C.S. Lewis was fond of quoting English writer Samuel Johnson (1709–1784), who once said, “People need to be reminded more than they need to be instructed.” Both Lewis and Johnson believed that people often possess the knowledge they need; it simply needs to be brought to mind at the appropriate time.

I’ve found this to be especially true when it comes to godly masculinity. I need timely reminders to help me fulfill my calling as a husband and a father, as a friend and a brother. And thankfully, God’s word directs us to a daily and unavoidable reminder of what it means to be a godly man. We find it in Psalm 19:4–5.

In them [the heavens] he has set a tent for the sun,     which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,     and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy.

With these words, David invites us to sanctify our imaginations by seeing the sun with godly eyes.

Bridegroom and Warrior

The sun, as it moves across the sky, reminds David of something. He’s seen that brightness before. Then he recalls the wedding day of a close friend, and the link is made — the sun is like the bridegroom.

Those of us who attend modern weddings know that, when the wedding march begins, all eyes turn to the back of the room to see the bride, clothed in white and beautiful in her glory. But a wise attendee will also steal a glance toward the altar, where the groom waits with eager anticipation and expectant joy. The beauty of his bride is reflected in the brightness of his face. It’s that look that David remembers when he sees the sun as it rises in the morning.

But David doesn’t stop looking. David considers the sun again and is reminded of Josheb-basshebeth, one of his mighty men, running into battle with spear raised and eyes blazing because he is doing what he was built to do (2 Samuel 23:8). The warrior is intense and joyful because he is protecting his people with the strength and skill he’s developed.

So then, the sun is like the groom, and the sun is like the mighty man. Both are images of godly masculinity — the bridegroom and the warrior, the lover and the man of war. Both images direct us to a man’s calling in relation to his people. One points us inward, as a man delights in his wife (and by extension his children and the rest of his people). The other points us outward, as a man protects his people from external threats. Which means the sun is an ever-present reminder of what it means to be a godly man: bright, triumphant, blazing with joy and purpose, ready to fight and bleed and die for the ones he loves.

Manly Weight

When we press into this image, we see the gravity that lies at the heart of mature masculinity. A number of recent Christian books on manhood have underlined the importance of gravitas for godly men. Michael Foster and Dominic Bnonn Tennant define gravitas as the weight of a man’s presence (It’s Good to Be a Man, 141). It’s the dignity and honor that pull people into his orbit (much like the sun orients the planets by its mass).

“The fear of the Lord gives weight to a man’s soul, making him firm and stable and steadfast.”

Gravitas comes partly from a man’s skill and competence, and partly from his sober-mindedness and confidence. A competent and confident man catches the eye, much like the sun as it blazes a trail through the heavens. But ultimately, true gravitas comes from fearing the Lord. The fear of the Lord gives weight to a man’s soul, making him firm and stable and steadfast, not tossed to and fro by winds of doctrine or the passions of the flesh.

But as Psalm 19 shows, gravitas is only one half of the equation. Gladness completes the picture. It’s not enough to take initiative and responsibility for oneself and for others. A godly man runs his course with joy.

Manly Mirth

One of my favorite pictures of masculinity comes from Lewis’s The Horse and His Boy. King Lune tells his son Cor what kingship is all about.

This is what it means to be a king: to be first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat, and when there’s hunger in the land (as must be now and then in bad years) to wear finer clothes and laugh louder over a scantier meal than any man in your land. (310)

“Biblical manhood bleeds and sacrifices with unconquerable joy.”

First in, last out, laughing loudest. Here is competence and confidence — initiating, taking risks, and bearing burdens for others. Here is a king who cultivates his strength for God’s mission and the good of others. And he does it all with courage in the heart and manifest laughter in the soul. Biblical manhood bleeds and sacrifices with unconquerable joy.

Gravity and gladness are both essential. Without gravity, gladness declines into triviality. Without gladness, gravity degenerates into gloom. Together, they are a potent combination that inspires others, forms communities, and extends a man’s influence in the world.

Where the Images Land

Psalm 19 depicts the sun as a wonderful picture of true masculinity. But for David, the sun doesn’t merely draw our minds to the bridegroom and the strong man, to the lover and the man of war. More than that, the sun draws our minds upward to the splendor and majesty of the Maker. “The heavens declare the glory of God” (Psalm 19:1). The sun both reminds us of the glory of manhood and displays the glory of God.

More than that, these reminders point us to Jesus. He is the ground and goal of manhood. All true gravity and gladness come from him. He is the one who reconciles us to God so that, despite our sin and shame, we live beneath the smile of a happy Father who says to us, “This is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).

Jesus is our older brother, the firstborn from the dead, our model and example who ran his race for the joy set before him. He is the ultimate strong man — a man of war who killed the dragon to get the girl. He is the bridegroom who greatly rejoices over his bride and whose face is like the sun shining in full strength. And every day, he causes the sun to rise, reminding us of who he is and who we are to be.

In the book of Romans, the apostle Paul gives a simple yet profound exhortation to Christians that illuminates our fight with sin:

Make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires. (Romans 13:14)

The exhortation suggests that not only do we sin by gratifying sinful desires, but we can actually create space for such indulgence. What does that mean, and how does it work?

Desires of the Flesh

Let’s begin with the fact that the flesh has ungodly desires. In Galatians 5:17, Paul insists that the desires of the flesh are contrary to the Spirit; literally, “the flesh desires against the Spirit.” To gratify a fleshly desire is to complete, indulge, and fulfill the desire, to go where the desire wants to take you. Such indulgence is called “the works of the flesh,” which Paul lays out in Galatians 5:19–21:

Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

In Romans 13, Paul calls them “works of darkness,” and provides a similar list of examples:

The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us walk properly as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarreling and jealousy. (Romans 13:12–13)

In these lists, we see sins related to our sexual life (sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality), sins related to our desires for food, drink, and refreshment (drunkenness), and sins related to our social life (enmity, strife, rivalries, jealousy, quarreling, fits of anger, divisions). We’re all familiar with these sins in our lives. But what does it mean to “make provision” for them?

How We Make Provision

“Making provision for the flesh” implies that we can choose to put ourselves in the path of temptation. We can make room and create space for sinful desires to be awakened, pursued, and gratified. Essentially, we can turn the Lord’s Prayer on its head and say, “Lead me into temptation so that I can give myself over to evil.”

At a practical level, we can subtly plan to be in an environment of temptation, knowing (or at least hoping) that temptations will come and will awaken our desires so that we can gratify them. It’s important to stress the subtlety, though. When we make provision for the flesh, our minds operate in such a way that we often rationalize and excuse our behavior, even to ourselves. Our minds are employed to serve fleshly desires, and then our minds are employed to excuse and justify our behavior. That’s what it means to make provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

Consider, in particular, how our technology enables us to make provision for the flesh. We might choose to use apps or visit websites where we know that sexually explicit images will likely show up (whether through ads or posts). We weren’t blatantly looking for such images. But we were creating space for them to show up. We were making provision for them to awaken our desires. The flesh leads us there through sinful curiosity, but then our mind attempts to rationalize what happens: “I was just checking social media.”

