In a world saturated with filters, half-truths, and guarded motives, honesty shines like a rare jewel. And when it comes to marriage, few qualities are more essential. I long for a wife who will speak truth in love—who will not hide behind pretense or pride, but will live and speak with integrity. In the Bible, one woman who embodied that kind of courageous honesty is Esther, the queen who risked everything to save her people.
Though her story is often told as a tale of royal favor or divine providence, at its heart is a woman who chose to be honest when deception would have been safer. She was placed in a high position not to remain silent, but to speak—faithfully, wisely, and truthfully.
Let’s walk through the life of Esther and discover what godly honesty looks like in a woman—and why that trait is indispensable in a wife.
Esther’s Honesty Was Anchored in Identity
When Esther was brought into King Xerxes’ palace, she concealed her Jewish heritage at the instruction of her cousin Mordecai (Esther 2:10). She didn’t lie—she simply withheld. But when the moment of decision came, hiding was no longer an option.
Mordecai challenged her:
“Who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14)
At that moment, Esther had to decide: Would she remain hidden and protected? Or would she be honest about who she was and what she believed?
She chose honesty.
A godly woman tells the truth about who she is.
She doesn’t mask her convictions to gain approval. She doesn’t hide in fear. She steps into the light. I want to marry a woman who is not ashamed of who God made her to be. Who lives with transparency—not in reckless exposure, but in Christ-centered clarity.
Esther’s Honesty Required Risk
Esther’s honesty wasn’t cheap. To approach the king uninvited could cost her life. To reveal that she was Jewish, especially when her people were under threat, could bring disgrace or death.
But she responded:
“I will go to the king, though it is against the law, and if I perish, I perish.” (Esther 4:16)
That is the cost of real honesty—it requires courage.
A godly woman doesn’t tell the truth only when it’s safe—she tells the truth because it’s right.
She doesn’t manipulate. She doesn’t twist her words to protect her image. She speaks with grace and courage—even when it’s uncomfortable. That kind of honesty builds trust. That kind of honesty protects a marriage.
Esther’s Honesty Was Timely and Wise
Esther didn’t rush into the king’s presence shouting accusations. She didn’t act impulsively. She waited. She fasted. She prayed. And then she planned.
She invited the king and Haman to two private banquets before revealing the truth. Only then, in a calm and intimate setting, did she say:
“If I have found favor in your sight, O king… let my life be granted me for my wish, and my people for my request.” (Esther 7:3)
Esther was honest—but she was also wise.
A godly woman knows how to speak the truth in the right way at the right time.
She is not abrasive, sarcastic, or harsh. She’s prayerful. She chooses her words with discernment. She doesn’t weaponize truth—she wields it with gentleness.
That’s the kind of honesty I pray for in my future wife. The kind that builds bridges, not walls. That speaks up when needed, but does so in love, not in pride.
Esther’s Honesty Was Redemptive, Not Self-Serving
When Esther told the truth, it wasn’t to save face or win favor—it was to save lives. She didn’t expose Haman for revenge. She exposed evil to bring about justice and redemption.
“For we have been sold, I and my people, to be destroyed, to be killed, and to be annihilated.” (Esther 7:4)
Her honesty was others-focused.
A godly woman’s honesty is meant to heal, not to harm.
She tells the truth to protect, not to control. She confesses her own faults and gently addresses others. Her heart is for restoration, not domination.
In marriage, that kind of honesty is everything. I long for a wife who can say the hard things—not to hurt me, but to love me. Who will hold me accountable with compassion. Who will be honest about her own struggles, and invite me to do the same.
Esther’s Honesty Changed History
Because Esther was willing to speak, the king issued a new decree. The Jewish people were saved. Generations were impacted.
Honesty is never just about the moment—it has ripple effects.
A godly woman’s honesty leaves a legacy.
She raises children in truth. She builds a home where deception dies and grace thrives. She shapes a marriage where both husband and wife are free to be known and loved.
The Kind of Woman I’m Praying For
From Esther’s life, I’ve come to see honesty not as a cold or clinical virtue, but as a courageous, warm, redemptive force. It is the foundation of trust, the fountain of intimacy, and the fruit of reverence for God.
Here is the kind of honest woman I long to marry:
She is truthful about who she is—not performing, but living from her God-given identity.
She is courageous in her convictions—not silenced by fear, but strengthened by faith.
She is wise in her words—not impulsive, but prayerful and thoughtful.
She is redemptive in her honesty—speaking truth for healing, not harm.
She builds legacy through integrity—raising up truth-lovers and leading with grace.
Honesty in a wife will make our home a place of light. A place where secrets don’t fester, where conflict is faced with humility, where truth is not a threat but a treasure.
And may I become the kind of man who invites that honesty—who listens without defensiveness, who confesses without excuse, who speaks with clarity and love.
When many people think about biblical affection, they think only in terms of duty or discipline. But Scripture shows us a far richer and more beautiful picture—one that includes tender physical, emotional, and spiritual expression rooted in covenant love. At the center of this vision is the Shulammite bride in the Song of Solomon.
Though her name is never given, this woman is far from anonymous. She is poetic, passionate, and powerfully expressive. Her story, woven through one of the Bible’s most mysterious and beautiful books, reveals what true affection looks like in a godly woman. She’s not cold, repressed, or indifferent—she is warm, responsive, and expressive. Her love is both pure and passionate.
As a man longing for a wife who embodies this kind of godly affection, I find in her a pattern of the kind of heart, tenderness, and love that blesses both marriage and the soul.
The Shulammite Was Emotionally Expressive
From the very beginning, the bride in the Song of Solomon is not shy about her love. She openly delights in her beloved:
“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine.” (Song of Solomon 1:2)
She doesn’t just endure affection—she longs for it. She’s not reserved or reluctant. Her love is expressive, poetic, and honest. Her emotional connection is not one of mere duty but genuine desire.
A godly woman who is affectionate isn’t emotionally distant. She is emotionally present.
She knows how to say “I love you” with her words, her tone, and her presence. She delights in connection. She expresses joy, sorrow, longing, and loyalty with a full heart.
I desire to marry a woman like that. Not someone ruled by emotion—but someone who gives emotion as a gift. Someone who sees affection as ministry—not manipulation. A woman who builds warmth into the home and speaks love into the soul.
The Shulammite Desired Physical Closeness
In a world where physical affection is often distorted, the Song of Solomon offers a picture of marital desire that is holy, reciprocal, and unashamed:
“His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me!” (Song of Solomon 2:6)
This is not lustful or selfish. It is pure, covenantal intimacy.
She treasures physical closeness—not because it serves her ego, but because it expresses covenant love. Her affection is not manipulative. It is giving.
A godly woman’s physical affection is never cheap—it is consecrated.
In marriage, this kind of physical affection brings healing. It communicates trust, delight, and mutual giving. I long to marry a woman who embraces this view—not avoiding touch, but using it as a way to say “I am yours, and I delight in you.”
The Shulammite Encouraged Her Beloved
Throughout the Song, the Shulammite is not just emotionally or physically affectionate—she is verbally affectionate. She builds up her beloved with her words:
“As an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men.” (Song of Solomon 2:3)
She affirms his uniqueness, his strength, his presence. She is generous in her praise—not in flattery, but in truth.
A godly woman uses words to affirm, not to tear down.
Her affection is not silent. It speaks. It lifts. It reminds her husband that he is seen, respected, and cherished.
A future wife like that is a true treasure—a woman who sees her words as tools for connection, not comparison or critique. I long for a woman whose verbal affection nurtures life in the heart of her husband.
The Shulammite Sought Spiritual Union
Though the Song of Solomon is poetic and sensual, it’s also deeply spiritual. The love between the bride and groom mirrors the deep longing we are meant to have for God—and the intimacy He desires with His people.
The bride often expresses longing in the language of pursuit:
“I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer.” (Song of Solomon 3:1)
This kind of affection transcends circumstance. It’s the soul’s desire to be near—to be joined in covenant, not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally.
A godly woman is affectionate because she loves like God loves—with a pursuing, committed, holistic love.
I pray for a woman like that. One whose heart is tender, not only toward me, but toward Christ. A woman who brings her whole self into the covenant—not withholding parts of her soul, but offering them as a gift.
The Shulammite Was Secure in Her Love
In Song of Solomon 6:3, the bride boldly declares:
“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”
This is the language of secure affection. She knows who she is. She knows to whom she belongs. She is not grasping, jealous, or controlling. Her affection flows from covenantal security.
Affection without security becomes desperation. But affection with security becomes joy.
That is what I long to experience in marriage—a love that is not based on insecurity or performance, but on covenant commitment. A woman who knows she is loved by God and is free to love me—not to complete herself, but to express the completeness she’s found in Christ.
The Shulammite Reserved Her Affection for Covenant
Throughout the Song of Solomon, there is a repeated refrain:
“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.” (Song of Solomon 2:7; 3:5; 8:4)
The Shulammite is not careless with her affection. She’s not flirtatious or promiscuous. She reserves the deepest parts of herself for the one to whom she is covenanted.
