Keep Something Behind the Counter

I hadn't planned on it.  I just happened.  When I opened my Bible to read the next chapter of Leviticus, my eyes caught on the previous chapter and something clicked.  There are times that a verse taken by itself is exposed.  Don't get me wrong, context is vital to Biblical interpretation, but to see a verse alone sometimes reveals detail that might otherwise be overlooked.

I have often wondered about  term "leaven" as used in the Bible: the leaven of the Pharisees, leaven in the dough, how dangerous a small amount of leaven can be. I have had no satisfying answer until today as I sat down to read chapter 3 and my eyes reread verse 11 from chapter 2.

"No grain offering, which you bring to the LORD, shall be made with leaven, for you shall not offer up in smoke any leaven or any honey as an offering by fire to the LORD."

It suddenly struck me.  Leaven gives a false appearance. It puffs up and expands the essence of what is there, making it look larger. It adds an airy texture when eaten. And, in the same way yeast, or leaven, would mislead honey adds sweetness making grain more appealing, more tasty, more indulgent.  It's not that God doesn't like things big or sweet or good.  He made all things.  He IS big and sweet and good.  But when it comes from me, a person, a created being, the focus is due God, not myself.  How easy it is for me to puff myself up, to try to appear bigger and sweeter and more attractive to others (sacrifices were offered in public, remember) and to God.


The leaven of life is pride. A little goes a long way. I apply it when I seek to draw attention to my actions or appearance or worth, puffing up what little I have, expanding the essence of what is actually there. I present myself as having greater importance and substance than what an honest appraisal would reveal. The honey is much the same, although it makes me think more of flattery, of sweetening the deal. I may be sour as a lemon, bitter as lye, but present myself to God and others in a falsely appealing way.

So for now, today?  The offering of my everyday life, the grain that comes in and goes out, must first be finely ground, well masticated, used fully. It is what it is. I am what I am. There is nothing special, better than, or exceptional other than the fact that God has sovereignly ordained each part. Humility, a lack of leaven, is practiced as I present what He has given with gratitude and honesty.

Chuck Swindoll's grandfather taught him to "always keep something behind the counter."  This doesn't mean  we should hold back what is due; rather, we should be honest about what is in the back room.  If I don't have any for sale, I shouldn't put it out for display.  May I say the same is true of our Christian lives.  Speaking to myself: If I don't have any in the backroom, it has no place on the counter.

Consecrating the Daily Grind

Back to Leviticus!  (It doesn't have quite the ring of the "Back to Genesis" ads on the radio.)

As I opened my Bible to Leviticus chapter 2 this morning, I prepared myself for the fact that not every day's Bible reading brings eye-popping, heart-stopping insights.  But God surprised me once again.

This chapter gave instruction for the presentation of grain offerings.  Living with a farmer, grain is a daily part of our lives.  We have bins of grain from last fall's harvest that are waiting to be delivered to market.  We have grain in the barn we are feeding our expectant ewes and growing calf.  Our son has a jar of wheatberries (grains of wheat) on his headboard to snack on when he's in the mood.  I didn't expect to see anything exciting in this chapter on grain.

But as I read, this is what I discovered:
There were three constant ingredients offered with the grain. The first was oil (v. 1,2,4,5,6,7,15,16). The second was salt (v. 13). The third, less noticeable (it is mentioned only once, but in reference to all grain sacrifices) was frankincense (v. 1). Grain was the gift, but it was to be anointed with oil and frankincense and seasoned with salt.
 


Putting my symbolic-and-contextual-interpretation hat on, it was easy to explain the oil. Throughout the Bible, oil is symbolic of the Holy Spirit—in the anointing of kings, in the temple. The working and presence of the Holy Spirit should be evident in my giving. The salt? My only thought here is the verse that instructs us to season our words with grace (Col. 4:6). So salt represents grace (?). And frankincense, brought by one of the magi, represents Christ (?).  (I did cheat here by looking up a commentary and confirming these last two.)

