The Altar of Incense and our unveiled nearness to God in Jesus Christ.
In Luke’s Gospel we are given a living picture of the priest Zechariah standing before the Altar of Incense – Luke 1:8-11. The people wait in prayer outside, while within the Holy Place the offering of incense rises, and at that very moment an angel of the Lord appears beside the altar. The scene discloses to us not mere ritual but a mystery that shines with Christ.
For the altar itself is made of acacia-wood (Exodus 30:1-10), strong yet perishable, the very likeness of our frail humanity. Over this base is laid a covering of pure gold, that metal which does not corrode or tarnish, which shines as brightly when lifted from the earth a thousand years later as it did on the day it was buried. In this gold we see the incorruptible righteousness of Christ laid upon the perishable framework of our lives. Thus humanity is clothed with divinity, weakness covered with strength, corruption overlaid with incorruption, robed in righteousness.
From such an altar the incense of prayer ascends. It is our voice that speaks, faltering and imperfect as acacia-wood, yet every word must pass through the pure gold covering, and in passing it is sanctified. What begins in us becomes purified in Him. Our petitions are mingled with the righteousness of Christ and so they rise as a fragrance acceptable in heaven. It is Christ in us praying, Christ sanctifying our prayers, Christ Himself bearing them before the Father as though He had spoken them with His own lips.
And heaven does not leave these prayers unattended. In Zechariah’s vision the angel of the Lord appears at the hour of incense, while the multitude pray outside, showing us that heaven itself is engaged when the people of God call upon Him. In that particular moment the angel’s task was to bring a message, not to carry the petitions. Yet Revelation opens the mystery further, unveiling angels who do indeed bear the incense together with the prayers of the saints into the presence of God. We cannot see all that transpires, nor can we chart every detail of how our prayers ascend, but we can be sure of this: they are not lost vapours in the air. They are offerings received, sanctified in Christ, and carried into the throne room of God with certainty.
Here, then, is our assurance. When we pray in the Name of Jesus, our words are never bare wood, never merely human, never doomed to perish. They are clothed in gold, lifted in Christ Himself, carried by angels into the presence of the Almighty. And so we pray with confidence, knowing that in Him our prayers are holy, fragrant, and sure to be heard.
As Close As It Is Possible To Be
The altar of incense stood before the veil, pressed up against the curtain that divided the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place. Its very position declared both intimacy and limitation. Intimacy, because it was as near as any priest of the old covenant could come to the immediate presence of God; limitation, because even there, at the very threshold of glory, the veil still hung heavy, declaring that the way into the holiest was not yet opened. At that altar the fragrance rose, yet the priest himself could not pass through. He was close, but not within. He ministered at the edge of a mystery that his ministry could never unlock.
But when Christ died, the veil was torn from top to bottom. What had been two rooms became one room, what had been separation became access. The altar that once stood before a barrier now stands in the very presence of God. In Christ the shadow is fulfilled: we do not linger outside, offering our incense at a distance. We are brought within, carried past the veil into the unveiled throne room itself. The place of prayer is no longer before the veil, it is before the throne.
And here is the wonder: that altar, which we have seen to represent the redeemed human being covered with the righteousness of Christ, has not been moved back but forward.
The saved person is no longer a servant lingering at the curtain but a son seated in the presence. In Christ we are brought near, not as trembling priests awaiting death should we step too far, but as beloved children welcomed to dwell where He dwells. “Through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father” (Ephesians 2:18).This is why prayer in the Name of Jesus is so sure and so bold. It is not whispered through a partition, hoping to be heard beyond the veil. It is spoken in the very room of God, in the very presence of His throne. Our prayers rise as incense, but the altar itself now stands unveiled, bathed in the light of His glory. Nothing separates us. Christ has made the two one. We stand in Him, and He in us, right before the Father, welcomed and heard.
And so now it is possible to have faith as small as a mustard seed, because now you know the truth.