different rules

This morning, five little words in the middle of one of the most boring parts of the Bible stabbed me in the heart, but not for the reason you’re probably going to think when you hear them. The words: “For you it is unclean.”

Moses said that as he described in Deuteronomy 14 animals God’s people shouldn’t eat. What convicted me this morning was the word “you.” For God’s people, this rule. But others could eat; in fact, Israelites could provide unclean food to foreigners.

See, here’s my problem: I like to judge unbelievers by God’s, or more accurately my, rules. I hold them to the high standards for believers. Yet God’s way throughout scripture seems to be to love and win over unbelievers.

The best process seems to be this. Step 1 - “Let me be your friend. Let me help you.” Step 2 - “Why am I helping? Because Jesus loves you just like he loves me. Let me tell you about him.” Step 3 - “Now that you know Jesus and want to follow him, let’s talk about how we all struggle to obey.”

I don’t often do that. I, in the privacy of my own skull, say things like, “Why should we have to give rights to perverts?” “I’m boycotting you because you support sinners.” “Get a job - you’re a drag on the rest of us.” I want them all to obey Jesus without having to be Jesus to them. Sometimes I’m a modern-day Pharisee, all about rules and not much about love.

Those five little words suggest that God is tolerant and loving towards those not yet won. He has a different expectation for them. And, it seems, he expects different things of me when I’m with unbelievers, too.

laws

I saw something at work that seemed to me to be a metaphor of some kind for life. Right under the sign of lunch room rules (number 3 of 7 is “Clean up after yourself”) lay a dirty fork and knife surrounded by a spatter of some kind of red sauce. 

There’s an interesting attitude we have here in America that I haven’t encountered anywhere else I’ve been. We like rules for other people, but we always think we should be the exception to the rule. We want a clean kitchen but we don’t want to wash our own forks. I know I can be like that. But I’ve come to realize that I don’t really understand the role of laws and rules.

I’ve started to think that the law is less about putting constraints on me than it is about showing me what good citizenship looks like. We can’t all do anything we want, or there’d be chaos. So if we want safe streets and good services and a minimum of conflict, how should we all behave? Our rules are meant to describe what good social behavior looks like, so we don’t go around making everyone else’s day worse just so ours can be a little easier.

In Moses’ farewell address to the Israelites, he first reminded them of everything God had done for them, and then he went over again the laws God had given. As he started to do that, he said this, in Deuteronomy 4:1-2, “‘Now, Israel, hear the decrees and laws I am about to teach you. Follow them so that you may live and may go in and take possession of the land the Lord, the God of your ancestors, is giving you. Do not add to what I command you and do not subtract from it, but keep the commands of the Lord your God that I give you.’”

These commands, Moses explained, told the people exactly how to live within God’s blessing. They described the best behavior for a close relationship with God and each other. Nothing more would be needed, but nothing less, either.

I think that’s why Jesus said he didn’t come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. God’s law still shows me how to be a good servant, to God and people. And Jesus showed me exactly what that looks like. Just because the penalty for lawbreaking is gone, that doesn’t mean I don’t need the law to help me see how my own sin contrasts with God’s expectation.

Will I ever love the law? Probably not. But I love the benefits I get when others follow the law. Can I be a big enough person to want to give them the same thing?

guarantees

People say there are no guarantees in life. Seemingly secure jobs can be lost. Cars break down. Every fund in my 401(k) disclaims, “Past history is not an indicator of future performance.”

There is one guarantee - Moses pointed it out to the Israelites in Deuteronomy 1:29-33 “‘Then I said to you, "Do not be terrified; do not be afraid of them. The Lord your God, who is going before you, will fight for you, as he did for you in Egypt, before your very eyes, and in the wilderness. There you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place.

‘In spite of this, you did not trust in the Lord your God . . . .’”

I need Moses’ words as much as Israel did. I need to remember that with God, past history is an unfailing indicator of future performance, because God doesn’t change. I need to look at what he has done, not just in the amazing Bible stories but in my life too. 

My good, faithful and loving God is my guarantee for retirement, for bad medical test results, for broken relationships, for uncertain economies and slow business years. Whatever I face walking with God, I will defeat. How do I know? Because when I look back at the things that scared me in my life, I see the truth of what Moses said. God did carry me, as a father carries his son, all the way until I got to where I am.

