Heaven’s Vision. Earth’s Mission. One Standard.

J. Hector Garcia

SANCTUARY: WHAT MYSTERIES LIE IN SACRED COVERINGS?

“And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering” (Exodus 25:1-2, KJV).

ABSTRACT

In this exploration of the tabernacle’s four-layered coverings, we uncover profound symbols of Christ’s redemptive ministry, from divine purity and sin-bearing to sacrificial blood and humble incarnation, revealing God’s plan to dwell among humanity, bridge the gap caused by sin, and prepare the community for heavenly fulfillment through active participation in holiness and service.

We find ourselves standing on the precipice of an ancient mystery, our boots sinking into the hot, unforgiving silica of the Sinai Peninsula, a landscape that is less a geography and more a theological testing ground. It is here, amidst the granite crags and the relentless, bleaching sun, that the God of the universe decided to pitch a tent. This was not merely a pragmatic shelter for a nomadic deity; it was a piece of performance art on a scale, a portable theater where the drama of redemption would be enacted daily in blood and smoke. God commanded Moses to construct the tabernacle as a portable sanctuary during the wilderness journey, serving as a dwelling place for His presence among the people and a symbolic representation of the plan of salvation. The structure included an outer courtyard, the holy place, and the most holy place, but the four-layered coverings over the tent itself hold profound prophetic significance, each layer pointing to Christ’s role in redemption. The Lord specifies the design with the precision of a master playwright setting the stage: “Moreover thou shalt make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet: with cherubims of cunning work shalt thou make them” (Exodus 26:1, KJV). He details the coverings that would shield this glory from the harsh desert elements: “And thou shalt make a covering for the tent of rams’ skins dyed red, and a covering above of badgers’ skins” (Exodus 26:14, KJV). Ellen G. White wrote that the tabernacle, built according to divine direction, was a type of the Christian church, the curtains of fine linen, embroidered with figures wrought in blue, purple, and scarlet, added to the beauty of the sanctuary (Patriarchs and Prophets, 347, 1890). Sr. White further explains that the building was divided into two apartments by a rich and beautiful curtain, or veil, suspended from gold-plated pillars; and a similar veil closed the entrance to the first apartment (Patriarchs and Prophets, 347, 1890). Revealing divine intent clearly, God provides a blueprint for redemption in the tabernacle’s design, as seen in “And thou shalt hang up the vail under the taches, that thou mayest bring in thither within the vail the ark of the testimony: and the vail shall divide unto you between the holy place and the most holy” (Exodus 26:33, KJV). In the holy place, the table of shewbread reminds us of spiritual sustenance, for “Thou shalt also make a table of shittim wood: two cubits shall be the length thereof, and a cubit the breadth thereof, and a cubit and a half the height thereof” (Exodus 25:23, KJV). In The Great Controversy we read that the sanctuary in heaven is the very center of Christ’s work in behalf of men (The Great Controversy, 488, 1911). A passage from The Desire of Ages reminds us that the holy places made with hands were to be ‘figures of the true,’ ‘patterns of things in the heavens’ (The Desire of Ages, 233, 1898). The community discovers divine wisdom in this blueprint, realizing that what appeared to be a mere tent was, in fact, a physical manifest of the mind of God. But what mysteries unfold in the innermost layer?

While the exterior of this divine tent presented a rugged, almost impenetrable face to the howling wilderness winds, the interior was a paradox of opulent glory, hidden from the eyes of the casual passerby and reserved for those initiated into the priesthood of the community. We are invited to step out of the blinding light of the desert noon and slip beneath the heavy flaps of the tabernacle, to let our eyes adjust to the golden gloom illuminated only by the seven-branched candlestick. Here, the air is thick with the scent of incense and the metallic tang of blood, a sensory overload designed to imprint the reality of sin and salvation upon the human psyche. The Lord’s instruction was not merely architectural but pedagogical; He was building a classroom for the soul. “And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8, KJV). This dwelling was not a static habitation but a dynamic interaction, a place where the holy God could intersect with a sinful people without consuming them. It is a concept that demands we look deeper than the surface, peeling back the layers of our own preconceptions. We must ask: Why these specific materials? Why this specific order? As we strip back the coverings one by one, we are not just analyzing fabric and hide; we are dissecting the very nature of the Christ who would one day flesh out these shadows. Scripture reveals that God establishes a pattern for worship, as “According to all that I shew thee, after the pattern of the tabernacle, and the pattern of all the instruments thereof, even so shall ye make it” (Exodus 25:9, KJV). God commands meticulous construction, for “And thou shalt overlay the boards with gold, and make their rings of gold for places for the bars: and thou shalt overlay the bars with gold” (Exodus 26:29, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told that the Lord Himself devised the plan of the sanctuary, and gave it to Moses, with particular directions as to its size and form, and the materials to be employed, and specified every article of furniture which was to be in it (Spirit of Prophecy, vol. 1, 270, 1870). A prophetic voice once wrote that art was to be employed in its construction, that it might be beautiful and attractive, the most skillful and costly productions were to be used (Spirit of Prophecy, vol. 1, 270, 1870). We must pause to consider how this divine blueprint guides our understanding of redemption. If the outer wilderness represents the chaos and barrenness of a life without God, what does the innermost layer of the sanctuary transport us to in a realm of ordered, celestial perfection that stands in stark opposition to the dusty reality outside?

