Hebrews 2: Don’t Drift
Welcome back, everyone! If you were here last week, you know we started our journey through Hebrews, and we saw something absolutely stunning in chapter 1. If you missed it, let me catch you up real quick.
Last week, we saw that Jesus is infinitely superior to all other spiritual beings—especially angels. The author hit us with seven descriptions of Jesus' glory and then backed it up with seven Old Testament quotations proving that Jesus isn't just a great angel or spiritual being. He's the Son of God. He's the Creator. He's the exact imprint of God's nature. Angels worship Him.
We ended with this phrase: "Why settle for shadows when you can have the Son?"
Now, here's what I love about Hebrews. The author doesn't just dump theology on us and walk away. Every time he establishes who Jesus is, he immediately pivots to: "So what are you going to do about it?"
That's what chapter 2 does. Look at the very first word of verse 1. What is it?
"Therefore."
You know what "therefore" means, right? It means, "Based on everything I just said..." It's the hinge. Chapter 1 told us who Jesus is. Chapter 2 tells us how we must respond.
Here's our Big Idea for today: Jesus is the perfect high priest.
And our Application Point: When things have gone wrong, look to Jesus to help make it right.
But before we get to Jesus as our High Priest, we need to hear one of the most urgent warnings in all of Scripture. Because here's the thing: you can know the truth about Jesus and still drift away from Him.
The Subtle Danger of Drifting
Alright, so chapter 2 opens with a warning. And it's not the warning you might expect. The author doesn't say, "Don't rebel against Jesus." He doesn't say, "Don't actively reject Him."
He says something way more subtle and, honestly, way more dangerous: "Don't drift."
Let me ask you: Have you ever noticed how drifting works?
Nobody drifts on purpose. Nobody wakes up one morning and thinks, "You know what? Today I'm going to slowly, imperceptibly move away from Jesus." It doesn't work that way.
Picture a boat on a river. You're out there enjoying the sunshine, maybe fishing, just relaxing. You're not rowing. You're not paying attention. And slowly—almost imperceptibly—the current starts carrying you downstream.
You don't notice it at first. But then you look up and realize, "Wait... how did I get way over here?"
That's drift.
Or think about a ring on your finger. You don't feel it slip off. One moment it's there, the next moment it's gone. You weren't trying to lose it. But you also weren't holding onto it.
Here's what I want you to hear: Drift is rebellion by neglect.
You're not shaking your fist at God. You're just not paying attention to Him. And when you stop paying attention, the current of culture, the current of your own sin nature, the current of busyness—all of that carries you away.
And here's the scary part: The current always runs away from Jesus, not toward Him.
Nobody drifts into holiness. Nobody accidentally becomes more devoted to Christ. Left to ourselves, we drift toward compromise, toward distraction, toward spiritual apathy.
Let me put it this way: "No one drifts into heaven. We only drift away."
Hell is undoubtedly full of people who weren't loudly opposed to Jesus. They just... drifted. They meant to get serious about their faith "someday." They meant to really follow Jesus "when life slowed down." But they kept drifting, and someday never came.
So when Hebrews 2 opens with a warning about drifting, this isn't a minor issue. This is life and death.
Alright, let's read it. Hebrews 2, verses 1 through 4.
"Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will."
The Steering Wheel of Your Soul
Let's break this down because there's so much here.
"Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard..."
The Greek verb here is prosechō (προσέχω). It means to hold toward, to fix the mind on, to give full, undivided attention. It's not passive. It's active, intentional focus.
Think about it like this: Your attention is the steering wheel of your soul. Whatever you pay attention to determines where you go.
If you're driving and you're looking at your phone, where does your car go? Wherever your eyes are pointed. If you're looking at Instagram, your car starts drifting into the other lane. If you're texting, you might drift right off the road.
Your spiritual life works the same way. If Jesus is who chapter 1 says He is—the majestic Son of God, the radiance of God's glory, the One upholding the universe—then He deserves the most intense attention you can muster.
But here's the problem: everything in our world is designed to grab our attention.
Your phone wants your attention. Social media algorithms are literally engineered to keep your eyes glued to the screen. Netflix has entire teams of people trying to get you to watch "just one more episode." Your job wants your attention. Your hobbies want your attention. Your worries want your attention.
