. The mercy seat of the Old Testament, and the blood sprinkled upon it by the high priest, prefigured Christ to come. Christ did come, and Christ did make the sacrifice, and Christ was raised from the dead. Make no mistake about it, these are historical realities. The tabernacle was real. The ark of the covenant was real. The mercy seat was real. The cross was real. The empty tomb was real. And a real woman stooped to look at real angels.

Christ is our mercy seat. There, in and through Christ, God meets us. The dots are connected.

Dr. Stephen Nichols is president of Reformation Bible College, chief academic officer for Ligonier Ministries, and the host of the podcasts 5 Minutes in Church History and Open Book.

The relationship between the Mosaic covenant and the new covenant remains one of the most controversial and difficult topics in theology. As the notable American theologian Jonathan Edwards said, "There is perhaps no part of divinity attended with so much intricacy, and wherein orthodox divines do so much differ as stating the precise agreement and difference between the two dispensations of Moses and Christ." There are those who so emphasize either discontinuity or continuity that the problem is solved by oversimplifying it. Most Christians, however, recognize that there are elements of continuity as well as discontinuity. The difficulty arises when we attempt to be more exact.

One of the most helpful books for those who are wrestling with the issues involved is Vern Poythress' The Shadow of Christ in the Law of Moses (P&R, 1991). Dr. Poythress is professor of New Testament Interpretation at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where he has taught since 1976. In The Shadow of Christ, Dr. Poythress looks at the relationship between the Old and New Testaments, explaining how the Mosaic law looks forward to Jesus Christ and how it is fulfilled by Him in His person and work.

The Shadow of Christ in the Law of Moses is divided into two major parts. Part one is titled "Understanding the Different Aspects of the Law," and part two is titled "Understanding Specific Penalties of the Law." After a brief introductory chapter on interpreting the Old Testament, the remaining chapters of part one deal with specific issues such as the tabernacle, the sacrifices, the priesthood, the land, and the Law, explaining how each prefigures Jesus Christ. The tabernacle, for example, was where God Himself dwelled with Israel (Ex. 25:8). In various ways it prefigured Christ's coming to dwell with His people (John 1:14).

The Old Testament sacrifices, of course, foreshadowed Christ's once-for-all sacrifice on the cross (Heb. 10:1–18), while the Old Testament priesthood prefigured Christ's work as our one, true High Priest (Heb. 8). The land is a significant aspect of the Mosaic law, so understanding its place in the new covenant is crucial. Poythress explains that the land has symbolic connections in several directions. It is not only a shadow of the new earth, it is a paradigm for the entire present earth. Regarding the instructions of God found in the Law, Poythress spends a good amount of time explaining the difficulties of properly interpreting them and offers his own solutions to several typical examples.

Part two deals at length with various judicial penalties and punishments found in the Mosaic law. Some may find such a discussion off-putting, but the issues are relevant as modern states deal with crime and punishment in their own contexts. Does the Old Testament offer guidelines for modern states? Such questions rose to the level of controversy in American Reformed circles in the 1970s and 1980s with the rise of the Reconstructionist movement and theonomy. Poythress faces the relevant issues directly in the chapters of part two.

In these chapters Poythress addresses the nature

David’s final words to Solomon included detailed instructions regarding the temple. As 1 Chronicles 22 shows us, David made sure to provide an extensive supply of construction materials and artisans to Solomon so that he would have the resources necessary for a temple worthy of the Creator of the universe. But David also told Solomon how to organize the personnel who would serve in the temple, and 1 Chronicles 23–26 presents this organization.

We are going to look briefly only at 1 Chronicles 23, but let us note that according to chapters 23–26, all of the personnel appointed for service in the temple were from the tribe of Levi. After all, only the Levites were to handle the holy instruments of worship (15:2). Not all of the Levites were priests who offered sacrifices. Only Aaron and his descendants, who were Levites, made offerings and blessed the people (23:13). The other Levites served as temple musicians, acted as gatekeepers, and otherwise assisted the priests in worship. Another way of saying this is that all priests were Levites, but not all Levites were priests.

Prior to the building of the temple in Jerusalem, the main task of the Levites was to carry the tabernacle, the ark, and other implements from place to place, and to disassemble the portable sanctuary before its transport and set it up afterward (Num. 1:47–54). The numbering and reassignment of much of the tribe of Levi would be necessary under Solomon because with the permanent sanctuary, the Levites would have no “need to carry the tabernacle or any of the things for its service” (1 Chron. 23:26). The tabernacle, then, was never meant to be a permanent place of worship for Israel. The fact that it was a portable tent was the first clue that the tabernacle would be temporary, but the promise in Deuteronomy 12:1–28 that God would choose a single place for sacrifice in the promised land also implies a more permanent arrangement for worship. Finally, the Lord commissioned Solomon to build a temple to replace the tabernacle as the site of Israel’s worship (1 Chron. 22:1–10).