LINEN VEIL AND THE HIDDEN GLORY

The innermost covering of the tabernacle consisted of fine twined linen embroidered with cherubim in blue, purple, and scarlet, visible only from inside and symbolizing the heavenly purity and royal divinity of Christ in His pre-incarnate glory. This layer, forming the ceiling and walls of the holy and most holy places, reflected the beauty of God’s character and the angelic hosts surrounding His throne, prophetically foreshadowing the righteousness imputed to the redeemed. To stand within the Holy Place and look up was to see a representation of heaven itself; the ceiling was not a blank canvas but a tapestry of “cunning work,” alive with the woven forms of cherubim, reminding the priest that his ministry was conducted in the sight of angels. Scripture describes its artistry with a keen eye for detail: “And thou shalt make loops of blue upon the edge of the one curtain from the selvedge in the coupling; and likewise shalt thou make in the uttermost edge of another curtain, in the coupling of the second” (Exodus 26:4, KJV). It emphasizes the structural integrity that underpinned this beauty: “And thou shalt make the boards for the tabernacle of shittim wood standing up” (Exodus 26:15, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote that the most magnificent adornment was the interior hangings, composed of ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet, with loops of blue on the edge of each, by which they were joined together (Patriarchs and Prophets, 347, 1890). Through inspired counsel, we are told that these walls were formed of upright boards heavily plated with gold, resting upon bases of silver, while the roof was formed of four coverings (Patriarchs and Prophets, 347, 1890). Christ reveals His divine nature through this layer, as “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1, KJV). Angels minister in heavenly courts, for “Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?” (Hebrews 1:14, KJV). In Prophets and Kings we read that the cherubim, placed at the gate of Eden, guarded the way to the tree of life (Prophets and Kings, 584, 1917). A passage from Education reminds us that the angels are ever ascending and descending the ladder that Jacob saw, bearing messages from the throne of God (Education, 147, 1903). The community beholds Christ’s holiness through this veil, seeing in the “fine twined linen” a symbol of the righteousness that is “without spot or wrinkle.” While the fine linen speaks of a righteousness that is pristine and separate from sinners, what does the covering immediately above it drag us into in the messy, tactile reality of the burden bearer?

This linen layer is the theological foundation of the entire structure; it asserts that at the core of God’s dwelling is absolute, uncompromising purity. “Fine linen” in Scripture is consistently identified as “the righteousness of saints” (Revelation 19:8, KJV), but in the context of the tabernacle, it primarily points to the intrinsic righteousness of the One who dwells between the cherubim. The colors woven into this linen—blue, purple, and scarlet—are not arbitrary pigmentations but a chromatic theology. Blue, the color of the law and the heavens; purple, the color of royalty and kingship; scarlet, the color of blood and sacrifice. Together, they proclaim that the King of Heaven (Blue/Purple) would become the Sacrifice (Scarlet) to uphold the Law (Blue). Yet, all of this is woven upon the white linen, the background of perfect character. S.N. Haskell, a pioneer whose insights pierce the veil of time, writes: “The inside curtain… was of blue, purple, scarlet, and fine twined linen, with golden cherubim wrought in it by a cunning embroiderer. This formed the ceiling, which was a faint representation of the canopy of glory above the throne of God” (The Cross and Its Shadow, S.N. Haskell, 28). This layer is the “Christ of Eternity,” the Word who was with God and was God, existing in the splendor of holiness before the world began. God declares His holiness unyielding, as “Thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel” (Psalm 22:3, KJV). Righteousness defines divine character, for “Thy righteousness is an everlasting righteousness, and thy law is the truth” (Psalm 119:142, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told that the righteousness of Christ is pure, unadulterated truth (Thoughts From the Mount of Blessing, 18, 1896). A prophetic voice once wrote that righteousness is holiness, likeness to God, and ‘God is love’ (Thoughts From the Mount of Blessing, 18, 1896). However, this vision of perfection is terrifyingly inaccessible to the sinner without a mediator; the brightness of this linen glory would consume the impurity of the fallen human heart if exposed directly. It is a standard of righteousness that highlights our own inadequacy. “And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints” (Revelation 19:8, KJV). This righteousness is granted, not earned. It is a gift that covers the community, just as the linen curtains covered the gold-plated boards of the tabernacle. Sr. White expands on this concept, stating: “The fine linen, says the Scripture, ‘is the righteousness of saints.’ It is the righteousness of Christ, His own unblemished character, that through faith is imparted to all who receive Him as their personal Saviour” (Christ’s Object Lessons, 310, 1900). The linen covering, therefore, is an invitation to look inward and upward, to see the standard of God’s character not as a condemning judge, but as a covering protection for those who are “in Christ.” The goat hair tells us that sin was borne, but what does the layer above it, saturated in the color of life, tell us that sin was paid for in the currency of blood?