And in the middle of all that noise, the author of Hebrews is saying: "Grab the steering wheel of your mind and turn it toward Jesus."
Notice he says "much closer attention." Not just casual attention. Not "Jesus gets five minutes on Sunday morning" attention. The closest possible attention.
One scholar translates it: "We must pay the closest possible attention to what we have heard." Nothing less will do.
Why? Because the risk is enormous: "...lest we drift away from it."
The Greek word here is pararreō (παραρρέω). It means to flow past, to slip away. It appears only here in the entire New Testament. It's the image of something gliding by quietly—like a boat drifting past its harbor, or a ring slipping off your finger without you noticing.
Drift is quiet. Drift is subtle. Drift doesn't announce itself.
You don't wake up one day and realize, "Oh, I've completely abandoned Jesus!" It's more like, "Huh, when was the last time I actually prayed? When was the last time I opened my Bible? When was the last time I really engaged in worship?"
Let me ask you some diagnostic questions. These are signs of drift:
When Scripture reading becomes occasional instead of daily bread (like Jesus said in Matthew 4:4), you might be drifting.
When prayer is only for crises instead of constant communion, you might be drifting.
When church fellowship becomes negotiable instead of life-giving and essential (contrary to Hebrews 10:24-25), you might be drifting.
When you start tolerating "small" sins—little compromises that gradually grow—you might be drifting.
When Jesus is "important" in name but not actually central in your daily decisions, you might be drifting.
Here's a phrase I want you to remember: "You don't drift by adding bad things; you drift by losing the main thing."
Often, drift isn't because you've chosen something overtly evil. It's because you've neglected your first love. You got distracted. You got busy. You stopped paying attention.
And here's what the enemy knows: If Satan can't make you deny Christ, he'll simply make you distracted.
Now, look at verse 2. The author is about to make an argument here, and it's powerful.
The Lesser-to-Greater Argument
"For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution..."
Okay, what's he talking about? The message declared by angels. This is referring to the Law given at Mount Sinai. Now, if you read Exodus, you don't see angels explicitly mentioned. But Acts 7:53 and Galatians 3:19 tell us that angels were involved in delivering the Law to Moses. It was part of Jewish tradition, angels mediated the giving of the Law. And here's what the author is saying: That Law, the one delivered through angels (who, remember from chapter 1, are servants), that Law was reliable. It was binding. Every violation of it had consequences. If you broke the Law, there was punishment. God's justice was certain.
Now watch the logic: "How shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation?"
This is what scholars call a fortiori argument. That’s an argument from the lesser to the greater. It goes like this:
If the lesser thing had serious consequences, how much more will the greater thing? If the message delivered by angels (servants) was binding and breaking it brought judgment, then how much more serious is it to neglect the message delivered by the Son Himself? The author is essentially saying: "If ignoring the Law had consequences, what do you think happens when you ignore the Gospel?"
And notice the word he uses: "neglect." The Greek word is ameleō (ἀμελέω). It means to be careless of, to pay no attention to, to treat as unimportant. He doesn't say "reject." He doesn't say "rebel against." He says "neglect." That's the danger often for believers, isn’t it? Not active rebellion. Passive neglect.
Many people won't punch God in the face. But they'll shrug their shoulders at Him. They'll treat the gospel like background music: nice to have on, but not really paying attention to it. And here's what the question implies: If you neglect this salvation, there is no escape.
R.C. Sproul, preaching on this passage, put it this way:
“Beloved, you may come to church every Sunday of your life, you may be baptized, you may take communion, and you may still be neglecting this great salvation. Is your heart in it?”
That question haunts me. Is your heart in it? Because neglect is a decision you make by default. If you do nothing, you drift. So why is this salvation so great? The author tells us in verses 3 and 4.
So Great a Salvation
Look at verses 3 and 4 again:
“how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.”
Why is this salvation "so great"? Because of who announced it and how it was confirmed.
Jesus announced it. Not an angel. Not a prophet. The Lord Himself. The Son of God came down and preached the gospel of the kingdom. He didn't send a messenger. He came personally.
The apostolic eyewitnesses confirmed it. "Those who heard" refers to the apostles: people who walked with Jesus, saw Him die, saw Him rise, and were commissioned by Him to spread the message. This isn't secondhand gossip. This is eyewitness testimony.
