Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

If you were to ask me the thing for which I am most thankful, my answer would most assuredly be grace. Calvary’s grace. I am unendingly grateful that God sent Jesus to die for my sin. My heart is filled with wonder and amazement that God would count me worthwhile enough for such a sacrifice. I am unequivocally thankful that the veil in the Temple was torn and we were given access to God the Father. That He doesn’t mind hearing my incessant chatter is such a long-suffering gift! I am blessed beyond measure and ecstatically pleased that my salvation, my eternity no longer rests on the slaughtering of animals, the mixing of flour, oil, and frankincense, and the burning of each in turn. Thank You, Jesus!(Leviticus 1,2)

Reading Leviticus heightens my gratitude. It completely engages my senses. I picture innocent sheep being led to slaughter, pulling against their leads as if they know what fate awaits them. I can hear their bleating, begging to stay in their warm stable. My mind’s eye can see the pull of the knife, envision the spurt of blood. The detestable scent of burning animal flesh fills my nostrils. I picture the altar. The place of redemption. Unchecked rivulets of bloodstream down to pool around its base. Sacrifice after sacrifice. Slaughter. Butcher. Burn. Repeat. Somewhere between the unblemished lamb and the turtle doves, my stomach turns, my gag reflex triggers, and I find myself immensely grateful that Jesus Christ died once for all the sins of the entire world. For this, I am truly grateful. (Hebrews 7:22-27)

Once my stomach has calmed and my mind can again focus, I find my mind brimming with questions. How did they keep all those sacrifices straight? How did they know what to bring for each sin? Were multiple sacrifices needed for multiple sins? What if they brought the wrong sacrifice? How could they know their sacrifice was acceptable before they offered it? There were no lists magnetically posted on refrigerators. There was no tablet of paper in a dedicated spot for scribbling reminders. There was no Google to question, no Alexa to ask, no Siri to implore. How, exactly, did they remember what and how many, where, and how a sacrifice was supposed to be made?

Honestly, I don’t know. I have been unable to find an answer to my question. Perhaps it is as it appears. Perhaps they memorized them. Taught them to their children. Recited the parameters over and over again. It would make sense. They wouldn’t want to forget them. Couldn’t afford to forget them. This knowledge was too important. It was their lifeline. They needed to meticulously observe those guidelines. They had no other options. Their salvation, their eternity depended on the integrity of those sacrifices. 

I would like to believe they were incredibly grateful. I want to think they were thrilled to have a way, any way, for their transgressions to be erased. My mind wants so badly to be convinced they realized how blessed they were to have a way of escaping a lost eternity. My overzealous imagination desperately attempts to convince my heart that they walked away from those sacrifices with hearts full of praise for the meaning behind the sacrifice. 

Unfortunately for my hopes, I have read the rest of the Old Testament. The people stray. They welcome idols. They follow heathen practices. They live lifestyles unapproved by God. The sacrifices become rote and meaningless. Their sin becomes so much a part of their lives it causes Isaiah to prophesy woe against them, Jeremiah to weep over them, and me to wonder what was so important that they were unwilling to put it on the altar as a sacrifice to God. What was so important they would rather keep it, carry it and sacrifice peace, rest, and joy?

It is so easy to sit in judgment on a generation centuries past. It is so simple to read someone else’s story and emphatically denounce their actions. It requires little effort to imagine ourselves as paragons of virtue and towers of strength, bursting with internal fortitude. Unless we decide to be honest. Uncomfortably honest. Judgment day honesty as we ask ourselves what it is that we are willing to hold onto, to hide away, to carry in our hearts that causes us to sacrifice our peace, forfeit our rest, surrender our joy? What keeps your heart so engaged that it impedes your ability to praise the Lord? Anger? Bitterness? Hate? What impinges your ability to freely rejoice in the blessings of God? Worry? Anxiety? Fear? What do you need to lay on the sacrificial altar so you can live in a state of constant praise to God? Pride? Selfishness? Striving? And what is it, exactly, that prevents you from making the sacrifice? (Hebrews 13:15)

Although I know a handful of people who seem to be veritable fountains of praise no matter their circumstances, most of us do not find praise instinctive. Our eyes open in the morning to count our aches and pains instead of our blessings. We do not walk blithely through life’s unpleasantness dancing to the beautiful songs of praise reverberating in our souls. Rarely do we face uncertainty, infirmity, anxiety while making a melodious sound of praise. Our moods are much more somber, our demeanor more subdued, our soul in tremendous turmoil considering and re-considering the things we cannot change. Sadly, praise is not our first reaction, it is our last resort.