A godly woman doesn’t waste affection on fleeting moments—she saves it for a lasting bond.
That kind of woman doesn’t use her beauty for manipulation or conquest. She saves her kisses, her words, her warmth—for her husband. And in doing so, she makes that love all the more sacred and satisfying.
The Kind of Woman I’m Praying For
The Shulammite bride offers a rare and radiant picture of godly affection—emotional, physical, spiritual, and verbal. I am praying for a future wife who:
Delights in emotional connection and isn’t afraid to express joy, desire, and encouragement
Gives physical affection freely and purely—as a gift, not a tool
Builds up with her words—affirming, blessing, and encouraging
Longs for spiritual closeness and walks in communion with God
Is secure in love, not needy or performative
Guards her heart and affection until covenant makes them safe and sacred
I don’t desire a passionless partnership. I desire a vibrant, joyful, affectionate union—marked by the beauty, warmth, and holiness we see in the Song of Solomon.
And may I become the kind of man who receives that affection with gratitude, returns it with faithfulness, and reflects Christ in the way I love.
“Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.” — Song of Solomon 8:7
When thinking about the kind of woman I want to marry, one word that resonates deeply with me is passion—not shallow emotion or erratic energy, but deep, purposeful fire. Passion in a godly woman is not about performance or personality type; it’s about desire rightly directed, about a heart that burns for the things of God and expresses that desire with sincerity, persistence, and faith.
One woman in the Bible who beautifully embodies this kind of passion is Hannah, the mother of the prophet Samuel. Her story is found in 1 Samuel 1–2, and it is a portrait of a woman who longed, wept, prayed, and rejoiced—all with a heart submitted to God. Her passion wasn’t loud or public; it was intimate, enduring, and powerful.
Let’s look at how Hannah’s life demonstrates the kind of passion that makes a woman spiritually alive, emotionally grounded, and worthy of emulation in marriage.
Hannah’s Passionate Heart Was Rooted in Pain and Prayer
When we first meet Hannah, she is in deep distress. She is barren and ridiculed by her husband’s other wife, Peninnah. In a culture where motherhood was often tied to worth, this was a deep sorrow.
“She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly.” (1 Samuel 1:10)
Hannah didn’t bottle up her pain or numb it. She brought it to God. She poured out her soul before the Lord. That is passion—holy, vulnerable, heartfelt.
A passionate woman doesn’t suppress her desires—she surrenders them.
She doesn’t fake happiness or hide behind shallow faith clichés. She comes honestly to God. She believes that He hears. And she keeps coming.
That’s the kind of woman I long to marry: not someone who avoids emotion, but someone who brings it to God. A woman who knows how to weep without becoming bitter. Who hopes without demanding. Who prays with persistence.
Hannah’s Passion Didn’t Turn Into Manipulation
Even though she was desperate for a child, Hannah didn’t try to manipulate her husband or her circumstances. She turned to prayer, not pressure. She made a vow to the Lord—not as a bargaining tool, but as an act of trust.
“O Lord of hosts, if you will indeed look on the affliction of your servant… and give to your servant a son, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life.” (1 Samuel 1:11)
Hannah’s passion led to surrender, not control. That’s what sets her apart. Passion isn’t about forcing outcomes; it’s about holding desires with open hands.
A godly woman’s passion is not manipulative—it’s sacrificial.
She desires deeply but trusts God more deeply. She doesn’t pout when things don’t go her way. She doesn’t use her emotions to guilt others. She releases her heart to God.
In marriage, this kind of passion becomes a refuge. It creates a home where desires are expressed, not imposed. Where hope is alive, but humility prevails.
Hannah’s Passion Was Misunderstood—But She Remained Steady
When Eli the priest saw Hannah praying silently and emotionally in the temple, he thought she was drunk.
“How long will you go on being drunk? Put your wine away from you.” (1 Samuel 1:14)
But Hannah didn’t get defensive. She didn’t lash out. She simply and respectfully explained:
“No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit… I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord.” (1 Samuel 1:15)
This shows incredible emotional maturity. She could have taken offense, but she stayed focused. Her passion wasn’t about being seen—it was about seeking God.
True passion doesn’t need to be validated by others—it just needs to be faithful.
I want to marry a woman whose fire for God is steady even when misunderstood. Who doesn’t burn out in the face of false assumptions. Who stays kind under pressure. That kind of inner fire is rare—and beautiful.
Hannah’s Passion Was Answered—and She Gave Back
God heard Hannah’s prayer and gave her a son—Samuel. But what’s most stunning is that she followed through with her vow. She gave him back to the Lord, bringing him to the temple to serve all his days.
“For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition… Therefore I have lent him to the Lord.” (1 Samuel 1:27–28)
What kind of passion is this? A love so intense it’s willing to let go. A woman so devoted she offers her answered prayer as worship.
A passionate woman is not possessive. She’s generous.
In marriage, I want to share a life with a woman like that—one who rejoices in the gifts of God but never clings to them more tightly than she clings to Him.
Hannah’s Passionate Heart Became a Song of Praise
In 1 Samuel 2, Hannah breaks out in a song of worship that is one of the most powerful theological poems in the Bible. It celebrates God’s sovereignty, His justice, His care for the weak, and His reversal of the proud.
“My heart exults in the Lord; my horn is exalted in the Lord… There is none holy like the Lord: for there is none besides you.” (1 Samuel 2:1–2)
Her passion wasn’t just for a child. It was for the Lord Himself.
A godly woman’s passion is ultimately about worship.
Her deepest joy isn’t in gifts—it’s in the Giver. She lives with awe, gratitude, and hope. She burns for righteousness. She rejoices in grace. Her heart is alive to God.
That kind of passion in a wife would shape everything—our home, our prayers, our purpose.
The Kind of Woman I’m Praying For
From Hannah’s life, here’s what I’m praying for in a future wife:
A woman who longs deeply—but lays her desires at the feet of Jesus.
A woman who is emotionally honest—but spiritually grounded.
A woman who loves fiercely—but never manipulates.
A woman who stays steady—even when misunderstood.
A woman whose deepest passion is God—not gifts.
In a world of shallow infatuations, fleeting trends, and short-lived zeal, I want a woman with holy passion—a heart set ablaze by the love of God, and a life shaped by faith-filled longing.
And may I be the kind of man who cherishes that fire, fans it, and joins her in a life of worship, longing, and purpose.
“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” — Psalm 37:4
In our age of instant gratification and consumer debt, finding someone who understands biblical stewardship is increasingly rare. But when I think about the kind of woman I long to marry—one who is grounded, stable, and wise with resources—I find a timeless model in the Proverbs 31 woman.
This passage isn’t just about an idealized superwoman. It’s about a faithful, capable woman whose heart is anchored in the fear of the Lord. She is industrious, thoughtful, generous, and prepared. She doesn’t live lavishly or wastefully, yet she’s not stingy either. She knows how to steward what God gives her.
Let’s explore what this passage teaches about financial stewardship, diligence, and frugality—and why these traits are so deeply attractive and godly in a future wife.
She Works Willingly and Diligently
“She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands.” (Proverbs 31:13)
The Proverbs 31 woman is not idle or lazy. She takes initiative. She is hands-on, productive, and creative. She doesn’t wait around to be served—she steps in to meet needs. Her work ethic is an act of worship and a blessing to her family.
A Godly Stewardess of Resources: She understands that everything belongs to the Lord. Her labor is not about building her brand—it’s about building her home and honoring God.
This is the kind of woman who knows how to stretch a dollar. She’s resourceful and inventive, not complaining about what she doesn’t have but making the most of what she does.
As a husband, I want to come alongside a woman like that. Someone who sees her daily work—whether at home, in the marketplace, or in ministry—as sacred. Who doesn’t fear hard work. Who delights in contributing to the welfare of her family.
She Plans Ahead and Thinks Practically
“She is like the ships of the merchant; she brings her food from afar.” (Proverbs 31:14)
This woman doesn’t operate in crisis mode. She anticipates needs and plans accordingly. She doesn’t waste resources through poor planning, nor does she panic when supplies run low. Her household can depend on her foresight.
She probably clips coupons today—or budget shops, meal preps, and tracks expenses. Not because she’s legalistic, but because she’s wise.
Frugal, Not Fearful: She saves and spends intentionally. She doesn’t hoard in fear or waste in impulse. She trusts God while exercising careful judgment.
I long to marry a woman like this—not someone ruled by money, but someone who honors God with how she handles it. A woman who sees budgeting as an act of love and stewardship, not drudgery.
She Invests and Multiplies
“She considers a field and buys it; with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.” (Proverbs 31:16)
This is a woman who has business sense. She doesn’t squander what she’s been given—she increases it. Her actions show discernment, discipline, and entrepreneurial spirit.
