Convicted by Leviticus

I just started reading through the Old Testament book of Leviticus. This is not necessarily a thirst that I am quenching, as much as a box that I am marking off in the journey of reading through all of the Bible.

Even though I was not initially excited about the venture, I became fairly passionate about this as I wrapped up 1 & 2 Chronicles and was looking for some new territory. I was determined to take this frequently ignored section of the Bible and slowly, thoughtfully comb through its message and see what recesses of my heart God might grab. I’ve only begun, and already I’ve been benevolently assaulted.

The first 5 chapters of the book give detailed instructions for burnt offerings, grain offerings, fellowship offerings, sin offerings and guilt offerings. Fairly mundane stuff. Or is it?

Imagine the ancient Hebrew’s world – a world of hard work, and utter dependence on the one Lord Jehovah. The various offerings/sacrifices addressed a number of circumstances, but centered mostly on consistent worship (an acknowledgement of God’s supremacy in all things) and penance for sin.

How often these offerings had to be brought, I don’t know. But between the periodic offerings required for maintaining devotion to God, and the offerings required for sin, a lot of sacrificing was going on nationally and personally. The priests and Levites were engaged 24/7 in the midst of blood and fire. And each Hebrew household was consistently providing from their own means offerings for worship and repentance. Selecting a blue ribbon calf or lamb to be given away and slaughtered was a very real cost. And it was a cost that came around often and consistently.

Every offering was a reminder of the gap between God and man that must be mended, and that the remedy was no simple thing. It required literal blood, sweat and tears.

Would the cost of sin and the difficulty of reconciliation between Creator and His creatures not become deeply impressed on the lives of those ancient people? To imagine a day in which someone else paid the price and the sacrifice ceased would be a day of almost unfathomable celebration.

You and I have lived our whole lives in the age of Grace. Most of us have a very fuzzy impression of the true cost of sin. Unless we have seen some specific rebellion cut into life lethally and then become healed by God in a specific way, we don’t quite feel the impact of sin. In my experience forgiveness has always been fairly easy. Believe a story. Pledge allegiance. When I screw up, say a prayer. It’s covered.

But what if I had to spend one year offering a calf/lamb/ram/goat/pigeon/ephah of grain every Sunday and every time I sinned? Would grace suddenly become a more marvelous thing?

I can’t wait to continue my reading in Leviticus. I anticipate a deepening understanding of sin, holiness and grace.

Simple Church

Allow me to go Martin Luther King, Jr. for a minute. I have a dream. I have a dream when one day the church will become simple again. Not simple-minded, but simple. I become weary of administration, budgets, buildings, programming, and the like. I look at the early church – a mega-church – that thrived as a home-based people of God living together in harmony and turning the world upside-down for Jesus Christ. They had no buildings, no budgets, no programs, and no printed curriculum, but they had power.

This does not mean that they had no problems. And certainly as they grew they had to strive for some kind of organizational structure. Acts 6 & 15 shows us that some kind of structure had to come into play to deal with a variety of issues. But the community of Jesus-followers were much more organic than they are today.

Say the word “church” today and it is hard not to think about all the externals that consume our money, time and energies. And, yet, despite our sophistication, how does our impact compare with our brothers and sisters from AD 30? Ouch!

Let me be clear that I am not attempting an insurrection against organized churches. I pastor one. I was raised in one. I have seen them change people’s lives. I think God uses and will continue to use them. But I have been challenged in my thinking to envision something different. I’m not the first. Organic faith is not original with anyone. Movements have come and gone which emphasize home churches, bi-vocational ministry, etc. I also don’t want to see any kind of movement back toward “simple church” become a cult or a legalistic stance which considers all other ways to do church as opposed to the designs of God.

I simply have a dream.

• How much better could we minister to one another if we focused, not on elaborate services and flashy programs, but on praying together, loving one another, and sharing life together?

• How much more could we learn and grow if we became voracious in our Biblical appetite, meeting together to read, memorize, study and discuss God’s truth with no additional curricula which has to create interest because people are not naturally hungry for God’s Word?

• How much more powerful could our light to the world be if our lives were truly transformed and, in the context of transformed living, we could invite people to walk with Jesus, not just attend a weekly service?

• How much blessing could we extend to a battered and bleeding world if our money were not tied up in mortgages, utility bills, insurance, & salaries?

• How much more time could we give to touching the wounds of marginalized people if we weren’t occupied with board meetings and various forms of religious red tape?

My dream does not spring from naivete. I understand that as movements grow, organization at some level is required to facilitate further growth. Moses’ dilemma in Exodus 18 elaborates on that. I also realize that the culture in which I am immersed would consider the “simple church” so freakish that it would be suspect by many and might not prove effective in reaching others. Our culture expects faith matters to be addressed in the context of well-organized and well-groomed frameworks.

And yet, I still have a dream of what could be. Much of it stems from my own restlessness. I cherish this dream and will continue to ask God to help me in pursuing it in thought and in practice. God is, after all, the one Who makes dreams come true. Especially if they are His dreams. And I wonder if He might be sharing His dream with me. Who knows?

Believe Anyway

God’s ways are often not our ways. And our ways are often not God’s ways. That’s a good thing, but it makes for discomfort – ours, not God’s. The most dangerous four words are “If I were God…”

My agenda for governing creation and running the Kingdom usually come back to convenience. . . for me. Take faith, for example. I find it much easier to act on belief after I have the proof that what I am trusting will happen. God meets me halfway. He provides some proof upfront that He is a trustworthy God:

• The consistent rising of the sun, enough air to breathe, and the general order I see in creation.

• His track record of coming through for countless individuals – parting bodies of water to enable travel at crucial moments, providing food miraculously when food is desperately needed, defeating enemies when all seems lost, dying for sins and conquering death, etc.

• His faithfulness to His story in the Bible. For instance, He tells us ahead of time when and how something will happen, and it happens just like He said. Or consider the flow of the Bible story, which stays consistent to the theme of renewal and life grace.

If we pay attention, we will realize that God can be trusted.

But that is often not enough because we want to know that He can be trusted in this next moment when I must do something that is rather risky. I’d like for Him to show me ahead of time how He is going to pull me through the next challenge. I’m all for faith steps if He will show me the rock in the water before I extend my foot.

“Do you trust me, or not?”

That’s the real issue, isn’t it? The essence of trustworthiness is that it is consistent. Otherwise, it isn’t trustworthy. If God proved to be faithful when Moses took faith-steps, He will be faithful when I take faith-steps. But, Gideon-like (see Judges 6), we want just one more sign before we move.

Part of the reason I falter at faith-steps is because God tends to be a little more creative than I’d like. He rarely does things the same way. The way He came through for Abraham or Joshua or Paul will be different each time. His faithfulness is sure, but His method varies. And that unnerves me a bit. What if He lets me sink a little when I step into the river? What if He lets me swim and gulp some water before he lifts me out?

Individuals and churches go through times of testing. Churches see finances get tight, attendance numbers dip, morale wanes at times, and the temptation is to reach for some deliverance besides trusting God. Instead of stepping into rivers, we begin to gather the troops and build bridges. God whispers, “Trust me.”

Of course, we must be aware of the partnership into which God has called us. We can step ahead in faith, but he may calls us to build bridges as a part of that faith-step. It is still a matter of trust. It is essential that we grow in our knowledge of God and His Kingdom so that we can continue in obedient trust. Though the future of our faith is uncertain to us, it can be trusted to God.

I have been tempted to withdraw and choose the sidelines when life and ministry don’t go as I plan. But something inside me (the Holy Spirit) prods me onward in faith. I must be faithful. Because God always is.