In the middle of trials and tests, tricks and tribulation meant to irreparably infiltrate our souls, we initially tend to succumb. We wallow in self-pity. We stamp our feet in righteous indignation. The battle cry of every beleaguered soul resounds through our territory. “Why me?!” Gathering our sympathetic friends around us like a shroud, we whimper and worry, fuss and fume. Unrestrained, the ugliness festers, seeps through our souls, stifles our joy, snuffs out our praise, suffocates our gratitude.

The truth is, we have so much for which to be thankful. Material things being immaterial, take a moment to count your blessings. The real ones. The ones that count. The eternal instead of the temporal. God–His grace, His goodness. Jesus–His life, His sacrifice. The Holy Spirit–His patience, His guidance. Salvation. Heaven. If none of those things evoke a spirit of praise in your heart, you need to go back and read the Bible again. Cover to cover. Look at how God created the world, the beauty of nature, you. Watch how He carefully crafted human society, raised up a people who would someday birth a little girl destined to become the mother of Jesus Christ. Remember the humble birth, far below His station. The moderate upbringing. The misunderstandings, the naysayers, the temptations. Ultimately, remember Jesus’ death–beaten, bruised, bleeding before He even reached the cross. Hear the taunts. Watch His pain. Feel the last breath leave His body. Know that it was for you. It was all for you. All so that, when you stand before the judgment seat of God, you can rest assured of a Heavenly eternity. If you can truly imagine it, really feel it, your heart can do nothing but fall prostrate in adoration and praise. There will be room for nothing else. And nothing else will matter. 

Eons ago in a class called Wisdom Literature, a professor told his class that their main purpose on earth was to glorify God. I might have doubted him then. I don’t question it now. When I sacrifice all the things that limit my ability to praise Jesus, I find a song in my soul that flows out of my lips. My outlook changes. My relationships change. My interactions with strangers change. Through my heart full of praise, Jesus is lifted up and glorified. Like Moses’ statue serpent in the wilderness, I become a place where others can look and find the path to eternal life. The joy of the Lord becomes my strength. It fills me. There is room for nothing else. Nothing else matters. (Numbers 21:4-9; Isaiah 43:7; Nehemiah 8:10; Psalm 86:12; John 12:32)I don’t know what you need to lay down today. I don’t know what plagues your soul in the wee hours of the morning. I don’t know what secrets you hide, what sins you coddle. I do know this with absolute surety, you need to lay them down. You need to toss those joy impingers on the altar of sacrifice, burn them up and let God pour over your soul the oil of joy. Let Him clothe you in His exquisite garment of praise. Let Him rejoice over you. Love you. Fill your heart with peace, rest, and joy. Find your strength in Him and discover the release of joy that comes from sacrificing everything for an attitude of praise. (Ephesians 5:18-20; Psalm 50:23; Psalm 69:30-31; Isaiah 61:3; Zephaniah 3:17; Philippians 4:7-9; Psalm 16:11)

I don’t know what you need to lay down today. I don’t know what plagues your soul in the wee hours of the morning. I don’t know what secrets you hide, what sins you coddle. I do know this with absolute surety, you need to lay them down. You need to toss those joy impingers on the altar of sacrifice, burn them up, and let God pour over your soul the oil of joy. Let Him clothe you in His exquisite garment of praise. Let Him rejoice over you. Love you. Fill your heart with peace, rest, and joy. Find your strength in Him and discover the release of joy that comes from sacrificing everything for an attitude of praise. (Ephesians 5:18-20; Psalm 50:23; Psalm 69:30-31; Isaiah 61:3; Zephaniah 3:17; Philippians 4:7-9; Psalm 16:11)