A Willing Spirit

Posted on February 29, 2024 by Pete

I think I’ve noted this before, but if those who put together my reading plan intended to have Romans 3 and Psalm 51 on the same day, it was a masterful move. To align “all have sinned” (Rom. 3:23) and “I have sinned” (Ps. 51:4) makes David’s song of repentance that much more poignant. To consider afresh God as “the just and justifier” (Rom. 3:26) alongside David’s plea that God would “blot out”, “wash thoroughly”, and “cleanse me” from “my transgressions”, “my iniquity”, and “my sin” (Ps. 51:1-2), captures something of not only the dynamic but the magnitude of grace.

But the dots which particularly connect this morning remind me that while I have been redeemed by grace I have also been redeemed for obedience. That while saved apart from the law, I am saved to walk according to the law. And that obedience too, in a sense, is a gift of God.

Hide Your face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from Your presence,
and take not Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.

(Psalm 51:9-12 ESV)

For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law. . . Do we then overthrow the law by this faith? By no means! On the contrary, we uphold the law.

(Romans 3:28, 31 ESV)

Uphold me with a willing spirit . . . That’s the ask I’m chewing on this morning.

For me at least, it’s the ask within David’s greater ask which can easily get overshadowed. After pleading with God for a clean heart, a renewed and right spirit, the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit, and a return of the joy of salvation, I think I kind of skip over the part about being upheld, or sustained, or supported by a willing spirit. A spirit willing to do what? To obey. To not sin. To walk in a manner worthy of grace and forgiveness. To, as Paul says, uphold the law.

I need God to uphold me with a willing spirit so that I can uphold the law.

Noodle on that for a bit.

I need a clean heart, a right spirit, an ever-present Spirit, and the joy of my salvation in order to behave as I claim to believe. While not saved by works of obedience, I am saved for works of obedience. While justified apart from the law, I am justified to uphold the law. And that’s only possible as the grace which saved me from the penalty of sin includes gifting me the desire in the inner man to walk in a manner which demonstrates that I’m also being saved from the power of sin.

Uphold me with a willing spirit. Because, as the southern gospel songwriter puts it, “I can’t even walk, without You holding my hand.”

Restore to me the joy of Your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.

More evidence of His all-sufficient, sustaining grace.

The only power I have to live for His all-deserving glory.

Amen?

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Breaking Faith

Posted on February 28, 2024 by Pete

It was a word specifically for the people of God, those who had been delivered from bondage, set apart as holy, and were on their way to the promised land. Guess then, I could take it as a word for me.

A word about sinning against their brothers and sisters. A word about realizing their guilt. A word about making restitution. But what grabs me this morning is that it’s also a word about, as the ESV puts it, breaking faith with God.

And the LORD spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel, When a man or woman commits any of the sins that people commit by breaking faith with the LORD, and that person realizes his guilt, he shall confess his sin that he has committed. And he shall make full restitution for his wrong, adding a fifth to it and giving it to him to whom he did the wrong.”

(Numbers 5:6-7 ESV)

Breaking faith, that’s the term I’m chewing on this morning.

Unfaithfulness. Treacherousness. Trespassing. Transgressing. Though the sin was a sin against another person, when all was said and done, it was breaking faith with the LORD.

Breaking faith. Specifically, the scenario in mind may have entailed sin against a brother or a sister where an oath had been made in the Lord’s name but where the promise was never delivered upon. To not make good on their pledge to another was to be unfaithful to the God whose name they invoked as the guarantor of their pledge.

But generally, isn’t breaking faith with God what’s at the core of any sin? Isn’t sin fundamentally behaving in a manner towards others which is at odds with what we say we believe about God? Isn’t it doing to others that which, at least implicitly if not explicitly, we pledged not to do when we said we’d follow Jesus? I’m thinking. Thus, isn’t all sin against men ultimately a sin against the LORD? David saw it that way.

For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against You, You only, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight, so that You may be justified in Your words and blameless in Your judgment.

(Psalm 51:3-4 ESV)

Breaking faith, at its core, is what all sin is — acting contrary to the truth we say we’ve appropriated. Thus, to experience guilt is fitting. But, praise God, where guilt abounded, grace did more abound (or something like that). Praise God (again) that confession is possible because atonement is available. There’s a place to go with our unfaithfulness. There’s a remedy for our treachery.