Lust, Jealousy, Envy, and Anger

While sexual immorality is an obvious temptation in this area, the same dynamic is at work with other passions and desires. How often do we make provision for the flesh by visiting sites and using apps that regularly awaken our jealousy and envy? We create space for covetousness by frequenting sites that display an image of the life we wish we had. “Look at her house/family/clothes.” “Look at his opportunities/successes/blessings.”

Or if not envy, perhaps it’s anger and quarreling. We know that reading that article, or watching that news clip, or listening to that podcast, will awaken frustration, or anxiety, or fear, or fits of anger. And yet we make provision for those sins by putting ourselves in a position to be so awakened. We make provision by subjecting ourselves to knowledge that we will turn over in our minds with malice and bitterness (just as we might fondle a lust). And then we justify and rationalize it, saying, “I’m just keeping up with the news. It’s important to stay informed about what’s going on in the world.”

In each of these cases, we are creating room, giving space, and making provision for the flesh to lead us into temptation and sin.

Wake Up and Take a Walk

Thankfully, Paul doesn’t simply tell us what to avoid. He also tells us what to do.

First, we wake up.

You know the time, that the hour has come for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. The night is far gone; the day is at hand. (Romans 13:11–12)

In other words, we become aware of the way that our minds and our flesh work together to lead us into sin. Making provision for the flesh numbs and deadens us. Spiritually, we fall asleep. We follow our passions in a fog of desires, appetites, excuses, and rationalizations, swatting away the voice of our conscience and the Holy Spirit. So we must wake up.

Second, we change clothes. “So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light” (Romans 13:12). Later, he exhorts us to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 13:14). Instead of using our minds to create space for the flesh and then rationalize our desires, we use our minds to count ourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ (Romans 6:11). We consider who we are in the light of Christ’s work. This is a gracious mental effort to set our mind on things above, where Christ is (Colossians 3:1–4).

“It’s not enough to simply avoid sin and temptation; we must actively seek to kill our sin.”

And notice that changing clothes involves both casting off and putting on. “Casting off the works of darkness” involves putting to death what is earthly in us (Colossians 3:5). This implies that it’s not enough to simply avoid sin and temptation; we must actively seek to kill our sin. In other words, we refuse to allow sinful curiosity to take up residence in our hearts without making intentional efforts to put it to death. We don’t merely play defense; we also go on offense.

Finally, we go for a walk. “Let us walk properly as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarreling and jealousy” (Romans 13:13). We’re awake and alert; we’re properly clothed in Christ’s righteousness. And now we walk in a manner that fits our union with him.

What We Cannot Hide

Central to walking properly is recognizing that it is daytime. Having been brought from death and sin to life and righteousness, we have been brought from darkness to light. Put another way, we are seen.

“When making provision for the flesh, one of the lies we’re tempted to believe is that we can hide.”

When making provision for the flesh, one of the lies we’re tempted to believe is that we can hide. And while it is possible to hide from other people, we cannot hide from God. We never fool him with our excuses and subtleties. He sees us making space for our sinful appetites to run. Our rationalizations are empty before his omniscience. We are like the child tiptoeing to the kitchen at night to steal a cookie from the cupboard while his mother watches from the living room. Our attempts at stealth are folly before the brightness of his all-seeing gaze. As the book of Hebrews says, “No creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:13).

So Paul’s call is simple (even if the obedience is hard won). Wake up. Change your clothes. Put on the Lord Jesus and his armor. And then walk in a fitting way before him. Make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

The late R.C. Sproul was fond of inverting a particular biblical passage in order to bring home a theological truth. For instance, in seeking to press upon his hearers the horrors of God’s wrath, Sproul would turn to the Aaronic blessing:

The Lord bless you and keep you;     the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. (Numbers 6:24–26)

Sproul turns the blessing inside out, transforming it into a curse:

May the Lord curse you and abandon you.     May the Lord keep you in darkness and give you only judgment without grace.May the Lord turn his back upon you and remove his peace from you forever.

His point in doing so was to press home the reality of God’s judgment and the wonders of Christ’s cross, modifying the familiar words so that we marvel at God’s grace in sending Christ to bear the curse in our place. Years ago, inspired by Sproul’s example, I engaged in my own inversion, this time transforming the Bible’s most detailed description of human rebellion into a vision for the Godward life.

The Godless Life

In Romans 1:18–32, Paul paints a picture of the consequences of human idolatry and ingratitude on human life and culture — the wages of a godless life. God’s wrath is revealed against our ungodliness, by which we suppress the truth of his sovereignty, power, and nature. In refusing to honor and thank God, who gives us every good gift, our minds fall into vanity and our hearts are darkened. Our rebellious folly is manifested clearly in the dark exchange that we make — trading away the glory of the immortal God for created things.

As a result of this foundational rebellion and false worship, God gives us over to impurity, lies, dishonorable passions, and a debased mind. The result extends to every area of human life. The individual is corrupted in mind and heart, in thinking and willing. The effects of rebellion extend from the inner man to the outer man, from the soul to the body. Our sexuality is corrupted, as sinful desires reign and ungodly passions distort the relationships between men and women.

From there, our corporate life is affected. “They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless” (Romans 1:29–31). Family, friends, and society are all twisted by our debased minds as loving fellowship and community are torn apart and reoriented by our shared rebellion.

The Godward Life

So then, if this is a horrifying picture of human rebellion and ungodliness, what might the opposite be? Could an inverted Romans 1 give us a renewed vision for the Godward life?

The pleasure of God is revealed from heaven upon all godliness and righteousness of men, who by their righteousness celebrate the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. For because they know God, they honor him as God and give thanks to him, and they become fruitful in their thinking, and their humble hearts are enlightened. Having become fools for Christ, they have thereby become wise, and are receiving the glory of the immortal God and seeing that glory reflected in mortal man, birds, animals, and creeping things.

Therefore, God restored them in the desires of their hearts for purity, to the honoring of their bodies among themselves, because they gladly received the truth about God instead of lies and worshiped and served the Creator, who is blessed forever, rather than the creature. Amen.

For this reason, God renews their desires and delights and passions. For the women glory in the masculinity of men, and the men likewise revel in the femininity of women, and husbands and wives are consumed with passion for each other, men and women honoring the marriage bed and receiving among themselves the due reward for their obedience.

And since they see fit to acknowledge God, God reorients their renewed minds to do what ought to be done. They are filled with all manner of righteousness, goodness, contentment, benevolence. They are full of gratitude for other people’s gifts, brotherly love, peace, truth-telling, magnanimity. They are edifiers, encouragers, lovers of God, courteous, meek, humble, inventors of good, obedient to parents, wise, steadfast, compassionate, merciful. Because they know God’s decree that those who practice such things will receive eternal life, they not only do them but give hearty approval to those who practice them.

By turning the chapter on its head, we discover a fundamentally different vision for human life — one that begins, not with God’s wrath, but with his pleasure.