GOAT HAIR AND THE BURDEN OF SIN

CAN GOAT HAIR ATONE FOR SIN?

The second covering of goat’s hair, woven into eleven curtains and placed over the linen, represented the sin-bearing aspect of Christ’s ministry, as goats were used in sacrificial offerings to transfer guilt from the sinner to the substitute. This coarser, white layer prophetically illustrated Christ’s willingness to bear humanity’s transgressions, bridging the divine purity beneath with the protective layers above, and pointing to the day of atonement where sins are fully removed. Unlike the delicate embroidery of the linen, the goat hair was tough, utilitarian, and redolent of the flock. It was the fabric of the nomad’s tent, the material of the common life, yet charged with a sinister significance in the sacrificial system. The Lord instructs its construction: “And thou shalt make curtains of goats’ hair to be a covering upon the tabernacle: eleven curtains shalt thou make” (Exodus 26:7, KJV). He specifies the dimensions: “The length of one curtain shall be thirty cubits, and the breadth of one curtain four cubits: and the eleven curtains shall be all of one measure” (Exodus 26:8, KJV). The inspired pen affirms that over these was a covering of goat’s hair, to protect the fine linen from injury (Patriarchs and Prophets, 347, 1890). Sr. White notes that the covering of goats’ hair was a reminder of the sins that had made necessary the plan of salvation (The Signs of the Times, June 24, 1880). Christ bears sins willingly, as “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted” (Isaiah 53:4, KJV). God provides atonement through substitution, for “And he shall kill the goat of the sin offering, that is for the people, and bring his blood within the vail, and do with that blood as he did with the blood of the bullock, and sprinkle it upon the mercy seat, and before the mercy seat” (Leviticus 16:15, KJV). A passage from Christ’s Object Lessons reminds us that Christ was treated as we deserve, that we might be treated as He deserves (Christ’s Object Lessons, 163, 1900). In Steps to Christ we read that He took man’s nature, that He might reach man’s wants (Steps to Christ, 11, 1892). The community finds forgiveness in this emblem, recognizing the dual nature of the goat in the Levitical economy: the Lord’s goat for atonement and the Scapegoat for the removal of sin. The ram skins speak of the infinite value of the blood, yet what was this treasure deliberately concealed beneath in a final layer that was as nondescript and rugged as the desert floor itself?

This layer forces us to confront the mechanism of transfer that lies at the heart of the gospel. In the daily service, the sinner laid his hands on the victim, transferring guilt; in the yearly service, the high priest transferred the accumulated sins of the nation onto the head of the scapegoat. “And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him away by the hand of a fit man into the wilderness” (Leviticus 16:21, KJV). The goat hair covering, therefore, is a perpetual banner of this exchange. It hangs between the glory of God (the linen) and the judgment of the world (the outer skins), acting as the mediator that absorbs the friction. S.N. Haskell observes: “The goat-hair covering of pure white represented the casting away of sin ‘as far as the east is from the west’” (The Cross and Its Shadow, S.N. Haskell, 28). The whiteness of the goat hair—typically goats in the Middle East were black or brown, but the sanctuary goats’ hair is often associated with the “whitened” state of forgiveness or the purity of the victim—suggests that Christ, while “made sin for us,” knew no sin. He bore the burden without participating in the corruption. Scripture highlights forgiveness through removal, as “As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12, KJV). Confession leads to cleansing, for “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told that Jesus was in all things made like unto His brethren (The Desire of Ages, 24, 1898). A prophetic voice once wrote that He declared Himself the Son of man (The Desire of Ages, 24, 1898). We must pause to feel the texture of this layer. It is not the silk of a palace; it is the hair of a sacrificial animal. It smells of the herd. It reminds us that our Savior did not save us from a distance; He took upon Himself the “likeness of sinful flesh” (Romans 8:3). The eleven curtains of goat hair—one more than the ten of linen—suggest a surplus of provision, a covering that extends beyond the measure of perfection to overlap and protect the tent’s entrance. “And thou shalt couple five curtains by themselves, and six curtains by themselves, and shalt double the sixth curtain in the forefront of the tabernacle” (Exodus 26:9, KJV). This doubling at the forefront is like a furrowed brow, a determination to meet the sinner at the door. It is the “Christ of the Cross,” the one who “bore our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Isaiah 53:4). The community finds in this layer the assurance that their sins, though many, have a bearer who is capable and willing. The physical tabernacle stood as a silent witness in the desert, but what does its design point dynamically forward to in a cosmic reality, where the silent symbols of the coverings explode into the active ministry of Christ in the courts above?

RAM SKINS AND THE CRIMSON SEAL

DOES RED RAM SKIN SEAL REDEMPTION?