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

(1John 1:9 ESV)

We need to own up to breaking faith with the LORD — again. We need to fess up, again. But praise God (one more time) we can then again go up, boldly approaching His throne of grace, through the blood shed when, at Calvary, He was lifted up.

What grace. To God be the glory.

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Eternal Economics (2019 Rerun)

Posted on February 27, 2024 by Pete

As I chew on Psalm 49 this morning, I think you could make the argument that it presents an example of the classic Critical Theory scenario. In this corner, the oppressor — “those who trust in their wealth and boast in the abundance of their riches” (Ps. 49:6). In the other corner, the oppressed — the lowly temple-serving sons of Korah, surrounded by the wealthy who cheat them (49:5). They are prevented from owning any land of their own, prevented from participating in the free-market dynamic of growing, reaping, selling and just working hard to make all you can while you can. Instead of being free to participate in a free-market economy where they could accumulate wealth by working, working, and working some more, they were ransomed by God at birth (read about that in Numbers 3 this morning), conscripted into a heavenly economy where they were set apart for worshiping, worshiping, and worshiping some more.

But unlike modern Critical Theories which look for answers here and now, the songwriter says the just resolution of this oppressor/oppressed dynamic is ultimately reserved for a time and place which is there and then. Here’s how I processed it 5 years ago.

Hovering over Psalm 49 this morning. A song, it seems to me, about economics. Eternal economics. The songwriter solving a riddle with lyrics and melody (v.4) as he considers the ultimate advantage of wealth. (Spoiler alert . . . none).

The conundrum he contemplates? “Why should I fear in times of trouble?”

Apparently his time of trouble involved being cheated by the hands of “those who trust their wealth” and “boast of the abundance of their riches” (v.5-6). Those with the means to make his life miserable. Those with the money to mess things up. Those who espoused their own version of the golden rule–we have the gold, we’ll make the rules. Those who, from a natural perspective, had a lot of leverage because they possessed a lot of the loot.

But the songwriter considers further the natural and reminds himself that it is temporal. That even the wealthiest man eventually dies. That when all is said and done, nothing ultimately distinguishes the rich from the poor. That both the wise and the foolish end up in the grave. That boasting is ultimately buried. That whatever one possesses, and whatever power that might seem to allow him to wield, “his pomp will not remain; he is like the beasts that perish” (v.12).

And consideration of the temporal leads the psalmist to consider the eternal and the economics that dictate life after the grave.

Truly no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life, for the ransom of their life is costly and can never suffice, that he should live on forever and never see the pit. . . . But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for He will receive me. Selah

(Psalm 49:7-9, 15 ESV)

No man can redeem another from the power of the grave. No amount of earthly riches can reverse the stranglehold of death. But God is able to ransom the soul. He is able to bear the cost to pay forever the price of mortality. He alone has the power to break the bondage of Sheol. His heavenly riches able to secure earthly resurrection. And in that, “He will receive me.” Death’s chains broken so that we might live bodily in His presence.

And while the ancient songwriter was led by the Spirit of God to be assured of such a ransom, today we know the One in whom those riches are found.

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace. . . But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved–and raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages He might show the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

(Ephesians 1:7, 2:4-7 ESV)

God ransoms the soul from the power of Sheol with the riches of His grace — the immeasurable riches of His grace — manifest in the finished work of His Son. Though once dead in sin, though once with no hope of a future beyond the certainty of the grave, He has made us alive. He has raised us up with the resurrected Christ, and reserved for us a heavenly seat which is ours by faith today and will, one day, be ours to possess for eternity.

That’s eternal economics.

And so, the songwriter answers his own riddle.

Be not afraid when a man becomes rich, when the glory of his house increases. For when he dies he will carry nothing away; his glory will not go down after him.

(Psalm 49:16-17 ESV)

But when the beloved of God die, those who by faith have believed in His ransom and received of His pardon, we will be carried away. It is then that true glory will be ours. The glory of the redeemed. The glory of the resurrected. The glory of our imperishable, undefiled, and unfading inheritance in Christ.

The glory purchased according to the immeasurable riches of His grace.

The glory which will be for His glory alone.

