So much of theology has fallen prey to the scientific method to a degree that it is no wonder we find doctrine dry, dusty and largely irrelevant. We have taken a wealth of living realities and pickled them, mounted them with stick pins, and hung them on high walls, far from our reach and rarely to be considered. Our theology resembles museum pieces more than living laboratories of powerful wisdom.

The scientific method has aided theology by giving ordered ways of investigating, understanding and teaching complex truth. But the scientific method has cursed (or, more correctly, we have used the scientific method to curse) theology by emphasizing the result over the source. We tend to approach truth as a carcass, lifeless and discarded, ready to be dissected and probed. Instead, theology must be distilled from the life that is bubbling up all around us. The God who is at work right now will teach his far more about Himself than our Hebrew and Greek word studies ever will (and as a book and word lover, I do not mean to insinuate that those disciplines are futile). Theology must always be birthed from reality. Reality can never be constructed from synthesized truth. This produces monstrous distortions of God’s intent.

Take the opening chapters of Genesis as an example. Not one propositional statement of truth can be found amidst the action. What we have is pure story. From it we glean some of the most foundational truth that guides and governs all of meaningful life. We meet the Creator. We discover our identity and purpose. We are introduced to the root problem of the world order. We also deduce the trajectory of God’s future work and our place in it.

No bullet points. No axioms or corollaries. Just an accurate re-telling of what God did, what Satan did, what man did, and how all of creations involved.

Theology is not a creation of man, but a gift from God. The marvels of revealed truth are simply that – ever-present realities that have been unearthed, polished and given a proper place in grateful minds and transformed hearts.

To be fair, Scripture is more than just narrative. We have legislative documents, behavioral theory, poetry, historical records, and some brilliant propositional teaching. But it is narrative that begins and ends the book. It is narrative that undergirds the most significant portions of the revelation from God. It appears as though all of the other genres of literature emerge from the core story.

Theology is to be lived because it is birthed from life.

Love to hear your thoughts. I am just beginning to appreciate this angle of theological assumption in a greater way.

Nevertheless, I was lured on one of my days off to burn several hours entranced by a “Pawn Stars” marathon. Each potential deal was truly fascinating. And as I watched I was astounded by the consistency of customers to over-value the possession they sought to pawn or sell. Many of them grossly over-valued what they were bringing through the doors. Even from my amateur pawn king recliner, I could see that they were shooting for the moon and more apt to hit their foot.

Leave it to reality TV to impress upon me some lessons on the value of things which money cannot buy. Consider a few armchair musings.

Over-valuing our goodness – The moral reality is that our righteousness is as “filthy rags” despite what Joel Osteen tells us (I really do not mean this to sound mean-spirited. He has great teeth.) In referring to “filthy rags” Isaiah does not attack our personal worth, but our attempts at righteousness. Even our best behavior and worship is flawed due to motive or execution. If we simply trace the righteousness back to its source we have our answer. The imperfect soul will produce imperfect actions. Seems a little harsh, perhaps, but when we lay our best efforts alongside the infinitely pristine works of God. . . well, there you have it.

Under-valuing our worth – Appraisal of the worth of the human soul is tricky stuff. On the one hand Scripture seems rather clear that the pollution of sin has rendered us completely deserving of the full wrath of God. Not exactly a resounding affirmation of our high value. Early in the game, and even after the purging of creation by the flood, God confesses, almost with a resigned sigh, that “the intention of man’s heart is evil from his youth” (Genesis 8:21). Paul, without exaggeration, compiles the weight of Old Testament testimony concerning the same in Romans 3:10-18.

The verdict of Scripture seems fairly clear, however, that these same evil creatures (I’m talking about you and me here, just in case your thoughts drifted), are the focus of God’s love and compassion. David seems overwhelmed by it in Psalm 8. The “image of God” stamped on mankind from the beginning, even though also marked by sin, never is forgotten by God (see Genesis 1:26-27, then Genesis 5:1; Genesis 9:6; 1 Corinthians 11:7). Most convincing is the astounding fact that God Himself devised from before creation to personally pay the cost of rebellious man’s redemption.

Are we worth much to God? Isn’t it obvious?