Going Godward Together

As we together turn our lives, ambitions, and worship Godward, we celebrate the truth, rather than suppress it. God’s revelation in creation and conscience and the Scriptures is the same, but now it leads us to heartfelt worship and gratitude to God through Christ. Such worship includes renewed and fruitful minds and humble and enlightened hearts, as we wisely and gladly receive the glory of God in and through the things that he has made.

Worship and thanksgiving spill forth from our souls to our bodies, as we offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God (Romans 12:1). This worship and gratitude reorient our sexual lives so that our renewed desires lead us into marriages, families, and fruitfulness. Rather than a war between the sexes, in which we despise, reject, and scorn each other, men marvel at the glory of women, and women admire and rejoice in the strength of men, as our families live beneath the blessing of God.

And then our reordered desires spill over the banks of our families and flood every aspect of our social lives, forming communities and cultures united by deep love for God and others. God’s law is our delight. Evil gives way to goodness, covetousness to contentment, and malice to benevolence. We cast off fellowship-killing envy and instead give thanks to God for his blessings to others. Strife ceases and peace reigns. We put off malicious lies and instead speak the truth with magnanimous hearts. Instead of using words to tear down and destroy, we build up and encourage. Insolent pride turns to meekness and humility. By God’s pleasure and grace, “foolish, faithless, heartless, and ruthless” becomes “wise, steadfast, compassionate, and merciful.”

This is the way of life that God has set before us — the Godward life — and it was not without great cost. God himself, in the person of his Son, took our flesh and dwelled among us, and gave himself for us, to turn the curse inside out and make it a blessing. And he plants this seed in every regenerate heart through the new birth, as we see and savor the goodness and grace of Christ. And as he pours out his grace upon us, this glorious vision multiplies in churches and homes and communities around the world, for his glory and our joy.

If you were giving an exhortation to an obedient people, what temptations would you urge them to guard against? Most of us would likely highlight the danger of pride and self-righteousness. And we’d be right to do so.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul is addressing an obedient people. Unlike the Galatians or Corinthians, Paul does not write to them in order to rebuke and correct substantial failures and errors. Outside exhorting a few quarreling women, there isn’t a hint of “You foolish Galatians!” (Galatians 3:1) or “Are you not of the flesh and behaving only in a human way?” (1 Corinthians 3:3). Instead, to the Philippians, Paul says, “As you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence” (Philippians 2:12). The Philippians are an obedient people.

So how does Paul exhort them? What does he see as a key danger for this obedient people?

Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. (Philippians 2:14–16)

Grumbling and Disputing

A major temptation for the obedient is to murmur and grumble in our obedience. That’s why Paul says to do everything without grumbling or disputing, without murmuring or complaining, without sulking or arguing, without whining or backtalk. A temptation for an obedient people is to offer frustrated, grumbling obedience.

“A major temptation for the obedient is to murmur and grumble in our obedience.”

In other words, Paul is clear that how we obey matters. The spirit beneath our actions matters. God’s standard and expectation for us isn’t merely to obey. It’s to obey all the way, right away, cheerfully. All the way, right away, with a happy heart.

This means that partial obedience is disobedience. Delayed obedience is disobedience. And grumbling obedience, irritated obedience, frustrated obedience is disobedience. And it’s crucial for us to press this truth into the corners of our lives.

Confronting Reluctance

We each have various sources of hardship and frustration in our lives. It might be a boss or a co-worker. It might be a tone of voice or an annoying habit from your spouse or child or parent or sibling or friend. It might be a deep unmet desire, like the desire to be married.

Whatever the frustration, how often do you find yourself attempting to obey God while muttering and murmuring about the hardship? How often is there a hitch in your obedience, or an edge to your obedience, or self-pity in your obedience? It’s like we say to ourselves, I will do the right thing, but there will be enough reluctance and grumbling accompanying my obedience that everyone will know what it’s costing me.

Now some of us grumble directly about God. “Why is he doing this to me?” Or we grumble about our circumstances, conveniently “forgetting” the truth that nothing comes into our lives except by his hand. Others of us grumble about people. We disguise our complaints against God by focusing them on the people around us. And we have all sorts of rationalizations for this. “I’m not grumbling about God; I’m just being honest about the failures and sins of other people.”

This is precisely where we must press. It is important to distinguish faithful groaning from ungodly grumbling, lamenting from sulking. Groaning and lamenting can be good and right. They can be faithful responses to real pain. So what distinguishes them from grumbling and sinful complaining? Often, it’s honesty. Do we take the pain to God directly, or does it come out sideways, as complaints about God’s wisdom disguised as observations about other people?

The key question here is: where does the pain go? Do you bring it to God, as part of offering yourself totally to him? Or does it simmer on a low-boil in your soul, and come out in a frustrated service and sulky obedience?

Murmuring in Marriage

We can press this truth into our marriages. Simply put, grumbling obedience is a marriage killer. Mumbling exposes that you’re in the comparison trap and that you’re keeping score. Which of us has the tougher job? Who has sacrificed more? Grumbling and complaining is an outworking of self-pity, that subtle and sneaky form of selfishness.

And we sometimes wield such self-pity as a tool of manipulation. We wield our sacrifices as a weapon to get our way. We try to steer others by our complaining. We recognize this when we’re the target of the manipulation. We know that someone is seeking to steer us by throwing a pity party. And we should ask ourselves hard questions about it. Has such manipulation ever brought us deeper into joyful fellowship with the grumbler? Did it ever call forth the gratitude and joy that it supposedly sought? Of course not.

But seeing such manipulative grumbling in our spouse is the easy part. The hard part is recognizing it in ourselves, removing the log from our own eye, and treating others the way that we want to be treated.

So ask yourself, “How am I doing with my marital obedience? How am I doing with those marital vows? Having and holding, in sickness and in health?” Husbands, how is your leading and loving? Wives, how is your honoring and obeying? What’s the spirit beneath your obedience? Grumbling and disputing? Or glad-hearted and grateful?

Is there a hitch in your efforts to love and give yourself to your spouse? Do you find yourself muttering under your breath while doing the dishes or complaining to friends about your husband or your wife? Are you keeping score? Or are you keeping short accounts? Will the record of wrongs from last week follow you and your spouse into next week?

Frustrated in Families

We can widen and press this into family and parenting. If you’re a father, try this scenario. You’re in one room working on something. Could be your job, could be the honey-do list. From the other room, you hear the quarreling break out. Or you hear your kids talk back to your wife. And you listen for a minute to see if it will resolve itself. And it doesn’t.

And so now you must interrupt your work to go deal with it. You’re the head of the home, and it’s your responsibility to reprove, correct, and discipline. You’ve resolved to obey God. But will your obedience shine? Are you going to walk into a big mess of sin and bring more sin? Because grumbling obedience, frustrated obedience, exasperated obedience is disobedience.

As parents, we’re called to bring up our children in the discipline and instruction of the Lord, in the teaching and admonition of Christ. Do we pursue that task with joyfulness and gladness of heart? Do we do it heartily, as unto our Lord? Or are we regularly asking irritably, “How many times do I have to remind you to pick up your room or take out the trash?” Well, how many times does God have to remind us to shepherd our children with joy, to be his smile to them?