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Called to Belong

Posted on February 26, 2024 by Pete

This morning I’m hovering over a phrase from Paul’s introduction to his letter to the Romans. In just a few short verses (Rom. 1:1-6) Paul unpacks the essentials of a great, great gospel. It’s the gospel of God. It was promised through His prophets in the holy Scriptures. It concerns His Son who, according to the flesh, descended from David, and who, through the power of the Spirit, was resurrected from the dead. And, for those who believe, it brings about the obedience of faith. This being true for all nations . . .

. . . including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.

(Romans 1:6 ESV)

Called to belong. Those are the words I’m chewing on this morning.

Not all the translations render the phrase that way. In the NKJV and NASB it includes those who are “the called of Jesus Christ.” Noodle on it a bit, and that’s seems to be a significant difference. Being called of Jesus is far more open-ended than being called to belong to Jesus. The former leaves a fair amount of wiggle room to debate what the call means. Called to be blessed? Called to prosper? Called to fit following Jesus into however I think my life should be lived? Those are all options with a call of. But if I’m called to belong, then it seems to be less about what’s in it for me and more about why I’m in it for Him.

So, which is it? If the original word is just the word for called, then why did some translators render it called of and others called to belong to? A note from one of my online commentaries was helpful.

‘called to be Jesus Christ’s’; not ‘called by Jesus Christ,’ for the call is always ascribed to God the Father. (Lightfoot)

God the Father does the calling. The call of salvation is the Father’s call. True statement, I think. Jesus’ high priestly prayer in John 17 would indicate that salvation’s dynamic is that those who come to Christ are those given to Christ by the Father (Jn. 17:11-12, 24). Jesus emphatically stated that the will of Him, the Father, who sent Him, the Son, was that the Son “should lose nothing of all that He has given Me, but raise it up on the last day” (Jn. 6:49).

So yeah, I’m good with those translations which seek to make clear that being called of Christ is to be understood as being called to belong to Christ.

Okay, with that settled in my mind, time to camp on the implications of being called to belong.

That Paul understood this is clear from his opening words to the Romans. He begins his letter referring to himself as “a servant of Christ Jesus” first, then as one “called to be an apostle.” To own Christ as Savior was to be owned by Christ to be a servant. To receive Jesus was to be recruited by Jesus. To believe in Jesus was to belong to Jesus. To have faith would mean to be ready to follow.

Paul also makes that really clear in another letter of his.

Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.

(1Corinthians 6:19-20 ESV)

Called to belong. Bought with a price. So glorify God in your body. That’s the good news. It’s not about what I get, but about what He gets — me!

Under new management. Called to flourish through the obedience of faith.

Oh, to really believe that I am called to belong. And then to behave like I’m called to belong.

Only by His grace. Only for His glory.

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My Exceeding Joy

Posted on February 20, 2024 by Pete

Chewing on Psalm 43 this morning. That it’s a continuation of Psalm 42 seems evident because of the common chorus in these two songs of David — still turmoil within . . . still a soul cast down . . . still the echoing question of “why” (Ps. 42:5, 11; 43:5).

But the “why” asked of a soul cast down is not the only “why” being asked in these songs crying for vindication and relief from oppression.

I say to God, my rock:
“Why have You forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?”

(Psalm 42:9 ESV)

For You are the God in whom I take refuge;
why have You rejected me?
Why do I go about mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?

(Psalm 43:2 ESV)

Why have You forgotten me? Why have you rejected me? Those questions would seem to make David’s query to his cast down soul seem kind of rhetorical, don’t they? He knows why His soul is cast down. Because, in his current situation, he feels forgotten by God. In his current reality, it’s like God has rejected him. That’s why his soul is cast down.

Every day his oppressors keep him from entering “the house of God”, he longs to again praise God with the people (42:4). As long as the ungodly, deceitful, and unjust keep him from “the holy hill” he yearns again to be in the place of God’s dwelling. But why? Why would the psalmist want to praise the God who has seemingly forgotten him. Why long to be in the presence of the One who, being Sovereign and all-powerful, has left him to his oppressors, apparently rejecting him? Those are the “whys” I’m chewing on.

Here’s a clue . . .

Then I will go to the altar of God,
to God my exceeding joy,
and I will praise You with the lyre,
O God, my God.

(Psalm 43:4 ESV)

In yesterday’s song, He was the God of my life (Ps. 42:8). This morning, He’s God my exceeding joy. How can that be? How can the seemingly forgetting God and rejecting God also be God my exceeding joy? And yet, He is.