Whether she works outside the home or manages within it, she doesn’t waste opportunity. She seeks ways to grow what God has entrusted to her.
A Godly Woman Isn’t Passive With Provision: She looks for ways to make a return—not just financially, but spiritually and relationally.
Marrying a woman like this means building a life together that is fruitful. A marriage that multiplies not just income, but impact.
She Clothes Her Household—Not Herself—in Scarlet
“She is not afraid of snow for her household, for all her household are clothed in scarlet.” (Proverbs 31:21)
Her focus is not on vanity, but preparation. She doesn’t prioritize trends or materialism. Her joy is in seeing her family cared for. She clothes others in beauty and protection, not to impress outsiders but to bless those under her care.
Financial Stewardship Shows in What We Prioritize: The Proverbs 31 woman doesn’t spend to keep up appearances. She uses her resources to prepare, protect, and provide.
I want to marry a woman whose purchases reflect her values. Who sees spending not as self-expression but as stewardship. A woman who finds joy in contentment, not comparison.
She Opens Her Hands to the Poor
“She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy.” (Proverbs 31:20)
This woman isn’t frugal so she can hoard. She’s frugal so she can give. Her stewardship creates margin—not for indulgence but for generosity. She doesn’t just care for her own; she makes room for others.
This is the heart of biblical financial wisdom: freedom to give. She is a cheerful giver because she is a faithful planner.
A Frugal Heart is a Generous One: The woman I long to marry is not tight-fisted, but open-hearted. She sees the needs of others and has the margin—and compassion—to respond.
Her Husband Trusts Her Financially and Personally
“The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain.” (Proverbs 31:11)
This woman is trustworthy. She doesn’t blow the budget or hide purchases. Her husband doesn’t have to micromanage her spending. He knows she is faithful in both private and public dealings.
Marriage Requires Financial Trust: A godly marriage is strengthened when both spouses are aligned in stewardship. The Proverbs 31 woman brings confidence, not anxiety, to the relationship.
This is the kind of woman I hope to marry—someone whose sense of responsibility isn’t motivated by pressure but by love. Who manages resources with integrity because she values what God has entrusted to her.
She Fears the Lord Above All
“Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:30)
This is the root of it all: Her frugality, her labor, her wisdom, and her generosity all flow from a heart that fears the Lord.
She doesn’t worship money. She worships God.
That kind of heart can be trusted with anything—finances, family, future.
The Kind of Woman I’m Praying For
The Proverbs 31 woman is not just a checklist. She is a picture of grace, wisdom, and strength. Her stewardship flows from love—not legalism. Her diligence is humble. Her frugality is generous.
I’m praying for a wife like her:
Who works diligently—not to earn identity, but to bless her family.
Who plans wisely—not in fear, but with foresight.
Who saves and spends intentionally—not for status, but for stewardship.
Who gives generously—not from abundance, but from conviction.
Who honors the Lord in all she does—with her hands, her heart, and her habits.
And I pray that I would be a man worthy of such a woman—a man who leads, supports, and joins her in stewarding life for the glory of God.
“Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.” — Proverbs 31:31
In searching for a future wife, one of the most precious qualities I’ve come to value is flexibility—a gracious spirit that walks with others through their mess, struggles, and growth without contempt. In our age of judgmental comparison, self-righteous virtue signaling, and harsh online “discernment,” this trait is rare. But the Bible gives us shining examples of women who embraced the hard road of grace rather than the easy route of superiority. Chief among them is Mary Magdalene.
Mary’s story is a beacon of hope for every redeemed sinner—and a model of the kind of woman I long to walk beside in marriage. A woman who knows she needed grace, and so extends it to others. A woman who follows Jesus with quiet steadfastness, not self-exaltation. A woman who doesn’t pretend to have it all together but clings to the One who does.
Let’s explore what her life teaches us about flexible, humble, gospel-shaped womanhood—and why this matters so deeply for a man seeking a godly wife.
Mary Knew She Was a Sinner, Not a Savior
The first thing we learn about Mary Magdalene is that she was delivered from demonic oppression: “From whom seven demons had gone out” (Luke 8:2). That’s not just background info—that’s transformation. Mary didn’t come to Jesus with a résumé. She came in need. And Jesus freed her.
This is the foundation of flexibility: a deep awareness of one’s own need for mercy.
Mary didn’t walk around acting spiritually superior. She didn’t try to control others or elevate herself. Instead, she became a quiet, faithful follower—because she knew the weight of her past and the depth of her Savior’s grace.
Flexible Character Trait: She didn’t hold others to standards she herself couldn’t meet. She knew the human heart needed patience, not condemnation.
In a godly woman, I long to see that same humility—a refusal to be preachy or performative. The kind of woman who walks with people through their flaws, not around them. Who believes in progress, not perfection. Who knows we are all sinners in process, saved by the same grace.
Mary Didn’t Virtue Signal—She Served Quietly
Mary Magdalene was one of several women who followed Jesus and “provided for them out of their means” (Luke 8:3). She didn’t use her service to gain power or platform. She gave. She followed. She served in silence.
She didn’t make her discipleship about herself.
There’s no record of Mary preaching or correcting others in the Gospels. Not because she was timid, but because she was humble. She let her love and actions speak. She wasn’t posing for applause. She wasn’t curating a spiritual image.
Flexible Character Trait: She wasn’t focused on how she appeared—she was focused on being present, faithful, and helpful.
That’s the kind of woman whose faith has roots. She doesn’t need to be the center of attention. She has no interest in appearing more “spiritual” than others. She follows Jesus quietly, which is often the loudest testimony of all.
Mary Stayed Through the Cross—When Others Ran
In John 19:25, while others fled in fear, “standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” This was no casual act. Public association with Jesus at the moment of His execution was dangerous. But Mary didn’t flinch.
Flexible Character Trait: She wasn’t rigid or self-protective. Her loyalty adapted to the cost of love. She stayed when it was painful.
This is true spiritual maturity—she didn’t just follow Jesus in the good times. She endured with Him through the suffering. And not by grandstanding or demanding recognition—but by showing up.
In a godly wife, this kind of flexibility is golden. Life is not predictable. Marriage involves sorrow, uncertainty, and seasons of strain. I long to marry a woman like Mary—who can adapt, endure, and love even when the path is dark and costly.
Mary Waited in Grief and Was Rewarded With Joy
Mary didn’t just stay through the crucifixion—she went early to the tomb, expecting only to mourn (John 20:1). Her love wasn’t transactional. She didn’t expect resurrection. She simply wanted to be near the One she loved.
And because of this faithfulness, she became the first witness of the risen Christ.
Jesus said to her, “Mary.” And in one word, He restored her hope.
Flexible Character Trait: She was open to joy, even when she came expecting sorrow. Her heart stayed soft and willing to receive.
Some people live with walls up, defenses raised, and expectations guarded. But Mary lived with an open heart—even when it meant pain. She was flexible in her emotional world. She mourned. She hoped. She clung to Christ.
That kind of heart makes a woman safe to love—because she doesn’t punish you for not being perfect. She mourns with those who mourn and rejoices with those who rejoice.
Mary Didn’t Shame Others—She Shared the Good News
Jesus told her, “Go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” (John 20:17). And she did. She told the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.”
Notice what she didn’t say:
“You guys should’ve stayed like I did.”
“I was the only one who kept the faith.”
“Maybe next time you won’t run.”
No pride. No self-righteousness. Just testimony.
Flexible Character Trait: She didn’t hold others’ failures against them. She simply shared the joy she found.
A godly woman isn’t one who condemns or condescends. She doesn’t use her spiritual milestones as ammunition against others. She lets the grace she’s received flow freely to others.
The Kind of Woman I’m Asking God For
Mary Magdalene shows us what it looks like to be deeply changed by Jesus—and to carry that change with humility and flexibility.
Here’s what I’m praying for in a future wife:
She knows her need for grace – and gives it freely.
She serves quietly – not to be seen but to bless.
She endures suffering with loyalty – and doesn’t panic in pain.
She keeps her heart open – even in the face of grief.
She doesn’t shame others – but shares truth with compassion.
This is the kind of flexibility that matters most—not physical spontaneity or a “go with the flow” vibe. But a spiritual and emotional maturity that can bend without breaking, serve without seeking credit, and love without needing control.
Mary Magdalene wasn’t flashy. She was faithful.
And that is the kind of godly woman I long to marry.
“Her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much.” — Luke 7:47
In today’s culture, respect is often mistaken for compliance or silence. But the Bible shows us that true respectfulness is neither weak nor passive—it is powerful, discerning, and deeply rooted in reverence for God. One of the most vivid examples of a woman who embodied both respectfulness and respectability is Abigail, the wife of Nabal and later the wife of King David. Her story, recorded in 1 Samuel 25, demonstrates how a godly woman can speak and act with honor, navigate difficult relationships with grace, and be respected by both men and God.