Under-valuing the power of sin – Age brings insight. Not always wisdom, but insight. I am amazed now more than ever as to the craftiness of Satan. The ways that he lures Christ-followers into sin is almost admirable (not due to the results, of course, but due to the ingenuity). The perverseness of humanity has not made any major changes in either direction, but Satan has definitely emptied his bag of deceptive tricks. Read Proverbs 7:6-27 and see how the same path of destruction has been traveled by men/women for centuries, but in a variety of ever-new ways.

The appearance and feel of the shackles have changed, but they are just as strong. Just as constraining. Just as able to enslave. Our respect for the power of Satan and sin can never diminish until the final battle has been won.

Under-valuing the power of grace – This misjudgment of worth is perhaps our most damning. The expanse of God’s grace is beyond our ability to see. In saying that, some will always be tempted to add the “but.. . .” Grace has no “but. . .” Paul alludes to the abundance of grace in Romans 5:20-21.

I have questioned the boundaries of God’s grace at times in my own life, and learned that my judgments are fueled by legalistic fervor. . . which oddly enough brings me death, not grace. I believe that somewhere out there, grace may have a boundary, but it is defined by my lack of faith, not God’s limits of compassion. Growing to understand the infinite grace of God does not drive one to greater sin, but humbler service. Perhaps no greater illustration of grace’s value can be found than that exhibited in the life of a 1st Century terrorist (see 1 Timothy 1:12-17).

Your thoughts? They are worth more than a penny to me.

In the early morning hours the boom and rumble shook Jana and I awake as we looked at each other with sleepy confusion.

“What was that?!”

We are accustomed to sonic booms here, as military aircraft frequently cruise over our home at Mach 1+, rattling our windows and scaring the breath out of us. Surely that was what cut into our sleep this morning, but I never recall them happening before dawn or after dusk.

Nope. 3.9. An earthquake whose epicenter was about fifty miles from our home vibrated through our home this morning. In light of the devastation in Japan, we have suffered nothing. The “quake” did no damage and lasted so briefly that many slept through it. Still, earthquakes are not the norm here. There is talk of the coming “big one” located as close as we are to the New Madrid fault, but the threat seems too West Coast for mid-Missourians. Tornadoes, hail storms, ice storms. floods and droughts – these brutalities are part of life here. Not earthquakes.

Ever since the horrible destruction endured by our friends in Joplin – 180 miles southwest – everyone is on edge. What disaster will befall us now? Was the early morning rumble today a pre-shock of worse things to come?

Harold Camping missed it at the end of May, but regardless of his defiance to set dates when Scripture declares “no one knows the day or hour”, the reality is that Christ is coming back soon. The clock is ticking. Every breath we take means that the renewal of all things is that much closer. The vibrations of Missouri rock and soil may not be the harbinger of the “big one,” but they should remind us of the temporary nature of much upon which we place our life foundations.

On May 22nd thousands of residents in Joplin, Missouri came face to face with the futility of trusting in material things to provide security. Life was brutally simplified. How many of us would be ready for such a purging? Sometimes the rumbling is a prelude, not to greater shaking, but to a slap in the face concerning the vanity of materialistic pursuits.

How would you react if tomorrow your wealth was turned to rubble?

I am not suggesting that anyone would/should immediately rejoice when being freed from the shackles of materialism. I am questioning how hope and meaning and purpose might be tested in the wake of extreme loss.

Am I willing to be shaken now from foundations that will prove weak and flawed on that Day?

        The Answer was questioned.

                The Faithful One was betrayed.

                        The Almighty surrendered and became helpless.

        The Beloved was hated.

                The Master served.

                        The Lord submitted.

        The Liberator was captured and chained.

                The Truth was falsely accused.

                        The Voice was silent.

        The Holy One was mocked.

                The Loyal One was denied.

                        The Deliverer was delivered.

        The Lover was reviled, condemned and rejected.

                The Rock was beaten and broken.

                        The Unending Supply of Living Water was poured out.

        The Eternal was pinned to a tree.

                The Son was forsaken by the Father.

                        The Life was murdered.

“And there was evening and there was morning. . . and there was evening and there was morning. . . and there was evening and there was morning, the third day.”