God my exceeding joy. Literally, God the gladness of my joy, the joy of my joy, the very essence, the beginning of my joy. As Spurgeon puts it: “He is not his joy alone, but his exceeding joy; not the fountain of joy, the giver of joy, or the maintainer of joy, but that joy itself.”

Before David had known the turmoil of oppression, before encountering the depressing need for vindication, he had known the joy of the LORD. He had tasted and seen that the LORD is good (Ps. 34:8). He had experienced God’s presence, He had known God’s goodness, He had soared with divine rapture as he had worshiped facedown before God’s majesty. He had known God not as just the giver of joy, the supplier of gladness, but had found in God Himself joy itself.

Thus, He longed again to be in the presence of the One who currently seemed to have forgotten Him. He cried out for vindication so that he might access again the altar of sacrifice to make offerings to the One who seemed to have rejected Him. David wanted to be in the place where he could praise God, even in seasons of suffering and confusion, because he knew God . . . he believed God . . . he was bound to God — to God my exceeding joy.

Oh, to know God as not only the source and giver of joy, but to know Him as my exceeding joy itself. And, in knowing Him as my joy, to be able to trust Him in all seasons and situations — through those times when I feel forgotten, in those circumstances where I wonder where He is and sense divine rejection.

God my exceeding joy. Thus, my Rock, and my Refuge.

By His grace. For His glory.

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All My Life

Posted on February 19, 2024 by Pete

As I pause to reflect after my readings this morning, I find myself hovering over Psalm 42.

Looking back through my journal, Psalm 42 is by far the “winner” when it comes to the passages meditated on this day in my reading plan. Whether it’s the song’s lament of a soul panting for God as a deer pants for water (42:1-2), or its melancholy remembrances of happier days gone by with the people of God (42:4), or its twice-repeated chorus echoing the “how long” questions that come with deep depression (42:5, 11), there’s something about this song that causes you (or, at least me) to pause, reflect, and so often connect.

In particular this morning, it’s the “day and night” verses that capture my attention.

My tears have been my food day and night,
while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?”

(Psalm 42:3 ESV)

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)

By day . . . at night . . . the God of my life. Chew on that a bit.

The God of my life. All of my life. The God of all my seasons. The ups, the downs. The mountains, the valleys. The mornings when I jump out of bed, and those when I don’t want to get out of bed. As David puts it, the God of those days when I would, “with the throng”, rejoice “with glad shouts and songs of praise”, and the God of round-the-clock weeping. The God of my day and of my night.

But not a passive God by day, not an absent God in the night. For He is the LORD who sends His faithful love by day and the LORD who sparks within me His song of salvation at night. The God whose presence is promised each day of the journey (Deut. 31:6,8; Jos. 1:5), whose mercies are assuredly new every morning (Lam. 3:23-23), and who prompts me to acknowledge His presence and thank Him for His mercies during midnight conversations. And in that dynamic, I remember that He is the God of my life. All my life.

And it is believing in this day and night God, and knowing this day and night engagement, as we endure our day and night turmoil which allows us to, even in our tears, answer the questioning of a deeply disquieted soul.

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 42:5, 11 ESV)

I shall again praise Him . . . for He is the God of my life.

Thus is my hope. A hope for all my life.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Seventy-Seven Times. That’s a Lot!

Posted on February 16, 2024 by Pete

It wasn’t that the process couldn’t work that troubled Peter. I think it was more about what if it did?

Jesus’ charge to go to a brother or sister who has sinned against you and tell them their fault (Matt. 18:15) might have made sense if its purpose was for the self-satisfaction of chewing someone out. But rebuke them for the purpose of reconciling with them? Call out their transgression so that you could continue to follow Christ together? Not only was that uncomfortable, but it was also kind of risky. What if it worked and they asked to be forgiven? Then you’d have to. Yeah, but what if they sinned against you again (a pretty likely expectation given that we’re dealing with people here)? Go again? Confront again? And, potentially, forgive again? Yup, that’s kind of the implication.

But there’s gotta be a limit, thinks Peter. So Peter probes the matter with Jesus.

Then Peter came up and said to Him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

(Matthew 18:21-22 ESV)

Seven times would be a lot. Think about it . . . a brother or sister sins against you; you go to them and tell them how they’ve sinned; he listens, she agrees, they confess and repent; and, you forgive having “gained your brother”, having won back your sister. But then, they sin against you again and you go through the process again and they listen again, and you forgive again. And then, it happens again, and the process begins again, and you forgive again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and again . . . and again. Seven times. Sure seems like a lot. Feels like going the “extra mile” and then some.

