Finding Rest at the Mercy Seat

Are you feeling tired right now? Perhaps things feel heavy even as the sun begins to shine brighter. This time of year, I begin to feel restless. The need to just breathe. Change scenery. The need to rest in greater measure.

This year I’m walking through the bible verse by verse. As expected, I began my travels at the very beginning of creation, where the relationship with the Designer and his design is undoubtedly pure and uncomplicated. God dwells with Adam and Eve, and there is nothing that stands between them: no doubt, no striving, no sin.

As each day passes, the ink carries me through brokenness and betrayal, reminders and redemption, force and forbearance.

In Exodus, I travel out of slavery and through the waters providentially parted. The journey continues alongside the Israelites and I recognize the grumbling in my own heart. I sit and wait even now on God’s daily provision of grace, just as they waited for manna in the desert. Then, God instructs Moses to build the tabernacle, so that He may once again dwell with His people as they travel.

As I enter the tent, into the tabernacle, to the place where God dwells with his people, I am grieved. It seems what was once simple and accessible is now an obstacle course full of ‘i’s’ to dot and ‘t’s’ to cross. He makes a way to be near, and He longs to be in their midst, but the consequences of their sin are tangible , and lead to division.

This separation affects everything: what was once a beautiful union is now a visible division represented by layers of fabric and sacrifices. What was once a gift freely given in the garden is now burdened with the weight of unworthiness in the wilderness.

I am drawn further in as the days pass. I keep walking past the bronze altar, wash basin, lamp stand and bread table. Then, I see it. Located in the innermost chamber of the tabernacle sits the Ark of the Covenant - the place where God’s presence dwelt. This location, in the Holy Holies, was reserved for the high priest alone, conveying the immense danger and overwhelming awe that is inherent when meeting with a holy God.

As instructed, a covering was placed on top of the Ark, and referred to as the mercy seat. The golden covering, guarded by two cherubim, was not your ordinary lid. A covering, yes, but it was a representation of something abundantly more meaningful: atonement.

Atonement means payment or recompense.

In Exodus 25, as God speaks the very instructions for his dwelling place, I lean in a bit closer and read.

“And you shall put the mercy seat on the top of the ark, and in the ark you shall put the testimony that I shall give you. There I will meet with you, and from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim that are on the ark of the testimony, I will speak with you about all that I will give you in commandment for the people of Israel.” (Exodus 25:21 - 22 ESV)

Do you see what I see?

This mercy seat, this covering, this place of atonement is the very place that God promises to meet and speak to his people through the high priest.

This is seat of mercy provides the perfect place for our doubts, our striving, and our worries to rest, because He covers us with his love.

During this Lenten season, as we sit with our unbelief that a loving God would even desire to meet with us, we look forward with hope to the resurrection of Jesus. There are no more hoops to jump. There is no more weight to carry. Jesus, our mediator, is our high priest once and for all.

The bible says at the moment when Jesus breathed his last breath upon the cross, something miraculous happened:

Matthew 27:51 ESV, “And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split.”

Friends, when Jesus died for you and for me, this division between us and a holy God ceased. The division was filled. The boxes were all checked. While costly, it is no longer complicated.

For those who believe in the saving work of Jesus on the cross, it means that we have access to this mercy seat at all times and in all seasons.

Here at the mercy seat we find rest and reassurance to press on with hope. We don’t have to purify ourselves, wear the right garments, or have all of the right answers. All that matters is that God, rich in mercy, longs to dwell with us even in our wilderness of unbelief.

Just as God’s presence hovered over the mercy seat, He hovers over our days even now, and invites us to rest with him in his nearness. That’s good news friend.

Rest well today, then live out of that place of rest.