It makes me mad at myself for all the days I lived without giving God a thought. For all the things I tackled in my own strength. For the nights I worried about things God already had a plan for. 

I hope, in the end, that one thing Moses told the Israelites won’t be my story too: that despite God’s constant providence, they didn’t trust him. God is the only one I can truly trust.

wealth

A lot of Americans struggle with principles of wealth, especially since it’s a topic in our national election. How rich is too rich? What is the best way to help the poor? Is redistribution of wealth a good idea?

Part of my reading this morning was Numbers 36, in which God clarifies his instructions about property among the Israelites. In particular, I found myself thinking about verse 7: “No inheritance in Israel is to pass from one tribe to another, for every Israelite shall keep the tribal inheritance of their ancestors.”

God’s law allowed renting, or temporary sale, of property, buy permanent rights couldn’t be transferred. All land went back to the original owning family during the year of Jubilee.

What should I conclude from this? At a minimum, it seems that God desires a basic level of equity. Among his people there would be none who had no land. And there would be no one who had a lot of land.

It seems to me that a part of the issue relates to opportunity. Land was central to the economy of the day; even most raw materials for craftsmen came from the land. God’s way meant that every family had the means to provide for itself and contribute to society. Ambitious people couldn’t control it all.

So I guess there is such a thing as too much wealth. And I conclude (reluctantly) that government does have a role in ensuring that everyone has a minimum level of provision and opportunity.

I’m not sure what that means for my daily behaviors, but I know it has to start with attitude change. There is potential for abuse in unrestrained capitalism, so I need to give thoughtful consideration to the merits of proposed controls. And entitlements in some form are not only necessary, they can conform to Godly principles, so I shouldn’t turn up my nose at them or those who need them.

And it’s also Biblical that from those who have much, much will be expected. I have much. Many people have much more. The system shouldn’t be stacked to our advantage.

culture

An interesting comment I overheard recently between Christian brothers: “I prefer to watch TV shows; sports just glorify money and feed the ego of arrogant athletes.”

What’s interesting to me is the guy who said that understood that sports programming can put some bad ideas in people’s heads, but didn’t seem to see that TV shows do too. The truth is, the most dangerous part of pop culture isn’t sex or violence, it’s the ideas that are presented so sympathetically that I want to agree.

In Numbers 33 I read God’s instructions for making sure everyone in Israel had a part of the promised land. Then, in verse 55, I read this: “But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land, those you allow to remain will become barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides. They will give you trouble in the land where you will live.”

We can’t and shouldn’t drive unbelievers out of our towns. But I have to recognize that those ideas they feed me are like cactus spines in my eyes and soul. 

For the Israelites, the struggle was against pagan religions with their offers of free sex and lots of spectacle. For me, it’s the idols of self and humanism.

Suggestions that marriage is an outdated institution, that my happiness is most important, that might makes right, that truth equals intolerance, all of those messages that bombard me every time I turn on the TV or radio or read a book or even a newspaper . . . they bleed me a little bit, each one of them, until my strength and zeal for God oozes away one little drop at a time.

I can’t and shouldn’t drive out unbelievers, but I can and should banish their bad messages from my mind, and my house, and my car radio, and anyplace where I get to decide. And if I don’t consciously do that, then I will slowly begin to accept. Because these are the things that those people I find more interesting than God tell me to accept if I want to be accepted by them.

In the end, it’s another choice of who to serve.

no retirement

I wonder what went through Moses’ mind when God gave him his last job. 

Moses had led quite a life. Floated on the Nile in a basket as a baby, raised in the palace, a murderer and fugitive as a young man, years spent herding sheep in the desert, then a return to Egypt as a rebel leader, and more than 40 years commanding God’s people during their wanderings. Now, when they are about to enter the promised land, God says, "Take vengeance on the Midianites for the Israelites. After that, you will be gathered to your people." (Numbers 31:2.)

Moses knew already he wasn’t going to enter Canaan with the Israelites - God had announced that long ago. But still, after everything, one more battle, one more people to subdue, and then that was it. Did Moses feel tired? Regretful? Resentful? Or just glad it was over, glad it was time to enter God’s rest?

I can imagine some of all of that, because I can easily feel that way. Not that I’m ready to kick off any time soon, but I’ve been known to say, “Really? I’m not doing enough? I haven’t already done enough? Lord, you’re going to suck everything out of my life and leave nothing for me.”

