Genesis 22, the story of Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac, is one of the more well-known typologically dissected passages in the Bible. But just for the sake of dotting “i”s, here is a quick rundown:
The near-sacrifice of Isaac is never specifically connected to the sacrifice of Jesus in the New Testament, though the potential for his resurrection, as understood by his father, is clear (see Hebrews 11:19). There is little dispute on the typological connection of Genesis 22 with the death of the future Savior Jesus.1
At only one place besides Genesis 22:2 is the name “Moriah” ever used again in Scripture. Notably, it is found in 1 Chronicles 3:1:
Then Solomon began to build the LORD’s temple in Jerusalem on Mount Moriah where the LORD had appeared to his father David, at the site David had prepared on the threshing floor of Ornan the Jebusite.
Of course, there is an extended back story regarding David’s acquiring of this particular site found in 2 Samuel 24 and 1 Chronicles 21. David had committed a grievous sin of numbering his military. Though this might seem harmless to modern readers, it makes obvious a heart problem in Israel’s leadership. The census would allow David a feeling of security according to the size of his army. But this would fly in the face of where the king must get his true sense of security: in Yahweh Himself. Apparently, David was apt to put trust in military strength at this point rather than in God’s power to protect. God exposed David’s heart and thereby his sin.
Israel pays the price in the form of a three-day plague killing seventy-thousand men (three days of anguish, death, and grief; 2 Samuel 24:13–15). Moriah marks the place where the punishment of God for David’s sin of numbering his fighting men is ended (2 Samuel 24:16). It is on this site that David will offer sacrifice to the Lord for ending the plague brought about by God’s wrath (2 Samuel 24:25).
But the reader knows this is more than just any site. It is one in the same with Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac (2 Chronicles 3:1). Likewise, this is the site of Solomon’s future temple which will draw people across vast distances of the known world to enter Yahweh’s presence and seek audience with the wisest of kings.
At this point our typology takes another major step. The site which David purchases, where the sword of Yahweh’s wrath was finally stilled, is a threshing floor.2 There is a great deal of threshing floor imagery in the Bible. This imagery, though used in various contexts in which it could be seen as a simple story setting, is really intended to convey a spiritual point. In one example, Ruth confronts Boaz on a threshing floor (Ruth 3:5). The big question is whether or not he will consider her wheat or chaff. He receives her as the former.
Boiling it down, there are only two kinds of people—wheat and chaff (Luke 3:17). Ultimately, they are separated by God. That the temple is built on a threshing floor comes as no surprise. Coming before God means that hearts are exposed (Psalm 44:21; 1 Corinthians 4:5). He separates his enemies as chaff (Isaiah 17:13; 29:5; Jeremiah 13:24). Tying Solomon’s temple to a threshing floor is no small allusion to what it means to come before God in worship, as Leithart strongly suggests.3 Being exposed before God will undoubtedly result in sifting, hearts that are His being clearly distinct from those that are merely entering His presence in obligation, or in search of personal satisfaction or community recognition.
Solomon’s temple is the first permanent structure for Yahweh worship. It will be built in a time of peace, when Israel’s enemies are subdued on every side by the great king who was a man after God’s heart (1 Kings 5:4; 1 Chronicles 22:18; Acts 13:22). The temple, its builder and king (Solomon), and the nation over which the king presides will become a beacon of beauty, organization, wisdom, prosperity, and peace to the known world (1 Kings 10:1–13).
But, of course, to see the ancient temple, beautiful and renowned though it was, as no more than an ancient building of wood and stone would be a terrible disservice to how Jesus has instructed his followers to read about him in all of God’s word (Luke 24:27). Both Paul and Peter were well-aware of typology and its use when reading about the days of Solomon. When they read of the stones used to build the great house in which Yahweh’s presence would reside, they immediately saw its present-day antitype in their midst: the church of God (Ephesians 2:19–22; 1 Peter 2:5). The real temple of God is his people. The real prosperity of which silver and gold speaks is only a dim shadow of the riches of grace found in Christ (Ephesians 1:7; 2:7). The real peace is one that is beyond true comprehension (Philippians 4:7). The real nation whose lives are happy under the wisest of all kings is the church (1 Corinthians 1:24).
The story told in 1 Kings about life under Solomon is merely a shadow. What was only accomplished fleetingly in the days of Israel’s third king will be (indeed, is already) accomplished under the reign of the forever-King of peace who will never leave his throne. His wisdom is known among all those who seek him sincerely. There is no question he cannot answer. Those who see his followers as they truly act in his name are, like the Queen of Sheba, shocked at the skill of their service and the beauty of their heavenly attire. The goodness and abundance of food to be found at his table is unmatched. Ultimately, those who come close enough to be in audience with the King of Peace will, just as the queen of Sheba, have their breath taken away (1 Kings 10:5).
To recap, the two places in Scripture where Moriah is used are Genesis 22:2 and 1 Chronicles 3:1. Genesis speaks of the God-ordained near-sacrifice of the promised son at the hand of his father after a significant three-day period. The same place of worship later finds its way into the hands of a Gentile and is used as a threshing floor, a place of sifting wheat from chaff. That same place is the location where the great plague of God’s wrath—a three-day destruction of God’s people because of their leader’s trust in worldly might—is stopped. On that location is built the temple of God to which the known world will stream seeking audience and answers and will be astounded at the beauty and glory of what it means to be under the guidance and direction of the most blessed of kings.
At great risk of being overly clear, and because Christian eyes are often dimmed in their response to typological light, I will go out of my way to draw the simplest of connecting points. It is the sacrifice of the true, long-awaited, promised Son that forms the foundation of all worship. The place of that sacrifice—the cross—is the place where wheat is separated from chaff, spiritually speaking. It is where hearts are sifted on the deepest level and where true fruit is gathered for God’s storehouses while inedible refuse is removed for destruction. That threshing floor, that place of the great sacrifice, is likewise the foundation for the temple of God, His church. Those who come to it will enter into the Master’s presence and find their own hearts sifted in the winnowing that continues today.
Of course, as always, its message is for those with ears to hear.
Eric Robinson lives in Lubbock, Texas, and is the author of Jesus in the Shadows.
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