God the Father endorsed it with power. Signs, wonders, miracles, and gifts of the Holy Spirit. God was putting His stamp of approval on the message. The Book of Acts is full of this: healings, deliverances, people speaking in tongues, prophetic words. God was saying, "This message is true. Pay attention to it."
God went to extraordinary lengths to make sure the message was heard and confirmed. Heaven itself has testified to the truth of Jesus. So when you neglect this salvation, when you shrug at it, when you let it slide to the background, you're not just ignoring a good idea. You're ignoring the most credentialed message in human history. You're ignoring the message announced by God the Son, confirmed by eyewitnesses, and endorsed by God the Father with supernatural power.
Glory Promised, Brokenness Experienced
Alright, let's keep reading. Verses 5-8.
“For it was not to angels that God subjected the world to come, of which we are speaking. 6 It has been testified somewhere,
’What is man, that you are mindful of him,
or the son of man, that you care for him?
You made him for a little while lower than the angels;
you have crowned him with glory and honor,
putting everything in subjection under his feet.’”
Okay, this section is fascinating. The author is setting up a tension, and then Jesus is going to resolve it.
"For it was not to angels that God subjected the world to come..."
Right out of the gate, he's reinforcing the theme from chapter 1. Angels aren't the ones who will rule the future kingdom. Humans are. Specifically, redeemed humans with Christ as their head. God's ultimate plan for dominion was never given to angels. It was given to humanity. Then he quotes Psalm 8:4-6, which is a beautiful meditation on humanity's place in creation:
“It has been testified somewhere,
“What is man, that you are mindful of him,
or the son of man, that you care for him?
You made him for a little while lower than the angels;
you have crowned him with glory and honor,
putting everything in subjection under his feet.’”
“what is man that you are mindful of him,
and the son of man that you care for him?
Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
and crowned him with glory and honor.
You have given him dominion over the works of your hands;
you have put all things under his feet,”
Psalm 8 is celebrating what God did at creation. He made humans in His image (Genesis 1:26-28) and gave them dominion over the earth. We were supposed to rule. We were crowned with glory and honor. Everything was supposed to be under our feet. But then the author adds this gut-punch of reality in verse 8:
“Now in putting everything in subjection to him, he left nothing outside his control. At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him.”
In other words: Yeah, that's the ideal. That's what we were created for. But look around, is everything under humanity's control?
No. Obviously not.
Instead of dominion, we see dysfunction.
Instead of glory, we see brokenness.
Creation is cursed. Empires rise and fall. Human life is filled with weakness, suffering, pain, and death.
We were crowned for glory, but we live in brokenness. That's the tension. God's design versus our failure. Psalm 8 is true in principle, but "we do not yet see" it in practice. Why? Because of sin. The Fall wrecked everything. Humanity was supposed to rule, but we can't even rule ourselves.
So, are we stuck? Is this tension just... permanent?
No. And this is where the gospel breaks in like sunrise after a long, dark night.
But We See Jesus
Look at verse 9:
“But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.”
Five words that change everything. “But we do see Jesus.” We don't yet see humanity triumphant over all. But we do see Jesus. And that makes all the difference. Why? Beacuse Jesus is the true Son of Man who fulfills Psalm 8. What humanity failed to achieve, Jesus achieved on our behalf.
Let’s unpack this verse:
“But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.”
The Greek phrase here is brachý ti (βραχύ τι), meaning "for a short time." Jesus stooped below the angels when He took on human flesh. He became mortal. He experienced hunger, fatigue, pain, and ultimately death. This was a real humiliation. The eternal Son of God, who made the angels, became for a time lower than them in rank and status. But notice: it was only for a little while, βραχύ τι. His suffering, as agonizing as it was, was temporary. Like a few hours compared to eternity.
“But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.”
Here's the great reversal. Precisely because He suffered death, Jesus is now crowned in glory. Suffering was the pathway to exaltation. This echoes Philippians 2:8-9:
“And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name,”
Suffering, then glory. Humiliation, then exaltation. Cross, then crown. And now the next part of Hebrews 2:9:
“But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.”
