He Stood Between . . .

A bit of extended reading time in Numbers this morning (chapters 9 through 17). Crazy! It’s amazing what “doing community” in the wilderness can do to a nation. It has a way, it seems, of making people kind of cranky . . . and oh, so foolish. Despite God’s visible presence among them as the cloud hovers over the tabernacle, indicating when to set up camp and when to move out, they somehow seem to forget that God’s there. Instead they focus on the stuff of the flesh. Stuff like . . . I’m getting tired of manna and want some variety in my diet. Stuff like . . . I know God promised us this land, but have you seen how big those dudes are? Stuff like . . . Who made you the boss over me?

And as a result, God’s anger is kindled. And though Moses spends a lot of time facedown petitioning on behalf of the cranky crowds, people are dying. Some due to plague. Some due to the earth swallowing them and their families whole. And God repeatedly asks, “How long will this people despise Me? How long with they not believe in Me? How long shall this wicked congregation grumble against me?”

And there was a phrase at the end of chapter 16 that caught my eye . . . and captured my heart . . . and evoked a measure of thanksgiving.

It’s another day in the congregation. Actually not just any other day . . . it’s the day after Korah and Co. have been consumed by the earth because of their arrogant challenge of Moses’ and Aaron’s authority. So, you would think that the day after that kind of night before would be a day when people are a bit more cautious about mouthing off to Moses or to the LORD. Evidently not! The next day they grumble against Moses and Aaron and how they have “killed the people of the LORD.” Hello!!! Did they not see the ground open? Kind of a God thing . . . not really a man thing. But it seems there’s something about allowing the flesh to lead that can make people kind of stupid.

And so, they assemble against Moses. And then the cloud descends upon the tabernacle. The glory of God enters the camp, and another plague starts taking out people. “Get away from the midst of this congregation,” says the LORD to Moses, “that I may consume them in a moment” (16:45). And Moses and Aaron go facedown before the LORD on behalf of the people . . . AGAIN! And then Moses tells Aaron to quickly grab his censer, put fire on it from the altar, and start making atonement for the people “for wrath has gone out from the LORD” (16:46).

And here’s what caused me to pause . . .

So Aaron took it as Moses said and ran into the midst of the assembly. And behold, the plague had already begun among the people. And he put on the incense and made atonement for the people. And he stood between the dead and the living, and the plague was stopped. (Numbers 16:47-48 ESV)

And I pulled out my colored pencil for Jesus and shaded “he stood between the dead and the living, and the plague was stopped.”

If Aaron’s actions aren’t a foreshadow of the Savior’s atoning work, then I’m not sure what is. Jesus, as it were, ran into the midst of the assembly . . . the destruction of sin all about Him . . . and made atonement for the sins of men through the offering of Himself on the altar’s fire. And my Savior stands between the dead and the living and the plague is stopped. For all who will believe, death’s power is broken. For all who will receive, the wrath has been turned away. For all who are covered by the offering of the spotless Lamb of God, they are counted among the living. The truly living. Given life . . . given new life . . . given abundant life . . . given life everlasting.

O’, what joy seeing Jesus “pop up” in the Old Testament. What humbling blessing to know again the Father’s heart towards wayward children that He would send His Son to redeem them that God might be both just, and the justifier, of all who believe (Rom. 3:26).

O, what amazing grace! To Him be eternal glory!

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A Right Response to the Word

Some pretty high-powered reading this morning. Romans 3 declares that all have sinned, the law bearing witness to man’s failure at works-based righteousness. And then it reveals that a righteousness of God has been manifest — “the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe” (Rom. 3:22). Certainly worth pausing over and typing out a few thoughts.

I also read Psalm 51 this morning. Game, set, match against David. So busted! The law referred to in Romans 3 condemning him for his unbridled lust and duplicit, murderous treachery. And yet He pleads to God for washing and cleansing. Asks that his transgressions be blotted out . . . that a right spirit might be renewed . . . that the joy of salvation might be restored. The grace Paul explains in Romans 3 is given flesh and blood application in Psalm 51. Worthy too of a bit of noodling and some writing.

But it was my reading in the latter part of Matthew 22 that “topped the list” in terms of stirring my soul. Maybe because three phrases in the passage highlighted for me a right response to the Word.

They marveled . . . they were astonished . . . no one was able to answer Him a word.

