Why Leviticus?
Why Leviticus?
What’s the good of Leviticus? Have you ever puzzled over that? Back whenever it was that God chose 66 as the magic number for total books in the Bible, I wonder what persuaded Him to give one of those preciously few spots to a book filled with peculiar laws about hairy skin lesions, hygiene for moldy houses, and marrying your aunt. (“Don’t!”)
Three weeks ago, I took a seminary refresher course, and one of the professor’s remarks which stood out to me went something like this: “Our culture’s casualness about God and our tendency to assume He is exclusively a God of love are severe weaknesses that could be remedied by a strong dose of Leviticus.” I think he’s right.
The book’s theme is encapsulated in its key word: “holy.” It appears well over 90 times in Leviticus’ 27 chapters. How can profane people become holy? How can sinners draw near a holy God? Not by their own efforts or accomplishments. No, Leviticus establishes another path. A poignant and violent path.
The central feature of the book is the sacrificial system, an elaborate structure of ceremonies operating entirely on the principle of atonement. The blood of a surrendered life is poured out for the forgiveness of sins. Holiness comes via the death of a substitute. The sacrifice presupposes that the dying animal is standing in for the worshiper. As I apply the knife to the throat of my animal, I enact on this creature the sentence that I myself deserve. My presence here, performing this bloody rite, shows that I know what I have coming. The animal’s presence, dying in my place, shows that I don’t get what I have coming. God has mercifully provided a way for me to live another day, another week, another month, another year. The relentless repetition of the sacrifice makes the point that God is relentlessly holy and His people are relentlessly sinful. The blood flowed and the flesh burned every single day. It was a harsh reminder that this is not a God for sinners to trifle with.
So when I turn on K-Love in the morning and start bobbing my head to trifling lyrics like “Lord, I love the way You hold me / In Your arms I'll always be / You take each and every day, make it special in some way,” I think to myself, “Somebody needs a reality check. It’s time to reread Leviticus.”