Which is exactly the point. Life is supposed to be not about serving myself, but about serving God by serving others. And that would make me happier, if I just let it. I have to acknowledge that most of the unhappiness, the stress, the anxiety I have had has been because I want things for myself. I’ve never felt those things when I was doing ministry.

Right up to his death Moses kept getting big assignments from God, and he faithfully carried them out. I need to think about that when my friends are all talking about early retirement so we can spend decades on the golf course.

missing the blessings

Sometimes I read the Bible and God holds something up in front of me like a mirror and it what I see makes me cringe.

This morning, I was reading about the Israelites wandering in the wilderness. In the first three verses of Numbers 21 they asked God to give them a victory over a pagan nation, and he did. And then, in the very next verses (4 and 5) I read this:

“They traveled from Mount Hor along the route to the Red Sea, to go around Edom. But the people grew impatient on the way; they spoke against God and against Moses, and said, ‘Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!’"

My first thought was, “Waa, waa, waa. What a bunch of babies!” Then I heard my own words in my head, from just a few hours before: “I am so sick of shoveling this stupid driveway!” That’s the driveway of my brand new house, the one I moved into two weeks ago. 

I whine about my job, which is a great job. I complain about a busy schedule, which means I have friends and family who want me around, and I have the means and opportunities to go places and do things. I gripe about my aches and pains, when in fact my health continues to impress my doctors year after year. As a friend used to say, some days I’d bitch about ice cream being too cold.

When the Israelites treated God’s blessings that way, in the passage I read today, he sent poisonous snakes to bite them to death. What does he think of my reaction to this wonderful life he’s given me?

This is indeed amazing grace. He saved me, he provides for me, me blesses me beyond any reasonable expectation. And when I behave like a petulant child, he just gives me more.

love, not judgment

This morning I read, among other things, the story of the whiny Israelites and the miracle of the water from the rock at Meribah. You remember, God told Moses to speak to the rock.  But instead, this is what Moses did (Numbers 20:9 -12):  

“So Moses took the staff from the Lord's presence, just as he commanded him. He and Aaron gathered the assembly together in front of the rock and Moses said to them, ‘Listen, you rebels, must we bring you water out of this rock?’ Then Moses raised his arm and struck the rock twice with his staff. Water gushed out, and the community and their livestock drank. But the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, ‘Because you did not trust in me enough to honor me as holy in the sight of the Israelites, you will not bring this community into the land I give them.’”

I always thought that Moses was punished for hitting the rock. I totally got Moses, because I would want to hit some Israelites, and the rock would make a safe substitute.

Today, though, I think I was wrong; I think Moses’ mistake was speaking harshly to the people instead of gently to the rock. It seems to me that, for whatever reason, in this case God wanted to show his grace, his undeserved mercy, to his stubborn people. In the face of their complaining, he wanted to simply provide what they needed.

If that observation is correct, then Moses’ sin was this: he took it on himself to judge God’s people, to decide how God’s representative among them should respond. In fact, he decided that God’s instructions didn’t go far enough.

When I read it that way, the story changes. Instead of a case history in how bad things come from losing your temper, it becomes a warning about judgment. It reminds me that very seldom am I to be God’s agent in punishing people. That God is a God of grace, and I am normally a means for him to provide grace. Certainly I must never judge where God forgives, or punish where He shows grace.

I’m reminded of advice I got from an experienced elder when I first was on consistory. He said, “When in doubt, show love. God can handle judgment better himself.”

rebellion

What is it in us that makes us resent our leaders? What makes us prefer total freedom and no accountability? Why do we hate to follow other people?

It’s a form of pride, I think, that no one else is better than me. It’s exactly the same attitude that led to rebellion and a lot of sorrow in the Israelite camp. 

It started with Korah, Dathan and Abiram. “They came as a group to oppose Moses and Aaron and said to them, ‘You have gone too far! The whole community is holy, every one of them, and the Lord is with them. Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord's assembly?’" (Numbers 16:3).

God responded to that challenge by opening the ground to swallow these three men, their families, and all they owned. He burned to ash their 250 followers. And when the people complained that Moses was too bloodthirsty, he sent a plague that only stopped when 14,700 were dead, and Moses and Aaron interceded with God to end it.

And after all that, it still took a miracle (Aaron’s staff budded, bloomed and produced almonds) before the people would accept that Aaron and Moses were God’s chosen leaders for them.