It started as a setup. In Matthew 22:15 it says the Pharisees went to Jesus and plotted how to “entangle Him in His talk.” They understood that Jesus had just spoken against them in His stories of the kingdom (Matt. 21:23-22:14). “Okay, Mister Articulate Man,” they think, “Let’s see if we can’t trip You up with all Your words.”

So the Pharisees send some of their disciples to Jesus with an “innocent question” about paying taxes (23:16-22). “Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” Jesus, aware of their ill intent, tells them to look at a coin and take note of whose face is on it. It’s Caesar’s of course. It’s his money. So, says Jesus, “render to Caesar the things that are Caesars, and to God the things that are Gods.” Pretty simple, yet pretty profound. And Matthew records that when they heard His response, “they marveled” (v.22).

Emboldened by this challenge, but perhaps disdainful of such an inane topic, the Saducees step forward with some “sincere” ponderings about the resurrection (23:23-33). They lay out a hypothetical case that they are sure puts a stake in the heart of resurrection teaching. But Jesus dismisses their logic, “You are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God.” And then Jesus, who is the Author of the Scriptures and the Incarnate Power of God, corrects their understanding of marriage in heaven, and reminds them of their own admission that God is not the God of the dead, but of the living. And, says Matthew, “when the crowd heard it, they were astonished at His teaching” (v.33).

Finally, the Pharisees push toward Jesus one of their brightest minds to engage Him in a debate concerning “the greatest commandment in the Law” (23:34-45). And after providing an unarguable response to His question, Jesus asks them a question of His own, “If the Christ is the son of David, then how is it that, through the Spirit, David calls Him Lord?” And, pens Matthew again, “no one was able to answer Him a word.”

And I can’t help but think that those should be three pretty common responses whenever I hear Jesus speak. That I should marvel . . . that I should be astonished . . . that I should be still and silent with awe. Sometimes, I fear, I can be so impressed with my understanding of a passage or, with the results of my study, that I fail to recognize that it isn’t about how bright I am but how gracious He is. That He, through His Spirit, illuminates the Scriptures. That I hear His voice solely due to the grace of divine revelation.

If I truly regarded it as such, wouldn’t I, more often, marvel . . . and be astonished . . . and sit quietly before Him?  Wouldn’t that be a right response to the Word? I’m thinkin’ . . .

Word of God speak . . .

By Your grace . . . for Your glory.

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Of Head and Of Heart

This morning I encountered two provisions for someone to declare they were wholly the LORD’s. Two approaches that evidenced a willingness to pay a price that their all-out allegiance to the God of creation might be known. One was evidenced to everyone by the head, the other known only to Him who sees in secret by the heart.

Provision was made in the Old Testament for a man or a woman to “separate himself to the LORD” (Numbers 6:1-21). The NKJV says “to consecrate,” the NASB, “to dedicate” and, the NLT speaks of it as “setting themselves apart in a special way.” The original word has the idea of doing something extraordinary, or hard, or difficult. The idea of doing something wondrous. Thus of taking “above and beyond” measures in order to evidence someone’s dedication to the LORD.

The Nazirite vow involved complete abstinence from anything sourced on the grapevine, whether it be for drinking or eating. In addition to not touching the vine, they would allow nothing to touch their head. As long as the person was in this separated state, the locks of their head would be allowed to grow long. They were not to have any contact with death. Even accidentally being beside someone who suddenly died would defile the separation and would require sacrifice and cleansing to reestablish their consecrated state.

What’s more, the vow required that, at the end of the period of separation, the vow be consummated with a number of costly sacrifices. Lambs and rams for a sin offering, a burnt offering, and a peace offering. Loaves of unleavened bread offered as a grain offering along with a drink offering. Their grown out hair shorn, and the locks put on the fire of sacrifice.

And while I don’t necessarily get all the meaning and symbolism associated with this provision for separation, I get that it demanded a lot of effort and a lot of self-determination. And I get that people would know those who undertook the Nazirite vow by their long hair. Their head bearing evidence of their separation to God.

And then I read this in Romans . . .

For no one is a Jew who is merely one outwardly, nor is circumcision outward and physical. But a Jew is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God.
(Romans 2:28-29 ESV)

In this provision for separation, it is the heart which bears evidence of a consecrating work.