The same standard applies to our children. Children, do you honor and obey your parents all the way, right away, with a happy heart? Or do you wait to obey until your parents have answered all your questions first? Does your obedience come with a side of back-talk?

Gladness in All Things

We could go on. Do we show hospitality without grumbling (1 Peter 4:9)? Most of us have enough social tact to avoid grumbling at guests, but do you harbor resentment and bitterness toward your husband (or wife) or your kids because of all of your labor? Do you have an edge about you? Do you find yourself thinking, Nobody appreciates all that I do. Nobody appreciates how many details I manage, how much time I spend trying to make everything special?

“We must remember a simple truth: God loves a cheerful giver, not a grumbling one.”

Of course, this isn’t to excuse ingratitude and selfishness in others. But we may not use the failures of others to justify our own disobedience. A difference exists between addressing sin and grumbling about unaddressed sin. And a difference exists between addressing sin directly and passive-aggressively murmuring about sin. Do we do all things without grumbling and complaining?

In the end, we remember a simple truth: God loves a cheerful giver, not a grumbler. He loves cheerful obedience, not murmuring and complaining obedience. Such obedience, especially when things are hard, signals God’s grace to us, a sign that he is at work within us to produce an obedience that shines, an obedience that makes apostles proud and God happy. So as you obey, do so all the way, right away, with a happy heart.

Christian obedience is a special kind of obedience. It involves more than mere external behavior, more even than proper motivation. Christian obedience involves the miraculous and mysterious union of divine action and human action. The apostle Paul lays out this mystery in Philippians 2:

My beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. (Philippians 2:12–13)

As we consider this mystery, it’s crucial that we get our prepositions right. Christians don’t work for their salvation. Salvation is by grace through faith. It’s not of our own doing; “it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9). Elsewhere in Philippians, Paul says that he’s seeking to gain Christ, to be found in him, not having a righteousness of his own that comes from the law, but the righteousness from God that depends on faith (Philippians 3:8–9). So Christians don’t work for our own salvation. We receive salvation as a gift.

But we do work out our own salvation, and we do so because God is at work within us to will and to work for his good pleasure. We are working out what God is working in. And he is working at the level of our will — our desires, our affections, our choices. Fundamental to salvation is heart change, the transformation of our wills by God so that we will and work for his good pleasure.

Working from Within

The same mystery and miracle of Christian obedience is described at the end of the book of Hebrews:

Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. (Hebrews 13:20–21)

“We don’t work for salvation. We work out salvation because God works in us to will and work for his good pleasure.”

How does the God of peace equip us to do his will? By working in us what is pleasing in his sight. The same elements are present here and in Philippians: God’s work in us, leading to our working out (that is, doing his will), for his good pleasure and glory. Just like in Philippians, he works in us so that we do his will in a way that pleases him.

Therefore, Christian obedience is special because it knows that prepositions matter. We don’t work for salvation. We work out salvation because God works in us to will and work for his good pleasure.

Christian Double Vision

Christian obedience is also special in another way. God’s work in us produces a special kind of mindset. Think of this in terms of double vision. Consider Philippians 2:1–5, noting the use of the word mind:

If there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus.

Paul’s joy will be complete if the Philippians have the same mindset, the same love, the same soul, the same single-mindedness. And in particular, he highlights what they’re keeping an eye on. They look not to their own interests, but to the interests of others. They don’t act from selfish ambition or pride or vainglory, but they count other people more significant than themselves. They place their happiness in the good of other people. That’s the first part of the double vision: looking to the interests of others.

The second part appears in Philippians 2:12: we look for the approval of God. Paul says, “As you have always obeyed . . . not only as in my presence but much more in my absence . . .” The Philippians were not obeying in order to impress Paul; they were obeying in order to please God.

Whose Approval?

In drawing attention to their constant obedience, Paul is actually highlighting a perennial temptation for obedient people. Whose approval do you have your eye on? If it’s fundamentally a human being, then you will obey only as long as they have their eyes on you. You will obey in their presence, but not in their absence. And obedience that appears only in the presence of certain people is not truly Christian obedience. See how Paul echoes this theme elsewhere:

Bondservants, obey in everything those who are your earthly masters, not by way of eye-service, as people-pleasers, but with sincerity of heart, fearing the Lord. Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ. (Colossians 3:22–24; see also Ephesians 6:5–8)

Of course, it’s not wrong to desire to please the right people with our obedience. We should want to please our boss by doing our job well. Kids should want to please their parents with their obedience. The issue comes when that’s the only reason we obey. If we obey only when our parents are around, or when the pastor is around, or when our spouse is around, or when the boss is around, or when our Christian friends are around, then our obedience is mere people-pleasing eye-service. It does not please God because it’s not done for his sake.

Obedience from the Inside Out

The prepositions and the double vision are connected. Christian obedience is an obedience from the inside out, not from the outside in. It begins with God’s work in the heart and then is worked out in terms of the double vision — looking to the interests of others while looking for the approval of God. I regularly tell my sons that what I want and expect from them is an obedience from the inside out. I don’t want to follow them around to make sure that they follow through. That’s obedience from the outside in. The external pressure of parental eyes drives the obedience (often to the exasperation of both parent and child).

“Christian obedience is an obedience from the inside out, not from the outside in.”

What parents want is obedience from the heart, from the inside out. We want to be able to say, like Paul, “You always obey, not only in my presence but much more in my absence.” We don’t just want our children to meet the standard with their actions; we want them to love the standard from the heart. We want God to work in our kids to will and to work for his good pleasure. That’s an obedience that shines like the stars, that makes parents proud and God happy.

And of course, this special kind of Christian obedience isn’t just for kids, but for all Christians. Christian obedience has a double vision — we look to the interests of others, and we look for the approval of God. We don’t put ourselves first. We don’t turn our desires into demands. We seek the good of other people. We aim to bless them and to bring them joy. And we do so because we’re always in God’s presence, animated by his Spirit, and we want to please him by working out what he is working in.

ABSTRACT: How can the living and holy God dwell with his sinful people in a world of death? The book of Leviticus answers that question, but understanding its message requires patiently learning the language of the sacrificial system. Like any language, Leviticus has a basic grammar consisting of nouns, adjectives, and verbs, each of which contributes to the book’s overall message. In the five offerings in particular, we see how God draws sinful and contaminated people near to himself, and we catch hints of the once-for-all offering to which every sacrifice pointed. The holy God desires to dwell with, meet with, and dine with his people, and Leviticus gives us a deeper knowledge of how he does so.

In our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors and Christian leaders, Joe Rigney, president of Bethlehem College & Seminary, offers an introduction to the book of Leviticus.

Comedian Brian Regan tells a funny story about his struggles in school as a kid. He talks about the public humiliation of the spelling bee and his difficulty with the i-before-e rule. A particularly funny portion describes the teacher’s questions to him and Erwin (the smart kid in class) about how to make a plural.