The third covering of ram skins dyed red symbolized the substitutionary death of Christ, as rams were offered in place of the firstborn and in consecration rites, with the red dye evoking the shedding of blood for remission of sins. This layer, waterproof and durable, prophetically depicted the protective covering of Christ’s atoning blood over the church, shielding from judgment and enabling access to God’s presence. Here, the symbolism turns visceral, moving from the woven hair to the actual skin, stained in the violent hue of sacrifice. It is a confrontation with the cost of grace. God commands its use: “And rams’ skins dyed red, and badgers’ skins, and shittim wood” (Exodus 25:5, KJV). He highlights its role: “And thou shalt make a covering for the tent of rams’ skins dyed red, and a covering above of badgers’ skins” (Exodus 26:14, KJV). A passage from Patriarchs and Prophets reminds us that the rams’ skins dyed red were a symbol of the blood of Christ, which cleanses from all sin (Patriarchs and Prophets, 358, 1890). Through inspired counsel, we are told that the red dye pointed to the sacrifice of Christ, who was made sin for us (The Signs of the Times, July 15, 1880). Blood secures remission, as “And almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission” (Hebrews 9:22, KJV). Substitution saves from death, for “And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son” (Genesis 22:13, KJV). In The Great Controversy we read that the blood of Christ, while it was to release the repentant sinner from the condemnation of the law, was not to cancel the sin (The Great Controversy, 420, 1911). A prophetic voice once wrote that it would stand on record in the sanctuary until the final atonement (The Great Controversy, 420, 1911). The community secures salvation under this shield, understanding that without the shedding of blood, there is no remission. While the High Priest operates within the sanctuary on a cosmic scale of judgment and intercession, what must the principles of that sanctuary be internalized to reflect in the intimate warmth of a Creator who seeks to dwell not just in a tent, but in the human heart?

The ram occupies a unique space in the typology of the Old Testament. It was the “ram caught in a thicket” that served as the substitute for Isaac on Mount Moriah (Genesis 22:13), a direct foreshadowing of the substitutionary death of Christ. It was the “ram of consecration” used to ordain the priesthood (Leviticus 8:22), its blood applied to the right ear, thumb, and toe of Aaron and his sons. This covering, then, speaks of a double truth: substitution and consecration. It tells us that we are bought with a price (substitution) and set apart for holy service (consecration). “Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold… But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot” (1 Peter 1:18-19, KJV). The red dye is not a mere aesthetic choice; it is the theological seal of the covenant. It is the blood on the doorpost of the Passover expanded to cover the entire house of God. S.N. Haskell captures the totality of this symbol: “The covering of rams’ skins dyed red represents the sacrifice of Christ not only when He poured out His blood on Calvary, but the entire experience of His sacrifice to the very end of His redemptive work” (The Cross and Its Shadow, S.N. Haskell, 28). Christ redeems through His blood, as “In whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace” (Ephesians 1:7, KJV). Consecration follows sacrifice, for “And thou shalt take of the blood that is upon the altar, and of the anointing oil, and sprinkle it upon Aaron, and upon his garments, and upon his sons, and upon the garments of his sons with him: and he shall be hallowed, and his garments, and his sons, and his sons’ garments with him” (Exodus 29:21, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin (Steps to Christ, 28, 1892). A passage from The Desire of Ages reminds us that by His obedience to all the commandments of God, Christ wrought out a redemption for men (The Desire of Ages, 308, 1898). This crimson layer forms a hermetic seal over the sanctuary. It is the layer that makes the tent waterproof, protecting the holy things from the storms of the wilderness. In the same way, the blood of Christ is the only thing that can “weatherproof” the soul against the wrath of the law and the accusations of Satan. It is a covering of vitality, for “the life of the flesh is in the blood” (Leviticus 17:11). By covering the tabernacle in red skins, God was declaring that His dwelling place is a house of life poured out. It stands as a graphic reminder that mercy is not free; it is expensive. Every time the priest approached the tabernacle, before he could see the beauty of the linen or the function of the goat hair, he had to acknowledge the reality of the red skins hidden beneath the surface. It is the “Christ of Passion,” the Suffering Servant who bleeds to heal. God’s love provides the covering and the invitation, but what does this divine provision necessitate in a human response, demanding a purification of the heart that mirrors the holiness of the sanctuary?

BADGER SKINS AND THE VEIL OF HUMILITY

WILL BADGER SKIN GUARD HUMILITY?

