Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

I’ve just finished slogging through the book of Leviticus for this year. If you have ever taken the time to read it, you likely echo that sentiment. It’s just so much. So many sacrifices and offerings. So many rituals and laws. So many clean and unclean animals. So many statutes and ordinances. My mind gets foggy from one chapter to the next. I find I have questions. How did they keep track of it all? Where did they get all the animals to sacrifice? Was anyone in the priesthood squeamish? Did they ever feel nauseous as the warm blood of yet another animal ran through their fingers? And what, if anything, am I, in the 21st century, supposed to gain from reading the book of Leviticus apart from deep gratitude mingled with relief that we no longer have to sacrifice animal after animal to atone for our sins? 

Admittedly, this is the fourth year in a row I’ve read Leviticus. Four times I’ve read these laws. Four times I’ve been stymied by the list of sacrifices and how to perform them correctly. Four times my mind has drifted every day while reading the endurance of its 27 chapters. Four times I have entered Leviticus with a set jaw and determination to read it again on principle. Few notes. Few lessons. Lots of daydreaming. What could I possibly gain from reading a book about blood and guts sacrifices that made my stomach turn? I always seek to learn something, but what can one learn from this?

Apparently, quite a lot. More than halfway through the book, I came to the final sentence of chapter 16, “Everything was done as the Lord commanded Moses.” (Leviticus 16:34) The words brought me up short in amazement. They did everything exactly like they were told?! There was a lot contained in those first 16 chapters. A lot of laws and ordinances. Specific times and ways to do things. Specific actions required of the priest. Specific offerings brought by the people. So many things to remember. So many things to do. How did they ever do it exactly?

Truthfully, they didn’t have a choice. They needed to do everything according to the instructions God gave them. Their salvation depended on it. At a time when the only way to remain in relationship with God was to obey all the ordinances and statutes He had spoken to Moses, make the sacrifices, observe the holy days, they had no other choice if they wanted to be God’s people. And they very much wanted to be God’s people. He had miraculously rescued them from captivity and slavery in Egypt. He had promised to be their God. He promised they would be His people. His promise had one caveat, they had to obey. (Leviticus 11:44-45; 26:11-13) 

Everything was wrapped up in that obedience. It was obedience that would set them apart, make them holy, designate them as his precious possession. (Exodus 19:5) It was obedience that would make them a people with whom God would make His residence. It would not necessarily be easy. It would involve sacrifice. Not just the ones made on the altar by the priests, either. It would involve personal sacrifice.

In an alarming account that makes my parental heart twist, we see Aaron witness the death of his own sons, Nadab and Abihu, because they chose not to obey. For incomprehensible reasons, they place fire and incense in fire pans and present it, unauthorized, before the Lord. I have no idea what they were thinking. The unfortunate result of their disobedience was immediate, fiery death. As if the story itself isn’t gut-wrenching enough, God instructs Moses that Aaron is not to mourn the loss of his sons. 

It’s unimaginable. I have a son. The loss would be unbearable, the pain intolerable. But being told not to mourn, not to weep, not to allow the shroud of loss to change your countenance? It seems impossible. Aaron could not have been pleased to hear this decree.  Yet, in an act of obedience that garners my hard-earned respect, Aaron does not engage in any of the acts of mourning popular in that day. He keeps his hair from disarray. He doesn’t tear his garments in an outward display of inner agony. He leaves the mourning to those outside the tent of meeting and goes about his duties. Because even when God gives us directions that are less than pleasant, seem unreasonable, or are downright hard, obedience is still what sets us apart as God’s people. (Leviticus 10:1-7)

And we are called to be set apart as God’s people. In a world that eschews sacrifice and obedience, God calls us to engage therein. The God who has delivered us from the miserable slavery of sin, who desires to dwell in us, walk with us, make us His peculiar people, asks just one thing–complete, sacrificial obedience. Obedience to God that sets us apart from the world. The obedience Paul spoke of in his second letter to the Corinthians when he exhorted the believers to obey God and walk pleasing to Him no matter if they were surrounded by believers or encased by the world. (II Corinthians 5:10) The obedience Moses spoke of when he relayed God’s message to the Israelites saying, “Don’t follow the practices of anyone around you. Only follow God.” (Leviticus 18:1-5) An obedience that we, in the easy, no-multiple-sacrifice culture of a 21st century, first world country, find it hard to heed.

Our easy chairs are too comfortable. Our lifestyles are too lush. We are not fans of obedience. We are not lovers of sacrifice. We are thrilled that Jesus died on the cross for our sins, eliminating the necessity of a herd of sheep in the backyard and a bloody sacrifice every week, but we are not thrilled enough to live in unquestioning obedience to His ordinances. We treat His sacrifice with flippancy. We want that forgiveness. We want the promise of Heaven. We decline the obedience. We reject the renouncing of the world. We don’t want to be different, look different, act different. We like fitting in. So we sacrifice the power and awe of being God’s people for the fleeting pleasure of social acceptance. 

Unfortunately, there are consequences. Our souls are starving when they should be flourishing. Our faith is shaky when it should be stalwart. Our witness is tarnished when it should be gleaming. The only way to rectify our mess is obedience. Obedience that brings forgiveness of sins and keeps you in right relationship and fellowship with God. Obedience that makes you remember every law, ordinance, rule, and regulation and keep them meticulously. The kind of obedience that sets you apart from the world and marks you as God’s holy people. A people God dwells in, lives among. A people set apart for His purpose. People that act differently, react properly. A peculiar people.  Because God’s people are different from everyone else. 

Cringing at the word “different”, we ask through gritted teeth, “How different do I have to be?” The answer comes through words spoken to Moses by the God who wanted to set the Israelites apart for Himself, “Don’t follow the customs of the land from which you came. Don’t follow the customs of the land where you are going. Obey me, my words, my laws.” (Leviticus 18:1-5) The answer didn’t change from the Old Testament to the New Testament. Inspired by God, Paul preaches the same thing to us in II Corinthians 6:17, “Come out from among the unbelievers and be separate.” Be different from the world. Let your obedience to God make you stand out from the crowd. Show them Jesus by the way you live your life. 

The situation is this–Your obedience affects more than just you. It affects everyone around you. You are God’s letter to the world. Your obedience, your willingness to be different, may be the only Jesus they see, the only Bible they read. (II Corinthians 3:3) Jesus has called you to be a witness for Him. (Acts 1:8) With that in mind, how do you measure up? How do you act and react? What do you say and do? How do you handle yourself in the face of adversity, criticism, and trauma? Does your life, your propensity to follow God no matter what, properly reflect to whom you belong? Have you chosen a path of obedience, a life as God’s peculiar treasure? Or have you decided to join the world in exchange for your soul? (Matthew 16:26)