Wait for it.

Up.
Yes.
Life.

Words of progress. Words of hope. Words which suggest that things are as they should be, or soon will be.

These, and others, are the words of the Easter season, the days of Resurrection. In the days following Jesus’ return to the Father, the words of Resurrection were the refrain of the apostles. They bounded from town to town, country to country, people to people, jubilant with the promise of new life.

Resurrection meant that everything had changed. Everything. Despair was now exiled. Fear was cowering in the darkness. Weakness was rendered helpless. Sin was shackled. Death was executed.

People of Resurrection can stare death in the face and not flinch. The first generation of Christ followers astounded their neighbors and families because they had this. . . this. . . something. Something deep within. A light shot forth from their souls, not only rejuvenating the bearer of the message, but warming and bringing sight to the blinded neighbors in their backyards.

Riversides became places of revival. Synagogues were filled with fresh air and fresh heirs. Homes served as incubators for those born from above. Wherever Jesus followers could be found, Resurrection could be heard humming. The infectious spirit of life, of yes, of up, was on the move.

Before man took wing in heavier-than-air vehicles, human flight was considered impossible. If man could ever soar through the skies, most assumed, it would require the suspension of the laws of nature. And yet, using the very laws of nature, airplane wings provide lift and open up a new world of transportation.

Similarly, before dead men rose again, Resurrection was deemed the stuff of mythology. And then the God of all creation simply unleashed His creative, life-giving power and brought to the world the hope, promise and reality of Resurrection. The law of death had not been removed (yet), but transcended. The power of life became greater than that of death.

Jesus Christ is risen. And this changes everything.

It is an old story. But it must never be considered a story that is past its usefulness. We still inhabit a world in desperate need of Resurrection. We still are people of Resurrection. We still have a song to sing.

Jesus Christ is still alive. The power of Resurrection is undiminished in its power. The song of Resurrection is still waiting to be sung. To neighbors. To families. To co-workers. To anyone who will hear.

The dominant spirit of our age is. . .
Down.
No.
Death.
Darkness prevails.

Will you sing the song of Resurrection? It is time. It is April. In fact, because of Christ, we live in eternal April, an endless era of Resurrection.

Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!

This public sanctuary is also helpful as I formulate the structure of a message which speaks to my community, not simply honoring the silent (often dead) scholars resting rank and file on the shelves of my church study. Being among my community keeps me honest about speaking to it. Every Thursday I see people I know, briefly chat, or simply observe from a distance the lives of those I might not otherwise encounter.

I occasionally see a young woman in her mid-twenties with her son. I know of her, though she probably wouldn’t know me. Her husband, injured in an automobile accident almost two years ago, lies in a nearly vegetative state, missing the fullness of life with his beautiful bride and his toddler son. I can only imagine the fatigue and the despair that threatens to greet her every morning.

This morning I saw another familiar face. He came in preceded by his daughter, carrying her daughter in one of those multi-purpose infant seats. He is a retired public school teacher. I have been introduced to him on several occasions, but he will never remember me. Alzheimer’s disease has rapidly deteriorated his memory. Just as he and his wife anticipated the “golden years” of retirement and enjoying grandchildren, the physiology of his brain rebelled. My heart breaks. . .

. . . and then I realize that these are but the stories of which I am aware. Several other familiar faces pass through, wave, stop to say “Hi”, and I see no deeper than the superficiality of the moment. Each life has it’s struggles and pains. We, all, are immersed in a sea of broken life experiences, though we try to disguise them with the aroma of hot java and the sweet savor of cinnamon rolls.

So, why do I come here? For the irresistible bagel sandwich? Free wi-fi? Sermon material? Blog fodder? Depressing tour of the wreckage of human experience? Perhaps God has me here to pray.

In my church study I am moved to pray for faceless names and church programs. The business of ministry presses me onward to the completion of tasks which seem comprised of little more than organizational details. It is too easy to forget about the flesh and blood, the tears and stress, the laughter and temptations. Church ministry tasks are not insignificant, but can become shields obscuring my view of the images of God living next door.

See. Feel. Pray.

And rejoice. God is here with us.

