The Greater and More Perfect Tent

A guest post devotional by Karl Velik.

The Greater and More Perfect Tent
Photo by Ronan Furuta / Unsplash

Today is Holy Monday, and my fiancé, Karl Velik, wrote the devotional for First Presbyterian Church of Ann Arbor's Lenten devotional series. Karl was baptized and joined the congregation in 2024, and since then his faith has deepened in ways that continually move and challenge me. In this reflection on Hebrews 9:11–15, he meditates on what it means that God has made the physical world a temple, and what that demands of us as people called to love without exception. I'm grateful to share his words here.


HOLY WEEK | MONDAY, MARCH 30, 2026

Scripture

But when Christ came 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 place, not with the blood of goats and calves but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls and the sprinkling of the ashes of a heifer sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is purified,  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 worship the living God! For this reason he is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, because a death has occurred that redeems them from the transgressions under the first covenant. – Hebrews 9:11-15 (NRSVue)

Reflection

You can walk into any church, pick up a pew Bible, and read how, in ancient days, burnt offerings were given for the absolution of sin. I haven’t been a Christian my whole life, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a burnt offering at a service. What gives? In this passage, the author of Hebrews tells us why and how new rules came about. Are burnt offerings no longer offered because absolution from sin is no longer necessary? Quite the opposite. Sin still pains God, but God has taken the responsibility for sin off our shoulders. Jesus, our high priest, sacrificed his body on the cross as a gift to humanity. The letter speaks of Jesus moving through a temple of God on our behalf, and I believe God transforms our physical world into this new temple, sanctified by this sacrifice. When we confess our sin to God, the spirit pulls us through the door of the invisible greater-and-more-perfect tent here on Earth. Through the saving power of Christ’s death, God is constantly doing that redemptive work for each of us: holy power flowing from the mystery at Calvary to permeate all space and time.

So, God’s got your back. But God does not work idly on your behalf. God has made the physical world God’s temple so that all of us can do holy work. This work is more important work than legalism. The author of Hebrews reminds us that Jesus is the mediator of a new covenant, which (according to Matthew) has only two commandments: to love God with all your heart, soul and mind, and to love your neighbor as yourself. This is the radical resistance to which Christians are called: resistance against borders and labels that separate neighbors, resistance against callousness and small-mindedness that engender suffering, and resistance against an exclusive Christianity. Every human being has been reconciled by the blood of Christ. We all stand before God on equal footing, regardless of our transgressions. And with our God, ‘equal footing’ is no small privilege: God gives all of God’s children the choicest gifts—love and reconciliation foremost among them. Who are we to exclude anyone, when the Lord has invited all people into the kingdom and forgiven all sins? There is nothing left for us to do in the new covenant, except to love God in heaven and to love all those here below.

Thanks be to God.


Prayer

Holy One, in whom all fullness dwells,
The pleasing aroma of your peace
Rises from your blood, shed on the cross.
Because of my sin, I was already dead,
But your death reconciled me to life.
Where sin abounds in and around me,
Your grace abounds much more.
By your omnipresent power, I pray
That all who stumble shall rise,
All who hurt shall heal,
And all who hate shall love,
For your saving death forgave all sin.
In the name of the Creator,
Redeemer and Sustainer,

Amen.


Listen & Reflect

Sufjan Stevens (SOOF-yon) is a Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter, who was raised in Detroit. His music, always experimental and boundary-pushing, varies widely in tone from project to project: from folk, to pop, to rock, to techno. Sufjan’s work often grapples with his Christian faith and his relationship with God, focusing on inward faith experiences and private spirituality. Sufjan is perhaps best known for his 2015 seminal acoustic folk album Carrie & Lowell, and for creating the song “Mystery of Love” for the 2017 film Call Me By Your Name (for which he was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Original Song).

I would like to share two of Sufjan’s songs with today’s devotional.

“John My Beloved” from the 2015 folk album Carrie & Lowell. In this slow acoustic number, Sufjan struggles to believe in God after his estranged mother Carrie has passed away, but Sufjan reiterates his need for Jesus even in his darkest times. Sufjan describes how, in his moment of darkness, a Long Island bar becomes his makeshift church, and he takes an impromptu Lord’s Supper via French fries and wine.

“Lamentations” from the 2020 album The Ascension. In this experimental techno/dance piece, Sufjan seemingly writes from Christ’s perspective with lyrics that implore the listener to “take [Jesus] into all of your life […] take [Jesus] into all of your lamentations.” The music alternates between periods of tension and harmony, as the Christ-figure reminds us of his omnipresent power over our earthly concerns.

For those who like these songs, I highly recommend all of Sufjan's work, but especially the albums Carrie & Lowell, The Ascension, The Age of Adz and Sufjan Stevens Presents… Greetings from Michigan, the Great Lake State, which Pitchfork described as “a beautiful, sprawling homage [to Michigan]."