The more closely we contemplate the offerings, the more fully do we see how that no one offering furnishes a complete view of Christ. It is only by putting all together that any thing like a just idea can be formed. Each offering, as might be expected, has features peculiar to itself. The peace-offering differs from the burnt-offering in many points, and a clear understanding of the points in which any one type differs from the others will be found to help much in the apprehension of its special import. Thus, in comparing the peace-offering with the burnt-offering, we find that the threefold action of "flaying," "cutting it into its pieces," and "washing the inwards and legs" is entirely omitted: and So also in reference to the character of the sacrifice. In the burnt-offering, it should be "a male without blemish;" whereas in the peace-offering, it might be "a male or female," though equally "without blemish." The nature of Christ, whether we view Him as enjoyed exclusively by God, or by the worshiper in fellowship with God, must ever be one and the same; there can be no alteration in that. The only reason why "a female" was permitted in the peace-offering, was because it was a question of the worshiper's capacity to enjoy that Again, in the burnt-offering, we read, "The priest shall burn all;" whereas in the peace-offering, a part only was burnt, that is, "the fat, the kidneys, and the caul." This makes it exceedingly simple. The most excellent portion of the sacrifice was laid on God's altar. The inward parts—the hidden energies—the tender sensibilities of the blessed Jesus, were devoted to God, as the only One who could perfectly enjoy them. Aaron and his sons fed upon "the wave breast" and "the heave shoulder." All these are important points of difference between the burnt-offering and the peace-offering, and when taken together, they set the two offerings with great clearness before the mind. There is something more in the peace-offering than the abstract devotedness of Christ to the will of God. The worshiper is introduced; and that not merely as a spectator, but as a participator—not merely to gaze, but to feed. This gives very marked character to this offering. When I look at the Lord Jesus in the burnt-offering, I see Him as One whose heart was devoted to the one object of glorifying God and accomplishing His will; but when I see Him in the peace-offering, I find One who has a place in His loving heart and on His powerful shoulder for a worthless, helpless sinner. In the burnt-offering, the breast and shoulder, legs and inwards, head and fat, were all burnt on the altar—all went up as a sweet savor to God; but in the peace-offering, the very portion that suits me is left for me. Nor am I left to feed in solitude on that which meets my individual need. By no means. I feed in communion—in communion with God, and in communion with my fellow-priests. I feed in the full and happy intelligence that the self-same sacrifice which feeds my soul has already refreshed the heart of God; and, moreover, that the same portion which feeds me feeds all my fellow-worshipers. Communion is the order here,—communion with God—the communion Thus it is in connection with the Antitype of the peace-offering. The very same Jesus who is the object of Heaven's delight, is the spring of joy, of strength, and of comfort to every believing heart; and not only to every heart in particular, but also to the whole church of God in fellowship. God, in His exceeding grace, has given His people the very same object that He has Himself. "Truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ." (1 John i.) True, our thoughts of Jesus can never rise to the height of God's thoughts. Our estimation of such an object must ever fall far short of His; and hence, in the type, the house of Aaron could not partake of the fat. But though we can never rise to the standard of the divine estimation of Christ's Person and sacrifice, it is nevertheless the same object we are occupied with, and therefore the house of Aaron had "the wave breast and the heave shoulder." All this is replete with comfort and joy to the heart. The Lord Jesus Christ, the One "who was dead, but is alive for evermore," is now the exclusive object before the eye and thoughts of God; and, in perfect grace, He has given unto us a portion in the same blessed and all-glorious Person. Christ is our object too—the object of our hearts and the theme of our song. "Having made peace by the blood of His cross," He ascended into heaven, and sent down the Holy And, assuredly, it heightens the enjoyment of every true priest to know that God (to use the language of our type) has had His portion ere he gets the breast and the shoulder. The thought of this gives tone and energy, unction and elevation, to the worship and communion; it unfolds the amazing grace of Him who has given us the same object, the same theme, the same joy with Himself. Nothing lower—nothing less than this could satisfy Him. Having thus compared the peace-offering with the burnt-offering, we may now briefly glance at it in connection with the meat-offering. The leading point of difference here is, that in the peace-offering there was blood-shedding, and in the meat-offering there was not. They were both "sweet savor" offerings; and, as we learn from chap. vii. 12, the two offerings were very intimately associated. Now, both the connection and the contrast are full of meaning and instruction. It is only in communion with God that the soul can delight itself in contemplating the perfect humanity of the Lord Jesus Christ. God the Holy Ghost must impart, as He must also direct, by the Word, the vision by which we can gaze on "the Man Christ Jesus." He might have been revealed Man could not enter into the deep joy of communion with all this, simply because there would be no basis laid down on which this communion might rest. In the peace-offering, this necessary basis is fully and clearly established.