Through Jesus, believers have not come to the terror of Sinai but to the heavenly Zion, where they already share in God’s unshakable kingdom. That greater privilege does not reduce reverence; it makes refusing God’s voice even more serious, so we must respond with thankful worship marked by awe.

The passage turns on a clear contrast: believers have not come to Sinai, but to Zion. The main point is not simply two different mountains. It is two different covenant scenes of approach to God. Sinai was the mountain of fearful distance. Zion is the heavenly place of welcome through Jesus. In this way, the contrast reveals the believer’s present standing before God.

The description of Sinai is meant to overwhelm the reader with a sense of terror: a mountain that could be touched, blazing fire, darkness, gloom, storm, a trumpet blast, and a voice so dreadful that the people begged not to hear more. They could not endure the command that even an animal touching the mountain must be put to death. The whole scene displayed God’s holiness, human unfitness, and strict separation. Even Moses trembled with fear. Sinai, then, was not a setting of ease and nearness, but of dread, boundary, and judgment.

By contrast, believers have come to Mount Zion. This does not mean they have physically entered heaven. It means that through Christ they already have real access to God’s heavenly dwelling and worshiping assembly. The author unfolds that privilege by naming one reality after another: the heavenly Jerusalem, countless angels in festal gathering, the assembly of the firstborn enrolled in heaven, God the Judge of all, the spirits of righteous people made perfect, Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than Abel’s.

These descriptions are best read as a full picture of the believer’s present privilege, not as isolated details to be pressed beyond the author’s purpose. The movement is from place to persons, with God and Jesus at the center. The “firstborn” are God’s people, enrolled in heaven and sharing the status of inheritance. The “spirits of the righteous made perfect” most naturally refers to departed believers now completed in God’s presence, likely including the faithful saints praised earlier in Hebrews. Jesus is the mediator, which means access to God is never casual or direct on our own terms. It is secured through his covenant work.

The sprinkled blood points to sacrificial cleansing and covenant inauguration. Its speaking “better than Abel” most likely recalls Abel’s blood crying out from the ground in Genesis for judgment. Jesus’ blood speaks a better word because it is bound up with his sacrificial work that brings cleansing, reconciliation, and access to God. The point is not that sin no longer matters, but that Christ’s blood deals with it effectively in a way Abel’s blood did not.

After this rich description comes a direct warning: “See that you do not refuse the one who is speaking.” This is the practical force of the entire comparison. The one speaking is not merely a figure from the past. God is speaking now. In Hebrews, that present divine speech is tied to his climactic revelation in the Son. Hearing God’s word, then, is never a neutral matter. To hear and then turn away is to refuse the God who addresses us from heaven.

The warning moves from lesser to greater. If those who refused God’s warning at Sinai did not escape judgment, then those who reject the heavenly voice face an even more serious accountability. The movement from Sinai to Zion does not mean God has become less holy or that warning has faded under the new covenant. It means that fuller revelation brings greater responsibility. Access through Jesus heightens accountability; it does not lessen it.

Verse 26 recalls that God’s voice once shook the earth and then cites the promise that he will once more shake not only the earth but also heaven. Verse 27 explains the meaning of this: the coming shaking will remove what can be shaken, that is, created things, so that what cannot be shaken will remain. Since the text itself interprets the promise this way, it should not be reduced to an inward feeling, a private crisis, or merely a single political event. The scope is far larger. Everything temporary, unstable, and merely created is subject to removal. The old covenant order is included, but the statement reaches beyond that to the whole created order in its shakable condition.

This leads to the conclusion: believers are receiving an unshakable kingdom. The wording points to a present reality, not only a future hope. Christians already belong to the kingdom that will remain when all shakable things are removed. Therefore the proper response must begin now. It is gratitude expressed in worship that is acceptable to God.

That worship must be marked by reverence and awe. The joy of Zion does not cancel holy fear. The heavenly gathering is indeed festive, but it is still gathered before “God, the Judge of all.” The closing statement makes this plain: “our God is a devouring fire.” This draws on Old Testament language about God’s holiness and judgment. It does not mean God is literally fire, but it does mean his holy presence must never be treated lightly and his judgment is real. The God of Zion is the same holy God revealed at Sinai.

This passage therefore holds together welcome and warning, joy and reverence, access and accountability. Through Jesus, believers truly come to God’s heavenly city and worshiping assembly. Yet precisely because they have such privilege, they must not harden themselves against his voice. They are to live and worship with thankful confidence, while also standing in trembling reverence before the God whose kingdom cannot be shaken and whose holiness cannot be treated lightly.