The Law now details the distinction between clean and unclean. God begins with animals, describing the physical features that determine clean (edible) versus unclean (inedible). We now know that many of the distinctions correlate to health benefits/risks. For instance, pigs, scavenger birds, and the water creatures which have no fins or scales subsist on a diet of carrion, the waste of other creatures, or material that is highly subject to disease. In eating unclean animals we are, for the most part, dining on digested garbage. Hungry now? I still love shrimp.

Health benefits are not the primary reason for this regimented national diet. Being able to detect a human benefit from God’s commands are not always possible (though I believe that most divine commands bring a spirit of wholeness and peace to the obedient), so the God-worshipper must decide that obedience is the high calling. I do not obey because it blesses me. I obey because God is my Creator. He has designed me to live a specific way.

It is from this unlikely section that the theme of Leviticus emerges:

“I am the Lord your God. Consecrate yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy. . . I am the Lord who brought you up out of the land of Egypt to be your God. You shall therefore be holy, for I am holy.”

This refrain sounds throughout the book (cf. Leviticus 19:2; 20:7, 26; 21:8). Leviticus has been largely discarded as a book of mind-numbing rules and painful minutiae, but this thematic chorus reminds the God-follower that he/she is defined not by what he/she does, but by what he/she is. I am a man set apart (holy) for the purposes of God. Obedience to God’s law is a (mere?) manifestation of my holiness.

Leviticus 12 discusses the cleansing ritual following childbirth. The period of total cleansing time for giving birth to a male is 40 days. For a female is 80 days. What if you gave birth to twins, a boy and girl? Just wondering.

In Leviticus 13-14 God addresses the challenge of leprosy. I am not sure if this is given so much textual space because leprosy was a prominent problem in the ancient world, or because the purity/impurity of skin is a visible symbol of cleanness/uncleanness. Leprosy is considered a symbol of sin by some. Whatever might be concluded about the point of leprosy in the Bible, the bottom line is, again, about holiness.

It should also be noted that there is an important distinction between dealing with the uncleanness of leprosy as it infects a human being, and as it infests a garment or a dwelling. The leprous garment or dwelling is to be burned or destroyed. The leprous person is preserved no matter the degree of infection. Not even this dreaded disease of alienation can trump the image of God stamped on the human soul.

The final chapter considered in this post (Leviticus 15) has to do with bodily discharges. Frankly, that is all I have to say. Read it either long after or long before a meal.

Above all, I must be clean. He has set me apart. I live under a new covenant, and yet the calling is very similar. No law-keeping has ever made me sinless. Faithful obedience, however, reveals that I humbly yearn to be positioned before the merciful God Who makes me clean by His blood and His power.

Everything is in its place – tabernacle, sacrificial regulations, priesthood regulations – and now the priesthood is set apart officially. The intricacy of detail and the elaborate ceremony of consecration are indicators of the vital nature of the priesthood ministry. God calls for three sacrifices (sin, burnt and ordination offerings) and three consecrations (washing with water, anointing with oil, and sprinkling with blood).

The inaugural gathering for worship/sacrifice involves four offerings – sin, burnt, peace and grain – and again the attention to detail highlights the solemnity of approaching God. The closing scene of Leviticus 9 would have been an awesome sight.

“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.”

Don’t get too comfortable. Just as the reader assumes all is well in the Israelite camp, the story turns ugly and the very ones appointed to revere the rituals and honor of God commit a deadly error. The fire of glory in Leviticus 8 yields to the forbidden fire of Leviticus 9 which results in the fire of God’s judgment consuming the violators. Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, offer “strange” or “unauthorized” fire. The temptation is to get all tangled up in determining what this means, but that is not a major concern. At issue is the disregard held by Aaron’s sons for the holiness of God. Worshipping God is not open to our whims. When God has spoken clearly, it is not time to be creative with alternative obediences.

The balance of Leviticus 10 weaves together the grief of Aaron and the reinforcement of the high calling of the priesthood. It is sometimes too easy to forget the personal stories hidden beneath the black and white of the text. Aaron is God’s chosen advocate for the people. He is the nation’s leader in worship. And now he must carry both disgrace and grief while continuing to be a leader in holiness, honoring the very God whose judgment took his sons. By the end of the chapter two more of his sons are in danger of divine rebuke.