—"He shall lay his hand upon the head of his offering, and kill it at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation: and Aaron's sons, the priests, shall sprinkle the blood upon the altar round about." (Chap. iii. 2.) Here, we have that which the meat-offering does not supply, namely, a solid foundation for the worshiper's communion with all the fullness, the preciousness, and the beauty of Christ, so far as he, by the gracious energy of the Holy Ghost, is enabled to enter thereinto. Standing on the platform which "the precious blood of Christ" provides, we can range, with tranquilized hearts and worshiping spirits, throughout all the wondrous scenes of the manhood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Had we naught save the meat-offering aspect of Christ, we should lack the title by which, and the ground on which, we can contemplate and enjoy Him therein. If there were no blood-shedding, there could be no title—no But let it be distinctly understood that while in the peace-offering we have the shedding and sprinkling of blood, yet sin-bearing is not the thought. When we view Christ in the peace-offering, He does not stand before us as the bearer of our sins, as in the sin and trespass offerings, but (having borne them) as the ground of our peaceful and happy fellowship with God. If sin-bearing were in question, it could not be said, "It is an offering made by fire, of a sweet savor unto the Lord." (Chap. iii. 5, comp. with chap. iv. 10-12.) Still, though sin-bearing is not the thought, there is full provision for one who knows himself to be a sinner, else he could not have any portion therein. To have fellowship with God, we must be "in the light;" and how can we be there? Only on the ground of that precious statement—"The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin." (1 John i.) The more we abide in the light, the deeper will be our sense of every thing which is contrary to that light; and the deeper, also, our sense of the value of that blood which entitles us to be there. The more closely we walk with God, the more we shall know of "the unsearchable riches of Christ." It is most needful to be established in the truth that we are in the presence of God only as the I shall now proceed to quote at length "the law of the sacrifice of peace-offering," in which we shall find some additional points of much interest—points which belong peculiarly to itself.—"And this is the law of the sacrifice of peace-offerings, which he shall It is of the utmost importance that we accurately distinguish between sin in the flesh and sin on the conscience. If we confound these two, our souls must necessarily be unhinged, and our worship marred. An attentive consideration of 1 John i. 8-10 will throw much light upon this subject, the understanding of which is so essential to a due appreciation of the entire doctrine of the peace-offering, and more especially of that point therein at which we have now arrived. There is no one who will be so conscious of indwelling sin as the man who walks in the light. "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." In the verse immediately preceding, we read, "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin." Here, the distinction between sin in us and sin on us is fully brought out and established. To say that there is sin on the believer, in the presence of God, is to call in question the purging efficacy of the blood of Jesus, and to deny the truth of the divine record. If the blood of Jesus can perfectly purge, then the believer's conscience is perfectly purged. The Word of God thus puts the matter; and we must ever remember that it is from God Himself we are to learn what the true condition of the believer is in His sight. We But the same Word which tells us we have no sin on us, tells us, with equal force and clearness, that we have sin in us. "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." Every one who has "truth" in him, will know that he has "sin" in him likewise; for truth reveals every thing as it is. What, then, are we to do? It is our privilege so to walk in the power of the new nature, that the "sin" which dwells in us may not manifest itself in the form of "sins." The Christian's position is one of victory and liberty. He is not only delivered from the guilt of sin, but also from sin as a ruling principle in his life. "Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin. For he that is dead is freed from sin.... Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof.... For sin shall not have dominion over you; for ye are not under the law, But then, "if any man sin," what is to be done? The inspired apostle furnishes a full and most blessed answer,—"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John i. 9.) Confession is the mode in which the conscience is to be kept free. The apostle does not say, If we pray for pardon, He is gracious and merciful to forgive us. No doubt it is ever happy for a child to breathe the sense of need into his father's ear—to tell him of feebleness, to confess folly, infirmity, and failure. All this is most true; and, moreover, it is equally true that There is an immense moral difference between praying for forgiveness and confessing our sins, whether we look at it in reference to the character of God, the sacrifice of Christ, or the condition of the soul. It is quite possible that a person's prayer may involve the confession of his sin, whatever it may happen to be, and thus come to the same thing; but then it is always well to keep close to Scripture in what we think and say and do. It must be evident that when the Holy Ghost speaks of confession, He does not mean praying; and it is equally evident that He knows there are moral elements in, and practical results flowing out of, confession, which do not belong to prayer. In point of fact, one has often found that a habit of importuning God for the forgiveness