Teacher: “Brian, how do you make a word plural?”Brian: “You put an s at the end of it.”Teacher: “Erwin, what’s the plural for ox?”Erwin: “Oxen. The farmer used his oxen.”Teacher: “Brian, what’s the plural for box?”Brian: “Boxen. I bought two boxen of doughnuts.”Teacher: “No, Brian. Erwin, what’s the plural for goose?”Erwin: “Geese. I saw a flock of geese.”Teacher: “Brian, what’s the plural for moose?”Brian: “Moosen. I saw a flock of moosen. . . . There were many of them . . . many, much moosen . . . out in the woods, in the wood-es, in the wood-es-en . . .”

Superficially, the joke is about Brian’s ignorance. But it actually demonstrates the complexity and difficulty of the English language (to which anyone who has learned English as a second language can attest). As native English speakers, we don’t always think about this difficulty and complexity because we’re so familiar with it. We inhabit the language, we use the language, and therefore, it feels (mostly) comprehensible to us.

For many of us, the book of Leviticus mystifies us. We find the sacrifices, rules, and regulations to be complex and confusing. To us, Leviticus is like a foreign language. It mystifies because we’re unfamiliar with it. Like Brian Regan and making plural words, the intricacies elude and confuse us.1

Levitical Language

Thinking of Leviticus as a language can help demystify it. Consider what goes into a language. First, we have an alphabet. We arrange the letters of the alphabet to form words. There are different kinds of words — nouns, verbs, adjectives, prepositions, adverbs. We arrange the words into sentences with meaning and purpose. We modify words by adding letters at the beginning or end in order to make plurals or speak about the past or future or communicate ongoing versus completed action.

What’s more, in English, in order to make sense, we must arrange the words in a certain order. “Bill throws the ball” means something very different from “The ball throws Bill.” Arranging the words rightly is necessary in order to communicate clearly.

The sacrificial system is similar. Instead of nouns, verbs, and adjectives, we have people, places, sins, animals, animal body parts, and actions, and they are arranged and combined in various ways in order to say something, in order to communicate.

The sacrificial system resembles language learning in another way. In truth, we don’t actually learn our native language by first learning the alphabet, then learning words, and then arranging words into sentences. In other words, we don’t move from the smallest parts up to the larger parts.

Instead, as children, we first learn nouns — like “Mommy” and “Daddy” and “milk” — and sentences — simple ones like “Yes” and “No” and “Help, please.” Then as we mature, we learn more nouns and more complex sentences. At a certain age, we’re taught to read, and we learn to break words down into letters and then to break sentences down into subjects, verbs, and direct objects so we can grasp the rules of spelling and grammar.

The Bible teaches us the sacrificial system in the same way. We get glimpses of it early on: God provides Adam and Eve with animal skins after their sin in the garden (Genesis 3:21). Cain and Abel offer tribute to God (Genesis 4:3–4). Noah offers whole burnt offerings of clean animals after the flood (Genesis 8:20). Abraham prepares to offer Isaac as a burnt offering, and God substitutes a ram at the last minute (Genesis 22:1–19). Moses makes burnt offerings and peace offerings and sprinkles blood on the people at Sinai (Exodus 24:4–8).

Then finally, in Leviticus, it’s like we pick up a grammar textbook that sets forth more detailed rules for how all of these sacrifices work in the covenantal arrangement established by God with his people after the exodus. Leviticus, along with Numbers, provides the basic spelling, grammar, and syntax of the sacrificial system, and in learning the language, we can better understand what God is saying to us.

Three Images

To grasp the symbolic system of Leviticus, we begin with three images. Leviticus builds on the book of Genesis, especially the early chapters. Recall the basic story. God made the world and everything in it in six days. The crown of his creation is man, made on the sixth day, male and female, in God’s own image, as his representatives and stewards. He gives the first man and woman a commission — be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth, subdue it, and have dominion over its inhabitants. He places them in a garden to work and keep it, and gives them one prohibition: “Of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Genesis 2:17).

Under the influence of the crafty serpent, Adam and Eve rebel against God, eat the fruit, and are confronted in their rebellion. God judges them for their rebellion, cursing the ground, multiplying pain and hardship in their relationship, and dooming them to die and return to dust. But he mingles mercy with his justice, promising them descendants, and especially a redeemer who will crush the serpent’s head. He then clothes them with animal skins and exiles them from the garden.

Now, here’s the important image: in order to prevent Adam and Eve from eating from the tree of life in the midst of the garden, God “drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life” (Genesis 3:24).

This is crucial. The holy presence of God is in the garden. Life is in the garden. And there is an angelic bouncer with a sword of fire separating man from divine life. There’s no way to draw near to God without losing your head and being burned up.

The second image comes from the book of Exodus. Yahweh has just delivered his people from bondage and gathered them at the holy mountain. God descends in a thick cloud of smoke and lightning, and he says to the people through Moses,

You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. (Exodus 19:4–6)

There is a profound tension between this image and the one in Genesis. In Genesis 3, we see life and glory in the garden, with an angel guarding the way with a flaming sword. In Exodus 19, we see life and glory on the mountain, with the words “you are my treasured possession; I have brought you to myself and intend to dwell with you.”

The tension between these two biblical scenes yields a third image. Imagine if the sun — the giant ball of flaming gas in the sky — wanted to come live in your neighborhood. What would happen? There is no atmosphere to protect you, no sunscreen strong enough, no covering to shield you: just the blazing inferno of the sun and your weak, frail, human self. How would that work out for you? Can you handle that heat?

The answer is obvious. We can’t handle that heat. The scene at Sinai confirms it. Yahweh invites the people to draw near, but he also commands them to consecrate and prepare themselves; they are to wash their garments and abstain from sexual relations for three days prior (Exodus 19:10–11, 15). What’s more, he sets limits around the mountain, a boundary that they are not to cross, on pain of death (verses 12–13). It seems we have not left the angelic guardian entirely behind. To cross the boundary, to touch the holy mountain, is to court death. And the passage couldn’t be clearer: the real danger is that the Lord will break out against them (verses 21–24). The danger is that they would get too close to the sun. And they can’t handle that heat.

“The living and holy God desires to dwell with his sinful people in this world of death.”

We can summarize the basic problem in this way. The living God is holy. We are a sinful people in a world of death. But the living and holy God desires to dwell with his sinful people in this world of death. How is that possible? If we’re going to return to the garden of life, if we’re going to draw near to the holy God, how do we get past the angel and his flaming sword?

Basics of the Grammar

God’s answer to this problem is the whole Levitical system. It’s an entire symbolic system — a language — that testifies both to God’s holiness and life and to our sinfulness and death. And at the center of that system is atonement — the God-given covering that enables us to remarkably, miraculously, mercifully draw near to God and handle the heat.

So what are the basics of the grammar of this Levitical language? Let’s think in terms of nouns, adjectives, and verbs.

Nouns

Back in elementary school, we learned that there are three basic categories of nouns: people, places, and things. These categories offer a good way to approach the grammar of Leviticus as well.