As I think about the kind of woman I hope to marry one day, Abigail stands as a striking example. She possessed not only a respectful spirit but also a respectable life. Let’s explore how her story speaks to both of these intertwined traits and how her conduct can guide both women and men in the pursuit of a God-honoring relationship.
Abigail Was Respectful Even When Her Husband Was Not
Abigail was married to Nabal—a man described as harsh, foolish, and evil in his dealings. When David sent men to request provisions, Nabal responded with arrogant hostility. But Abigail, upon hearing of this offense, acted with urgency and wisdom. She did not publicly shame her husband. She did not belittle him to others, even though his behavior brought danger upon their entire household.
Instead, she quietly took initiative to protect her family, sending provisions to David and going to meet him herself.
Red Flag Avoided: Speaking critically of you to others without attempting resolution.
Abigail demonstrates that a respectful woman does not stir up strife, even when she has reason to. She doesn’t expose her husband’s flaws for public consumption. Rather, she pursues peace with discretion and humility.
Abigail Was Respectful Toward David – A Future King
When Abigail met David, she bowed with her face to the ground. Her words were measured, thoughtful, and full of deference. She did not try to control him. She appealed to his conscience and calling, reminding him that vengeance belonged to the Lord.
What Respectfulness Looks Like in a Godly Woman:
She speaks truth, but with gentleness.
She honors the position and calling of a man, even when emotions are high.
She appeals to righteousness, not ego.
David’s response to her was immediate: “Blessed be your discernment, and blessed be you, who have kept me this day from bloodshed.”
That is the fruit of respectfulness—it brings peace, not provocation. Abigail was not passive. She was persuasive without being manipulative. She was honorable without being domineering.
Abigail’s Life Was Marked by Respectability
Abigail’s beauty is noted in Scripture, but even more emphasized is her discernment. She was known as a woman of good understanding. Her actions were swift, wise, and effective. She showed initiative, took responsibility, and protected her household from disaster.
What Respectability Looks Like in a Godly Woman:
She lives in a way that earns trust and admiration.
She is consistent, wise, and composed under pressure.
Others recognize her value, even when surrounded by foolishness.
Red Flag Avoided: Withholding support or acting irresponsibly when things get hard.
Respectability isn’t just about how a woman dresses or what she says—it’s about how she consistently lives. Abigail was the kind of woman whose words carried weight because her character gave them credibility.
Abigail Became the Wife of a King
When Nabal died, David sent for Abigail to become his wife. He recognized not only her wisdom but her worth. She accepted his proposal with humility and grace. She did not gloat over her vindication or flaunt her new position. Her quiet dignity remained.
Red Flag Avoided: Playing games or seeking attention from multiple men.
Abigail was not chasing status. She was not using relationships as leverage. Her rise to queenship came because she first honored God, spoke respectfully, and lived honorably.
The Kind of Woman I’m Praying For
In the story of Abigail, I see the kind of woman who is:
Respectful in speech – She doesn’t tear down but builds up with her words.
Respectful in demeanor – She doesn’t flaunt or provoke; she carries herself with grace.
Respectable in action – She is wise, composed, and trustworthy, even in a crisis.
This is the kind of woman whose presence brings calm, whose counsel brings clarity, and whose life brings honor to the Lord.
In a world that exalts rebellion and loudness, I am praying for a woman like Abigail—bold but not brash, gracious but not gullible, firm in truth yet tender in love. One who respects me, not because I’m perfect, but because she fears the Lord. And one whose own life commands respect because it is marked by wisdom, compassion, and strength.
And may I become a man worthy of such a woman.
“The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands.” — Proverbs 14:1
In a world where relationships are increasingly defined by convenience and personal benefit, the idea of finding a truly loyal woman can feel like looking for a pearl in the depths of the sea. But the Word of God gives us enduring hope and guidance. One of the clearest pictures of loyalty in a godly woman is found in the biblical account of Ruth. Her story is not merely a romantic tale—it is a living testimony to the kind of covenantal, steadfast love that reflects the very heart of God.
As a man seeking a future wife who exemplifies Christlike loyalty, I am drawn to Ruth’s life as a model. Ruth was loyal to her deceased husband’s family, to her mother-in-law Naomi, and ultimately to her future husband Boaz. In every phase of her story, we see her embody the qualities of a faithful, trustworthy, and godly woman—qualities that I long to find in my own future wife.
Let’s walk through Ruth’s loyalty and see how she stood in contrast to modern red flags, and how she models what godly loyalty looks like in action.
Ruth Was Loyal to Her Husband Even in Death
Ruth’s story begins with tragedy. Her husband had died, and with him, the apparent security of her future. According to worldly wisdom, Ruth should have returned to her family, remarried in Moab, and moved on. But she didn’t. Instead, she honored her late husband by staying with Naomi, his mother, who was now a destitute widow.
This shows us something crucial: Ruth’s loyalty wasn’t based on what she could get. It was covenantal, not contractual. She did not abandon her commitment when it became inconvenient.
Red Flag Avoided: Quick to run when things are hard or when conflict arises.
Ruth stayed.
She clung to Naomi and the God of Israel with the famous words: “Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16).
This is loyalty in its purest form—one that does not forsake when loss or hardship arises. That’s the kind of loyalty I desire to find in a woman: one who sees love as a covenant, even when life takes an unexpected turn.
Ruth Was Loyal to Naomi – Her Mother-in-Law
Ruth didn’t just stay with Naomi; she actively served and cared for her. She moved to a foreign land with no promise of protection, income, or status—simply because she loved and honored her family. Ruth worked in the fields to provide food for Naomi and did so without complaint or entitlement.
Red Flag Avoided: Withholding emotional support or affection when it’s inconvenient.
Ruth went out to glean in the fields not for her own benefit but for the well-being of her aging and bitter mother-in-law. When Naomi sank into despair, Ruth remained a steady presence—not preaching, not correcting, just faithful.
That kind of loyalty reveals a woman who has emotional resilience, compassion, and strength—all rooted in her commitment to others.
Ruth Was Loyal to Boaz Before They Were Married
What’s most stunning is that Ruth honored Boaz before there was any promise of marriage. When she approached him on the threshing floor (a culturally appropriate sign of interest in that day), she did so with humility, purity, and intention. There was no manipulation, no game-playing. She wasn’t chasing attention from other men.
Red Flag Avoided: Flirting or keeping close relationships with other men in secret.
Red Flag Avoided: Playing games or keeping options open.
Ruth’s actions reflected a woman who walked with integrity even when no one was watching. She guarded her reputation and maintained boundaries. She trusted God’s timing and honored Boaz as a man of worth.
That kind of woman is rare. She does not see relationships as a ladder to climb or a marketplace to sample. She sees marriage as a sacred union to be entered with prayer, patience, and discernment.
Ruth Spoke Honorably and Acted With Integrity
In every conversation recorded in the book of Ruth, she speaks with humility, honor, and grace. She listens well. She does not gossip, and she does not demean others to lift herself up. When she speaks to Naomi, the field workers, and Boaz, she is respectful and dignified.
Red Flag Avoided: Speaking critically of you to others without attempting resolution.
Ruth would not have been one to vent her frustrations on social media or tear down others with sarcasm. She dealt with life’s challenges with wisdom and grace, and she always upheld the dignity of the people around her.
What Loyalty Looks Like in a Godly Woman – Embodied by Ruth
Let’s revisit the traits of a loyal woman through the lens of Ruth:
1. Faithful to God First
Ruth turned from the gods of Moab and followed the Lord of Israel. Her loyalty to Naomi was ultimately rooted in her submission to God. She began every relationship by anchoring herself to the Lord.
2. Faithful to Her Future Husband
Before the wedding vows were ever exchanged, Ruth demonstrated the qualities of a faithful wife. She guarded her heart, protected Boaz’s integrity, and acted in accordance with righteousness.
3. Defends the Relationship
When others left, Ruth stayed. When Naomi was bitter, Ruth loved. When there was no clear path forward, Ruth walked in faith. She was not passive about her commitments.
4. Integrity When Alone
What Ruth did in the shadows of gleaning fields and in quiet conversations was consistent with what she did in public. She lived a life of transparency and integrity.
5. She Builds, Not Undermines
Ruth’s presence in Naomi’s life restored hope. Her union with Boaz brought redemption. She is not a woman who tears down—she builds legacy.
The Kind of Woman I’m Waiting For
As a man preparing my heart for marriage, I’m not looking for perfection. I’m looking for Ruth-like loyalty:
A woman who fears God above all
A woman who does not run from difficulty
A woman who guards her heart and speech
A woman who honors covenant over convenience
A woman who is consistent, faithful, and kind
I don’t need someone to perform. I need someone who will be faithful in the field when no one’s watching. Who will love when it’s hard. Who will stay when others leave.
I am praying that God is preparing a Ruth-hearted woman even now—one whose loyalty is not just romantic, but spiritual, moral, and enduring.
And I am preparing myself to be a Boaz—worthy of such a woman.
