At the end of Hebrews 5, the writer invokes a familiar New Testament metaphor—milk and solid food—as a way of distinguishing the spiritually immature from those more fully discipled and stable in their understanding of the Gospel. He calls those stuck in the first camp “dull of hearing,” which is another way of saying unteachable. These believers were no longer growing, deprived of nourishment from the solid food of biblically sound teaching and Gospel truth. Instead, they settled for a liquid diet of uninspiring fare (baby food) when God had, through His church, spread a bountiful banquet before them. Though the timeframe of their faith isn’t spelled out, the writer insists, “by this time you ought to be teachers.” But they now needed to be retaught “the basic principles of the oracles of God.”
Paul used similar language with the Corinthians: “I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it” (1 Cor. 3:2). Milk represents the elementary truths of the faith—the foundations of orthodoxy. Solid food, by contrast, is daily nourishment from God’s Word, leading to sanctification and evidence of growth, as it is faithfully practiced (orthopraxy). The warning is sharp: “solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:14). The writer’s audience was failing here. Rather than reflecting Christ, they had become sluggish, ensnared by worldly passions, deaf to God’s call to endurance, and stymied in their spiritual growth.
A familiar caution from earlier chapters echoes in chapter 6: do not drift from the anchor of Christ, and do not let your lives be choked by thorns and thistles. The warning recalls Jesus’ Parable of the Sower, where seed sown among thorns was suffocated by worldly cares, riches, and pleasures, stifling growth. A fruitful field requires careful cultivation, but when neglected, weeds quickly multiply and the harvest is compromised. For the Hebrews’ audience, God had poured out His Spirit and sustaining grace, yet their lives produced no useful crop. Spiritual negligence left them barren. The writer urges them instead to hold fast to the hope of salvation and press on toward maturity.
Some commentators note that the apostasy the writer feared was Jewish Christians reverting back to Judaism. To embrace Jesus as Messiah in the first century required immense courage. It meant breaking with long-held religious practices, risking hostility from family, and exposing oneself to persecution. Under that weight, some began to retreat into the safety of familiar traditions.
This explains why the writer builds such a persuasive case for Christ’s divinity, His priesthood, and His mediation of the New Covenant. For us today, the word Christ often feels like a surname — “Jesus Christ.” But for the original audience of Hebrews, reading the letter in Greek, Christos carried a very specific connotation. It was the direct translation of the Hebrew word Messiah (Mashiach), meaning “Anointed One.”
So every time the writer spoke of Jesus Christ, the Jewish readers would have heard: Jesus the Messiah. At the heart of the matter was the question: “Is Jesus really the promised Messiah?” The writer’s answer was a resounding yes — framed through the lens of Jesus’ role as High Priest. In this way, he showed that Jesus was not only the promised deliverer, but also the one who fulfills and surpasses the priesthood, the sacrificial system, and the covenant itself. As Scripture teaches, Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets (Matt. 5:17).
Along with external pressure from those who rejected Christ as Messiah came a pattern of inward neglect: hospitality was abandoned, sound teaching loosened, generosity diminished, fellowship forsaken. These were all essential safeguards for standing firm in solidarity with fellow believers in the household of faith. The same practices the writer earlier urged in Hebrews 2 were being neglected.
The temptation to retreat is not foreign to us. While most of us aren’t tempted to return to Judaism, the lure of comfort, cultural approval, and worldly distraction can just as easily draw us away. Friendship with the world becomes a substitute for faithful devotion to God and Gospel community. And the result is the same: faith without perseverance falters, and zeal without practice fades.
And yet, even here, hope remains. The writer softens his rebuke with encouragement: “Though we speak in this way, yet in your case, beloved, we feel sure of better things—things that belong to salvation” (Heb. 6:9).
The foundation of this hope is God’s unchangeable promise. The writer points back to Abraham, to whom God swore by Himself, since there was no one greater (Heb. 6:13–18). Abraham and Sarah nearly lost hope in that promise, wearied by what felt like an unbearable delay in the birth of a son. They even tried to take matters into their own hands. Yet in God’s perfect timing, Abraham, “having patiently waited, obtained the promise” (Heb. 6:15).
The writer goes further still, pointing out that God not only gave Abraham a promise, but also confirmed it with an oath. These are the “two unchangeable things”—God’s promise and God’s oath—backed by His own character, in which it is impossible for Him to lie. It is as though God “doubled down” on His commitment, leaving no room for doubt. For weary believers, this picture is meant to steady the heart: if Abraham, through patient waiting, obtained the promise, then so will all who cling to Christ in faith. Our hope is not wishful thinking but a sure and steadfast anchor, fastened to the unchangeable God who cannot deny Himself.
At times, our waiting may feel unbearably long as well. But we can take further hope from Peter’s exhortation that “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). Abraham and Sarah learned that lesson the hard way, but God’s faithfulness prevailed. In the same way, the promises we cling to in Christ are neither uncertain nor delayed beyond His design. What God begins, He finishes. Our call is to endure to the end — not drifting back into old securities or sinful excursions, not giving way to despair, but eagerly awaiting His return or our entrance into His presence, and remaining faithful to the end.
The call, then, is not to stay in spiritual infancy but to grow up into Christ — to move beyond milk into solid food, letting faith mature into action, discernment, and endurance. We are to imitate those who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises (Heb. 6:12).
This reassurance of God’s promise serves as “a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul” (Heb. 6:19), keeping us tethered to Christ who has gone before us “behind the curtain.” The image recalls the ancient high priest who entered the Holy of Holies once a year to make atonement for the people. Tradition tells us a rope was tied to his ankle in case he died in the presence of the Lord, so he could be pulled out without others entering.
But in Christ we have no need of such fear. Our High Priest has entered once for all into the heavenly sanctuary, and we are secured to Him. He will never let us go. The writer’s encouragement is clear: “hold fast to the hope set before us.” This hope is not fragile but living, sure and steadfast — anchored in the unchanging God and in the finished work of Christ who intercedes for us even now.
Prayer: Thank You, Father, for the gift of Your Word, which nourishes us with truth and life. Forgive us for the times we have been content with spiritual infancy, settling for less than the fullness of Christ, or when our doubts have left us in a perpetual state of wandering. By Your Spirit, draw us deeper into maturity, training our hearts to discern good from evil and strengthening us to walk in faithful obedience.
Lord, we confess that waiting can feel long and heavy. Yet we cling to Your promises, knowing that You are not slow, but patient and faithful. Anchor our souls in Christ, our High Priest who has gone before us into Your presence, so that we may hold fast to the hope set before us.