In another part of scripture, I’m urged to show respect and loyalty to my superiors, regardless of whether they treat me nicely or even follow God. God is consistent in this matter of following my leaders. There isn’t a place where the Bible tells me it’s OK to overthrow or oppose a legitimate leader.

I’m sometimes going to have to follow people I disagree with, and watch them do things I think are wrong. That’s hard, but if I recognize that a big part of my response is arrogance (I know better) and pride (I am better), I can see that a more humble attitude would be appropriate.

Anarchy would rule if any of us could defy any leader we don’t like. Chaos would be the norm if we all did whatever we please. Part of following Christ is promoting good order in society by following our leaders, or following lawful processes to replace them. Once again, faithful obedience and good citizenship require the same things.

arrogance

This morning, I read a story that could have been a metaphor for many contemporary Christians, myself included. 

In Numbers 14 is the story of the aftermath of the exploration of the Promised Land. Ten of the twelve in the expedition brought a scary report, so the people rebelled and refused to go. Then, when God told them he would punish them with forty more years of desert wandering, they changed their mind, even though Moses warned them it was no longer God’s will. 

Read this from verses 44 and 45: “Nevertheless, in their presumption they went up toward the highest point in the hill country, though neither Moses nor the ark of the Lord 's covenant moved from the camp. Then the Amalekites and the Canaanites who lived in that hill country came down and attacked them and beat them down all the way to Hormah.”

It reminds me of our glibness in proclaiming things we want to be God’s will. We can decide that God’s will for our church involves things we want that exclude others. We can decide that God’s will for our lives means quitting a job that bores us to pursue full time a career that doesn’t yet exist. Or, as so many have said to me, we can believe, “This is OK because God wants me to be happy.”

Like the Israelites, in my presumption I can go forward waving God’s flag into a fight that serves only me. I can be so sure, based on what I like, what is right for all of us.

What I read today tells me that when I do that, God will let pagans beat me down if that’s what it takes to get his point across. In fact, when the non-believers seem to be winning, that may be a hint for me to re-evaluate.

A good way to start is to get back to what I know is God’s will: that I work hard on a good relationship with him. The better that relationship, the less likely I’ll act presumptuously. 

faith for the journey

This morning I read one of those minor Bible stories that has always grabbed my imagination, in Numbers 13: “1The Lord said to Moses, 2 ‘Send some men to explore the land of Canaan, which I am giving to the Israelites . . . .’ 21 So they went up and explored the land from the Desert of Zin as far as Rehob, toward Lebo Hamath . . . . 25 At the end of forty days they returned from exploring the land.”

This strikes me as a grand quest, the Israelite version of the Lewis and Clark expedition, or Daniel Boone in the Cumberland. It doesn’t take much imagination to see Joshua, Caleb and the group of 12 as much the same as the Fellowship of the Ring. They saw wonders, they encountered different tribes, they came to mighty cities and quaint villages, and they brought back the biggest bunch of grapes anyone had ever seen as proof the land was fertile.

So it’s disappointing to read the results, at the end of the chapter. Although the land is beautiful and fruitful as promised, the group reports it would be too dangerous to go. The people there are big and tough, and numerous. Only Caleb and Joshua speak up in faith.

That strikes me as a lot like life. In among the beauty, in those places where God sends me, there are always monsters, those reasons not to go. Often those monsters loom so large they dominate my thinking, and I don’t even look at the bunch of grapes so big that it drags on the ground. There are great blessings where God sends, and provision for the hard things too.

If things were certain, and always good, they wouldn’t require faith. If I only follow when God wants easy things, do I really have faith?

blessings and curses

If given a choice between blessings and curses, I doubt anyone would choose to be cursed. Yet, if God is still the same today as he was in the time of Moses, a lot of us choose the curses. Because Leviticus 26 makes it clear that all those choices that amount to disobedience will bring me bad things.

The chapter starts this way, in the first 13 verses: "If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands, I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit . . . . I will grant peace in the land, and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid . . . . I will look on you with favor and make you fruitful and increase your numbers, and I will keep my covenant with you.”

That all sounds pretty good. Sign me up for the favorable work conditions and prosperous results. Sign me up for the peace and fruitfulness.