So to the young men reading: Look for loyalty not in public displays but in private decisions. And to the young women: Let Ruth be your model, not the influencers of the age.
God is still writing love stories that are built to last—and they begin with loyalty.
“May the Lord reward your work, and your wages be full from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” — Ruth 2:12
Text: Hebrews 9:11–15 Cross-references: Daniel 7:13–14; John 17
Introduction: Christ’s Work in Heaven
There is, perhaps, no truth more neglected among modern believers than that of the present work of our Lord Jesus Christ. We speak, and rightly so, of His incarnation, of His death upon the cross, and of His glorious resurrection—but how little is said of what He is doing now. The average Christian lives as if Christ simply ascended and disappeared, leaving us to carry on His work. But this is not the witness of the Scriptures.
What we must understand is this: that the work of our Lord Jesus did not conclude upon the cross, nor even with the empty tomb. Rather, the Scriptures teach us that He entered into heaven itself, into the true sanctuary, as both Priest and King, to appear in the presence of God for us. And in so doing, He fulfilled the vision that Daniel saw—the exaltation of the Son of Man to the Ancient of Days (Daniel 7:13–14). This was not merely a symbolic event; it was a literal, historical, and redemptive accomplishment. And it is this, I believe, that the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews sets before us so magnificently.
Let us never forget that Hebrews is not a mere theological treatise—it is a sermon. And the preacher, inspired by the Holy Ghost, is declaring to weary, persecuted Jewish Christians the absolute sufficiency of Christ’s person and work. He wants to anchor their faith not in earthly rituals, not in outward ceremonies, not in priesthoods that fade away—but in the risen, ascended, enthroned Christ who ministers in heaven right now on our behalf.
And so I say to you: if you are a Christian and yet your conscience remains troubled, if your heart still looks for assurance, if your soul is weary in service and uncertain in faith, it is because you have not rightly understood where Christ is and what He is doing. This passage, Hebrews 9:11–15, opens heaven’s veil to us. It shows us the High Priest who has entered once and for all, securing eternal redemption. And it is this action, this moment, that Daniel foresaw and that Jesus Himself anticipated in His high priestly prayer in John 17.
Let us then begin with the prophetic vision—the foundation of all that follows.
I. The Heavenly Scene Foretold – Daniel 7:13–14
A. The Vision of Daniel: A Prophetic Mystery
Daniel was given one of the most remarkable visions in all of Scripture. He sees, amidst terrifying kingdoms and collapsing empires, a figure unlike any other—a Son of Man. This is not a beast, not a monstrous ruler like those that came before, but one like a man, yet more than a man. “I saw in the night visions,” Daniel writes, “and behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a son of man, and he came to the Ancient of Days and was presented before him” (Daniel 7:13, ESV).
This, my friends, is not the Second Coming. This is the Ascension. The language is decisive—He is not coming from the Ancient of Days, but to Him. This is not a descent to earth, but an entrance into heaven. It is the return of the Redeemer to the presence of His Father, bearing the spoils of His conquest—the blood of the atonement, the obedience of His life, and the names of His people.
It is a royal enthronement. “And to him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him” (v. 14). This is no earthly kingdom, subject to time or decay, but “an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away.” And who is this Son of Man? Who is this figure who approaches the Ancient of Days in such majesty? It is none other than Jesus Christ, the Risen and Ascended Lord.
You remember how often our Lord referred to Himself as the “Son of Man.” It was not simply to emphasize His humanity—no, it was to identify Himself with this very vision. Every time He spoke of the Son of Man coming on the clouds, He was alluding to this majestic scene in Daniel. And yet, how many missed it then—and how many still miss it now.
B. The Ascension Interpreted by the New Testament
Turn, then, to Hebrews 9:11–12. What does the apostle declare?
“But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption.”
Do you see it? Here is the fulfillment of Daniel’s vision. Here is the Son of Man ascending—not into the skies merely—but into the very presence of God. And what does He bring? Not a political agenda. Not angelic fanfare. He brings blood. His own blood. The blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. The blood that once and for all satisfies the righteous demands of the law.
This is not a metaphor. This is not mere symbol. This is reality. This is the high point of redemptive history. When Jesus Christ ascended, He was not merely leaving earth—He was entering the throne room of heaven as our High Priest and King. He was being presented before the Ancient of Days, as Daniel saw, and to Him was given the everlasting kingdom.
And the book of Hebrews tells us why this matters. Because He entered, we are accepted. Because He stands there now, our salvation is secure. Because He lives to intercede, we have confidence to draw near.
Let me ask you, dear friends: Is this how you think of Christ? Not as a distant figure of history, not as a crucified teacher or moral example—but as the living, enthroned High Priest, interceding for you now?
This is the very heart of Christianity—not just what Christ did, but where Christ is.
II. The Greater and More Perfect Tabernacle – Hebrews 9:11–12
Now we come to the very marrow of the passage. The apostle declares in no uncertain terms that Christ, when He appeared as our High Priest, entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, one not made with hands, not of this creation. This statement, my friends, is one of the most sublime and spiritually rich declarations in all of Holy Scripture.
What does he mean by this? What is this “greater and more perfect tabernacle”? It is none other than heaven itself. Not a tent of goat’s hair in a desert. Not a temple of stone in Jerusalem. But the true dwelling place of God. The heavenly sanctuary. The throne room of divine majesty.
The Apostle Paul says in Colossians that the earthly tabernacle was merely a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ (Col. 2:17). And again, in Hebrews 8, we read that the earthly priests “serve a copy and shadow of the heavenly things.” The old tabernacle, with its golden lampstand and its ark of the covenant, its altars and its veil—these were not ends in themselves. They were signposts. Types. Shadows cast by a far greater reality.
You must understand: the entire ceremonial system of the Old Covenant was, from the very beginning, preparatory. God never intended it to be the final answer. It was never meant to cleanse the conscience or reconcile the sinner in full. It was a tutor, a teacher, to lead us to Christ.
And here in Hebrews 9, the apostle wants to shake us from any illusion that the old forms—beautiful as they were—could ever truly satisfy. He is addressing Jewish believers tempted to return to the old rituals, to the sacrifices and the temple rites. They had suffered for their faith. They were tempted to look back. And he says, “No! Christ has come, and with Him, the greater tabernacle!”
A. The Contrast: Shadows vs. Substance
Let us consider the contrast more closely.
The earthly tabernacle was made by men. It was built according to divine instructions, yes, but it was of this world—material, physical, and temporal. It could be torn down, and it was. It could be defiled, and it was. It was entered regularly by sinful priests who themselves needed atonement.
But Christ did not enter into such a place. He did not go into the old Holy of Holies, the one behind the veil in Jerusalem. No, He entered into the true Holy Place—the immediate presence of God. And He did not do so as one in need of cleansing, but as the sinless, spotless Lamb of God.
This is why the apostle emphasizes: not by the blood of goats and calves, but by His own blood.
Now this must be understood correctly. Christ did not carry physical blood into heaven as though offering it in some heavenly bowl. Rather, the emphasis is on the merit of that blood, the efficacy of that offering. It is by virtue of His shed blood—His completed sacrifice on the cross—that He enters. He brings the value of the blood, the power of the atonement, and that is what secures our eternal redemption.
You see, my friends, the Old Covenant was marked by repetition. The priest entered year after year, offering the same sacrifices, which could never take away sin. They could purify the flesh, yes. They could restore ceremonial cleanliness. But they could not cleanse the conscience. They could not change the heart.
But Christ has entered once for all—not every year, not again and again. Once… For all time… And in doing so, He has secured eternal redemption.
B. The True Day of Atonement
Consider for a moment the Day of Atonement, the high point of Israel’s calendar. On that day, the high priest would enter behind the veil, into the Most Holy Place. He would offer the blood of a bull for his own sin, and the blood of a goat for the people. He would sprinkle it on the mercy seat. He would burn incense. And all of this, under strict regulation, with fear and trembling, lest he die.
And yet, that entire ritual, year after year, was only pointing forward. It was never the substance—it was the shadow. What the high priest did in type, Christ has done in truth. What was enacted in symbol, He has accomplished in reality.
But oh, how much more glorious His ministry! The Old Covenant priest never sat down. There were no chairs in the tabernacle. Why? Because his work was never done. But Christ, when He had offered a single sacrifice for sins, sat down at the right hand of God. (Heb. 10:12)
Let me ask you: are you trusting in a Christ who is seated? Are you resting in the finality of His work? Or are you still laboring under the burden of a guilty conscience, as though the sacrifice were incomplete?
This is the glory of the Gospel: our High Priest is not ministering in the shadows—He is in the reality. He has entered the heavens with the merit of His own obedience and death, and He now ministers there for us.
C. What This Means for Us
Now what does all this mean practically?
It means, first, that your salvation is as secure as Christ’s position in heaven. As long as He remains there—and He shall remain forever—your redemption stands. You are not saved because you feel saved. You are not accepted because of your sincerity or your devotion. You are accepted in the Beloved because Christ has entered once for all, bearing His own blood.