Of course, even the temple was not intended to be a permanent place of worship. Ultimately, the temple of stone and wood in Jerusalem prefigured the living temple of Christ, and the service of the Levites anticipated the day when all of God’s people would be priests before Him (Isa. 66:18–21; Rev. 4:1–6).

Unlike many of his followers, John Calvin did not think all Christian art was absolutely forbidden. He did simplify the liturgy of the medieval church, but he also said visual depictions of biblical and historical events could be useful for teaching provided they did not attempt to picture the divine form (Institutes 1.11.12). The iconoclasm found in some of his tractates was not intended to be absolute. It was only necessary in his day so that those newly liberated from the excesses of medieval Catholicism could focus on the Gospel.

Like John Calvin, the Old Testament prophets recognized the danger of dead formalism. Jeremiah, for example, castigated the citizens of Judah because they repeatedly looked toward their possession of the temple to ensure their security instead of returning to the Lord in repentance (7:3–4). However, these covenant prosecutors never called Israel to give up the temple or its artifacts. After all, God Himself provided the instructions and blueprints for the tabernacle, the ark, the altar, and all other components of worship (Ex. 25–30).

Furthermore, even though as new covenant believers we are well aware of how temple worship prefigured the life and death of Jesus (Heb. 9:1–10:18), we too often fail to see how the Lord ordained the temple service to be beautiful in and of itself. As today’s passage teaches us, one of the purposes of the priest’s clothing under the old covenant was “for beauty” (Ex. 28:2).

Try as we might, we simply cannot escape from art or liturgy in our public praise. Even “plainer” church buildings use art forms to communicate. The absence of paintings or stained glass and the use of white walls, for example, conveys an emphasis on “simple” worship. Every form is an art form and every art form signifies something.

These facts tell us the use of art in worship is not in itself the problem. Only when we elevate the arts and lose the biblical Gospel do we commit idolatry. With many in the history of the church we affirm the propriety of visual art in our churches. Likewise, with them we confess that if we care more about the beauty of the sanctuary than the truth of Scripture, our priorities do not conform to the Lord’s.

this? The Holy Spirit, who reveals the deep things of God (Rom. 8:1–27; 1 Cor. 1:18–2:16) and the realities of your redemption by removing the veil of unbelief from your eyes (2 Cor. 3:12–18).

4. This leads to the reality that the tabernacle is fulfilled in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

As Jesus said, "the Scriptures . . . bear witness about me" (John 5:39). After His resurrection He led downcast believers through the Word of God to teach them of Himself: "And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself" (Luke 24:27). He then spoke to those He had made Apostles: Then he said to them, 'These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled.' Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures. (Luke 24:44–45)

John Owen expressed this Christ-centered approach, when he said of the tabernacle: By the coming of Christ in the flesh, and the discharge of his mediatory office in this world, the substance of what [the tabernacle and temple] did prefigure is accomplished; and in the revelations of the Gospel the nature and end of them is declared.

5. When you read the tabernacle narrative ask simple questions such as, "What does this passage teach me about God, about my sins, about Christ's redemptive work, and about how I am to live for the glory of God?"

This is in contrast to speculating. In the words of John Calvin: It would be puerile [childish] to make a collection of the minutiae wherewith some philosophize; since it was by no means the intention of God to include mysteries in every hook and loop; and even although no part were without a mystical meaning, which no one in his senses will admit, it is better to confess our ignorance than to indulge ourselves in frivolous conjectures.

6. Read these narratives to lead you to holiness.

When Paul said the Scriptures were given "for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness" (2 Tim. 3:16), he was saying that their effect in us is holiness. We see this, for example, in Paul teaching in 1 Corinthians 10. Because the Israelites were "our fathers" who ate "the same spiritual meat" and drank "the same spiritual drink," he says the history of their corporate life "took place as examples for us, that we might not desire evil as they did" and that "these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come (1 Cor. 10:6, 11). The tabernacle is a story of your holy God calling you to be holy as He is holy (Lev. 11:44; 1 Peter 1:16).