Circumcision was another ancient rite indicating the desire of people to be separated to God. Another physical act to try and convey a spiritual reality. But, says Paul, the true setting apart of a man or a woman to God is a spiritual dynamic, performed by the Spirit of God, which manifests itself in the physical reality of transformed lives.

It is the circumcising of the heart by the Spirit of God which provides the power for living lives consecrated to the Author or Life. It is the cutting away of the old nature through rebirth that allows true Nazirite dedication. Not by the goodness of any man, but by the grace of the One True God . . . not by human effort, but by divine intervention . . . not because of what we do or abstain from doing, but all because of what Jesus has done on the cross . . . not because of the power of self-discipline, but all because of the power of an indestructible life manifested through Christ’s resurrection from the dead . . . not because of self denial, but because of the abundant out-pouring of God’s grace.

That is separation marked by the heart. That is consecration enacted from the inside out.

Not that we might boast . . . but that He might be glorified.

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Producing Kingdom Fruit

This morning, I’m hovering over a story Jesus told to the chief priests and elders after they asked Him, “By what authority are you doing these things?” (Matt. 21:23). Jesus has refused to answer them directly because they have refused to deal with the claims of John the Baptist honestly. But Jesus proceeds to tell them a couple of stories. The first is about a son who said he wouldn’t but eventually did, and of his brother who, although he said he would, didn’t (Matt. 21:28-32). Then Jesus tells them another story (Matt. 21:33-46). A story involving a master of a house who builds and then leases out a vineyard. A story involving those who leased the vineyard and said they’d work it. A story involving the master’s son who came to collect and was killed. And, as I’m chewing on it, at it’s core, I think it’s a story about fruit.

I think if, in the past, you were to have asked me why the tenants abused the master’s servants and killed the masters son, I would might have responded, greed. Though the vineyard had been built by the master of the house and leased to the tenants to work it, when the first set of the master’s servants were sent to collect their portion of the crop, they were refused because the tenants didn’t want to part with any of it. But something I read in Jesus’ application of the story, is making me think otherwise this morning.

Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the Scriptures: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lords doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes’? Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people producing its fruits.”   (Matthew 21:42-43 ESV)

It’s that phrase, “a people producing its fruits,” which caught my eye. And, not to over think the parable as it’s main message is the rejection of the master’s son, I’m wondering if the tenants’ issue wasn’t that they didn’t want to share the fruits, but that they had no harvest to share from. They had worked the vineyard, but had nothing to show for it. Though the master expected to share in a certain crop from their labors, they had followed another agenda, and had nothing to return to the master. Thus, Jesus’ application, it would be given to a people producing its fruits.

In the Old Testament, Israel had been likened to a vineyard (Isa. 5:1-7). A vineyard that instead of yielding profitable fruit, bore instead “wild grapes.” That picture of the ancient Israelites was now being applied to the religious leaders of Jesus’ day. The kingdom had been announced to them . . . the vineyard presented . . . yet they did nothing with it. It wasn’t just that they didn’t want to share in the fruit of the kingdom, it was that they had nothing to share. Instead, they had worked their own agenda and not the Master’s. And, refusing the Master’s will, they refused the Master’s Son, masterminding His death. And so, says Jesus, the kingdom will be given to others. Others who will produce the kingdom’s fruits.

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.   (Romans 14:17 ESV)

Not an exhaustive list of the kingdom’s fruit . . . but a good start. Righteousness . . . peace . . . and joy . . . all in the Holy Spirit.

The Master has built the vineyard, the kingdom, on the foundation of the imputed righteousness of Christ to all who receive the gift of God’s salvation. Through His Son’s death on the cross, peace has been provided to remove the enmity between holy God and sinful man. And the vineyard has been seeded with inexpressible joy for those who believe — the joy of not only knowing sins forgiven, but the joy of a hope of eternity in God’s presence. And we have been given the power to participate in all this through His Holy Spirit.

And from this vineyard, the Master desires fruit. And so, says Jesus, He is redeeming a people that they might be producing kingdom fruit.

That His church may continue to be such a people. By His grace . . . for His glory.