The phrase "taste death" doesn't mean a little nibble. In biblical language, to "taste" something means to fully experience it. Jesus tasted death, He drank the cup of death to the dregs. He experienced it completely. And He did it "for everyone," ὑπὲρ παντὸς. As a substitute. As a representative. He died the death we deserved so that we wouldn't have to.
Mark 10:45 says it clearly:
“For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
"The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many."
Isaiah 53 prophesied it:
“My Servant, will justify the many,
For He will bear their wrongdoings.”
Here's what this means: Jesus stepped down on purpose, so we could be lifted up.
Augustine said it perfectly:
“Man’s maker was made man that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother’s breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that Truth might be accused of false witnesses, the Teacher be beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; that Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die.”
Jesus wore our weakness so that in Him we might share in His strength and glory.
The Pioneer Who Calls Us Brothers
And now, because of what Jesus did, something really amazing happens. Let’s keep reading, verses 10-13 say:
“For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering. For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying,
’I will tell of your name to my brothers;
in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.’
And again,
’I will put my trust in him.’
And again,
’Behold, I and the children God has given me.’”
Okay, stay with me.
"For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering."
Let's unpack this.
"It was fitting..." In other words, it was appropriate. It was right. It suited God's wisdom and justice. Some people look at the cross and say, "How could God allow His Son to suffer?" And Hebrews says, "Actually, it was fitting. It was the perfect plan."
"Bringing many sons to glory..." This is God's goal. He doesn't just want one Son in glory. He wants many children—sons and daughters—sharing in that glory with Jesus. Our salvation isn't just rescue from hell; it's being led into glory.
Romans 8:17 says we're co-heirs with Christ—if we suffer with Him, we'll also be glorified with Him.
"The founder of their salvation..." The Greek word here is archēgos (ἀρχηγός). It means author, pioneer, captain, champion, trailblazer.
Think of someone cutting a path through the jungle so others can follow. Or a champion who wins a victory on behalf of his people. That's Jesus.
He's the Pioneer of salvation. He went ahead of us through suffering into glory, and now He's bringing us along the same path.
He didn't stand at a distance and shout instructions. He blazed the trail Himself.
"Made perfect through suffering..." This doesn't mean Jesus was morally imperfect and then got better. "Perfect" here means complete, fully equipped, fully qualified.
By experiencing the totality of human suffering—even death—Jesus was completed as the perfect Savior. He's now fully qualified to represent us because He's been through what we go through.
Hebrews 5:8-9 says, "Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. And being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation."
Jesus didn't avoid suffering. He walked through it first.
And because He did, He can now lead us through our suffering into glory.
Now, here's where it gets emotional. Verse 11:
"For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers."
Stop. Read that again slowly.
"He is not ashamed to call them brothers."
Let that land.
The Holy Son of God—the One who made the universe, the radiance of God's glory, the exact imprint of His nature—looks at us, flawed and struggling as we are, and is not ashamed to call us His siblings.
The Greek verb here is epaischunomai (ἐπαισχύνομαι). It means to be ashamed or embarrassed.
Jesus is absolutely, unequivocally, without-a-doubt not ashamed to claim us as His family.
He doesn't hold His nose and say, "Well, I guess they're my brothers... unfortunately." No. He gladly, joyfully, proudly calls us brothers and sisters.
Think about what you were ashamed of before Christ. Think about the worst thing you've ever done. The thing you hope no one ever finds out about.
Jesus knows. He's seen it all. And He's not ashamed of you.
Charles Spurgeon said it this way: "Oh, what wondrous condescension! The Christ and the Christian are one... We are one family, and He is not ashamed to call us brothers. Am I addressing any who are ashamed of Christ? Ah! How you ought to despise yourselves for such pride, for Christ is not ashamed to call His people brethren!"
Let me give you a phrase: "Jesus does not keep you at arm's length."
Even when you stumble. Even when you fail. He's not looking for an excuse to disown you.
"Your worst chapter is not stronger than His love."
If you belong to Christ, no sin is so great that He'll flinch and say, "Whoa, I don't know them." He already knew the worst about you when He went to the cross. And He went anyway.
"He calls you family while you are still being restored."
We're not perfect yet. He's still sanctifying us, still working on us. But He's not waiting until we're flawless to be proud of us. He's not ashamed now.
Then the author quotes three Old Testament passages to prove this (verses 12-13).
From Psalm 22: "I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise."