The outermost covering of badger skins, tough and weather-resistant but plain in appearance, represented the humble, unassuming humanity of Christ, veiling His divine glory from the world while providing ultimate protection against the elements. This layer prophetically illustrated how Christ’s incarnation hid His majesty, yet offered enduring shelter to the faithful, foreshadowing the rejection He faced and the strength found in meekness. The identity of this “badger skin” (Hebrew tachash) has been debated—some say badger, others seal, others porpoise or dugong—but the theological consensus points to a durable, nondescript leather used for shoes and protective coverings (Ezekiel 16:10). It was not chosen for its beauty but for its toughness. The Lord includes it in materials: “And badgers’ skins, and shittim wood” (Exodus 35:7, KJV). He positions it last: “And a covering above of badgers’ skins” (Exodus 26:14, KJV). Ellen G. White wrote that the outer covering of badgers’ skins had no beauty to attract the eye, symbolizing the humility of Christ in His earthly life (The Signs of the Times, June 17, 1880). Sr. White further explains that from without, the tabernacle presented no attractions, there was nothing in its outward appearance to give any intimation of the glory within (Education, 36, 1903). Humility marks Christ’s incarnation, as “And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:8, KJV). Rejection accompanies meekness, for “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not” (Isaiah 53:3, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote that in His life on earth, Christ revealed a kingly power (The Desire of Ages, 602, 1898). Through inspired counsel we are told that but He veiled His divinity with the garb of humanity (The Desire of Ages, 602, 1898). The community embraces hidden strength, seeing in this rough exterior the perfect camouflage for divinity. While our vertical responsibility demands a purification of the heart toward God, what must this internal holiness not be an end in itself but inevitably spill over into in a horizontal responsibility toward our fellow man, creating a sanctuary of refuge in a hostile world?

This layer presents the “Jesus of History” to the world—the carpenter of Nazareth, the man of sorrows, the one who possessed “no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2, KJV). To the Greeks, the cross was foolishness; to the Jews, a stumbling block. Why? Because they judged the tabernacle by its cover. They saw the badger skin—the poverty, the lack of formal education, the Galilean accent—and they missed the Shekinah glory dwelling within. This covering challenges our modern obsession with optics and aesthetics. God wrapped His greatest gift in the plainest package. “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him” (Isaiah 53:3, KJV). The badger skin is the scandal of the incarnation: the infinite God becoming a microscopic zygote, a crying baby, a dying man. Uriah Smith, in his seminal works, alludes to this protective nature, noting that the coverings were designed to be impervious to the elements, just as Christ was impervious to the corruption of the world while living in the midst of it (The Sanctuary and the Twenty-three Hundred Days of Daniel 8:14, Uriah Smith, 117). Christ endures temptation, as “For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted” (Hebrews 2:18, KJV). Divine glory veils in humanity, for “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth” (John 1:14, KJV). In Education we read that the life of Christ on earth was a life of unselfish service (Education, 268, 1903). A passage from The Ministry of Healing reminds us that He went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil (The Ministry of Healing, 17, 1905). Yet, this lack of beauty was functional. The badger skin could withstand the beating of the sirocco winds and the scorching sun in a way that gold and linen never could. It represents Christ’s endurance, His capacity to “suffer being tempted” (Hebrews 2:18). It is the shield of faith that quenches the fiery darts. For us today, this layer is a profound lesson in ministry: true service is often unglamorous, gritty, and overlooked. It is “badger skin work”—tough, protective, and uncelebrated—but it covers the holy things of God. “And they shall put it and all the vessels thereof within a covering of badgers’ skins, and shall put it upon a bar” (Numbers 4:10, KJV). Even when the camp moved, the holy vessels were wrapped in this skin. The glory was always sheathed in humility. We are called to be content with a “badger skin” reputation if it means preserving the “linen” character within. The specific obligations to God and neighbor are not isolated duties but what do they converge to form in the comprehensive journey of the Christian life, moving from the outer court of justification to the inner sanctum of glorification?

HEAVENLY SANCTUARY AND THE PROPHETIC FULFILLMENT

HEAVENLY SANCTUARY FULFILLS PROPHECY?

The four coverings collectively prophetically outline Christ’s comprehensive ministry in the heavenly sanctuary, from revealing divine righteousness to bearing sin, providing atonement, and offering protective humility, culminating in His high priestly intercession for the community. This typology extends to the end-time judgment, where the layers’ meanings are fully realized in the cleansing of the sanctuary and the vindication of the righteous. The earthly structure was but a “shadow of heavenly things” (Hebrews 8:5), a scale model of the true command center of the universe. Scripture affirms the heavenly reality: “Now of the things which we have spoken this is the sum: We have such an high priest, who is set on the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens; A minister of the sanctuary, and of the true tabernacle, which the Lord pitched, and not man” (Hebrews 8:1-2, KJV). It connects to prophecy: “Unto two thousand and three hundred days; then shall the sanctuary be cleansed” (Daniel 8:14, KJV). The inspired pen notes that the ministration in the heavenly sanctuary is the foundation of our faith (Evangelism, 221, 1922). Sr. White emphasizes that the correct understanding of the ministration in the heavenly sanctuary is the foundation of our faith (Letter 208, 1906). Christ intercedes eternally, as “Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them” (Hebrews 7:25, KJV). Judgment vindicates the righteous, for “For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God: and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?” (1 Peter 4:17, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote that the subject of the sanctuary was the key which unlocked the mystery of the disappointment of 1844 (The Great Controversy, 423, 1911). Through inspired counsel we are told that it opened to view a complete system of truth, connected and harmonious (The Great Controversy, 423, 1911). The community anticipates fulfillment, realizing that we are living in the time of the “cleansing,” the antitypical Day of Atonement. How do these concepts reflect God’s love?