Start with people. First, we have men and women. The book opens with a call-back to Genesis: “When an adam brings an offering . . .” (Leviticus 1:2). The word adam reminds us that we are sons of earth, since adam was taken from the dust of the adamah. But we aren’t merely “earth-men”; we are men and women, ish and ishshah (Genesis 2:23).

In the Levitical system, we can break God’s people down even more. First, we have the congregation as a whole. Within the congregation, we have the Levites, the priests, and especially the high priest. Beyond them, we have the leaders or rulers of the people. Then we have individual Israelites, some of them rich, and some of them poor. So the Levitical system recognizes distinctions in terms of people.

What about places? Here we need to connect sacred geography and sacred architecture. Leviticus is built on Genesis, especially the early chapters. And there, we remember the garden, in the land of Eden, and the world beyond (unsubdued and unfilled): garden, land, world (Genesis 2:8). The garden was on a mountain, and a river flowed down to water the garden, and then from there it split into four rivers spreading out over the earth (Genesis 2:10). So in terms of geography, think of a summit, a mountain, the land around it, and then the waters/ocean at the edge.

This sacred geography is repeated at Sinai, with the cloud and fire at the summit (into which Moses ascends), and then the mountain (where the elders wait), and then the base of the mountain (where the people gather), and then the wilderness surrounding them (Exodus 19:20–24; 24:9–18).

The Israelite camp reflects this sacred geography. The tabernacle is a mobile Mount Sinai. At the edges, you have “outside the camp,” which corresponds to the waters of death and chaos. Then you have the camp itself, with the tribes arranged around the tabernacle. Then you have a courtyard, where there is a bronze basin for washing vessels and the altar for burning sacrifices. In the middle of the courtyard, you have the tent. Inside the tent, you have the Holy Place, with a lampstand (like the tree of life), the altar of incense, and the table with the bread of the presence. And then at the heart of the tabernacle (or at the top of the mountain), there is the Most Holy Place, God’s throne room, holding the ark of the covenant with the cherubim on top.

So the Israelite camp is a mini-cosmos, a horizontal mountain. As you move in, you move up. As you move from outside the camp inward (or upward), you move closer to the sun. And in order to be close to the sun, you have to be sun-like, acclimated to the sun. Or to use the language of the Bible, you have to be holy, because the sun (Yahweh) is holy. The further up and further in you move, the greater the holiness required. At each stage, there is a boundary with a gate. And in order to pass through the gate, you must have the necessary qualifications, the right status and covering. The Levitical system recognizes these distinctions in terms of place.

Finally, we have things. We might first think in terms of the various objects involved in Israel’s worship: clothing, vessels, bowls, instruments, and the like. But we can also think in terms of animals and their body parts, as well as grain. Leviticus distinguishes between a number of different types of animals. There is a basic distinction between animals of the herd (cows and oxen) and animals of the flock (sheep and goats). Leviticus then distinguishes these different animals based on sex (male and female) and age (lambs versus mature adults). Beyond that, there are birds (doves and pigeons), and beyond that there are grains (flour and such). And then there are various other elements, some forbidden (such as leaven and honey) and others required (such as salt). All of these have symbolic value. They mean something in this system.

More than that, the body parts of the animals have meaning in the system. The animals are dismembered into the head, the fat portions (the heart, kidney, liver, and more), and then the entrails and legs. These parts are frequently burned up in the sacrifice. Then you have other parts of the animal: skin, bones, meat, and so forth. And again, all of these have symbolic value. So the Levitical system makes distinctions in terms of things.

Adjectives

Next, we move from nouns to adjectives. Here we need to think in terms of interlocking distinctions. One basic distinction is life and death (living and dead). Life is tied to blood (Leviticus 17:14). A related distinction is clean and unclean. Another set of distinctions relates to holiness. On the one hand, holy can be the opposite of sinful. On the other hand, holy can be the opposite of common.

In the first case, unholiness or impurity involves moral contamination. Think of sinfulness as a kind of moral state, something that we just are. We are sinful people in a world of death. In the second case, when holy is distinguished from common, being common isn’t a problem in itself. Common things are perfectly fine. But common things can be made into holy things through rituals of consecration. God establishes rituals that move people and objects from common to holy, from ordinary to set apart. And they are set apart or consecrated in order to make it possible for the living and holy God to dwell with his sinful people in a world of death.

Imagine a common bowl, made out of clay. Through a process of washings, this bowl could be moved from common to holy, so that it could be used in the offerings. Or a robe could be consecrated so that it could be worn inside the courtyard or inside the Holy Place.

We can see some of these nouns and adjectives woven together in Leviticus 6:9–11:

Command Aaron and his sons, saying, This is the law of the burnt offering. The burnt offering shall be on the hearth on the altar all night until the morning, and the fire of the altar shall be kept burning on it. And the priest shall put on his linen garment and put his linen undergarment on his body [these are holy or consecrated clothes], and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and put them beside the altar. Then he shall take off his garments and put on other garments and carry the ashes outside the camp to a clean place.

This is a simple task: dispensing with the ashes from the altar. But a consecrated and holy person (a priest) has to put on consecrated and holy clothes to approach the altar (to pass through the gate up the mountain). Then to take the ashes outside, he has to pass through the gate going the other way, and so he needs to change into common clothes before he takes the ashes to a clean place outside the camp (not an unclean place, such as the latrine).

What is the symbolic significance of these rituals and movements? Earlier we noted the idea that, for God to dwell with his people, they have to be acclimated to the sun. Think about acclimation. In Minnesota, it’s not uncommon for it to be 45 degrees in both October and in March. But we respond to the same temperature very differently at the different times of year.

In October, when the temperature dips to 45, we bundle up — puffy jackets, gloves, beanies. In March, when the temperature rises to 45, we break out the T-shirts and shorts. Why? Because of how we’re acclimated. In October, we’re acclimated to warm weather, so 45 feels cold. In March, we’re acclimated to cold weather, so 45 feels warm.

As a sinful people in a world of death, we are tempted to become acclimated to sin and death. The Levitical system was designed to press against this worldly acclimation, against the felt sense that sin and death are normal. It was designed instead to acclimate Israel to life and holiness, to the presence of the living and holy God.

“Holiness is contagious, and you don’t want to catch it unless you’ve been properly consecrated.”

So when you move from the cold and death outside the camp toward the sun at the top of the mountain, you have to put on the right clothes and the right gloves — holy ones. When you move back down the mountain, away from the sun, you have to take off your holy clothes and put on your common clothes. For the common to come into contact with the holy is to contaminate the holy, rendering it unclean. More than that, it is to make the common holy in an inappropriate way. In the Bible, holiness is contagious, and you don’t want to catch it — you don’t want to get holy on you — unless you’ve been properly consecrated, properly covered. Because unless you’ve been consecrated and covered, you can’t handle the heat.

Verbs

This brings us to the verbs of the Levitical system. We call these sacrifices or offerings. The more basic meaning of the term is “near-bringing.” “When a man brings near his near-bringing . . .” (Leviticus 1:2). The basic goal of offerings is to draw near to God.