But then things take a turn, in verse 14 and following: “'But if you will not listen to me and carry out all these commands . . .  then I will do this to you:I will bring on you sudden terror, wasting diseases and fever that will destroy your sight and sap your strength. You will plant seed in vain, because your enemies will eat it. I will set my face against you so that you will be defeated by your enemies; those who hate you will rule over you, and you will flee even when no one is pursuing you.

Wow, um, no thanks! I don’t need any terror or wasting diseases, or fruitless work, or to lose to my rivals. Life is fine without all that.

But then I go through my day shading the truth when it helps me, laughing at the coarse talk, railing against stupid people, sometimes causing discord. So much of my day can pass without a thought given to God.

So what am I choosing really? Just because God, in his grace, gives me a little time and space, just because he doesn’t send all that badness on the first day, doesn’t mean his judgment will wait forever. Am I lulled by his forbearance?

Choose this day whom you will serve, a later apostle would say. Who am I really choosing?

plenty

God provides.

Sometimes when I hear that, I think, “Yes, he provides us the ability to work and to get things done and earn a living.” I think that because I like to think I’m self-sufficient, and I wish other people would be too.

But God doesn’t teach self-sufficiency, he teaches interdependence. Often he provides by giving us each other. And sometimes he provides things that would be impossible for us to attain.

For example, in Leviticus 25 God lays down the laws of the sabbath year and the year of Jubilee. In answer to the obvious question of where the food would come from if the land was rested for two years, he promised this, in verses 21 and 22 “I will send you such a blessing in the sixth year that the land will yield enough for three years. While you plant during the eighth year, you will eat from the old crop and will continue to eat from it until the harvest of the ninth year comes in.”

Farmers I know do everything they can each year to ensure a good crop, but sometimes crops still fail. God promised, and provided, bumper crops as needed.

This reminds me of two things. First, God does provide. He can do anything he wants to, and he often wants to bless me. It’s my own worldly lenses that make those blessings look like luck or the result of my own good character.

Second, I shouldn’t ever turn down an assignment from God because it looks like I’m short of skills or resources. Like the three-year crop at Jubilee, God already knows exactly what it will take to get me through, and he has a plan for that.

Thanks be to God for his goodness to me.

celebrate

There are many aspects to God - he is love, he judges, he is my father, he provides. Leviticus 23 reveals that he is also a God of celebration.

The first two verse of that chapter read, “The Lord said to Moses, ‘Speak to the Israelites and say to them: “These are my appointed festivals, the appointed festivals of the Lord, which you are to proclaim as sacred assemblies.”’”

Then God goes on to list eight festivals celebrating the harvest, commemorating special events, marking the time of national atonement, and providing a time of rest.

It’s interesting to think that God took so much care to ensure that his people took holidays. But I also note that each of these festivals focused his people back on him in some way of remembrance or thanksgiving. What they celebrate always is God’s goodness.

And something else: the very first festival on the list is the weekly Sabbath, the day of rest and sacred assembly. Does Sunday feel like celebration to you? It doesn’t always to me; sometimes it feels like a drag - so many restrictions.

Reading all this made me feel good. It made me think that this earthly life, this struggle to stay obedient in a world hostile to God’s people, is really filled with days and weeks that are joyful. It made me think that God wants me to have these periods of fun and fellowship.

But, if you read the chapter, one thing stands out: part of every one of these festivals is the sacred assembly. The best way to celebrate anything is in the same things that get us through the hard times: fellowship and worship with the church.

That’s why I feel sad for people who don’t belong to one. Or who choose not to go.

gleanings

I’m not a big fan of the welfare state. I don’t like the idea of some of us living off the rest of us. On the other hand, I do think the government has a critical role in ensuring everyone has a chance to provide for him or herself.

Once again, there is timeless truth for this very modern issue in scripture. This morning I read Leviticus 19:9-10, which says "'When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. I am the Lord your God.’”

There are three things here that I needed to be reminded about citizenship. First, as one of the fortunate ones blessed with a good job, I have an obligation not to use all of my wealth for myself. Part of what I produce is to be made available for the less fortunate.

Second, the poor shouldn’t just live idly off the largess of the workers. The poor should be willing to put in the work of collecting for themselves. In today’s world, that may mean that they could provide a service to my community in return for which they have a right to support, kind of like the old CCC of the 1930s. But lack of money doesn’t excuse anyone from good citizenship.

