“...God's grace and forgiveness, while free to the
recipient, are always costly for the Giver.... From
the earliest parts of the Bible, it was
understood that God could not forgive
without sacrifice." - Tim KellerAbout a week ago, we had a little incident at the grand Granny House. One of the many wonderful aspects of living in this house is that there are huge windows in the living room that allow us to view the beautiful, icy backyard from the warmness of our cozy living room. However lovely this may sound, there is one major downfall: little birdies don't know that it's a window. That's right, folks. A precious bird zoomed her poor little body right into our window; BANG.
Of course, it being winter and we twenty-somethings being bored out of our minds, this seemed like a perfect opportunity for some kind of adventure to be had. So my brave friend and roommate, Carly, went out to check on the bird. She brought in the wretched thing, and we all cooed at it, wondering how in the world to save her from her obvious misery. The rest of them quickly decided that killing it swiftly was the best option, while I sat there, saddened and panicked at the state of this poor creature. I proceeded to have a mental breakdown, feel sick to my stomach, and beg that they not talk of the bird anymore.
Side-note: This sometimes happens to me. I'm not sure where it comes from. Maybe my attention-seeking childhood? Maybe fear? Both?
Whatever the reason, I'm dramatic and I know it. I usually exaggerate for the purpose of humor. But this time was different. I actually felt sick about the death of this bird and I couldn't figure out why. Carly says it was my tender heart for animals, which could, in part, be true, but I think it was more than that. I think it had something to do with the innocence of the bird - how she didn't deserve death and I, in some manner, participated in the end of her life.
I turned the pages of my Bible to the book of Leviticus this morning, following my daily check-off list to my "Read the Bible: One Year Plan." This morning, I was designated the first 4 chapters. I skimmed the headings of the chapters, which resulted in hesitation and a little bit of disappointment before I started reading.
"Ugh. Fellowship Offering, Sin Offering, Burnt Offering, Grain Offering; lamb, goats, no defect, no fat, only-this-kind-of-grain, 'when a leader sins,' 'when a member sins,' 'when a community sins,' ... when will I get to something that's at least in the 18th century...?"
But then I read something that caused my stomach to churn every time an animal offering was to be made: "He is to lay his hand on the goat's head and slaughter it..."
The Bird. I thought of that precious bird. I imagined all of the sin I committed in the last week - the selfishness, the gossip, the unforgiving spirit, the put-downs I dished out. I pictured having to take the life of that innocent bird, the one who (at least in my eyes) had no defect for my sin. I cringed at the thought of bringing her to the altar, putting my rebellious, idol and self-worshiping hand on her shaky head and breathing beak, and slaughtering her - shortening her breath till it stopped, depriving her of life. My heart sank as I tried to think of ways that I wouldn't have to witness it - the unfairness of it all, but I couldn't. In order to effectively slaughter this bird as my sacrifice, I'd have to intentionally cut the veins that gave her life. I'd have to look at her and reject her life. And I wouldn't be able to stop crying; the tears would not cease to flow. They poured out of my eyes, knowing that it was my rebellion that caused this death and outpouring of blood for this little animal.
If I remembered that the death of this bird was the cost of my sin, would I think more the next time I was tempted?
"In this way, the priest will make atonement for him for the sin he has committed, and he will be forgiven..." Leviticus 4:35b
And then, I remember Jesus.
I think of his perfection, his resistance to temptation, his selfless love, his outpouring of grace, his sleepless nights given to prayer, his dedication to his disciples, his innocence.
And how God intentionally sacrificed Him, cut the veins that gave Him life, and rejected Him for us.
Our grossness, our dirtiness, our shame, our blatant rebellion, our unintentional sin, our selfish motives.
Just because I don't have to lay down the life of a poor, precious animal anymore doesn't mean that my sin didn't cost something.
It cost God his Son's life.
It cost Jesus His Father's love.
And it cost me nothing.