Peter thought seven times was a lot. Thought it would be a pretty safe limit to how much grace any one person could be expected to show to another. But Jesus says, “Nope, not seven times. Think seventy-seven times.”

Seventy-seven times? Come on! (Glad I’m reading the ESV, most other translators think the text says that Jesus responded, “Try seventy times seven times”).

Seventy-seven times! Really?

For anyone who’s done it, once can be hard enough — especially when the “sin against you” cuts deep, deep into you. Especially when there’s no setting right the damage caused by the wrong, no way to go back to how things were before. But yeah, seventy-seven (or, perhaps, seventy times seven), says Jesus. That’s the length you need to be prepared to go to for the sake of being reconciled with a brother; for, as much as it depends on you, living at peace with a sister (Rom. 12:18). That’s a lot of going, rebuking, and forgiving, all with the knowledge that it might be necessary to do it again.

How is that even possible?

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

(Ephesians 4:31-32 ESV)

Comprehending something of the depths to which we’ve been forgiven by God through the Christ who died for us is the well from which we are able to extend forgiveness to others through the Christ who lives in us.

Ever sinned against God? Ever confessed and repented of it? Ever been forgiven? Ever done it again . . . and again . . . and again and been forgiven again and again and again? Ever known Jesus paying the price for the debt of sin you could never repay again and again and again — counting on the fact that He is faithful and just to forgive us our sin each and every time we confess our sin (1Jn. 1:9)?

That’s the secret sauce (not the simple or easy sauce) to seventy-seven times. It’s simple math, the more you’ve been forgiven the greater your capacity to forgive. Having known Jesus’ forgiveness seventy-seven times (more like seventy times seven times) we’re able to forgive from the measure with which we have been forgiven. Conversely, if we don’t think God has had to forgive us much — that most of Jesus’ blood was shed for others — then we’re not going to be able to tap the wells of abundant grace that can source our forgiveness of others.

Seventy-seven times. That’s a lot!

Yeah it is. But Lord, help me to forgive as I have been forgiven.

Forgiven by Your grace. Forgiving for Your glory.

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Fired (A 2015 Remix)

Posted on February 15, 2024 by Pete

Every time I encounter the story, I can’t help but think how extreme the consequences were. After all, they were new to the job.

Sure, they had had thorough training and instruction on how to fulfill their role, but this week was their first week at actually giving it a try. Along with their father, they came to the tent of meeting and were clothed in their priestly garments. Moses walked them through the offerings and sacrifices that would be needed to “make atonement for you and for the people” (Lev. 9:7). And they seemed to be off to a good start.

Offerings offered per instruction . . . sacrifices sacrificed as commanded . . . the operation of the tabernacle commissioned . . . the priesthood of Israel established . . . God Himself making a “guest appearance” . . .

And Moses and Aaron went into the tent of meeting, and when they came out they blessed the people, and the glory of the LORD appeared to all the people. And fire came out from before the LORD and consumed the burnt offering and the pieces of fat on the altar, and when all the people saw it, they shouted and fell on their faces.

(Leviticus 9:23-24 ESV)

And being new to the job, the sons of Aaron decided to improvise a bit. And the sons of Aaron made a fatal mistake, literally. And they were fired, literally.

Now Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, each took his censer and put fire in it and laid incense on it and offered unauthorized fire before the LORD, which He had not commanded them. And fire came out from before the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD.

(Leviticus 10:1-2 ESV)

What a shocker! It’s stunning, really. One moment the glory of God appears and fire from heaven consumes the offerings. And as the glory comes down, the people go facedown. What a holy, awesome moment. But then the sons of Aaron — we can only imagine what motivated them or what they were thinking — play loose with the holy things of God. And they offer unauthorized fire . . . “strange fire” (KJV) . . . “profane fire” (NKJV) . . . “the wrong kind of fire” (NLT). They played with fire and got burned, literally. The fire of heaven that consumed the offering for their sin ended up consuming them because of their sinful offering.

And as you sit back and try to make sense of it, your head can kind of spin. For those of us who have been wooed by grace, won by grace, and walk in grace, it just seems so extreme.

But then, chew on the words of Moses, for “whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction” (Rom. 15:4).

Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what the LORD has said, ‘Among those who are near me I will be sanctified, and before all the people I will be glorified.'” And Aaron held his peace.

(Leviticus 10:3 ESV)

Like Aaron, I hold my peace and sit in awestruck wonder at that which the holiness of God demands. Rather than be tempted to ask, “Was that really fair?” . . . instead, I see the fire come down — both on the offering and then on the transgressors — and I too fall to my face.

Among those who are near me I will be sanctified. I will be “treated as holy” (NASB). And I will “demonstrate my holiness” (CSB). The sons were fired because they failed to regard God as holy. Fired because God being God must be set apart as no other.

How holy is my God? Three times holy! Holy, holy, holy! (Isa. 6:3, Rev. 4:8)

No other attribute of God is referred to in that way. While God is love, we do not read that He is love, love, love. While He is merciful, we don’t find Him referred to as mercy, mercy, mercy. But our God is holy, holy, holy — and those who would draw near must set Him apart accordingly. Not playing loose, not improvising, not doing what seems kind of cool in our own eyes with the things He has commanded concerning our interaction with His holy presence. Instead, we draw near with reverential fear, setting Him apart, seeking only to glorify the God who desires to dwell in our midst.

Among those who are near me I will be sanctified. Yes, LORD.

But thank God for the grace that allows us Nadabs and Abihus to not be fired when we fail to set Him apart as we should. When, because of our casualness concerning the holy, holy, holy holiness of God, we show up with our own “strange fire”. Though we might know the heat of testing so that He might refine us works-in-progress, we do not fear the fire of judgment. The sacrifice for our sin having been made once for all on the cross of Calvary when the hot wrath of a holy God was unleashed on His blessed Son for our otherwise fatal mistakes.

Our God is an awesome God. He is holy, holy, holy! He is to be treated as such.

And that, only by His grace. And that, always for His glory.

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A Pleasing Aroma to the LORD

Posted on February 13, 2024 by Pete

Most often, the “echos” of repetition I encounter in Scripture take me a bit by surprise. Most of the time, when I detect an underlying drumbeat of something being emphasized through multiple iterations of the same word or phrase, it feels like a first-time observation. Not so when my reading plan has me enter the book of Leviticus. There I anticipate the echo, I look forward to the drumbeat, I find myself almost always in wonder as I noodle on a pleasing aroma to the LORD.

Seven times I encountered the phrase, a pleasing aroma to the LORD, as I read the first four chapters of Leviticus. Seven times in 95 verses. Three times in Chapter One’s 17 verses, twice more in the next 16 verses of Chapter Two, then repeated as a mind-renewing reprise both in the third and fourth chapters. To miss it, I think, is to be snoozing at the wheel.

Back in my King James days, I learned it as a “sweet savor.” A soothing, quieting, restful, and pleasing smell, scent, wafting fragrance — a pleasing aroma. To whom? To the LORD.

Kind of a funny phrase to be associated with burned up cows and sheep. Not what I think of when I think of bread left too long in the toaster. Not what I would think of as a divine reaction to an animal slaughtered, often disemboweled, and then incinerated. And yet, to my God, it’s a pleasing aroma.

How come? That’s a question worth chewing on.

Perhaps, above all other reasons, sweet because each of the different sacrifices pointed to a Person. Every offering a foreshadowing of the promised Messiah, the blessed Son of God in whom the Father is well-pleased — the once for all atoning sacrifice for the sins of men and women, sufficient to cover transgressions through the ages and for eternity.

Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

(Ephesians 5:2b ESV)

Perhaps because it pointed to a posture. When offered as the sacrifice should be offered, it demonstrated not just the outward actions of men and women but reflected something of their inner hearts. It wasn’t the smoke of the sacrifice which created the quieting, sweet scent, but the faith and obedience which accompanied the offering. It wasn’t the ritual of sacrifice that broke earth’s ceiling to enter heaven itself, but the humbled, sin-grieved response of those who so welcomed God’s presence that they would worship Him, welcoming atonement for anything that would interrupt their worship.

O Lord, open my lips,
 and my mouth will declare Your praise.
For You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
 You will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
 a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.

(Psalm 51:15-17 ESV)

A pleasing aroma, too, because it pointed to a people.