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A Left-Handed Person with Right-Handed Righteousness

I’m left handed. Always have been. No one’s ever tried to force me to be otherwise. Sometimes it’s been a challenge. As a kid I remember that scissors never really worked well for me unless I got a special kind. There were always fewer baseball mitts to choose from. Really hated getting ink on my hand as, when I would write, I had to push my pen across words that had just been freshly scribed upon the paper. But being left-handed kind of helped when I met a new opponent in ping pong or tennis, at least initially. They weren’t used to playing lefties . . . I had some experience with “righties.” Sure, the world was probably more right-hand oriented when I was a younger, but, for the most part, being left-handed wasn’t a big deal.

But in Scripture, you clearly get the sense that the left hand was the lesser hand. That power and authority were associated with the right hand. You see this in the Old Testament repeatedly as it concerns the right hand of God (if you’re interested and have the time, check out Psalms 18:35, 20:6, and 74:11 . . . also Exodus 15:6 and Isaiah 41:10).

And, in the New Testament, the right hand is seen as the place of power next to the One who rules over heaven and earth. Repeatedly, Christ is portrayed as standing, or seated, or interceding at the right hand of God, “at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens” (Heb. 8:1). Also, in Revelation, Christ carries the stars representing the angels of the churches in His right hand (Rev. 1:16, 20) — indicating His authority as head of the Church.

So something I read in the Psalms this morning made me glad that I was a left handed person with right-handed righteousness.

We have thought on Your steadfast love, O God, in the midst of your temple. As Your name, O God, so Your praise reaches to the ends of the earth. Your right hand is filled with righteousness.   (Psalm 48:9-10 ESV)

The right hand of God is filled with righteousness.

It is filled with the righteousness of His very being. God is righteousness — He Himself is the perfection of His nature. He is holy. He is light. As such, His right hand also carries the plumb line by which righteousness is determined. He is the standard against which what it means to be right and to be just are determined. And all will come before Him one day to be judged according that standard.

But the right hand of God is also filled with righteousness offered to all who will receive it. Having sent His Son to bear the immense “shortfall” of our righteousness, having placed the penalty for our sin upon Him, God freely credits, to those who bow before His Son as Savior and Lord, the righteousness of Christ. God dishes out liberally, from His right hand, the righteousness of Himself in Jesus, who “was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15). God confers upon those who come to Him in confession, repentance, and seeking forgiveness, not only a pardon for transgression, but a pronouncement that, in Christ, every believer has been clothed in robes of righteousness. For in the gospel, which is the power of God for, a righteousness is revealed that comes through faith (Romans 1:16-17).

For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.   (2Corinthians 5:21 ESV)

God’s right hand is filled with righteousness. And this left-handed person has received it in abundance. Not because of who I am . . . despite what I have done. But solely because of who my Savior is . . . and what He has accomplished through the cross on my behalf.

What amazing grace! To Him be all glory!

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The Brothers

To be honest, I probably didn’t approach Acts 28 with “high expectations” this morning. I should have. After all it is God-breathed . . . “and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness.” And it does put Paul in Rome, further establishing that “this salvation of God has been sent to the Gentiles” (Acts 28:28).

And, to be sure, there’s some pretty amazing stuff that happens in the first part of the chapter. Paul, and all who were on board, survive a horrendous time at sea and then a hairy shipwreck. They end up on the island of Malta and are shown “unusual kindness” by the native people. As they warm themselves by a fire, Paul is bitten by a poisonous viper (talk about your terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day!), but is unaffected and, as such, is exalted by the native people as a god. And the gospel spreads. Not you’re everyday happenings.

But as I read through the chapter, Dr. Luke’s meticulous account of events, it seemed a bit anti-climatic. However, as is often the case, I was surprised by a simple phrase which stood out unexpectedly this morning. One that caught my eye and warmed my heart.

And so we came to Rome. And the brothers there, when they heard about us, came as far as the Forum of Appius and Three Taverns to meet us. On seeing them, Paul thanked God and took courage.   (Acts 28:14b-15 ESV)

To say it had been a trip and a half would be an understatement. Since being put on the boat for Italy, Paul and those permitted to travel with him, Luke and Aristarchus, hadn’t had a lot of likeminded people around them. Seamen, Roman centurions, and prisoners don’t necessarily make for the warmest fellowship. And it wasn’t like they were going on some vacation cruise. Then throw in a crazy helmsman who felt like he needed to make up for lost time. And you have the makings a very, very rough trip. Throw in a shipwreck and a snake bite and I’m thinking Paul & Co. were ready for some recharging. Enter “the brothers.”