There are five basic types of offerings identified in the early chapters of Leviticus: burnt offering, grain offering, peace offering, sin offering, guilt offering. But rather than using these names, many commentators prefer to highlight the basic function or action of each offering.

The (whole) burnt offering is the ascension offering. The grain offering is called the tribute offering. The peace offering is still the peace offering, provided we recognize that peace relates to communion with God. The sin offering is called the purification offering. Finally, the guilt or trespass offering is called the reparations offering. The first three offerings form the basics of the Levitical system; they maintain it. The last two repair breaches in the system in particular circumstances. The first three are like food; they maintain health in an ongoing way. The purification and reparations offerings are like medicine; they are used when you’re sick with a particular illness.

The offerings often involve some of the same basic elements. The worshiper brings the animal to the courtyard and lays his hands on it. The worshiper kills the animal, and the blood is drained out. The blood is then used in various ways in the sacrificial rite: sprinkled on the horns/corners of the altar, or at the base of the altar, or on the altar of incense in the Holy Place. Then the priest dismembers the animal and arranges certain parts in a certain order on the altar to be burned up. Other parts are taken and burned outside the camp. And in some cases, some parts are eaten, either by the priest or by the worshiper.

This is the basic progression: lay hands, kill the animal, sprinkle the blood, arrange and burn certain key parts, dispense with and/or eat other parts. All of these steps are designed in one way or another to make atonement, to provide a covering so that we can handle the heat.

PURIFICATION AND REPARATIONS

Let’s consider more deeply the medicinal offerings — the purification and the reparations offering. All of the offerings assume that we are a sinful people in a world of death. But we aren’t just sinful; we also are sinning. That is, we commit concrete acts of sin and become contaminated. We become impure. And when we do, we need to be purified before we can draw near to God. The purification offering deals with these sorts of sins and errors.

The Bible distinguishes between high-handed sins and “unintentional sins” or sins of error (Numbers 15:30–31). High-handed sins are brazen, defiant, and unrepentant. There is no sacrifice for such sins, because there is no repentance. You can’t be purified from sins that you don’t repent of.

Sins of error include real sins, but the key difference is that the sinner “realizes his guilt” (Leviticus 4:22, 27; 5:2). That is, he’s convicted of sin and wants to be restored to fellowship with God. He’s repentant. Sins of error includes sins of omission (neglect or forgetfulness, when you don’t do the do’s) as well as sins of commission (when you do do the don’ts). The key is that the worshiper has become contaminated and impure somehow, whether through willful action or inaction, or through neglect and ignorance, and then has realized his guilt and is repentant.

This is where people, places, and animals become important. Different people are linked to different animals within the system. If the congregation sins, or if the high priest sins, they (and he) are represented by a bull of the herd (Leviticus 4:13–21). If a leader of the people sins, he is represented by a male goat of the flock (4:22–27). If a commoner sins, he or she is represented by a female goat or a lamb (4:27–35). If the person is poor and can’t afford livestock, he or she can use two birds (5:7–10) — or, if that’s too much, flour or grain (5:11–13). The important point is that different people are represented by different animals in the symbolic language of Leviticus.

Moreover, the purification offering has a special focus on the blood of the animal. If the congregation sins, the blood is sprinkled not only on the altar in the courtyard, but also on the altar of incense in the Holy Place. If a commoner sins, the blood is sprinkled only on the altar in the courtyard. Congregational sin (or high-priestly sin) is more grievous than mere individual sin.

The reparations or guilt offering is similar to the purification offering, but the difference is that the sin committed is related to the desecration of God’s holy things or robbery of others. In both cases, the idea is that the sinner has stolen something and needs not only to be purified, but also to make restitution somehow (often 20 percent more than what was stolen).

In both cases, the purpose of these offerings is to fix a breach in the system based on a concrete action (or inaction).

ASCENSION, TRIBUTE, PEACE

This brings us to the three basic offerings at the core of the system. The ascension offering is the most basic offering. In it, the worshiper lays his hands on an unblemished animal, so that the spotless animal now represents the sinful worshiper. The animal is then killed, and its blood (which is its life) is sprinkled on the altar. The animal is then dismembered and arranged on the altar, with particular focus on the head and the fat portions (which are closely tied to the emotions in the Bible). In this sense, the altar is like a mini-mountain, rising from altar to fire, wood, head, and fat portions — all of it burned up and ascending to God in the smoke as a pleasing aroma.2

This offering signifies the total surrender of the worshiper, the heartfelt desire to draw near to the living and holy God despite our sinfulness and death. There is both death and resurrection in this offering, as the animal dies and then is transformed through fire in order to rise into God’s presence. By faith, the worshiper ascends to the presence of God in the smoke, and God is pleased with the faith of the sinner who comes to God represented by the life and death of an unblemished animal.

The ascension offering is the core offering, in which the worshiper offers himself. But then, in addition to offering himself, the worshiper can also offer tribute to Yahweh. He can bring a representative portion of his wealth in the form of the grain or tribute offering. This offering is not offered by itself, but always accompanies the ascension offering. As one commentator puts it, the ascension offering is like a hamburger, and the tribute offering is like a side of fries.3 (And in fact, the book of Numbers describes drink offerings that accompany the other offerings as well.)

So the worshiper offers purification and reparations offerings in order to repair breaches in the relationship caused by sinful and impure actions. Then the worshiper offers himself in total surrender to Yahweh, drawing near to him as a pleasing aroma in the ascension offering. And he may offer a tribute to Yahweh for all of his kindness to him. But even these aren’t the end.

“God doesn’t just want to meet with his people; he wants to dine with his people.”

All of these offerings — purification, reparation, total surrender, and tribute — are meant to lead to communion. There are two different terms for the tabernacle in Leviticus: “tabernacle” (or “dwelling”) and “tent of meeting.” Both terms are important. God doesn’t merely want to dwell with his people; he wants to meet with his people. And he doesn’t just want to meet with his people; he wants to dine with his people.

The peace offering is the culmination and climax of Israelite worship. Parts of it resemble the ascension offering, with the fat portions and guts burned and offered to God as a pleasing aroma. Parts of it resemble the tribute offering, consisting of unleavened loaves of bread. But what sets the peace offering apart is that the worshiper is invited to eat with God. Whether giving thanks for a particular blessing, or giving thanks because God has enabled him to fulfill a vow, or just giving a general thanksgiving to God as a freewill offering, the worshiper recognizes that God has made provision so that his people can draw near to him and fellowship with him in peace.

Dining in a World of Death

This is the message of Leviticus. It is what the nouns, adjectives, and verbs communicated to Israel, and what they can still communicate to us today. For though we do not inhabit the same world as Israel, Leviticus was still written for our instruction, that “through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope” (Romans 15:4). Leviticus enables us to see Christ and his work on our behalf in a deeper and richer light. In learning the language of Leviticus, we come to a deeper knowledge that the living and holy God truly does desire to dwell with, meet with, and dine with his sinful people in a world of death. Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord.