The prophecy of Daniel 8:14 acts as the temporal anchor for this theology. “And he said unto me, Unto two thousand and three hundred days; then shall the sanctuary be cleansed” (Daniel 8:14, KJV). This is not merely a date on a calendar; it is the moment when the “Ram Skin” sacrifice and the “Goat Hair” sin-bearing are brought to their final conclusion. In 1844, Christ moved from the Holy Place to the Most Holy Place, not to offer a new sacrifice, but to complete the work of the atonement by blotting out the sins of His people. The coverings teach us the nature of this judgment. It is an investigation to see who is truly covered. Do we have the “Linen” of His righteousness? Are we relying on the “Ram Skin” of His blood? Uriah Smith elucidates this connection: “The sanctuary is a great central object in the plan of salvation… In it the great truths of revelation find their focal point” (The Sanctuary and the Twenty-three Hundred Days of Daniel 8:14, Uriah Smith, 11). The judgment is not a terrifying inquisition for the faithful, but a vindication—a revealing of the “Linen” beneath the “Badger Skin” of their earthly lives. Prophecy unfolds in time, as “And at the time of the end shall be the vision” (Daniel 8:17, KJV). Cleansing restores purity, for “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow” (Psalm 51:7, KJV). In Patriarchs and Prophets we read that the work of Christ as man’s intercessor is presented in that beautiful prophecy of Zechariah concerning Him ‘whose name is the Branch’ (Patriarchs and Prophets, 590, 1890). A passage from The Acts of the Apostles reminds us that Christ is making atonement for His people, and blotting out their sins (The Acts of the Apostles, 552, 1911). This cosmic perspective transforms our daily walk. We are not just dust-born creatures wandering a meaningless planet; we are the subjects of a High Priestly ministry that is actively engaged in saving us. “And the temple of God was opened in heaven, and there was seen in his temple the ark of his testament” (Revelation 11:19, KJV). The opening of the temple reveals the standard of judgment (the Ark/Law) and the provision of mercy (the Mercy Seat). The coverings remind us that mercy and justice kiss each other. The law (Blue in the linen) is upheld, but the blood (Red ram skin) covers the transgressor. “For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant… he hath no form nor comeliness” (Isaiah 53:2, KJV). This prophecy of the “badger skin” Messiah assures us that He understands our infirmities as He pleads our case. The sanctuary in heaven is the control room of history, and the coverings are the protocols of our salvation. In light of these concepts, what are my responsibilities toward God?

REFLECTION OF GOD’S LOVE

HOW DO THESE CONCEPTS REFLECT GOD’S LOVE?

The intricate design of the sanctuary coverings reveals a God who is not content to dwell in distant majesty but who goes to extravagant lengths to cloak His consuming glory in accessible forms, thereby creating a safe space where sinful humanity can meet with Him without being destroyed. God’s love is shown in the very act of “covering.” He does not expose us to the raw voltage of His holiness (the Linen) without providing the insulation of His humanity (the Badger Skin) and the protection of His sacrifice (the Ram and Goat skins). He essentially “dimmed” His glory so that He could be “God with us.” The Lord calls for reflection: “And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8, KJV). He promises presence: “And there I will meet with the children of Israel, and the tabernacle shall be sanctified by my glory” (Exodus 29:43, KJV). Sr. White summarizes this condescension: “To this sin-darkened earth He came to reveal the light of God’s love,—to be ‘God with us.’… It will be seen that the glory shining in the face of Jesus is the glory of self-sacrificing love” (The Desire of Ages, 19, 1898). Love manifests in protection, as “He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler” (Psalm 91:4, KJV). God’s mercy endures, for “The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy” (Psalm 103:8, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told that God’s love is immeasurable (Steps to Christ, 15, 1892). A prophetic voice once wrote that it is broader than the measure of our minds (Steps to Christ, 15, 1892). This love is “self-renouncing.” It is a love that leaves the ivory palaces to dwell in a tent of skins. “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10, KJV). The layers of the sanctuary are layers of God’s embrace. The badger skin says, “I will meet you where you are, in the dust.” The ram skin says, “I will die for you.” The goat hair says, “I will carry your burden.” The linen says, “I will share my glory with you.” It is a love that protects before it perfects. It covers the shame of our nakedness (Genesis 3:21) with a garment of His own making. “The Lord hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jeremiah 31:3, KJV). The sanctuary is the architectural proof that God is not looking for reasons to destroy us, but for ways to save us. He creates a structure where “mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other” (Psalm 85:10, KJV). We see this love most poignantly in the fact that the coverings were made from death. Animals had to die to provide the shelter. God’s love is a love that gives of itself to the point of death to provide a roof over the head of His children. “He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32, KJV). The sanctuary is a love letter written in blood and linen. It tells us that we are safe. We are hidden. We are loved. “I have seen the tender love that God has for His people, and it is very great. I saw angels over the saints with their wings spread about them” (Early Writings, 39, 1882). This angelic covering is the spiritual reality of the linen curtains embroidered with cherubim. We are surrounded by the hosts of heaven, secured by the love of the Father. In light of these concepts, what are my responsibilities toward my neighbor?