It means, second, that you must stop looking to yourself. You must stop measuring your assurance by your performance. The conscience is cleansed not by introspection, not by self-effort, not by emotional catharsis—but by the blood of Christ applied through faith.
It means, third, that you may draw near. The veil is torn. The throne of grace is open. You do not need a human mediator, a priest or a pastor to represent you before God. Christ Himself is your Mediator. He bids you come boldly—not arrogantly, but confidently—because He has gone before you.
Oh, how little we make of these truths today. How often we reduce Christianity to therapy, or to moral improvement. We forget the grandeur of our redemption. But here it is, laid bare: Christ, our High Priest, has entered heaven itself, and has secured for us an eternal redemption.
“For Christ has not entered into holy places made with hands… but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us.” (Heb. 9:24)
Let us marvel at this. Let us worship. Let us bow in reverent wonder. For this is the Gospel—not only that Christ died, but that He now lives and reigns as our Mediator and Priest in the heavenly sanctuary.
III. The Fulfillment of the High Priestly Work – John 17
We have looked into the heavenly tabernacle—this “greater and more perfect tent”—and we have seen that Christ has entered it not with the blood of animals, but with His own blood, thereby securing an eternal redemption. And now, before we examine more closely the blood itself, we must turn our attention to that deeply solemn and sublime passage which reveals the heart and intention of our Lord immediately before He offered that blood: John 17.
This chapter is often referred to as the High Priestly Prayer of Christ—and rightly so. It is a sacred moment, a hush before the storm. The cross lies directly ahead, yet the Lord is composed, clear, and determined. He lifts His eyes to heaven, and what follows is not mere private devotion, but a public unveiling of what is to come. This is not the weak pleading of a man at the end of his strength—this is the King-Priest declaring the completion of His mission and the inauguration of His heavenly ministry.
Indeed, John 17 is nothing less than a prophetic unfolding of what Christ will do immediately following His ascension into the heavenly sanctuary. The language is confident. The vision is certain. The Son knows the glory that awaits Him, and He gives voice to that which He shall fulfill once He ascends.
Let us consider several vital statements from this chapter.
A. “Father, the hour has come” – John 17:1
“Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you…”
The “hour” of Christ has arrived—the appointed time decreed in eternity past when the eternal Son would complete His mission on earth. And what does He ask? “Glorify your Son.”
This glorification includes the cross, yes, but it does not end there. It includes the resurrection and the ascension and the enthronement. It is the whole movement upward, back to the presence of the Father—not merely as the eternal Son, but now as the God-Man, the High Priest who bears our names upon His heart.
This is the fulfillment of Daniel 7: “One like a Son of Man… came to the Ancient of Days… and to Him was given dominion and glory and a kingdom.” Jesus is now setting in motion the very ascent depicted by Daniel. He is, even in this prayer, preparing to walk the path that will lead from the cross to the clouds, from the tomb to the throne.
B. “I have glorified You on earth” – John 17:4
“I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do.”
Notice the past tense: “I have glorified… I have accomplished.” Though the cross lies immediately ahead, Christ speaks as though it were already complete. Such is the certainty of His obedience, the resolve of His love, and the unshakable decree of God.
The work He refers to is not merely His teaching or miracles. It is the work of perfect obedience, the fulfilling of all righteousness, and ultimately the atoning death that would satisfy divine justice.
But again, this work is not an end in itself. It is the ground upon which He shall stand as Mediator in heaven. The cross qualifies Him to enter the true Holy of Holies—not as a victim, but as a Victor; not as one to be sacrificed again, but as the Priest who has already offered the once-for-all sacrifice.
C. “Glorify Me… with the glory I had with You” – John 17:5
“And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed.”
This is perhaps one of the most astonishing requests in all of Scripture. The eternal Son, having taken upon Himself our flesh, now prepares to return to the glory He shared with the Father before the foundation of the world. But now, He returns not only as God—but as the God-Man. As the second Adam, the Great High Priest, the Mediator of a better covenant.
This moment—His glorification in the presence of the Father—is precisely what Hebrews 9 reveals: that He entered not into holy places made with hands, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us.
Christ, by His own death, is preparing to resume the glory of heaven—but He does so not alone. He does so bearing the names of His people, having secured our place with Him.
D. “I desire that they… may be with Me” – John 17:24
“Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory…”
Here we see the very heart of the priestly ministry. Why does Christ die? Why does He rise? Why does He ascend and intercede? It is so that we—His blood-bought people—might be with Him, to see and share in His glory.
This is not vague sentiment. This is covenantal purpose. The blood He is about to shed is not simply to pardon, but to purchase a people for glory. His ministry is not simply rescue from judgment, but restoration to communion.
This is the very end for which the blood will be spilled, and it brings us directly into the next portion of our passage.
For if Christ desires that we be with Him and see His glory, we must ask: How is that accomplished? How is sin removed? How is the conscience cleansed? How is entrance into the presence of God made possible?
The answer, as Hebrews 9:13–15 now shows us, is through the power of the blood.
IV. The Blood That Speaks – Hebrews 9:13–15
It is here that the entire argument of the epistle—and of redemption itself—comes to a head. The Son has entered heaven. The High Priest has taken His place. But on what basis? With what authority? By what means?
And the answer is given in glorious clarity: the blood of Christ.
For if the blood of bulls and goats and the sprinkling of ashes had any ceremonial effect under the old covenant, how much more shall the precious blood of the sinless Son of God cleanse the conscience, purge the heart, and prepare us to serve the living God?
“For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God.” (Hebrews 9:13–14)
A. The Inner Work: Purifying the Conscience
Now notice carefully what the apostle says: that the blood of Christ purifies not merely the body, not the outward man, but the conscience.
My dear friends, let me say this with great clarity: a guilty conscience is one of the great hindrances to true Christian service. It robs the believer of joy, of peace, of power in prayer. It makes us timid, anxious, uncertain. And tragically, many Christians live in a condition of spiritual instability because they have never fully grasped the sufficiency of the blood of Christ.
They confess sin, but still carry shame. They sing of grace, but live under guilt. Why? Because their conscience has not been purified by the living application of Christ’s blood through faith.
Do you understand what the blood of Christ does? It speaks to your inner man. It declares, “It is finished!” It silences the Law’s demands. It hushes the accuser’s voice. It cleanses the stain that nothing else could ever reach. No ritual can do this. No good work can bring it. No philosophy can provide it.
Only the blood of the spotless Lamb, offered through the eternal Spirit, to God on your behalf, can cleanse your conscience so that you may serve—not as a slave, but as a son.
And what a transformation that is! From dead works—those futile efforts to justify oneself before God—to living worship and service. From hollow religion to spiritual communion. From dread of God to delight in Him.
This is the effectual, inward work of the new covenant, purchased by blood. And it is the necessary preparation for the Christian life—not just for conversion, but for the entire Christian pilgrimage.
B. The Mediator of the New Covenant (v.15)
“Therefore he is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, since a death has occurred that redeems them from the transgressions committed under the first covenant.”
Now the apostle lifts our eyes higher still. Christ is not only a Redeemer—He is the Mediator of a new covenant.
And what is a mediator? It is one who stands between two parties—representing each, reconciling both. Christ is the one who bridges the chasm between God and man. He fulfills both sides: He satisfies divine justice as God, and He obeys the law perfectly as man.
And this mediation, we are told, ensures that “those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance.”
You see, this is not theoretical theology. This is intensely personal. There are a people—called, chosen, beloved—who shall, because of Christ’s blood, receive the promised inheritance. Not just forgiveness, but eternal fellowship with God. Not just rescue from judgment, but restoration to glory. Not merely escape from hell, but entrance into the very presence of God, where there is fullness of joy.
But how is this possible? “Since a death has occurred…” Yes, this is the bedrock. Christ has died—once, for all. The curse of the law has been satisfied. The transgressions of the first covenant—those countless violations of the Mosaic Law—have been dealt with. The price has been paid. The debt is cleared.
And the result? The way is opened. The inheritance is secured. The covenant is enacted.
Now understand this, dear friends: This is not some abstract transaction. This is not mechanical or distant. This is the heart of God expressed through the cross. It is love in action. It is justice and mercy meeting in the blood of Christ.
This is what Christ was preparing to do in John 17. This is what He entered heaven to proclaim in Daniel 7. And this is what the Holy Spirit now declares through Hebrews 9: that the blood of Jesus Christ purifies, redeems, mediates, and secures.
But having laid such glorious theological foundations, the apostle will not leave us in the clouds. He brings us down to earth. He now calls us to respond—not with cold assent or detached admiration—but with wholehearted, practical submission.
For if these things be true—and they are—then they demand everything from us. They demand our attention, our worship, our service, and our lives.