Finally, God says I have an obligation to provide not just for the poor, but also for the foreigner. There are many who feel immigrants and refugees have no right to anything until they pay taxes; that doesn’t seem to be God’s way.

And that’s the real point here. In this chapter of Leviticus God lays down many other commands as well, and finishes all of them by saying “I am the Lord your God.” To me that sounds like, “As my image-bearers you must be like me, and that means you must do this thing.” Not argue, not complain, just do.

scapegoat

When I was a boy, I hated God’s commands about the scapegoat.

You remember. In Leviticus 16:20-22, it says "’When Aaron has finished making atonement for the Most Holy Place, the tent of meeting and the altar, he shall bring forward the live goat. He is to lay both hands on the head of the live goat and confess over it all the wickedness and rebellion of the Israelites—all their sins—and put them on the goat's head. He shall send the goat away into the wilderness in the care of someone appointed for the task. The goat will carry on itself all their sins to a remote place; and the man shall release it in the wilderness.’”

That was part of the intricate system of sacrifices God set up so that his people wouldn’t have to bear the penalty for their own sin. Once a year, some poor goat was taken so far out he couldn’t find his way home, and left. No herder to find it water or food, or keep the bears and wolves away. As a boy, it seemed the goat was doomed to a fate that was harsher than just being sacrificed. The goat was doomed to displacement, loneliness, maybe starvation, probably death by mauling.

The goat, of course, foreshadows Jesus, whose ultimate sacrifice would end the need for any other. Jesus too would be lonely, outcast, burdened with the sins of the world, and left in the hands of enemies who would kill him slowly.

That’s sad too, far more sad than the scapegoat. It’s sad because my sin was in that load he carried away. And even more so, because even after the sacrifice, I keep on sinning.

The goat had no idea what was going on. Jesus had every idea, even to knowing my name and my sin. Which was worse?

unclean

It’s a hard truth that I don’t like: This world can pollute my soul.

I think that’s one reason God made so many laws about cleanness in the Old Testament. For example, in Leviticus 11:44-45, he said this about what animals the Israelites could eat: “I am the Lord your God; consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am holy. Do not make yourselves unclean by any creature that moves along the ground. I am the Lord, who brought you up out of Egypt to be your God; therefore be holy, because I am holy.”

Later on God would give Peter permission to eat these animals, so the problem wasn’t with any potential health consequences. I think God was communicating the principle that some things that would look good to us, and would be done by those around us, would compromise our holiness.

It’s easy to look past the things that draw me closer to God, and want the things that won’t. I look past the blessing of Sabbath rest and wish I could work, or shop. I look past the fellowship and support found in Bible study groups and prefer the flexibility of keeping my schedule open. I look past the joy found in quiet, sober living and think my partying, nightlife friends are having more fun than I am. I look past the providence of my moderate home and small pickup and JC Penney wardrobe and envy the guys with mansions, Escalades and bespoke suits.

Beware the things of this world that distract us from God. Consecrate yourselves, the verse says, and that means set yourself apart for holy purposes. Be holy, because God is holy.

What exactly does that mean? I don’t know how to define it, but I know it in my heart. I can feel when something is right or isn’t. That’s the counsel of the Holy Spirit, and I need to listen more closely.

unauthorized

The end doesn’t justify the means.

That old, old saying is a hard sell these days. We tend to be expedient. I do what works most effectively. I don’t very often think of the principle behind the rule, I just think of how following it doesn’t seem necessary at the moment. So I speed, and make illegal U turns, and put computer parts in the dumpster, and all kinds of other things I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t because behind every rule there’s a principle. Traffic laws exist for safety and conservation reasons, so even if it looks like I can break one without too much risk, I still should be concerned over emissions and fuel economy. Improper disposal of universal waste will poison the planet; I can think my little item won’t make a difference, but the act demonstrates my selfishness and lack of concern for future generations.

Even more, there’s the larger principle that my rule breaking, if observed, reinforces other people’s inclination to break the rules.

Often we break the rules trying to do good things. That was the case for Nadab and Abihu in Leviticus 10:1-3: “Aaron's sons Nadab and Abihu took their censers, put fire in them and added incense; and they offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, contrary to his command. So fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord. Moses then said to Aaron, ‘This is what the Lord spoke of when he said: “Among those who approach me I will be proved holy; in the sight of all the people I will be honored.”’