No matter how “profitable” a grueling ministry trip may have been . . . even when God has shown Himself faithful during the storm . . . there is nothing like connecting with other believers to evoke praise and build up a saint.

Paul saw the brothers, some who had traveled a fair distance to be with him, and he took courage. Though the outer man had been through the ringer, just the presence of other believers was enough to restore confidence and boldness within the faithful apostle. An opportunity to share the things of Christ together . . . to trade stories of how God was at work . . . all serving to renew the inner man of Paul and his traveling companions.

And I can’t help but think that’s how Sundays should be. For many, they have spent a week amidst people who need Christ but have little interest in the things of the kingdom. And, for some, they’ve been riding the waves of their own storms, uncertain if the ship is going to hold together for another week. But walk in those doors . . . start mingling with the family of God . . . and there’s something there that should work revival within the soul. That something is the brothers . . . and the sisters too. And on seeing them, we should thank God. As we come together, it should serve as a respite from the turbulence of life and the storms of adversity. A calm bay where our anchor is again sunk deep . . . a rock solid place where the certainty of things hoped for is renewed. Where confidence is rebuilt. Where joy is restored.

May it be so among the people of God.

And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.    (Hebrews 10:24-25 ESV)

All because of grace. All for His glory.

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Eyes Opened Wide

That they would be desperate is not surprising. Don’t know how long these two men had been blind, but long enough to be sitting by the roadside begging. And you got to know that while they appreciated the alms that were dropped before them by some leaving Jericho, what they wanted more than anything else were eyes opened. And so, when they heard that Jesus was passing by, they cried out as if their lives depended on it . . . and, more than they could know at the time, their lives did depend on it.

And so they cried out repeatedly, “Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!” They might have addressed anyone worthy of honor as “Lord.” But there would be but one they would address as “Son of David” — that title reserved for God’s Holy Anointed One . . . the Messiah. The Promised One . . . the Deliverer of God’s people. They had heard enough talk along that road concerning Jesus of Nazareth that they had come to believe, as some had said Jesus claimed, that He was the Messiah. And so they cried out to Israel’s Deliverer for a bit of their own deliverance.

And Jesus, compelled by compassion, touched their eyes, “and immediately they recovered their sight and followed Him” (Matthew 20:29-34).

That they followed Him, seems to me, was further evidence of their faith. But what they would soon see with their newly functioning optical systems was more than they could have bargained for. Some things you don’t want to see. But that’s what happens when you’re given eyes opened wide.

Just before recording this incident, Matthew chronicles a conversation Jesus had with His disciples. It was a conversation that Jesus has had before with His disciples, a conversation concerning His death. But this one was the most detailed, the most graphic, perhaps the most disturbing . . .

“See, we are going up to Jerusalem. And the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn Him to death and deliver Him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified, and He will be raised on the third day.”   (Matthew 20:18-19 ESV)

Before this Jesus had hinted at His death (Matt. 12:40). And He had spoken of an impending time of suffering, and of being delivered over to the hands of men to be killed (Matt. 17:12, 22). But this was the first time He spoke of flogging and crucifixion. And it occurs to me that these two formerly blind guys who had become followers of Jesus were soon to see something that may have caused them to wish that their eyes had never been opened.

A little over a week after having received their sight, I imagine them there, at that place called Golgotha, staring in horror as their Sight-Giver is hung before them. His body so beaten, His face so marred, that He is almost beyond recognition. The Son of David, who had directed the power of heaven towards healing their eyes, now hung seemingly helpless before a jeering crowd. “Father, forgive them,” He pleads before heaven. “My God, My God why have You forsaken Me,” He cries into the darkness. “It is finished,” He shouts with a victorious shout. “Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit,” as He breathes His last.

And whether they saw it then, or later, they would come to know that His suffering was for them. That it was their sin that compelled the Son of David to take upon Himself the wrath of God. That, because of their transgression and iniquity, the prophesied King of Heaven would come first as the once-for-all sacrificial Lamb of God. That the horror of His death would be matched only by the horror of their realization of the depths of their own depravity and rebellion before the God of All Creation.

Maybe they should have been careful what they asked for when they asked for their sight. What they saw was probably more than they wanted to see. But see it they did. His death on the cross. The realization of the depths of their sin that put Him there. All because of eyes opened wide.

