" Now Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, each took his censer and put fire in it and laid incense on it and offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, which he had not commanded them. And fire came out from before the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord." (Leviticus 10:1-2, ESV)
Last week I preached on this chapter from Leviticus. These words of scripture continued to follow me around all week long.
Nadab and Abihu offered strange, unauthorized fire before the Lord. They falsly assumed that they could do things their own way. They rebelled against the clear commands of God and paid a price.
In my studies I came across a message by Rev. Henry Law. The title of his work is The Gospel in Leviticus. Let me leave you a quote to chew on from Rev. Law.
Reader, now view your censer; now say, what are its contents. Surely you hold some 'offering' in your hands. Surely some confidence keeps conscience still. What is it? God has sent forth His Son—the only way—the only truth—the only life—the only ransom-price—the one atonement, for all sin. Is He the rock, on which you rest? Is He the center of your hopes? Is He the one foundation of your trust? Is He your only argument for mercy? One sun illuminates the world. One ark delivered from the flood. One Joseph fed in times of famine. One brazen-serpent healed the poison's sting. One fire came down for tabernacle-use. One Savior saves the saved. One Christ is first and last to merit life. God sends, anoints, accepts, proclaims Him. If you plead Him in real faith, you cannot fail. To grasp another savior, is to grasp a straw.
Some Nadabs and Abihus come with streaming eyes. Sin has brought loss. Some worldly prospect has been crushed. Thus Esau weeps. Conscience sometimes is quick to see the misery of guilt. Saul's flowing tears own this. So, also, the Gospel's melody will often melt a heart. It falls, as tender dew upon a moistening soil. Feelings relax, as ice beneath the sun. In these relaxing moments, Satan whispers, 'there is merit here.' The mourning spirit fondly hopes, that 'mourning' can buy peace with God. The tearful eye sees virtue in its drops. Thus signs of penitence are offered, as a ransom-price. Doubtless, no heart loves Christ, which hates not self, and bitterly bewails its grievous state. Doubtless the arms of penitence twine tightly round the cross. But seas of grief cannot wash out soul-stains. Sorrow, when brought as pardon's price, is but strange fire. And all unauthorized fire calls vengeance down.
The class of formalists may not be overlooked. They crowd God's courts. Each attitude—each look—is studied reverence. Their lips drop holiest words. Their hands touch holiest symbols. Their souls seem rapt to heaven on devotion's wing. If services discharged—if rites observed—if outward show were Christ, their cup of safety would be full. But these are only means. In their right place, they are most salutary helps—but decked as saviors—they impose; mislead; destroy. To use them, as meek handmaids of the Lord, is piety's delight; to trust in them, as reconciliation's price, is superstition's blind conceit. Then they become strange fire. These worshipers reject the substance, and repose on signs. But ritual services have in themselves no saving power. Such planks span not the gaping gulf. Such ladders reach not to the throne of God. Their office is to lead to Christ; and witness of His love. They are the channels of His precious grace. But they wash out no sin; they satisfy no wrath; they stay no vengeance; they have no key of heaven; they snatch not from the grasp of Satan; they are no plea for pardon; they hold no title-deeds of glory's kingdom. Christ is Salvation—Christ alone. Such is the work, which God commissioned Him to work. He undertook it. And He gloriously achieved. The mighty truth is ever true, "I have finished the work, which You gave Me to do." They, then, who now present another sacrifice, like Nadab and Abihu sin—like Nadab and Abihu die.
Last week I preached on this chapter from Leviticus. These words of scripture continued to follow me around all week long.
Nadab and Abihu offered strange, unauthorized fire before the Lord. They falsly assumed that they could do things their own way. They rebelled against the clear commands of God and paid a price.
In my studies I came across a message by Rev. Henry Law. The title of his work is The Gospel in Leviticus. Let me leave you a quote to chew on from Rev. Law.
Reader, now view your censer; now say, what are its contents. Surely you hold some 'offering' in your hands. Surely some confidence keeps conscience still. What is it? God has sent forth His Son—the only way—the only truth—the only life—the only ransom-price—the one atonement, for all sin. Is He the rock, on which you rest? Is He the center of your hopes? Is He the one foundation of your trust? Is He your only argument for mercy? One sun illuminates the world. One ark delivered from the flood. One Joseph fed in times of famine. One brazen-serpent healed the poison's sting. One fire came down for tabernacle-use. One Savior saves the saved. One Christ is first and last to merit life. God sends, anoints, accepts, proclaims Him. If you plead Him in real faith, you cannot fail. To grasp another savior, is to grasp a straw.
Some Nadabs and Abihus come with streaming eyes. Sin has brought loss. Some worldly prospect has been crushed. Thus Esau weeps. Conscience sometimes is quick to see the misery of guilt. Saul's flowing tears own this. So, also, the Gospel's melody will often melt a heart. It falls, as tender dew upon a moistening soil. Feelings relax, as ice beneath the sun. In these relaxing moments, Satan whispers, 'there is merit here.' The mourning spirit fondly hopes, that 'mourning' can buy peace with God. The tearful eye sees virtue in its drops. Thus signs of penitence are offered, as a ransom-price. Doubtless, no heart loves Christ, which hates not self, and bitterly bewails its grievous state. Doubtless the arms of penitence twine tightly round the cross. But seas of grief cannot wash out soul-stains. Sorrow, when brought as pardon's price, is but strange fire. And all unauthorized fire calls vengeance down.
The class of formalists may not be overlooked. They crowd God's courts. Each attitude—each look—is studied reverence. Their lips drop holiest words. Their hands touch holiest symbols. Their souls seem rapt to heaven on devotion's wing. If services discharged—if rites observed—if outward show were Christ, their cup of safety would be full. But these are only means. In their right place, they are most salutary helps—but decked as saviors—they impose; mislead; destroy. To use them, as meek handmaids of the Lord, is piety's delight; to trust in them, as reconciliation's price, is superstition's blind conceit. Then they become strange fire. These worshipers reject the substance, and repose on signs. But ritual services have in themselves no saving power. Such planks span not the gaping gulf. Such ladders reach not to the throne of God. Their office is to lead to Christ; and witness of His love. They are the channels of His precious grace. But they wash out no sin; they satisfy no wrath; they stay no vengeance; they have no key of heaven; they snatch not from the grasp of Satan; they are no plea for pardon; they hold no title-deeds of glory's kingdom. Christ is Salvation—Christ alone. Such is the work, which God commissioned Him to work. He undertook it. And He gloriously achieved. The mighty truth is ever true, "I have finished the work, which You gave Me to do." They, then, who now present another sacrifice, like Nadab and Abihu sin—like Nadab and Abihu die.
1 comment:
Good blog!
One of the things that God really burned into my understanding at the time of my very difficult salvation experience some years ago was that we come to God on HIS terms, not OURS.
Nadab and Abihu impudently presumed that because they had already undergone the process of priestly sanctification that they were then free to approach God on THEIR terms.
There is a powerful message there for all of us, no matter how long we have been walking with God...
Bryan
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