The Gospel changes everything
I spent last year with the Israelites in the Wilderness. My girlfriends and I sojourned alongside these defiant rebels, observing how Moses carefully led them to freedom, obediently giving instructions for handling the Arc of the Covenant and the Divine Blueprints for the Levitical Priests, to make sacrifices on behalf of the people and their flagrant rebellion. Throughout Leviticus and Numbers, we can glean aspects of God’s character, which mirror and marry His mercy and kindness in the New Testament. The gospels reveal the stunning heart of Jesus, while the Israelites’ imperfections and blunders, compel us to long for His nearing arrival—both then and now.
What captivated my attention the most wasn’t necessarily all the blood of the sacrifices; it was the stunning detail and precise order in which atonement for sin was carried out. Everything was done intentionally. Without a doubt, we serve a God of intentionality, not random happenstance. A detailed and deliberate Father with the most intricate eye for eternal significance. The planning, the measurements, the timing, the specificity, the expectation of excellence and perfection, it was all so…formal. When I imagine myself in their place, I can’t help but wonder if the formidable tasks would have felt too overwhelming. Holy work, for a holy God. Honestly, just reading about the daily, mandatory rules and sacrifices made me tired. At the end of the day, there was A LOT that had to be done for the chosen priests, as well as the Israelites, to be cleansed and forgiven. Make no mistake, this was not a harsh order from the Lord, but a tender chance for them to have access to a holy and all-consuming God. He simply could not be close to their sin, and sin was the Israelites’ middle name. From rebellion to complaining, they simply didn’t stand a chance to gain closeness to God on their own…a daily sacrifice was necessary for them to be near to the One True God, and this system was designed to allow Him to gain closeness to His people. He wanted to protect and provide for them, and they balked at His mercy, every chance they got. Oh, how centuries later, I can find myself in my Israelite ancestors’ gene pool. Grumbling at my God-given manna, because I’ve grown discontent with the way it tastes. I allow my blessings to become burdens, and miracles to become mundane. The whining of the Israelites drives me crazy, but I know it’s because I see myself in them, at times.
And so it went, the sacrificial system, the veil that separated the holy of holies. The priests who were only able to enter the Lord’s presence once a year. Once. A. year. God is a holy God. And Jesus is God in the flesh…holy, set apart, righteous, and sovereign. And when grace becomes our reality on this side of the cross, we see just how stunningly blessed we really are. No rams to slaughter, no consecration rituals, no waiting, no veil, no time frame, just grace. Its daily manna, in human form—the gospel fulfilled…we have a never-ending feast of favor. How in the world could I ever complain? Jesus did for me what I could never do for myself…He gave me direct access to a holy God. I don’t have to rely on a priest to make atonement for my sin once a year…. Jesus is my High Priest, and his blood paid the atoning sacrifice once and for all. One Priest, One Sacrifice, One time, One spotless lamb, no more work. He finished and replaced the old system, and His blood is the new covenant. “It is finished,” He confirmed, with His last words from the cross. I can only imagine what the Israelites would say if they could see us now…I suspect they would trade places with us in a heartbeat. We have the easy way. “Take my yoke upon you my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28)
Something happened the other day, that really brought this profound miracle home for me. God knows I’m a visual learner, and He delights in revealing things to me, that illuminate the reality of Scripture. My teenage daughter ordered a beautiful white, flowing canopy, to hang from her ceiling and circle around her bed. The tool-like material reminded me of my wedding veil. Airy, lovely, and delicate. Ever since she was a born, morning time meant early snuggles and sweet kisses to begin the day. For sixteen years, I’ve greeted her each sunrise, with a tender hug, while gently sweeping her hair from her eyes. And for the first time, I walked in her room and there was a veil around her entire bed; she looked like a princess sleeping peacefully and comfortably in her bed, but as I got closer, I couldn’t just bend down to touch her. I had to work. I had to sit on the edge of her bed and carefully pull apart the veil to allow me access to her face. I had to struggle to find the opening and not mess up the charming creation she had made, and albeit beautiful, it felt like a cumbersome barrier, separating me and my sweet “baby” girl. The veil was dazzling, but it blocked my direct access to her. I found myself a little annoyed that I had to go through these extra steps, to jump through hazy hoops in order to be near her. It was extra work, time, and effort. And in that moment, I felt the tension of the Old Testament system. This is why the veil was torn, God whispered. Nothing can separate you from me anymore. I’m within reach, you no longer must work or strive, to be near to me, this is grace. The veil had become a stumbling block to the Israelites, and God knew it was time for a new covenant…a relationship, rather than an overwhelming set rigid religious rules. A new command that allows us to draw near, rather than to stay back.
On my worst day, I have direct access to God. I do not have to jump through hoops, or clean myself up, or wait behind a curtain, or kill a goat, or ask a priest…I simply speak, and the Lord hears my prayers. I’ve never been more grateful to live on this side of the cross. Fresh mercy every morning, compassion that never fails, grace that cleanses me white as snow.
The Gospel changes everything.
