What Leviticus Taught Me About Bible Study + Prayer
In broken intervals over the past year or so, I studied Leviticus last year. Like most people, Leviticus is where my desire to read through the Bible in a year usually faltered. Reading Leviticus felt like trying to cross a swamp—trudging through the many laws and rituals, slowly pulling my feet out of the mud to get to the other side (while also periodically glancing over at the green grass of easier books of the Bible that I could have walked through). But studying Hebrews seemed to give me the push I needed to pull on my boots and start plodding.
As I read commentaries, listened to sermons, and examined the text, I found that Leviticus actually has a lot to offer our faith. While many of the laws are no longer applicable, and the purpose was to point to and shadow Christ to come, these images help us understand with greater depth God’s holiness, our lack of holiness, and the depth, height, and width of Christ’s atonement for us. While the atonement may not make a lot of sense to us today (and may even seem like an abstract idea), Leviticus can help us flesh out what Christ’s atonement means for us and why it was necessary.
Leviticus has caused me to pause and truly praise God for how he has drawn us near to him through Christ. Leviticus shows us the grand chasm that gapes between us and God because of the fall. While in the garden, Adam and Eve could walk with God and commune with him. But in Leviticus, the people were required to give constant, daily sacrifices, and still only the chosen priests could draw near to God’s presence in the Holy of Holies once a year. The people didn’t sing for God’s fire to come down—that was a terrifying experience that at times meant death. The ark, which represented God’s presence among the people, had to be covered with a blanket in transportation so the common people wouldn’t look at it and bring condemnation on themselves.
Yet after Christ’s work on the cross, every believer is called a holy, royal priest (1 Pet. 2:9). We can draw near to God in prayer, at church, and through studying his Word. Entering God’s presence isn’t a fearful thing of wondering, “Will God’s wrath consume me? What if I make a slight misstep and God strikes me dead?” We can approach the throne with holy confidence, knowing that we have been dressed in Christ’s righteousness (Heb. 4:14–16). I can pray to God at any time, knowing that Christ made the final and ultimate sacrifice for me.
As I fathomed this reality, the Spirit gently prodded my heart. Why wasn’t I spending time in God’s presence? If Christ had torn open the curtain to the Holy of Holies for me, why was I shrugging off time in prayer and in his Word?
In my early Christian years, I read my Bible and prayed every day in fear that God would disown me if I didn’t. If I forgot to do my morning quiet time, every bad thing that happened to me I attributed as punishment from God. I believed my rigorous study habits were what kept God on my good side.
As I grew and matured, I began to understand the gospel better. I learned that I can do nothing to earn God’s pleasure, but instead he loves me because of Christ’s work on the cross. Grace covered me. From that point my efforts towards prayer and Bible study slowly dwindled down to nearly non-existent; they didn’t save me, God loved me anyway, so why bother? I attended church regularly, that was enough. I said a prayer each night before bed and maybe shot a few distress signals during the day if I remembered. Piety had no purpose to me.
I forgot that grace should lead to a life of gratitude. As theologian R.C. Sproul wrote,
When we truly understand grace—when we see that God only owes us wrath but has provided Christ’s merit to cover our demerit—then everything changes. The Christian motivation for ethics is not merely to obey some abstract law or a list of rules; rather, our response is provoked by gratitude. Jesus understood that when He said, “If you love Me, keep My commandments.” If I may have the liberty to paraphrase: “Keep My commandments not because you want to be just, but because you love Me.” A true understanding of grace—of God’s unmerited favor—always provokes a life of gratitude and obedience.
Like a piece of art, Leviticus is a sharp, visual reminder of the gratitude we can have from the grace we have been shown. Not just the grace of being placed on this side of the history of redemption, but the grace in Christ’s work on the cross—of God drawing us near to him and allowing us to draw near to him with confidence. Daily sacrifices, priestly wardrobe, and extensive rituals are no longer necessary. We can come as we are, each day in unhindered prayer and worship, and hold God’s Word in our hands to read. Being shown such abundant grace, why wouldn’t we draw near with excitement and gratitude for all that Christ has made possible by his sacrifice?
I know Leviticus might not be the first book on your “what to read next” list. But maybe give it a try. While there are many laws that are no longer applicable to us, the poetic images and shadows they paint of Christ and all we have in him will always be applicable to any follower of God.
Is the gospel simply the doorway to Christianity? Or the whole of it? We need to make the gospel the binding of our lives.