As a Christian, most of the time right living is less about what I do than how I do it. God doesn’t just want a result, he wants faithful hearts that care about principles.

civic responsibility

I know that I can’t read the book of Leviticus and think I’m supposed to literally do what it says. The time of blood sacrifices and certain eating prohibitions and ceremonial uncleanness is past.

I also know that it’s important to read Leviticus because the principles behind God’s instructions still apply. God doesn’t change, and neither does his guidance.

So I feel conflicted when I read Leviticus 5:1: “'If anyone sins because they do not speak up when they hear a public charge to testify regarding something they have seen or learned about, they will be held responsible.”

I prefer to stay out of things. I don’t want to speak up regarding accusations people make against each other. I don’t want to get involved, I just want to keep my head down.

I want to interpret this verse narrowly and say, “Well, if I ever know something about a court case or legal charge, of course I’ll speak up.” I suspect, though, that God is telling me something about my responsibility as a citizen. I suspect that when there is public discourse on issues where I can speak truth from my own experience, I’m called to do that.

That means I can’t avoid those conversations on entitlements anymore, not when I work with so many young mothers struggling even with a little help and a job. I can’t avoid those conversations about immigration, because I have legal immigrant friends who have illegal immigrant family members here too, and I know why and what they face. When so many just repeat what they’ve heard, I can speak from experience and by doing so add some of the nuance that makes these issues way more complex than just building a wall and making Mexico pay for it.

If I don’t speak up, this verse says, then I bear some responsibility for the bad answers society comes up with. Once again, responsible citizenship and obedient service are the same thing.

Good to remember in an election year.

easy sinning

When I was younger, I used to hunt a lot. I remember the smell and feel of fresh blood. I always cleaned my game immediately, and cooled out the meat, so the flesh and blood were still warm on my hands. On a cold day it sometimes seemed to burn.

I loved to hunt, but I didn’t like cleaning the carcasses. It’s a gross step to a good meal.

I think of that blood odor whenever I read of the temple sacrifices. For example, in Leviticus 4 I read this: "'If any member of the community sins unintentionally and does what is forbidden in any of the Lord 's commands, when they realize their guilt and the sin they have committed becomes known, they must bring as their offering for the sin they committed a female goat without defect. They are to lay their hand on the head of the sin offering and slaughter it at the place of the burnt offering.”

Going to church used to be a bloody affair. Sin, and you have to personally slaughter a goat before you could go inside. If those rules were still in effect, I’d have killed herds of goats by now, and more every week.

It’s easy to see why, though. My sin deserves death. The only possible payment to God, the only attempt at justice or balancing the scales, is blood for each and every sin. It’s only because God loves me, loves all his people, so much that he accepted other blood for my sin.

Since Jesus came, we don’t have to smell the blood any more, or get in on our hands and have to scrub it out from under our fingernails. Jesus’ blood satisfied judgment for all time.

It’s easy to take that for granted, though, to have an entitlement attitude toward forgiveness. It might be good for us once in awhile to get blood on our hands. Maybe if we had to watch some terrified goat die on our behalf, if we had to pull the knife across the throat ourselves, we’d think differently about sin.

Maybe then we’d feel more grateful.

set aside

There was an awful lot of fuss involved in the Old Testament priesthood.

I just read two chapters describing what Aaron’s robes, undergarments and ephod were supposed to look like, and another long chapter laying out the ordination ceremony. Fancy, expensive, and spectacular.

Then, at the very end of today’s reading, this: "So I will consecrate the tent of meeting and the altar and will consecrate Aaron and his sons to serve me as priests. Then I will dwell among the Israelites and be their God. They will know that I am the Lord their God, who brought them out of Egypt so that I might dwell among them. I am the Lord their God.” Exodus 29:44-46

Consecrated. Set apart for holy use. No one in the camp could miss that something huge was happening; all of the sacrifices and horn-blowing would see to that. And the Levites in their distinctive new uniforms looked special. I wonder if they felt different. I wonder if they felt holier.

I wonder that because Paul writes in some of his letters that I’m supposed to be consecrated too. Jesus was the sacrifice that cleansed me, and since then I’ve been set aside for holy purposes only.

So why do I feel so unfit? Why do all the sinful pleasures have their hooks so deep, why do they pull so much? Probably because that holy purpose isn’t my first focus. And it needs to be.