Psalm 22 is the psalm of the suffering Messiah—it starts with "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" But it ends in victory, with the afflicted one declaring God's praise among His brothers.
Hebrews puts these words in Jesus' mouth. Jesus is saying, "See? These people are My brothers. I'm declaring God's name alongside them. I'm leading them in worship."
From Isaiah 8: "I will put my trust in Him" and "Behold, I and the children God has given me."
Jesus lived by faith, depending on the Father. And He stands with us—the children God gave Him—as part of His family.
We belong to Jesus. We're gifts from the Father to the Son. And He's not ashamed of us.
Reading Hebrews 2:14-18
"Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted."
Jesus the Destroyer, Deliverer, and Helper
This is the crescendo. These verses tell us why Jesus became human and what He accomplished. Four massive truths here.
He Destroyed the Devil's Power (v. 14)
"Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil."
Jesus became fully human—flesh and blood—so that He could die. And by dying, He destroyed the one who had the power of death: the devil.
The word "destroy" here is katargeō (καταργέω). It means to nullify, to render powerless, to disarm.
It doesn't mean the devil ceased to exist. It means his power was broken. His weapon was taken away.
What was the devil's weapon? Death. Ever since the Fall, Satan has used the fear of death and the reality of sin's penalty as a stranglehold on humanity. He's the accuser (Revelation 12:10) who tempts us into sin and then holds guilt and judgment over us.
But at the cross, Jesus broke that grip.
Colossians 2:14-15 says Jesus "canceled the record of debt that stood against us... nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them."
The legal guilt that Satan could wield was nailed to Christ's cross and paid in full. Satan can no longer demand our death as punishment if we're covered by Jesus' blood.
What looked like Satan's greatest victory—the crucifixion of God's Son—turned out to be Satan's defeat.
Here's the phrase: "Jesus didn't dodge death. He walked into it and came out with the keys."
Revelation 1:18 says, "I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades."
Jesus plunged into the prison of death and emerged holding the keys. He conquered death by dying and rising.
He Delivered Us from Slavery to Fear (v. 15)
"And deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery."
This is the practical result. Because Jesus defeated death, we're freed from slavery to the fear of death.
Fear of death is universal outside of Christ. It's not just fear of dying—it's fear of what comes after. Fear of judgment, of the unknown, of annihilation.
The verse says we were in "lifelong slavery" to this fear. Imagine being chained your whole life to a tyrant. That's what the fear of death does.
But Jesus breaks those chains.
If you belong to Christ, death is no longer a tyrant. It's a defeated enemy. It's been transformed from a dungeon into a doorway—a doorway to His presence.
First Corinthians 15:55 taunts death: "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?"
The sting is gone. The fear is gone. Our destiny beyond death is secure.
"Fear makes a cruel master—but Jesus breaks the master's whip."
He Became Our Merciful and Faithful High Priest (vv. 16-17)
"For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people."
Jesus didn't come to save angels. He came to save us. And to do that, He had to become fully human.
The word "helps" in Greek is epilambanetai (ἐπιλαμβάνεται). It literally means "to take hold of." It's the image of grabbing someone by the hand to rescue them.
Picture Peter sinking in the water, crying "Lord, save me!" and Jesus reaching out and grabbing him. That's this word.
"He doesn't wave from a distance; He takes hold."
Jesus didn't help us from heaven via a memo. He came down and personally seized our plight as His own.
And verse 17 gives us the first mention of Jesus as our High Priest—a theme that will explode in later chapters.
To be our High Priest, Jesus had to be "made like His brothers in every respect." He had to share our full humanity so He could represent us before God.
And look at the two descriptions: merciful and faithful.
Merciful toward us—He understands our weakness and has compassion on us.
Faithful toward God—He's completely reliable and obedient in carrying out His mission.
He's merciful enough to want to save us and faithful enough to actually do it completely.
And what did He do as our High Priest? He made propitiation for our sins.
This is crucial. Propitiation means the turning away of wrath by an offering. Jesus offered Himself as a sacrifice that satisfied God's justice and exhausted His righteous anger against our sin.
Romans 3:25 says God put Jesus forward "as a propitiation by his blood."
This is the heart of the gospel. God's holy wrath against sin was poured out—not on us, but on Jesus. He bore our penalty. He drank the cup of God's wrath to the dregs.