But, I’m guessing, they wouldn’t change a thing. For they also saw their redemption. The gift of God graciously poured out on a needy world. And, just as He had said, Christ rose from the grave on the third day. And, as He promised, they knew, just knew, they would see Him again, the Son of David, in all His glory and majesty.

All because of eyes opened wide.

By His grace . . . For His glory!

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Hearing the Rhythm

I finished today’s reading in Leviticus 18 through 20 and sat back. While I couldn’t remember all the detail of what I had just read, the rhythm of the passage continued to pound in my head and in my heart. If this were a symphony then the underlying melodic theme would be unmistakable. Twenty-five times in ninety-four verses . . . more than one out of every four . . . rings the clarion, calling all with ears to hear to know the underlying principle behind the many commandments. The trumpet sounds, again and again, “I am the LORD!”

God speaks to Moses and, in turn, directs him to relay to the congregation of the people of Israel the commands they are to obey. For the most part, these commands are in the “thou shall not” category. Behaviors and acts that characterized Egypt, the land they had left, and the Canaanites, the people they were about to dispossess. “You shall not walk in their statutes,” says the LORD, “You shall follow my rules and keep my statutes and walk in them. I am the LORD your God” (Lev. 18:1-4).

And so goes the back beat . . . and so is established the rhythm . . . and so is repeated the symphonic theme . . . I am the LORD.

Again and again, “thou shall not” after “thou shall not,” the people are brought back to the overarching reason for God’s command that they be not like the people of the nations around them, “I am the LORD.” And with that, the associated implication is pronounced three times.

Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them, You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy. . . .

Consecrate yourselves, therefore, and be holy, for I am the LORD your God. . . .

You shall be holy to Me, for I the LORD am holy and have separated you from the peoples, that you should be Mine.      (Leviticus 19:2, 20:7, 20:26 ESV)

God had chosen them to be His people. God had separated them to Himself. Delivering them from Egypt, the old world that had enslaved them, that world that was behind them. About to drive out the inhabitants of Canaan, that they might live under heaven’s rule and economy and not be soiled by the world in front of them. And their’s was to be holy . . . just as their God is holy. And thus the back beat. Thus the rhythm. Thus the theme.

Less about checking the box of all that they didn’t do, it was about ever being drawn towards being who they were and reflecting Whose they were. To be continually reminded that “I am the LORD” . . . to, again and again, consider Jehovah, the “self-existing One,” the “I AM.” By ever keeping that rhythm pounding in their head and heart, they would stay focused on being the people God had call them to be. They would desire holiness as long as they remembered that He is holy.

So too would be those of the New Covenant. Those who, by grace, have been called to be the people of God:

As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”    (1Peter 1:14-16 ESV)

Desiring to be holy. Not that we might be accepted by God, but because we have been accepted by God . . . through the work of the cross . . . because of the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ, the Lamb of God. As, by faith being made alive in Christ, we desire to, because of the Father’s love, bring glory to the Father. Desiring, because of I AM’s holy nature, to live lives that are, by grace, holy as well.

If I keep the rhythm . . . if I get in the groove of the back beat . . . if the symphony’s theme, “I am the LORD,” resonates continually within me, then I will seek to live in accordance with the holiness of God.

By the power of the Spirit . . . through the all sufficient grace poured out by the Son . . . and for the everlasting glory of the Father . . .

Amen?

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Azazel

I’m not quite sure why I got stuck on it, but I did. I know that I’ve noticed this difference in translations before. The word is only used four times in Scripture . . . all here in Leviticus 16 . . . and the ESV is the “contrary one.” Every other translation renders the word “scapegoat” . . . the ESV keeps with the original word, capitalizes it, and renders it as a place, Azazel. A footnote in the ESV qualifies their translation this way, “The meaning of Azazel is uncertain; possibly the name of a place or a demon, traditionally a scapegoat.” Not helpful.

Honestly, I prefer the rendering, “scapegoat,” over “Azazel.” Why? Because I’m a Hebrew scholar? No, just because I do. It seems . . . well, cleaner. But then something hits me . . . what does it matter? Whether the original word is intended to put a label on the animal or on a place is really missing the point. As the saying goes, I’m kind of “majoring on minors.” If, after reading this passage, I sit back and stew on why the ESV translators “went rogue,” then maybe I’m allowing the seed of the Word that’s been scattered this morning to be swept away by incidentals. Focusing on what, apparently, isn’t so clear, instead of meditating on what is. That two goats were offered on the Day of Atonement. One as a sacrificial offering and the other as Azazel.

