Liz Schauer

Last week I posted about Moses’ encounter at the burning bush. My claim: Moses had no idea that he was about to encounter the living God. A bush was burning without being consumed, so he went to check it out. A moment of curiosity turned into a life-altering conversation with God. After reading that story, I began to pray that God would encounter me in obscure, unexpected ways.

Then I read Leviticus.

Call it a lack of faith or a lack of understanding, but I did not think I would learn anything substantial from the book of Leviticus. I’ve read it once before, and that experience, mixed with the jokes of many other Christians, led me to think of Leviticus as an outdated prescription for offerings and sacrifices.

Here are some excerpts from the first two chapters:

When any one of you brings an offering to the Lord, you shall bring your offering of livestock (a bull) from the herd or from the flock. If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall offer a male without blemish…If his gift for a burnt offering is from the flock, from the sheep or goats, he shall bring a male without blemish…If his offering to the Lord is a burnt offering of birds, then he shall bring his offering of turtledoves or pigeons…If you offer a grain offering of first fruits to the Lord, you shall offer for the grain offering of your first fruits fresh ears, roasted with fire, crushed new grain.

Confusing, right?

Initially, I wanted to keep on trucking through this book. My goal was to skim Leviticus, skim Numbers, and pick up the story of the Israelites in Deuteronomy where I would delve deeper into what God was going to teach me. I didn’t want to stop and think about what was happening in Leviticus. In the midst of my rushing, I felt the Lord ask me to slow down and think about what it means to bring an offering.

Leviticus 1 and 2 give the prescription for how people were to bring burnt offerings to the Lord. Why were there so many options? Did people get to choose a bull, a goat, a bird, or grain? Not necessarily. The different offerings corresponded to the socioeconomic classes. Those who were wealthy and able were to offer a bull, the most costly of their livestock, were to bring their best bull. Those who were too poor to own animals brought grain to the altar.

When I close my eyes, I can see the look of sadness on the face of the man carrying his bag of grain to offer. Perhaps he was even walking next to a man leading his unblemished male bull to the altar. Wishing he had more to offer, he hands his grain to the priest. Eyes fixed on the dirt beneath his feet, he turns to walk back home wishing he had more to give. In that moment, I can hear the Lord say,

It is a pleasing aroma to me. (2:2 paraphrased)

We live in a world where we are told that we must be the best, have the best, give the best. All too often I am caught up in the comparison rat race. I want to bring a bull to the altar, not grain. I look around and want to be better than those next to me. I want to be more valuable. I want to bring more to the table.

My confidence swings in a pendulum – over confidence, no confidence, over confidence, no confidence. It is a daily struggle to live in humility. Do I trust that God has placed me where I am at in the present moment for a purpose? Do I try to pursue my own desires, or seek to know what he desires? Do I focus on what other people bring and seek to bring something better?

As I read Leviticus, the Lord spoke to me. He told me that he has created each person for his purposes, myself included. He has given each one of us a portion and he wants us to offer that back to him, whether it be a bull, a goat, a dove, or grain. He told me that my offering to him, no matter how it compares to what others bring, is a pleasing aroma.

In the same moment, my heart was checked. How often do I compare what others bring to what I bring? How often do I judge? Do I see each person’s offering as equally valuable? Again, the Lord said to me: I have created each person for my purpose, their offering is a pleasing aroma to me. 

We are the body of Christ. We are different. We have each been given a portion, gifts and talents, and the Lord wants us to offer them back to him. May our eyes be fixed on Jesus – not on each other – as we seek to offer him what we alone can bring.