And so we are led, quite naturally and necessarily, into our final consideration:
V. Application and Exhortation: Living Under the Power of a Perfect Priesthood
For what is all this theology—this glory, this cleansing, this eternal inheritance—meant to produce? Is it not meant to shape the way we live? To affect how we think, how we pray, how we walk in this present evil world?
It is not enough, you see, to admire the priesthood of Christ—we must live in light of it. We must live as those whose consciences have been cleansed, whose debts have been paid, whose eternal destiny is secure.
And the New Testament never separates doctrine from duty. The indicatives of grace always lead to the imperatives of godliness. If Christ is now in heaven for us, then what should that mean for our lives now, here below?
It is to this vital, searching, and glorious question that we now turn.
Having seen the glory of the ascended Christ, the superiority of His sacrifice, and the eternal redemption He has secured through His blood, we are now confronted with a question of deep personal significance: What does all of this mean for us? What should be the effect of this glorious truth upon the daily life of the believer?
My dear friends, I fear that many professing Christians live far beneath their privileges. We affirm great doctrines, yet we live like paupers. We sing of redemption, but carry guilt like those still under the law. We hear of a High Priest in heaven, yet we often live as if we must still mediate for ourselves.
And so, the question we must answer this morning is this: How should we now live, in light of the finished work and heavenly ministry of Christ?
Let me offer three great exhortations drawn directly from the logic of Hebrews and the implications of John 17.
A. Let Us Rest in a Perfect Salvation
The first application is this: rest in the finished work of Christ. Cease from your striving. Stop your vain attempts to earn God’s favor. Lay down the weary burden of self-righteousness.
Why? Because Christ has already done what you never could. He has obeyed the law perfectly. He has satisfied the justice of God. He has sprinkled the mercy seat—not with the blood of another, but with His own—and the Father has accepted it.
Do not insult this great High Priest by doubting His sufficiency. Do not grieve the Spirit by living as though the cross were incomplete. Your salvation does not rest upon your strength, but upon His blood and righteousness.
Oh, how many Christians live under a cloud because they will not believe that Christ’s blood truly cleanses! How many continue to confess the same sin—not because they are repenting, but because they do not believe it has been forgiven.
Let the blood speak louder than your shame. Let the intercession of Christ drown out the accusations of the devil. Let His entrance into heaven assure you that you belong there too—not because of what you’ve done, but because of what He has done for you.
B. Let Us Serve the Living God with a Clean Conscience
Secondly, the apostle tells us that the blood of Christ purifies the conscience to serve the living God (Hebrews 9:14). True service flows not from guilt, but from grace—not from fear, but from joy.
We are not called to serve in order to be saved, but because we are saved. The priesthood of Christ does not make our service unnecessary; it makes it possible and acceptable.
Before Christ, the conscience is defiled. Even our best efforts are tainted. Our “righteous deeds are as filthy rags.” But now, being washed and made new, we can offer spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God through Jesus Christ (1 Peter 2:5).
And so I ask you: are you serving the Lord? Are you using your gifts, your energy, your time in view of the mercy you’ve received? Have you moved beyond ceremonial religion into living worship? Does the reality of the heavenly sanctuary shape your priorities on earth?
Let it never be said of us that we loved doctrine but neglected duty. Let it never be said that we rejoiced in Christ’s intercession but failed to intercede for others. Let us rise and serve the living God with confidence—not to earn His love, but because we already have it.
C. Let Us Live in Light of the Eternal Inheritance
Finally, we are told that those who are called receive the promised eternal inheritance (Hebrews 9:15). That is our destination. That is our hope.
You see, Christ has not only purchased our forgiveness—He has secured our future. He did not enter the heavenly tabernacle merely to stand there; He entered as our Forerunner (Hebrews 6:20), preparing a place for us.
How does this affect your daily life? It means you can endure suffering with patience. It means you can resist temptation with purpose. It means you can say no to the world’s offers because you have something infinitely better.
We are strangers and pilgrims here. Our citizenship is in heaven. And one day, we shall see the Son of Man again—not coming to suffer, but to reign—not to offer sacrifice, but to claim His bride.
And when He comes, He shall not come for those who merely nodded at His doctrines, but for those who longed for His appearing—those who lived as if heaven were real, and Christ were near.
Conclusion: The Throne, the Blood, and the Call to Come
Let me end where we began. The Christian life stands upon a mighty foundation: a throne, a priest, and a blood that speaks better things than that of Abel.
Christ, the Son of Man, has ascended to the Ancient of Days. He has taken His seat at the right hand of the Majesty on high. He has entered the true tabernacle, having obtained eternal redemption.
He is the fulfillment of Daniel’s vision. He is the answer to His own high priestly prayer in John 17. And He is the one whom the author of Hebrews sets before us—not as a figure of history, but as a present and living reality.
So I ask you now, as a preacher of the gospel and as your fellow pilgrim:
Have you fled to this High Priest for refuge?
Has His blood cleansed your conscience?
Are you living under the power of His intercession?
Are you longing for the inheritance He has secured?
Do not be content with outward religion. Do not settle for cold orthodoxy or ceremonial routine. Come all the way in. Come past the outer court. Come beyond the veil. Come by the blood of Jesus into the presence of the living God.
“Let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” (Hebrews 10:22)
And let us live—joyfully, courageously, and reverently—as those whose names are written in heaven, whose sins are covered by blood, and whose High Priest reigns forever.
To Him be glory and dominion and majesty forever and ever. Amen.
Before you go!
Would you please take a moment to pray for my dear brother and sister in Christ—Mitchell and Paige Geerts—who were just married this past weekend and are currently on their honeymoon? Pray that the Lord would shape Mitchell into a godly, sacrificial leader in their home—a true reflection of Christ, a savior to his bride. Pray that Paige would joyfully and wisely submit to his leadership and become a mother-of-life in their household—a steadfast, Spirit-filled prayer warrior for their marriage and for our church. Your prayers for them mean more than you know. Thank you for lifting them up before the throne of grace.
William Perkins (1558–1602), known as the Father of the Puritan Movement, was a theologian and preacher who shaped generations of English Protestants. With clarity and pastoral urgency, Perkins laid out ten steps that describe the soul’s journey into true conversion. These were not intended as cold doctrines but as spiritual markers to help ordinary believers examine their hearts.
As Jesus said in Matthew 7:21, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven…” Genuine salvation is not merely a profession but a Spirit-wrought transformation.
Here are Perkins’ ten steps, explained, supported with Scripture, and expounded upon for today’s reader:
Hearing the Word of God with Conviction
“So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” —Romans 10:17
True conversion begins when the Word of God is heard—not only with the ears but with the conscience awakened. The Word pierces the heart and lays bare the soul. Regular engagement with Scripture uncovers sin, corrects the mind, and begins the inward work of grace.
Exegesis: Paul teaches that faith is not self-generated; it arises through the Spirit’s work as we encounter Christ in the gospel. Conviction is evidence that the Word is taking root.
Learning to Discern Good from Evil
“But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.” —Hebrews 5:14
As a person continues in the Word, their conscience becomes sharpened. Sin loses its disguises. Holiness becomes beautiful. This step marks spiritual growth in wisdom and an increasing alignment with God’s will.
Exegesis: The writer to the Hebrews rebukes spiritual stagnation. Discernment is not automatic—it grows through consistent exposure to God’s truth and obedience.
Conviction of Personal Sin
“Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips…” —Isaiah 6:5 “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” —Romans 3:23
Genuine conversion brings a realization that sin is not just a concept but a personal offense against God. It produces humility, confession, and a sense of one’s need for reconciliation.
Exegesis: Isaiah’s vision of God’s holiness exposes his sinfulness, just as God’s Word does for us. Paul, in Romans, universalizes the guilt—all must reckon with this reality.
Fearing God’s Wrath
“It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” —Hebrews 10:31 “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” —Proverbs 9:10
While modern thinking often softens God’s justice, Perkins reminds us that true conversion does not ignore the reality of judgment. A holy fear drives us from sin and into the arms of mercy.
Exegesis: Hebrews speaks to professing Christians who are tempted to turn away. God’s wrath is not a medieval myth—it is a biblical warning that reveals His justice and calls us to repentance.
Seriously Considering the Gospel
“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation…” —Romans 1:16–17
To consider the gospel is not a passing thought—it is to weigh it, to meditate on it, and to seek understanding. The gospel reveals both our ruin and God’s remedy. The more deeply it is considered, the more clearly Christ’s beauty is seen.
Exegesis: Paul highlights that the gospel reveals God’s righteousness. This is not man’s work for God, but God’s work for man. We receive this righteousness through faith.
Beginning to Trust Christ
“Whoever believes in him is not condemned…” —John 3:18 “The life I now live… I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” —Galatians 2:20
The convicted soul turns from self to Christ. Trust begins. Faith reaches out—not with perfect strength, but with genuine dependence. Christ becomes not just the Savior, but my Savior.
Exegesis: Faith unites us to Christ. John makes the contrast clear: belief brings life, unbelief brings condemnation. Galatians shows the personal nature of saving faith.