What is typology? In essence, it is the way that God used history to bring His promises to life. God’s plan of redemption, brought to its fullness in the work of Christ, was not carried through history by the words of prophecy alone. Rather, it touched down in the experience of God’s people as particular individuals and events illustrated the promises of God in the covenant of grace. More specifically, the person and work of Jesus Christ was imprinted on the history that led to His incarnation. People and events in Israel’s history offered prophetic glimpses of the coming Savior and His work, reassuring them of the promise of His coming. This makes typology a vital link between the Old and New Testaments, which reassures us today of the continuing power and relevance of the Old Testament as a revelation of Jesus Christ.

The Greek word typos is used variously in the New Testament, usually translated as “form,” “image,” “pattern,” or “example.” In 1 Timothy 4:12, for instance, the Apostle Paul exhorts Timothy to “set the believers an example (typos) in speech, in conduct, in love, in spirit, in faith, in purity.” Some texts, however, use typos as a more precise term to designate elements or patterns in Old Testament history that were designed to foreshadow New Testament realities. Paul refers to Adam as a “type of the one who was to come,” explaining how Adam foreshadowed Christ as a representative of mankind (Rom. 5:14–21). The writer of Hebrews, contrasting the heavenly high-priestly ministry of Jesus with the earthly ministry of human priests, characterized the latter as those “who serve a copy (typos) and shadow of the heavenly things” (Heb. 8:4–5). A type is a foreshadow of something or someone greater, which we call the antitype.

Not every superficial parallel between the Old and New Testaments is an instance of typology, but only those that substantively foreshadow the redemptive work of God through Christ. Other examples include David (Matt. 22:41–45), Jonah and Solomon (Matt. 12:39–42), Moses (Heb. 3:1–6), Melchizedek (Heb. 7:1–19), the tabernacle and its sacrifices (Heb. 9:1–15), and the Temple (John 2:18–22). By a simple metaphor, Paul posits the typology vested in the Paschal Lamb: “For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed” (1 Cor. 5:7).

We may wonder how mere men, with all their flaws and sins, could serve as historical types of the person and work of Jesus Christ. It is important to recognize that there will be significant elements of contrast between the type and antitype, which is part of what defines their relationship. Jesus Christ outshines whatever points to Him. When any mere man or earthly institution is given the lofty purpose to prefigure Christ, we should expect to find a principal point of correspondence bundled in myriad details of contrast. A type is not only meant to reflect its antitype but to bring praise to what is perfect through its own imperfection. Therefore, the study of Old Testament types is not an end unto itself. It achieves

When we consider what the Bible has to say about the construction and appearance of Solomon’s temple, we can conclude only that it was one of the most majestic structures ever constructed. Just consider today’s passage.

First, there is the size of the temple. Translated into today’s figures, the ancient measurements of the structure in 2 Chronicles 3:3–4, 8 give us a temple that measured ninety feet long, thirty feet wide, and forty-five feet high. This temple was divided into the Holy Place—a large hall measuring sixty feet long, thirty feet wide, and forty-five feet high—where the priests worshiped daily, and the Most Holy Place, which only the high priest entered once a year on the Day of Atonement. The Most Holy Place was a smaller room measuring thirty feet long, thirty feet wide, and forty-five feet high. Surrounding the temple was a portico with many storage areas (1 Chron. 28:11–12).

Solomon covered the walls of the temple with gold (2 Chron. 3:4–9), which conveyed royalty and majesty and also reflected light throughout the sanctuary to increase illumination. He had cherubim—angelic beings—carved on the walls, and in the Most Holy Place he placed two large golden cherubim who together had a thirty-foot wingspan (vv. 7, 10–13). This was in addition to the cherubim that were already on the lid of the ark (Ex. 26:34). Overall, the atmosphere was one of a royal heavenly palace where people worshiped God alongside the angels. First Chronicles 29:1, 19 even refers to the temple as a palace. In the temple, the Ruler of the universe would make His home, near the palace of the earthly Davidic king.

More cherubim were sewn into the curtain separating the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place, just as in the tabernacle (2 Chron. 3:14; see Ex. 26:31–33). This was a reminder of the cherubim who guarded the entrance to the temple-garden after Adam and Eve sinned (Gen. 3:24). Sinners could not go back into the garden and enjoy God’s presence until atonement was made, as is seen in the yearly Day of Atonement when the high priest, representing the Lord’s people, could go into the Most Holy Place with the blood of the sacrifice (Lev. 16). In line with this, the temple was built on Mount Moriah, the place where Abraham offered Isaac, prefiguring the final atonement of Christ that would open up the way into God’s heavenly temple for all His people, not just for the earthly high priest (Gen. 22:1–19; Heb. 10:19–25).