And because of that, God's attitude toward us is forever changed from wrath to favor.
"He doesn't ignore sin; He removes it."
Jesus didn't look the other way on our sins. He dealt with them decisively at the cross. There's no wrath left for those who are in Christ.
He Helps Us in Temptation (v. 18)
"For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted."
Finally, Jesus' full humanity means He can help us in our temptations.
He faced real temptations and they caused Him real suffering. He was tempted in the wilderness, throughout His ministry, and ultimately in Gethsemane when He faced the choice to submit to the cross or avoid it.
Hebrews 4:15 will tell us He was "tempted in every respect as we are, yet without sin."
C.S. Lewis made a brilliant observation: "We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it... Christ, because He was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means."
Because Jesus never gave in, He actually felt the full force of temptation more than we ever do. (We usually cave early.)
And now, because He knows the battle intimately, He's able to help us.
The word "help" here is boētheō (βοηθέω)—to come to the aid of, to actively support someone in need.
"Jesus does not just commiserate; He comes to our aid."
It's not only that He sympathizes (though He does). He actually does something. He lends strength. He provides a way of escape. He intercedes for us.
When you're in the thick of temptation, you can cry out, "Lord, You know how hard this is—help me!" And He will.
Hebrews 4:16 says, "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."
There's timely grace always available. You're not alone in your fight against sin. The Captain of your salvation fights for you and with you.
One Warning, One Comfort
Alright, let's bring this home. Hebrews 2 leaves us with a serious warning and a strong comfort, side by side.
The Warning: Don't Drift
The danger is real. Drifting is subtle, but it leads to devastation. Neglecting Christ—even passively—is not harmless. It's a path to ruin.
So be on guard. Examine your life for signs of drift:
Has Scripture become optional instead of essential?
Has prayer become an afterthought instead of your lifeline?
Has worship become a performance instead of an encounter?
Have you been tolerating sin, calling it "no big deal"?
D.A. Carson warned: "People do not drift toward holiness. We drift toward compromise and call it tolerance; we drift toward disobedience and call it freedom; we slide toward godlessness and convince ourselves we have been liberated."
Don't coast. Don't drift. Anchor your soul in Christ daily.
Here's your action step for the week: Identify one drift sign in your life.
Take time this week to prayerfully diagnose where you might be subtly drifting. Write it down. Be specific. For example:
"I've been too busy to pray, treating communion with God as optional."
"I've been numbing my soul with entertainment instead of seeking God."
"I've been isolating from my church family."
Identifying it is the first step. You can't fix what you won't acknowledge.
The Comfort: Jesus Helps
But here's the good news: We're not left to fight drift and sin alone.
Jesus became our brother to save us, and He remains our merciful High Priest to sustain us.
Whenever you feel weak, tempted, ashamed, or like you're drifting—remember: Jesus understands, and He comes running to help.
He conquered death—you don't need to fear it. He destroyed the devil's power—you don't need to live in bondage. He made propitiation for your sins—you can approach God with confidence. He calls you family—you're secure in His love.
So draw near to Him!
"Draw near, because Jesus helps."
Your second action step: Pray one honest sentence to Jesus each day.
Even if you feel dry or distant, cry out to Him. He's merciful and near. Try one of these:
"Jesus, I'm drifting—pull me back to You."
"Jesus, I'm tempted—I need Your help right now."
"Jesus, I feel ashamed—remind me that You're not ashamed of me."
"Jesus, fix my attention on You today."
Brief but sincere prayers like this will reorient your heart toward Christ and invite His grace.
Wrapping Up
"Pay attention, because drift is real."
"Draw near, because Jesus helps."
One warning. One comfort.
Pay attention to Jesus—not just on Sundays, but every day. Fix your eyes on Him. Let Him be the steering wheel of your soul.
And draw near to Him—especially when you're struggling. He's not a distant God. He's your brother, your High Priest, your Helper.
Remember what we've seen today: Jesus stepped down from glory, became flesh and blood, suffered and died, defeated death and the devil, and now He sits at God's right hand as your merciful and faithful High Priest.
He's not ashamed to call you His own.
He's conquered your worst enemies.
He's available to help you in your worst moments.
You have Jesus. And Jesus is enough.