Two goats were to be taken as the sin offering for the people on the Day of Atonement. One was to be slaughtered and offered on the altar with fire, the other was to be a “living offering” that would be led into the wilderness.

Aaron, the high priest, first would make atonement “for himself and his house.” He would then make atonement for the congregation, “because of the uncleanness of the people of Israel and because of their transgressions, all their sins” (16:16). And this was to be done with the blood of the first goat selected for the sin offering. The blood would be sprinkled throughout the tent of meeting to cleanse it from the defilement associated with being in the midst of a people inclined towards uncleanliness and sin. The foreshadow is evident . . . “and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin” (1John 1:7).

But the second goat was to be a living offering . . .

And when he has made an end of atoning for the Holy Place and the tent of meeting and the altar, he shall present the live goat. And Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and all their transgressions, all their sins. And he shall put them on the head of the goat and send it away into the wilderness by the hand of a man who is in readiness. The goat shall bear all their iniquities on itself to a remote area, and he shall let the goat go free in the wilderness.   (Leviticus 16:20-22 ESV)

The sin has been atoned for by blood of the first goat, the price has been paid. But, even though the price is paid, what actually happens to the sin? Enter the second goat. The sin of the people is placed on the head of — transferred to — the other goat, some translations calling it, the scapegoat, which bears that sin into the wilderness. But where does the sin go? One translation says to Azazel, an unknown, mysterious place. Another foreshadow? ” . . . as far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12). The sin borne to a place beyond finding. A place which completely removes the remembrance of the sin atoned for.

Jesus paid the price for our sin with His blood. And, Jesus took our sin fully upon Himself and bore it to a mysterious place that is as far as the east is from the west. Blotting out our transgressions so completely, and bearing our sin so far away, that there is nothing to be remembered (Isa. 43:25, Jer. 31:34).

Should it be translated scapegoat? Should it be translated as the unknown place, Azazel?

Yes!

Glorious yes! To the praise of our Redeemer . . . for the worship of the Lamb . . . for the glory of our loving God!

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A Divine Dietary Substitute

The going was getting tough, and it was increasingly tough to get going. His was a cast down soul . . . bowed before the weight of the waves that crashed upon him. His was an internal, turbulent commotion that sucked the very life out of his inner man. And so his soul was consumed with ardent longing.

He panted for his God as a deer would for flowing streams. He thirsted for the living God and for the restoration of the joyous communion he had once known when he would “go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival.” Though he longed for feasting at the table set for Him by the Lord, his Shepherd, for now, the psalmist writes, “My tears have been my food day and night.”

Day and night. Tears as his food.

But as the songwriter pours out his longing, God whispers into his disquieted soul a reminder of divine faithfulness.

By day the LORD commands His steadfast love,
     and at night His song is with me,
a prayer to the God of my life.  (Psalm 42:8 ESV)

How’s that for a dietary substitution? Tears in the day, replaced by the promise that God commands His steadfast love upon His own. Tears at night, swapped out for the song of the redeemed . . . heavenly melody accompanying the confession of earthly realities, all to the “God of my life.”

No one goes looking for a desert. No one invites their enemies to pummel them. No one welcomes the pricey consequences of sin. But sometimes, one or more of those waterfalls is allowed to pass through God’s caring hands and overwhelm us. Times come when the waves break hard and fast and we feel as though we can barely keep our head above water. When all we can do is cry out . . . literally . . . to heaven for mercy. When all we want to do is drink deep of the living water. But when our food, day and night, is but tears.

But it is in those times that God, through the abiding testimony of His blessed Spirit, directs His unfailing love toward us. It’s in those times that our night bed can be a worship center as we know, deep within, that His mercies truly are new every morning and that His grace is truly sufficient in every circumstance.

And so He substitutes the tears of the day for divine reminders of His love. He swaps out wet eyes at night for a singing tongue. He corrals random thoughts of despair and directs them towards His heavenly throne of grace as petitions of faith.

And with this dietary substitute of love, praise, and prayer for tears, there is hope.

Why are you cast down, O my soul,
        and why are you in turmoil within me?
  Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him,
my salvation and my God.    (Psalm 42:11 ESV)

To Him be all the praise . . . and all the glory . . .

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