RESPONSIBILITY TO GOD

WHAT ARE MY RESPONSIBILITIES TOWARD GOD?

In response to the sanctuary’s revelation of Christ’s ministry, my responsibility is to cultivate a character of holiness that corresponds to the “fine twined linen” of the inner sanctuary, actively participating in the work of the Investigative Judgment by afflicting my soul, confessing sin, and wearing the “wedding garment” of Christ’s righteousness. We cannot claim the protection of the “badger skin” while rejecting the purity of the “linen.” The sanctuary service was not a spectator sport; on the Day of Atonement, the people were required to “afflict their souls” (Leviticus 23:27). This means a deep, introspective examination of the heart. Scripture commands: “Sanctify yourselves therefore, and be ye holy: for I am the LORD your God” (Leviticus 20:7, KJV). It warns of the standard: “Because it is written, Be ye holy; for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16, KJV). Sr. White articulates this responsibility with urgency: “We are to come in touch with God, then we shall be imbued with His Holy Spirit… The consciousness that you are doing those things which God can approve, will make you strong in His strength” (Gospel Workers, 509, 1915). Holiness demands separation, as “Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you” (2 Corinthians 6:17, KJV). Confession invites divine cleansing, for “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy” (Proverbs 28:13, KJV). A passage from Testimonies for the Church reminds us that God requires of us perfect obedience to His law (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, 253, 1876). In My Life Today we read that holiness is not rapture: it is an entire surrender of the will to God (My Life Today, 5, 1952). Our responsibility is to ensure that our lives are “patterned” after the sanctuary. Are we harboring “leaven” (sin) in the holy place of our hearts? Are we relying on the “goat hair” (Christ’s sin-bearing) or trying to weave our own covering of fig leaves? “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man” (Ecclesiastes 12:13, KJV). This duty is not legalism; it is the natural reaction of a soul that understands the cost of the coverings. If Christ died (Ram Skin) to save me from sin, how can I continue to live in it? We must bring our “vessels” of honor and dishonor to the altar. We must allow the High Priest to cleanse the temple of our body. “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16, KJV). The internal sanctuary must mirror the external one. This involves a daily application of the blood and a daily walking in the Spirit. It means we stop making excuses for “badger skin” behavior (roughness, unkindness) and strive for “linen” character (purity, love). “Those who in everything make God first and last and best are the happiest people in the world” (My Life Today, 244, 1952). We are called to be a “kingdom of priests” (Exodus 19:6). A priest does not approach the sanctuary carelessly. He washes at the laver. He dresses in holy garments. Our responsibility is to treat the presence of God in our lives with the same reverence the sons of Aaron treated the Shekinah. We must “hallow the place with His presence” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, 492, 1889). Layers guide the Christian journey?

RESPONSIBILITY TO NEIGHBOR

WHAT ARE MY RESPONSIBILITIES TOWARD MY NEIGHBOR?

My responsibility toward my neighbor is to extend the sanctuary’s principles of refuge, justice, and mercy into the community, acting as a “little sanctuary” where the marginalized can find protection and where the “badger skin” of my own humility conceals a spirit of service that seeks to cover the faults of others with charity while pointing them to the Lamb. Just as the tabernacle was a place of safety and reconciliation, our lives must be spaces where others can encounter the grace of God. We are to be the “badger skins”—unassuming and protective—shielding our neighbors from the harshness of judgment and the elements of a cruel world. The Bible commands: “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the LORD” (Leviticus 19:18, KJV). It frames this within the context of justice: “But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God” (Leviticus 19:34, KJV). Love fulfills the law, as “Owe no man any thing, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law” (Romans 13:8, KJV). Mercy extends to all, for “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy” (Matthew 5:7, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told that true religion is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 2, 25, 1868). A prophetic voice once wrote that love to man is the earthward manifestation of the love of God (The Desire of Ages, 638, 1898). Sr. White links true religion in the sanctuary to the treatment of others: “The two great principles of the law of God are supreme love to God and unselfish love to our neighbor… Christ explained to the lawyer who his neighbor was in the illustration of the man who was traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho… The priest and the Levite saw this man suffering, but their hearts did not respond to his wants” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, 226, 1876). We cannot reverence the sanctuary of God while desecrating the “temple” of our neighbor’s body or spirit through neglect, gossip, or oppression. If the sanctuary teaches us that Christ died for all (the “Ram Skin”), then every human being possesses infinite value. “But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine” (Luke 10:33-34, KJV). This Samaritan acted as a sanctuary to the wounded man. He provided a covering. We are called to be “repairers of the breach” (Isaiah 58:12). Our homes and our churches should be cities of refuge. “Nothing short of love to our neighbor as ourselves, will answer now… Those that love God and man” (Review and Herald, December 9, 1852). The “linen” of our own righteousness is proven by the way we treat the “lepers” outside the camp. We must cover the nakedness of the poor, feed the hunger of the destitute, and plead for the widow and orphan. This is the practical outworking of the sanctuary message. If we are covered, we must cover others. “Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:10, KJV). To understand the sanctuary is to understand that we are our brother’s keeper.