Why all the detail?  Does it really matter? This is where the eye-popping, heart-stopping reached out and grabbed me. Even the most mundane, every day, common sacrifice (or gift) is to be offered reverently, with grace, by the working of the Spirit, lavished by Jesus Christ’s redeeming blood. My daily life should not consist of moments never given, or given carelessly, or given grudgingly, or apart from the work of Christ. The moments, the grains of my day, are to fall from my fingers as those spoken with grace, lubricated by the Spirit, releasing the aroma of Christ. Perhaps the things I do would be different if I saw them in this light. More likely, the ways in which I do them and the freedom of heart I experience as the finely-ground grain is presented would rise in praise to the God who provided the seeds of grain and the components of the sacrifice.

The grains of life are spent apart from my giving.  If only I would consecreate and give them with a heart of gratitude, open hands, and dependence....Jesus, take and bless. In your name and for your glory….

Incense Rising

This morning's Bible reading took me on a rabbit trail--in spite of numerous interruptions. 
I sat down to read the book of Leviticus and finished chapter 1.  Made pancakes and sausage.  Came back to my computer and Bible, picked out a repeated phrase. Thought about it while stuffing and sealing envelopes with our 9-year-old daughter, Laura, for Good News Club. Checked email and was reminded of dear friends on the mission field whose lives have turned upside down due to physical illness.  The choices they are facing breathe depth into this chapter of Leviticus.

‘When any of you brings an offering to the LORD, you shall bring your offering of animals from the herd or the flock…. And the priest shall offer up in smoke all of it on the altar for a burnt offering, an offering by fire of a soothing aroma to the LORD….And the priest shall offer all of it, and offer it up in smoke on the altar; it is a burnt offering, an offering by fire of a soothing aroma to the LORD….And the priest shall offer it up in smoke on the altar on the wood which is on the fire; it is a burnt offering, an offering by fire of a soothing aroma to the LORD.'

No, it's not a typo and no, I didn't hit the "copy" "paste" buttons too many times, that phrase is repeated that many times in the first chapter.  It peaked my curiosity.
Here were my simple thoughts (there is room to disagree, I'm still thinking about this): 
1)  Each person brought an offering and it was freely given
2) The priest was the one who prepared and presented the offering
3) The smoke demonstrated a transformation of the offering from man's purposes to God's purposes
4) The part that pleased God was not the final product, but the process (the aroma, not the ashes).

So, following proper biblical interpretation, these are other passages that paralleled my observations:
1) In Romans 12, Paul urges believers to offer themselves as an offering based on the mercy of God.  Many of us have done that and would agree that this is part of the Christian life that begins sanctification (being supernaturally changed into the image of Jesus Christ).
2) Jesus Christ is the one who prepared the way for a right relationship with God.  He is the One who presents us to the Father (John 14:6, Hebrews 7:23-27).  And He is the ultimate sacrifice upon which our comparably small gift is made (Colossians 1:18-20).
Jesus' sacrifice and love for us was a pleasing aroma to God.  He is our mediator and example (Ephesians 5:1-2).
3) The prayers of the saints rise like incense before the Father and He takes great pleasure in them (Revelation 5:8).
4) So it is my prayers, my dependence on the Father to complete His work in and through me, that rise like smoke from the sacrifice of my life which is being transformed from its worldly worth to God's eternal purposes.  It is not the final product that is my concern, but the constant turning over of my desires and circumstances to His working that brings Him glory.

And that, dear friends, is the rabbit trail I have been following in my thoughts today.  It is not my efforts, my self-denial, or my ministry that blesses the heart of the Father.  It is my frailty, my weakness, my dependence, my trust that wafts before His heavenly throne and brings Him pleasure.  He has it all.  He is in it all.  He is over all.  And my simple acknowledgement and submission, though humanly impossible, reflects His glory.  What a wondrous privilege!