of sins displayed ignorance as to the way in which God has revealed Himself in the Person and work of Christ, as to the relation in which the sacrifice of Christ has set the believer, and as to God has been perfectly satisfied as to all the believer's sins in the cross of Christ. On that cross, a full atonement was presented for every jot and tittle of sin in the believer's nature and on his conscience. Hence, therefore, God does not need any further propitiation. He does not need aught to draw His heart toward the believer. We do not require to supplicate Him to be "faithful and just," when His faithfulness and justice have been so gloriously displayed, vindicated, and answered in the death of Christ. Our sins can never come into God's presence, inasmuch as Christ, who bore them all and put them away, is there instead. But if we sin, conscience will feel it—must feel it,—yea, the Holy Ghost will make us feel it. He cannot allow so much as a single light thought to pass unjudged. What then? Has our sin made its way into the presence of God? Has it found its place in the unsullied light of the inner sanctuary? God forbid! The "Advocate" is there—"Jesus Christ the righteous," to maintain, in unbroken integrity, the relationship in which we stand. But though sin cannot affect God's thoughts in reference to us, it can and does affect our thoughts in reference to Him; Then, again, there is a style of praying for forgiveness which involves a losing sight of the perfect ground of forgiveness which has been laid in the sacrifice of the cross. If God forgives sins, He must be "faithful and just" in so doing; but it is quite clear that our prayers, be they ever so sincere and earnest, could not form the basis of God's faithfulness and justice in forgiving us our sins. Naught save the work of the cross could do this. There, the faithfulness and justice of God Finally, as to the difference between prayer and confession, as respects the condition of the heart before God, and its moral sense of the hatefulness of sin, it cannot possibly be over-estimated. It is a much easier thing to ask, in a general way, for the forgiveness of our sins than to confess those sins. Confession involves self-judgment; asking for forgiveness may not, and, in itself, does not. This alone would be sufficient to point out the difference. Self-judgment is one of the most valuable and healthful exercises of the Christian life, and therefore The difference between asking for pardon and confessing the sin is continually exemplified in dealing with children. If a child has done any thing wrong, he finds much less difficulty in asking his father to forgive him than in openly and unreservedly confessing the wrong. In asking for forgiveness, the child may have in his mind a number of things which tend to lessen the sense of the evil,—he may be secretly thinking that he was not so much to blame after all, though, to be sure, it is only proper to ask his father to forgive him; whereas, in confessing the wrong, there is just the one thing, and that is, self-judgment. Further, in asking for forgiveness, the child may be influenced mainly by a desire to escape the consequences of his wrong; whereas, a judicious parent will seek to produce a just sense of its moral evil, which can only exist in connection with the full confession of the fault—in connection with self-judgment. Thus it is, in reference to God's dealings with His children when they do wrong. He must have the whole thing brought out and thoroughly judged. He will make us not only dread the consequences of sin (which are unutterable), but hate the thing itself, because of its hatefulness in His sight. Were it possible for us, when we commit sin, to be forgiven merely for the asking, our sense of sin and our shrinking from it would not be nearly so intense, and, as a consequence, our estimate of the fellowship This entire train of thought is intimately connected with, and fully borne out by, two leading principles laid down in "the law of the peace-offering." In verse 13 of the seventh of Leviticus we read, "He shall offer for his offering leavened bread;" and yet at verse 20 we read, "But the soul that eateth of the flesh of the sacrifice of peace-offerings, that pertain unto the Lord, having his uncleanness upon him, even that soul shall be cut off from his people." Here, we have the two things clearly set before us, namely, sin in us and sin on us. "Leaven" was permitted, because there was sin in the worshiper's nature: "uncleanness" was forbidden, because there should be no sin on the worshiper's conscience. If sin be in question, communion must be out of the question. God has In the light of the foregoing line of truth, we may easily see how much we err when we imagine it to be a mark of spirituality to be occupied with our sins. Could sin or sins ever be the ground or Nor need we, for an instant, suppose that true humility is either evidenced or promoted by looking at or dwelling upon our sins. An unhallowed and melancholy mopishness may thus be superinduced; but the deepest humility springs from a totally different source. Whether was the prodigal a humbler man "when he came to himself" in the far country, or when he came to the father's bosom and the father's house? Is it not evident that the grace which elevates us to the loftiest heights of fellowship Ere leaving this part of our subject, I would offer a remark as to the Lord's Supper, which, as being a prominent act of the Church's communion, may, with strict propriety, be looked at in connection with the doctrine of the peace-offering. The intelligent celebration of the Lord's Supper must ever depend upon the recognition of its purely eucharistic or thanksgiving character. It is very especially a feast of thanksgiving—thanksgiving for an accomplished redemption. "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ?" (1 Cor. x. 16.) Hence, a soul bowed down under the heavy burden of sin cannot, with spiritual intelligence, eat the Lord's Supper, inasmuch as that feast is expressive of the complete removal of sin by the death of Christ.