Tag: sacrifice

A whole new level of gross

sweet-potato-fries

image credit: www.gimmesomeoven.com/

When we sat down for dinner, I assumed it was going to be a dinner just alike any other. Turns out it would be a dinner like no other.

Rex isn’t a particularly picky eater. He tends to eat whatever we put in front of him. Partly because of his taste buds. And partly because he knows that if he doesn’t eat the dinner my wife and I made, we’re not making him anything else.

This particular night, we were having sweet potato fries as a side. We’d sliced fresh sweet potatoes, drizzled them with olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt, and roasted them in the oven. The sweet aroma weaved its way through the house.

When we sat down to eat, Rex ate his meat, but didn’t want to eat the fries. I told him that he needed to eat at least a few of them. So he pushed them around on his plate, wrongly thinking I’d believe he’d eaten them. “I don’t like orange fries,” he said.

The battle began.

“Rex, you just have to eat 4.”

The battle continued.

Then I saw it happening, but I didn’t believe it. I thought he was faking it, because he’d done it before, trying one more time to get out of eating the sweet potato fries. He started retching a little, talking between heaves: “I really don’t like orange fries.”

“Buddy, you’re going to eat 4 before you leave this table.”

Retch.

Retch.

Then it happened. At the exact moment I’d decided to get on his level and remind him that he’s not getting anything else for dinner…no dessert…no…and I never finished that last sentence before I saw his supper again. He cried. And I wanted to.

I gently wiped his face and hands, and helped him change out of his clothes. I took his plate to the sink, and told him we’d probably had enough dinner tonight. Me, included.

Then I wiped my face off. My mouth out. My hands off. And I put on a fresh change of clothes, too.

Jesus’ Turn

That moment reminded how much Jesus loves me. He loves me enough to take on the mess of my sin. To bear it for me. Because even my best is like a “filthy rag.” (Isaiah 64:6)

He loves me enough to take on the shame of my sin. To look foolish so I don’t eternally have to. (Tweet that)

Every time I’m short with my son I’m reminded again of my stench.

Every time my pride rears it’s ugly head I’m given another glimpse into the dense layers of grace God offers us in Jesus. (Tweet that)

Every time I just care about myself, ignoring the needs of others, I see my stink one more time. Because Jesus doesn’t ignore me. (Tweet that)

Even when I commit the same stupid sin. Again.

Even when I’m less than the husband I should be. Again.

Every time I wallow in my guilt and shame, Jesus comes along and gently wipes my face off. Takes my plate to the sink. And gets me a new change of clothes. He sends me to the living room and says, “It’s ok. That’s enough for tonight. You’re all clean now.”

Once again He affirms His love for me. His love never fails. (Psalm 136:1)

Even when he wears your supper. (Tweet that)

 

The Bloody Old Testament

In my bible reading plan right now, I’m reading through the book of Leviticus. Which is usually the graveyard of well-intentioned Bible reading plans, right? How many times have you made it to Leviticus, gaining momentum every day you read, utterly inspired and broken by the Scriptures, only to get stopped dead in your tracks with Leviticus 1, verse 4?

So basically, Leviticus is like a State Trooper that parks on the side of the interstate behind a tree, ready to get you when you least expect it.

leviticusburningaltar

image credit: University of Houston, Clear Lake

What I’ve found throughout the book, though, is that it’s bloody and nasty. There’s a lot of talk about blood entrails, and death. And there’s one reason for that: sin.

Your sin needed to be paid for by a sacrifice. In other words, your sin deserved death…either yours or something else’s. Because of this, there was a constant reminder of the nastiness and bloodiness and destructive nature of your sin.

Sneaking Some Sin In

When we ‘get away’ with a sin, we’re lulled into thinking that our sin isn’t that big of a deal. When you cheat a little and don’t get caught, you can think everything is ok. When you have a lustful thought, and nobody knows, you begin to devalue the powerful stranglehold that sin can have. You forget its potential for destruction.

Not so in the Old Testament system.

If you present a goat as your offering, bring it to the LORD, lay your hand on its head, and slaughter it in front of the Tabernacle. Aaron’s sons will then splatter the goat’s blood against all sides of the altar. – Leviticus 3:12-13, NLT

I have a 4 year old son. I can’t even imagine what kind of an impact witnessing an event like this would have on his life. It would absolutely scar him. Think of how violent this would be. The sights, the sounds (most animals don’t go “silently into the night”), the smells. The stench of death in the air that would hang around like a late-morning fog. The stain of blood on the hands and face of the priest. The residual stain of months, and years, of sacrifices made on the same altar. These sensory experiences don’t go in one ear and out the other. They stick with you, and mark you for life.

Loads of Hope

Reading through the Old Testament jogs us back to our senses about the weight of our sin. Sin destroys. And our sin deserves death. Every. Single. Time. Whether we’re caught or not. Whether we think we’ve slipped one through the cracks. Whether we see the path of burned trees we leave in our wake or not.

The flip side of that is even more true, for “where sin increased, grace abounded all the more.” (Romans 5:20)

The grace of God is beautiful. Not free. Not neat or clean. It is bought with blood and sweat and tears and pain. And it is gloriously beautiful.

Jesus paid our cost. His death leads to “justification and life for all men.” (Romans 5:18) That’s a reason to rejoice. And it’s worth saying again. Rejoice! (Re: Philippians 4:4) Jesus’ death pays for your sin no matter how far you’ve run. No matter how deep you’ve dug your hole. No matter how many people you’ve hurt or times you’ve fallen.

Be reminded of your stench. And the sweet smell of grace.

 

 

How invested are you?

Your organization has a mission, right?  You’ve been a proponent of the direction that you’re headed.  You’ve spoken from stage, written in emails, and shared with team members just how much you believe in the vision that God’s laid on your heart.

But how invested are you, really, in the mission and vision of your organization?  To what lengths are you willing to go to carry out that vision?  What are you willing to sacrifice in order to do what God’s called you to do?

Is what God’s calling you to do really worth everything you’ve got?

If it’s not worth everything, maybe you need to pray for a bigger dream.

But by the twenty-third year of Joash’s reign, the priests still had not repaired the Temple.  So King Joash called for Jehoiada and the other priests and asked them, “Why haven’t you repaired the Temple? Don’t use any more money for your own needs. From now on, it must all be spent on Temple repairs.” So the priests agreed not to accept any more money from the people, and they also agreed to let others take responsibility for repairing the Temple. 2 Kings 12:6-8

 

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