“For on My holy mountain, the mountain height of Israel, declares the Lord GOD, there all the house of Israel, all of them, shall serve Me in the land. There I will accept them, and there I will require your contributions and the choicest of your gifts, with all your sacred offerings. As a pleasing aroma I will accept you, when I bring you out from the peoples and gather you out of the countries where you have been scattered. And I will manifest My holiness among you in the sight of the nations. And you shall know that I am the LORD.”

(Ezekiel 20:40-42a ESV)

As Paul describes it, God’s people, those rescued from sin’s bondage and gathered together as an outpost testifying of God’s grace in a foreign land, are “the aroma of Christ to God” (2Cor. 2:15). Living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God, emitting the sweet savor of spiritual worship (Rom. 12:1).

A Person. A Posture. A People. 

A pleasing aroma to the LORD.

By His grace. For His glory.

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Our Anointing

Posted on February 12, 2024 by Pete

They were all dressed up. That had some place to go. But without an anointing, they couldn’t even get in the front door . . . literally.

I’m wrapping up Exodus this morning. And the prevailing theme is the creation, the construction, and the commissioning of the tent of meeting — the tabernacle, the place where God’s glory would dwell in the midst of His people.

Each piece of this divinely ordained meeting place architected by God. Moses was the general contractor, making sure it all came together according to spec. The people were the suppliers, moved to generously give of what they had in order to supply the raw materials needed to build the tabernacle. And there were a few good men, raised up of God and with Spirit-infused skill and ability, able to fashion each part of the tabernacle in exact conformance with God’s commanded design.

And within the tent there was to be an elite cohort — a priesthood set apart to enter the scared house and minister but a veil’s width from the most holy of holy spaces. Ministering in this place, the place upon which the glory of God would descend, were Aaron, the high priest, and his sons. And it’s something recorded concerning their entry into the priesthood which struck me this morning. Something which reminded me of our anointing.

“Then you shall bring Aaron and his sons to the entrance of the tent of meeting and shall wash them with water and put on Aaron the holy garments. And you shall anoint him and consecrate him, that he may serve Me as priest. You shall bring his sons also and put coats on them, and anoint them, as you anointed their father, that they may serve Me as priests. And their anointing shall admit them to a perpetual priesthood throughout their generations.”

(Exodus 40:12-15 ESV)

They were to be washed before putting on specially made holy garments. They were to put on the holy garments before serving the LORD. And, most importantly, before serving they were to be consecrated, to be set apart for their spiritual service with a holy anointing. Without the anointing, they could be all dressed and still have no place to go. But with the anointing, they were admitted into a perpetual priesthood.

And I can’t help but see some parallels. I don’t naturally come from a priestly line, but have been adopted as a child of God and thus considered a brother of His Son, the Great High Priest of whom Aaron was but a shadow. And, says His word, coming to Jesus, the Living Stone rejected by men but precious in the sight of His Father, I am made like a living stone too, “being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1Peter 2:5). What’s more, I am part of “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1Peter 2:9).

I too have been called to be part of a priesthood. I have been washed by the blood of Christ, cleansed from all sin and stain. I have been given garments — not of my making or based on my merit — but holy garments sourced in the righteousness of the Savior. A robe of righteousness which is all-sufficient for allowing access to the Most Holy Place. And — it overwhelms me even to consider it — I have been consecrated, set apart for this high and holy work, with an anointing. The anointing of the Holy Spirit of God.

And it is God who establishes us with you in Christ, and has anointed us, and who has also put His seal on us and given us His Spirit in our hearts as a guarantee.

(2Corinthians 1:21-22 ESV)

Just as the anointing of the priests of the tent of meeting with oil admitted them to their perpetual priesthood, so too, our anointing with Spirit not only seals us and establishes us forever in Christ, but it also qualifies us to be counted among the ranks of those who can come before the holy presence of God in order to minister to Him and for Him. It admits us into what is often referred to as the “priesthood of believers.” A set apart cohort called to offer spiritual sacrifices to our God and to proclaim His excellencies to a lost world.

Who am I to receive such an anointing? What have I done to merit such a position?

Wrong questions. It’s all about who He is, and who He’s called me to be, and what He’s done so that it might be realized.

Praise God for our anointing!

Grace upon grace for those who had no right to even approach the outer courts of God’s dwelling place, but now, have not only been granted access though Christ, but have been consecrated by His blessed Spirit to minister in the holy place.

All for His glory alone.

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