The priesthood of Israel was appointed as the contact point between God and His people. They possessed a high privilege, were given high requirements, and held to high expectations.

Fifteen hundred years later the apostle Peter would write that those who follow Jesus are a “holy priesthood.” I stand in Aaron’s sandals. Much has changed. The blood of bulls and sheep and goats and doves are no longer required. The violated details of ritual are not a death sentence. Christ has become the great high priest. But we who claim the name of Jesus have a high calling which yearns for excellence. God’s glory cannot be cheapened by our carelessness.

Live with a ravenous hunger for God’s holiness. And be grateful for grace when you fail.

As we enter the third book of the Pentateuch, it is helpful to remember that these five works are nearly considered as one unit, though obviously each contributes unique material and emphases. Keep in mind that we closed Exodus with the establishment of the Tabernacle, so the opening of Leviticus doesn’t seem quite as “cold.” The immediate instruction concerning sacrifices/offerings is a logical progression answering the rhetorical question: How can we ever enter the presence of this One whose glory rests in our midst?

Five types of offerings are detailed in the first seven chapters. I’ve never come across a satisfactory breakdown of the unique place of each of these offerings. The text gives us only small clues that may have built upon an understanding already present in the practices and mindset of Israel.

• The burnt offering is not associated directly with sin, but seems more of a humble, praise-driven sacrifice of the community. It recognizes that God is God and the worshipper is bound to honor Him. “That he may be accepted before the Lord” (Leviticus 1:3) perhaps sums it up. No timeline is linked to the burnt offering. It is motivated by genuine worship of the Majesty.
• The grain offering is offered “as a memorial” before the Lord. It is the only sacrifice of the five that is not a blood sacrifice. It was mainly comprised of grain, but included oil, frankincense and salt. Whereas the burnt offering was a total sacrifice (“the priest shall burn all of it on the altar”), the grain offering is portioned: the first part to God, the remainder to the priests as food. At times the grain offering was a “firstfruits” offering, given in praise to God for the abundance of the harvest that was just beginning to be reaped.
• The peace offering seems to be a less demanding variation of the burnt offering. It also seems more intimate, more likely to be offered by a single worshipper as a gift of gratitude to the God of the covenant. The instruction notes that it is to be offered “on top of the burnt offering” (Leviticus 3:5).
• The sin offering calls for specific sins to be atoned. Especially targeted in the instructions are the priests and the congregation as a whole, perhaps suggesting a more public and community-wide need for redemption.
• The guilt offering also addresses atonement for specific sins, but seems more personal than communal. Two areas singled out are sins in regard to “holy things” and sins against one’s neighbor. I would assume that these areas are the most well-traveled: actions which drive a wedge between the worshipper and God, and actions which threaten to fragment the community.

As I stroll through this section, I pick up a handful of phrases which give greater weight to the practice of sacrifice and worship.

• “a male without blemish” suggests the offering of strength and excellence, not my weak leftovers.
• “pleasing aroma” conveys the idea that my worship tightens the bond between myself and my God.
• The forbidding of offering the blood and fat on the altar (in the case of the peace offering) might suggest that life (blood) and wealth (fat) are not within my grasp to give. Only God holds these things.
• “If anyone sins” caught me off guard. Shouldn’t it be “When anyone sins”? Just saying.
• The forbidding of leaven and honey in the grain offering are perplexing, some suggesting that these are better offered as firstfruit offerings on their own.
• “salt of the covenant” reminds the worshipper of the lasting/eternal nature of the covenant, salt being a preservative.

Above all is the impressive devotion to detail and the work involved in offering sacrifice. Coming before God is no simple thing. The grace that comes through Jesus Christ in the new covenant will lift the burden, but for Israel at this time, the holiness of God cannot be approached without great preparation and effort. Though now in Christ I have easy access to the Father, approaching His holiness should never be done flippantly. In fact, the Sacrifice to end all sacrifices ups the ante. The privilege of His presence has been secured at a tremendous price, and though we can come “with confidence” into His precincts, we never come with arrogance.

He ALONE is worthy of praise.