The Bible tells us that earthly fatherhood is derived from divine fatherhood. The apostle Paul bows his knee before the Father, “from whom every family [literally fatherhood] in heaven and on earth is named” (Ephesians 3:15). One implication of this basic fact is that earthly parents are to imitate the fatherhood of God. He is the model for our own fathering (and mothering).

In considering God’s fatherhood, parents do well to reflect on the relationships and rules he established in the garden of Eden, and especially on how he uses yes and no.

God’s World of Yes

Recall that God planted the garden in Eden and filled it with trees that were pleasant to the sight and good for food (Genesis 2:9). Then he put the man in the garden to work it and keep it (Genesis 2:15), assigning him a priestly guardianship of God’s garden sanctuary. And then God gave to Adam the moral design of this garden:

The Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.” (Genesis 2:16–17)

Note three features of the rules God established in the garden. First, there was one no in a world of yes. Second, the yes came first. And third, the no was real.

All three of these features are crucial. God did not create a world of no, filled with prohibitions and restraints. He made a world of yes and gave it his enthusiastic endorsement. God provided Adam with a garden of delights, filled with beautiful trees and tasty fruit, and his first rule was “Eat from every tree (except one).” There is one no in this world of yes. For our purposes, let’s call this “The Father’s Way.”

Learning Parenting from Lies

We see the significance of the Father’s Way when the serpent assaults it. The serpent’s first question is “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” (Genesis 3:1). In other words, the serpent asks, “Did God make a world of no?” In doing so, the serpent shrewdly turns the single prohibition into a total prohibition. He turns the one no into a world of no. This assault on the Father’s Way is why Paul describes those who forbid marriage and require abstinence from God’s good foods as liars who are devoted to the teaching of demons (1 Timothy 4:1–5).

At the same time, we must not forget that there was in fact a no. The serpent also assaults this aspect of the Father’s Way. When Eve rightly notes that there is only one no in the world of yes and that violation of the one no will lead to certain death, the serpent replies, “You will not surely die” (Genesis 3:4). Whereas the serpent formerly blew the single no out of proportion, now he shrinks the real consequence out of existence.

In sum, the serpent sought to depict God as a miser who makes idle threats. But our Father is not a miser who makes idle threats; he’s a giver who always follows through. That’s the Father’s Way. So what might moms and dads learn from God’s good design in the garden? How might we seek to imitate the Father’s Way?

Lesson 1: Limit Your Noes

First, it is good and right for us to limit the number of noes we place on our kids. While we will surely need more than one (after all, we do live in a fallen world), it’s noteworthy that the foundation of Israel’s life was the Ten Commandments, and that in the New Testament, Jesus captures the Ten with Two: love God with all you have, and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37–39).

In each of these cases, the noes are limited and focused on the big things. One way to apply this approach is to ask yourself, “What rules must my children always remember?” In our home, following the advice of some wiser friends, early on we established two basic rules:

Always obey Mom and Dad — all the way, right away, with a happy heart.
Always tell the truth.

As our kids grew in maturity, we added a third: Treat others the way that you want to be treated.

Now, clearly the first rule encompasses a lot. Every day as parents, we give instructions, commands, and expectations to our kids. But we don’t expect them to memorize every instruction, every house rule, every command that we’ve ever mentioned. Instead, we expect full, immediate, and cheerful obedience when the instructions come.

POINT OF PARENTING

Fewer rules puts the accent in the right place. The moral order of your home, like the moral order of the garden, is fundamentally about trust and relationship. The fundamental thing that we are asking of our children is this: trust the goodness and wisdom of your parents, and express that trust through full, immediate, and cheerful obedience. Having fewer (and wiser) rules orients them to the right issue.

“The moral order of your home, like the moral order of the garden, is fundamentally about trust and relationship.”

Having fewer rules also reorients parents. A small number of good rules keeps us out of the “If I’ve told you once . . .” trap — expecting children to remember every rule that we’ve ever laid down for them. “Billy, why are you standing on your chair? Didn’t I tell you last month never to stand on your chair?” We become frustrated when we have to remind and correct and exhort our children concerning all of the various house rules (and basic courtesies of life). This fundamentally misses the point of parenting.

Teaching, correcting, instructing, reminding — these are the basics of the Father’s Way. This is what we as parents are called to do, and we must do so all the way, right away, with a happy heart.

PARENTING HAPPINESS

To press on this practically, let’s say that Billy stands up on his chair at the dinner table (again). The first step is instruction and a reminder. “Billy, we don’t stand up in our chair at the dinner table.” If he sits down, all is well. But sometimes Billy gives you a look that says, “Who’s going to make me?” In that situation, we move to discipline — not for standing up on the chair, but for open defiance. Billy has broken rule number 1, and there must be consequences.

Or perhaps Billy bounces on the chair for a moment, and then sits down. Or he sits down with folded arms and a scowl on his face. In other words, Billy obeyed, but not “all the way, right away, with a happy heart.” This is an opportunity for further teaching and practice. Remind Billy of the full rule, and then have him stand back up in the chair. Give the command again, and watch for full, immediate, and cheerful obedience. And if you receive it, lavish praise and excitement because Billy has preserved the relationship of trust and joy by responding rightly to the Father’s Way.

Lesson 2: Say No to Protect Good

In addition to limiting the number of rules we expect our children to remember, we might also consider how the Father’s Way uses prohibitions. Put simply, in the Father’s Way, each no protects some yes. The noes in the Ten Commandments are designed to guard good things. “You shall not murder” protects life. “You shall not commit adultery” protects marriage. “You shall not steal” protects property. And so on. These noes act like walls around a city, ensuring that the good things within the city can flourish and thrive.

Applying this to our own parenting, we regularly ask ourselves, “When I say no to my kids, what good thing am I protecting? What gift am I guarding?” Often, we say no not because we are guarding some good, but because we are saving ourselves some inconvenience or hassle. This brings us to a third application of the Father’s Way.

Lesson 3: Say Yes to Something Better

When we say no, we ought to look for an opportunity to say yes to something else. Jesus tells us that, when we ask God for bread, he will not give us a stone. When we ask him for fish, he will not give us a snake (Matthew 7:9–11). In other words, God gives us what we ask, or something better. If we ask for bread, he gives us bread — or cake. If we ask for fish, he gives us fish — or steak.

“When we say no, we ought to look for an opportunity to say yes to something else.”

This “something better” must be broadly defined. We might say no (or “not yet”) because we are giving our kids the gift of patience (which is better than indulging their every desire). We might give them a task because we are giving them the gift of diligence and a faithful work ethic (which is better than allowing them to grow up lazy and slothful). We might say no to more screen time in order to say yes to more game time with Mom and Dad (since the long-term value of real relationships far outshines the temporary dopamine hit of our devices).

But in all of these cases, we are seeking to imitate God’s fatherhood, and to follow in the Father’s Way. As parents, real noes are unavoidable, and they are good, like the walls around the city. But we must remember that, as parents, the main thing we are offering is a city of yes, a home of yes, filled with joy and life and gratitude for the abundance of all things that flow to us from the God of yes.