—"Ye do show the Lord's death till He come." (1 Cor. xi.) In the death of Christ, faith sees the end of every thing that pertained to True, we have "leaven" in us; but we have no "uncleanness" on us. We are not to gaze upon our sins, but upon Him who bore them on the cross and put them away forever. We are not to "deceive ourselves" by the vain notion "that we have no sin" in us; nor are we to deny the truth of God's Word, and the efficacy of Christ's blood, by refusing to rejoice in the precious truth that we have no sin on us, for "the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin." It is truly deplorable to observe the heavy cloud that gathers round the Supper of the Lord, in the judgment of so many professing Christians. It tends, as much as any thing else, to reveal the immense amount of misapprehension which obtains in reference to the very elementary truths of the gospel. In fact, we know that when the Lord's Supper is resorted to on any ground save that of known salvation—enjoyed How different from this is the beautiful ordinance of the peace-offering! In this latter, looked at in its typical import, we see that the moment the blood was shed, God and the worshiper could feed in happy, peaceful fellowship. Nothing more was needed. Peace was established by the blood, and on that ground the communion proceeded. A single question as to the establishment of peace must be the death-blow to communion. If we are to be occupied with the vain attempt to make peace with God, we must be total strangers to either communion or worship. If the blood of the peace-offering has not been shed, it is impossible that we can feed upon "the wave breast" or "the heave shoulder." But if, on the other hand, the blood has been shed, then peace is made already. God Himself has made it, and this is enough for faith; and therefore, by faith, we have fellowship with God, in the intelligence and joy of accomplished redemption. We taste the freshness of God's own joy in that which He has wrought. We feed upon Christ in all the fullness and blessedness of God's presence. This latter point is connected with and based upon another leading truth laid down in "the law of the "But if the sacrifice of his offering be a vow or a voluntary-offering, it shall be eaten the same day that he offereth his sacrifice: and on the morrow also the remainder of it shall be eaten." (Chap. vii. 16.) When the soul goes forth to God in a voluntary act of worship, such worship will be the result of a larger measure of spiritual energy than where it merely springs from some special mercy experienced at the time. If one had been visited with some marked favor from the Lord's own hand, the soul at once ascends in thanksgiving. In this case, the worship is awakened by and connected with that favor or mercy, whatever it may happen to be, and there it ends; but where the heart is led forth by the Holy Ghost in some voluntary or deliberate expression of praise, it will be of a more enduring character. But spiritual worship will always connect itself with the precious sacrifice of Christ. "The remainder of the flesh of the sacrifice, on the third day, shall be burnt with fire. And if any of the flesh of the sacrifice of his peace-offerings be eaten at all on the third day, it shall not be accepted, neither shall it be imputed unto him that offereth it: it shall be an abomination, and the soul that eateth of it shall bear his iniquity." Nothing is of any value, in the judgment of God, which is not All this has to be watched against by those who desire to remember that "God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." (John iv.) Religion, so called, is, at this moment, decking herself with her most powerful charms. Casting off the grossness of the middle ages, she is calling to her aid all the resources of refined taste, and of a cultivated and enlightened age. Sculpture, music, and painting are pouring their rich treasures into her lap, in order that she may therewith prepare a powerful opiate to lull the thoughtless multitude into a slumber, which shall only be broken in upon by the unutterable horrors of death, judgment, and the lake of fire. She, too, can say, "I have peace-offerings with me; this day have I paid my vows.... I have decked my Reader, beware of all this. See that your worship stands inseparably connected with the work of the cross. See that Christ is the ground, Christ the material, and the Holy Ghost the power of your worship. Take care that your outward act of worship does not stretch itself beyond the inward power. It demands much watchfulness to keep clear of this evil. Its incipient workings are most difficult to be detected and counteracted. We may commence a hymn in the true spirit of worship, and, through lack of spiritual power, we may, ere we reach the close, fall into the evil which answers to the ceremonial act of eating the flesh of the peace-offering on the third day. Our only security is in keeping close to Jesus. If we lift up our hearts in "thanksgiving" for some special mercy, let us do so in the power of the name and sacrifice of Christ. If our souls go forth in "voluntary" worship, let it be in the energy of the Holy Ghost. In this way shall our worship exhibit that freshness, that fragrance, that depth of tone, that moral elevation, which must result from having the Father as the object, the Son as the ground, and the Holy Ghost as the power of our worship. Note.—It is interesting to observe that although the peace-offering itself stands third in order, yet "the law" thereof is given us last of all. This circumstance is not without its import. There is none of the offerings in which the communion of the worshiper is so fully unfolded as in the peace-offering. In the burnt-offering, it is Christ offering |