LAYERS OF THE CHRISTIAN JOURNEY

LAYERS GUIDE CHRISTIAN JOURNEY?

Applying the prophetic layers to personal experience, the community progresses from beholding Christ’s righteousness (linen) to confessing sins (goat hair), claiming His blood (ram skins), and living humbly (badger skins), preparing for the latter rain and sealing. This deepening reveals how the sanctuary’s design equips us for trials, ensuring victory through alignment with heavenly patterns. The Christian life is not a static event; it is a movement from the outside in. We start by seeing the “badger skin”—the historical Christ. We move deeper to accept the “ram skin”—His sacrifice. We proceed to the “goat hair”—allowing Him to bear our sins. Finally, we stand in the light of the “linen”—fully clothed in His righteousness, reflecting His glory. The Lord calls for reflection: “And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8, KJV). He promises presence: “And there I will meet with the children of Israel, and the tabernacle shall be sanctified by my glory” (Exodus 29:43, KJV). Righteousness clothes the faithful, as “I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my soul shall be joyful in my God; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness” (Isaiah 61:10, KJV). Humility leads to exaltation, for “Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time” (1 Peter 5:6, KJV). A passage from The Great Controversy reminds us that the sanctuary in heaven is the very center of Christ’s work in behalf of men (The Great Controversy, 488, 1911). Through inspired counsel we are told that it concerns every soul living upon the earth (The Great Controversy, 488, 1911). The community transforms through these truths, realizing that “Thy way, O God, is in the sanctuary” (Psalm 77:13, KJV). We are not lost in the wilderness; we have a map, and it is stitched into the very curtains of the tabernacle. We are a people of the Tent, moving toward the City. “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” (2 Corinthians 5:1, KJV). This journey requires us to “die daily” (1 Corinthians 15:31) as the sacrifices died daily. It requires us to walk by the light of the candlestick (the Word) and feed on the shewbread (Christ). The layers also represent our defense against the final deception. When the “winds” of strife blow (Revelation 7:1), only those covered by the sanctuary truths will stand. The badger skin protects us from the “heat” of persecution. The ram skin protects us from the “accusation” of the enemy. The goat hair assures us that our “record” is clean. The linen assures us that our “character” is fit for heaven. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1, KJV). The sanctuary is that secret place. It is the fortress of the faithful.

The study of the sanctuary coverings is not merely an academic exercise in ancient textile appreciation; it is a confrontation with the reality of Redemption. We stand today, like the Israelites, in a wilderness of sin. The heat is rising; the winds of doctrine are blowing. We need a covering. The four layers offer us the only protection that will endure the final crisis. They tell us that we are covered by a King (Linen), a Sin-Bearer (Goat), a Sacrifice (Ram), and a Brother (Badger). As we anticipate the close of probation, the question rings out: Are we under the covering? Have we allowed the “Red” of the sacrifice to dye our lives? Is the “White” of the linen forming our character? The message of the sanctuary is a message of hope, but it is also a message of immense solemnity. It is the message: to call the world into the safety of the Sanctuary before the High Priest lays down the censer and steps out. We are invited to be “living stones” in a spiritual house, covered by the righteousness of Christ, bearing the witness of His blood, and walking in the humility of His service.

The prophetic layers of the sanctuary unveil the multifaceted plan of redemption. The Linen reveals the inner perfection of Christ’s divinity, demanding and providing righteousness. The Goat Hair exposes the mechanism of atonement, where the Sinless One became sin for us. The Ram Skins Dyed Red seal the covenant with the blood of the substitute, securing our pardon. The Badger Skins cloak the glory in humility, reminding us that God is found in the lowliness of the incarnation. Together, they point to the Heavenly Sanctuary, where Christ now intercedes. In embracing these truths, we discover that God’s love is a protective covering, that our duty to Him is to walk in the light of that covering, and our duty to our neighbor is to extend that covering to the world. As the end times approach, may we be found hidden in the secret place of the Most High, under the shadow of the Almighty—secure beneath the prophetic layers of the sacred tent. “And the temple of God was opened in heaven, and there was seen in his temple the ark of his testament: and there were lightnings, and voices, and thunderings, and an earthquake, and great hail” (Revelation 11:19, KJV).

SELF-REFLECTION

How can I, in my personal devotional life, delve deeper into the symbolic meanings of the tabernacle coverings, allowing their truths to transform my daily walk with God?

How can we present the layers of the sanctuary in ways that resonate with both long-time members and newcomers, maintaining depth while fostering understanding?

What common misunderstandings about Christ’s ministry in the heavenly sanctuary exist in my circle, and how can I clarify them using biblical patterns and inspired writings?

In what everyday actions can we embody the protective humility of the badger skin and the purity of the linen, making our communities reflections of divine refuge?

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