Overcoming Doubt and Unbelief
“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” —Mark 9:24 “I have been crucified with Christ… and the life I now live… I live by faith…” —Galatians 2:20
A growing believer does not live in constant despair. Though doubts arise, the heart increasingly rests in God’s truth. This assurance is the fruit of spiritual maturity and the Spirit’s witness.
Exegesis: The father in Mark shows that imperfect faith is still true faith. God meets us in our weakness. As we grow, faith replaces doubt—not by our strength, but by God’s promises.
Resting on the Promises of God
“For all the promises of God find their Yes in him.” —2 Corinthians 1:20 “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” —Hebrews 13:5
A converted heart learns to cling to the promises of God—not as vague hopes but as personal assurances. The “I wills” of Scripture become the foundation upon which we stand.
Exegesis: God’s promises are secured in Christ. Every covenant word finds fulfillment in Him. The believer lives not by sight, but by trusting these sure promises.
Evangelical Sorrow for Sin
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” —Matthew 5:4 “Rivers of water run down from my eyes, because men do not keep Your law.” —Psalm 119:136
As one grows in grace, sorrow deepens—not only for personal sin but for sin in the world. This is not despair, but a Spirit-produced grief that leads to intercession, repentance, and hope.
Exegesis: Jesus blesses those who mourn—not with self-pity but over sin. Psalm 119 expresses a heart so aligned with God’s holiness that it weeps over unrighteousness.
Seeking to Obey God
“If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” —John 14:15 “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.” —James 1:22
True conversion produces obedience. Not to earn God’s favor—but because we have received it. The new heart delights in God’s law and longs for His name to be honored.
Exegesis: Jesus makes obedience the fruit of love, not legalism. James warns that hearing without doing is spiritual self-deception. Real faith works through love.
Final Exhortation: Examine Yourself
Perkins’ list is not meant to create fear, but clarity. As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 13:5, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith.”
These ten steps map out the Spirit’s work in the soul. Have you experienced them? Do they reflect your own journey? If not, don’t delay. Run to Christ. Ask Him to grant you a new heart. There is no sin so great that His grace cannot cover.
As Perkins once warned and encouraged: “Let us not content ourselves with the outward show of religion, but labor to have the truth and power of it in our hearts.”
Submit yourself to the test—and above all, submit yourself to Christ.
When we think of early Hollywood, images of glamorous stars, dramatic scores, and sweeping tales come to mind—but behind that golden curtain was a clever dance with censorship. During the early to mid-20th century, strict moral codes regulated what could and couldn’t be shown on the silver screen. But Hollywood, ever the innovator, found a loophole: if you couldn’t depict sensuality in modern stories, you could still slip it into tales of ancient civilizations and Biblical grandeur. Enter films like The Ten Commandments (1956), David and Bathsheba (1951), and Cleopatra (1963)—lavish epics that offered not just spiritual or historical inspiration, but thinly veiled eroticism wrapped in moral or historical justification.
This fascinating workaround tells us a lot about the culture of early cinema—and about the human impulse to express what’s forbidden, even when under a microscope.
The Rise of the Hays Code
To understand the loophole, we have to start with the barrier: the Motion Picture Production Code, more commonly known as the Hays Code, named after Will H. Hays, president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA). Enforced from the 1930s through the late 1960s, the Hays Code established what was deemed morally acceptable in American cinema.
The code forbade explicit depictions of sexuality, nudity, profanity, excessive violence, and anything that might “lower the moral standards of those who see it.” Adultery, for instance, could be implied, but never justified or shown as glamorous. Even a passionate kiss had to be restrained—and preferably followed by guilt, consequences, or both.
While this limited the content of film scripts and screenplays, it didn’t curb the appetite of moviegoers for stories that stirred emotion, imagination, or desire. Hollywood needed a way to satisfy the audience’s craving for spectacle, drama, and sensuality—without running afoul of the moral police.
A Clever Cloak: Ancient Worlds and Sacred Texts
The solution was both shrewd and poetic: wrap sensuality in historical or Biblical storytelling. By placing scantily clad women, forbidden affairs, and suggestive dances in the context of ancient Egypt, Rome, or Israel, filmmakers could argue that they were simply depicting history—or illustrating a Biblical moral lesson.
After all, the Bible itself is full of stories of lust, betrayal, violence, and temptation. The difference was that these themes could be framed as warnings, not celebrations.
Hollywood latched onto this angle and gave audiences a buffet of visual delights under the banner of religious and cultural education.
David and Bathsheba (1951): Desire in the Shadow of Judgment
Henry King’s David and Bathsheba, starring Gregory Peck and Susan Hayward, is a prime example. The story comes from 2 Samuel—King David sees Bathsheba bathing, desires her, and initiates an affair that leads to deception and death. It’s a tale of lust and power, guilt and repentance.
Under the Hays Code, this story might’ve been off-limits in a contemporary setting, but wrapped in ancient Israel’s history, it was suddenly permissible. The film leaned into the sexual tension between David and Bathsheba, offering close-ups of Bathsheba’s wet, glistening body and lingering glances that conveyed more than words could say.
Yet because the story ends in repentance and moral resolution, the sensuality could be defended as necessary context for a moral lesson. The result? Audiences got a steamy tale disguised as spiritual reflection.
The Ten Commandments (1956): Holy Ground with High Glamour
Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments is one of the most iconic Biblical epics ever made. With Charlton Heston as Moses and Yul Brynner as Pharaoh Rameses, the film dazzled with its pageantry, special effects, and sweeping narrative.
But look closer, and you’ll find that DeMille didn’t just deliver religious drama—he also wove in a fair share of seductive intrigue. Characters like Nefretiri (played by Anne Baxter) are presented with stunning costumes, sultry eyes, and suggestive dialogue. Her desire for Moses—and her jealousy over his love for another—creates an emotional triangle that heightens both romantic and sexual tension.
Nefretiri’s allure is central to the drama, and DeMille clearly enjoyed pushing the limits of what he could show. Her dresses cling to her form, her movements are sensual, and her role is not merely decorative—she is the vehicle through which desire and danger intersect. But again, because the film is rooted in Scripture, the sensuality is cloaked in moral storytelling.
Cleopatra (1963): A Queen of Seduction on a Grand Stage
By the early 1960s, the Hays Code was starting to lose its grip, but Cleopatra still played by many of its rules. With Elizabeth Taylor in the title role, the film became one of the most lavish—and expensive—productions of all time. It also turned Cleopatra into a modern sex symbol, despite being set in 1st century BCE.
Cleopatra’s character was rooted in history, but her depiction was pure Hollywood seductress: commanding yet sultry, intelligent yet emotionally explosive. Her affairs with Julius Caesar (Rex Harrison) and Mark Antony (Richard Burton) were given the spotlight, with luxurious costuming, lingering bedroom scenes, and exotic dances that, in any other context, would have been censored.
Because Cleopatra was a historical figure, and her romantic liaisons are part of the historical record, the filmmakers could push the envelope. In truth, the film used its ancient setting to smuggle in as much sexual tension and visual allure as possible—without being accused of indecency.
Why the Loophole Worked
What made this loophole so effective was its plausible deniability. Filmmakers could claim they were simply being accurate to the Bible or to ancient history. If a character was bathing on a rooftop, dancing before a king, or seducing a Roman general—well, that’s just what happened, right?
The moral framework of the Hays Code allowed for sin to be shown, as long as it was ultimately condemned. And Hollywood made full use of that clause: sin could be beautiful, tempting, and visually rich—as long as it was punished or repented of by the end.
Legacy and Lessons
This method of embedding sensuality in the sacred didn’t just skirt censorship—it created a fascinating tension in American film culture. It allowed audiences to engage with themes of desire and seduction in a way that felt “safe,” because it came wrapped in a higher moral purpose.
It also revealed a double standard that remains relevant today: that sometimes, what we consider “sacred” can be used to justify what we also consider “forbidden.” The very stories meant to teach restraint became vehicles for indulgence.
As the Hays Code gave way to the MPAA rating system in the late 1960s, Hollywood no longer needed these elaborate workarounds. Films could now feature adult themes openly—but the era of the grand, sensual Biblical epic left a mark. It showed the ingenuity of filmmakers, the desires of audiences, and the paradox of a culture that both feared and craved seduction.
Conclusion
In early Hollywood, when strict regulations governed what could be shown on screen, the industry responded not with silence but with creativity. By placing sensuality within the safe walls of Biblical or historical epics, filmmakers found a loophole that entertained millions while sidestepping censorship.
Movies like The Ten Commandments, David and Bathsheba, and Cleopatra offered more than just historical or religious drama—they offered a sly nod to human desire, all under the watchful eyes of censors who couldn’t quite call foul.
In the end, these films remind us that art—and artists—will always find a way to express what lies beneath the surface, even when the rules say “no.”
Reformed Faith Insights 