One altar, and the cross it points to

The Golden Altar of Incense

Deep inside the tabernacle, in the holy place where daylight never came, stood a small altar of gold. Exodus 30:1 describes it, built of acacia wood and overlaid with pure gold, set close before the veil that hid the ark of the covenant. It was not for slaughter. No animal died here. This altar was made for one purpose only, to hold the burning of sweet incense before the Lord. Smoke rose from it morning and evening, a fragrant cloud drifting toward the veil and the mercy seat beyond. Where the bronze altar in the courtyard dealt with sin through blood, the golden altar dealt with communion through incense. It stood nearest to the presence of God, and it spoke of prayer. The Scriptures themselves make the connection unmistakable, and it turns this quiet piece of furniture into one of the most tender pictures of what it means to draw near.

“And thou shalt make an altar to burn incense upon: of shittim wood shalt thou make it.”Exodus 30:1

The altar in Scripture

Exodus 30:1 through 10 lays out the altar of incense. It was small and square, a cubit by a cubit, and two cubits high, crowned with a border of gold and four horns like its larger courtyard counterpart. Gold covered its acacia frame, and rings and staves let it travel with the camp. Its whole design set it apart from the bronze altar, for gold, not brass, was the metal of the sanctuary's inner glory. Its position is emphasized. Exodus 30:6 sets it before the veil that is by the ark of the testimony, before the mercy seat. Of all the furniture in the holy place, this altar stood closest to the immediate presence of God, separated from the ark only by the curtain. It was as near as a priest could come, day by day, to the throne where God had promised to meet His people. The service of this altar was tied to light and to prayer. Exodus 30:7 and 8 command Aaron to burn sweet incense upon it every morning when he trimmed the lamps, and again every evening when he lit them, a perpetual incense before the Lord throughout their generations. The rising smoke and the burning lamps belonged together, so that the sanctuary was never without both light and fragrance ascending. The meaning of the incense is opened elsewhere in Scripture. Psalm 141:2 asks that prayer be set before God as incense, and the lifting of hands as the evening sacrifice. In Luke 1:10 the whole multitude of the people prayed outside at the hour of incense while Zacharias ministered within. And Revelation 8:3 and 4 show incense offered with the prayers of the saints, the smoke of the incense ascending before God out of the angel's hand. The picture given quietly in Exodus is confirmed across the canon: this golden altar is the altar of prayer.

What it comes to mean

That no blood offering was made here, and no animal died, is itself significant. The golden altar assumes the work of the bronze altar is already done. Prayer that rises acceptably before God does not begin at the incense; it begins at the place of sacrifice in the courtyard. Only once atonement has been made can the fragrant cloud go up. The order of the tabernacle is the order of the gospel: first the blood, then the nearness; first forgiveness, then fellowship. Incense was made to be burned, and its worth was revealed only in the fire. Crushed, kindled, and given up in smoke, it filled the holy place with sweetness precisely as it was consumed. So it is with prayer. The prayers that ascend most fragrantly are often those offered from a broken and yielded heart, poured out rather than performed. The altar teaches that communion with God is not a casual thing but an offering, costly and deliberate, given morning and evening. We should resist sentimentalizing this. The incense had a strict, God-given recipe in Exodus 30:34 through 38, and it was holy, forbidden for common use. Nadab and Abihu died in Leviticus 10 for bringing strange fire. The nearness pictured here was real but never careless. To pray is to approach the living God, and the golden altar stood so close to the veil precisely to remind the priest that he ministered on the edge of consuming holiness. Reverence and intimacy were not enemies here; they were held together. And the smoke went toward the veil. The direction is the point. Prayer, on this altar, was aimed at the mercy seat, at the very place where God met His people above the ark. It was communion oriented toward the throne of grace. The incense could rise, but it could not itself pass through the veil. The daily fragrance drifted against a curtain still closed, hinting that a nearer access was longed for and not yet fully given. The altar spoke of prayer reaching toward a presence still veiled.