Sacrifices

"Therefore, I urge you brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship” (Rom. 12:1).

Paul wrote these words, having participated in the sacrificial system. He had participated in killing animals to atone for his sin, to thank and praise God, and to worship together. He wrote these words, having just discussed Abraham as the father of those who live by faith a mere eight chapters earlier. Abraham took his promised son up the mountain and raised up the knife to sacrifice him. A bloody, horrible prospect. Two thousand years later, we have not laid our hands on the head of a sheep and then slit its throat. Sometimes, the idea of sacrificing ourselves can be a lingo, a phrase we hear so often that it becomes trite. Or, when it strikes us again, it can bring fear—what is the Lord asking of me? Or we perceive it as a noble act of self-sacrifices and unconsciously feel that God should bless us in return, or that we have earned the praise of men. Or, if we, as living sacrifices, keep crawling off the altar, we can feel guilty and determine to keep ourselves on the altar. When we crawl off once again, we feel even guiltier.

Clearly, we are the active subjects of the subordinate clause in Rom. 12:1. We are he ones to offer our bodies. However, the conjunctive adverb “therefore” connects our action to something larger. Why are we to offer our bodies as living sacrifices?

Paul has just finished talking about the reason for judgment, what we deserve, the pervasiveness of sin… and then God’s grace and love demonstrated through the death of Jesus Christ and our resulting liberation. It is in view of God’s grace and mercy that we are to present our bodies as living sacrifices. It is an act of joyful gratitude—not an act of self-punishment to try to merit a little more of God’s grace. Sometimes, this verse can unconsciously lapse into the latter.

Yet, I think the preceding eleven chapters also make it clear how we can offer our bodies as living sacrifices. We can only do so because Christ was our sacrifice. On our own, we cannot approach God—he is holy. Nor do we want to, as Paul makes clear in Romans chapters 1, 3, and 8. Furthermore, without Christ, we do not have the security to sacrifice ourselves.

Christ allows us to approach God. He was the lamb that died, that presented himself as a holy and blameless and totally-pleasing-to-God sacrifice. It is only because he was the sacrifice that now lives at the right hand of God that we can offer ourselves. Only through him do we have the cleansing to be holy and blameless because we are in him and God the father sees him as our righteousness (2 Cor. 5:21). Only in him can we approach the throne and altar of God (Heb. 4:16; Eph. 3:12). Only in him can we worship in spirit and truth (Jn. 4:24).

Only in him do we have a new heart that is willing to sacrifice ourselves (Ezek. 11:9; 36:26-27). We have the mind of Christ (1 Cor. 2:16). He is our life now and makes it possible to have his attitude—although it does require our discipline as well (Col. 3:4; Phil. 2:5; Phil. 2:13).

Finally, only in him do we have the security to offer ourselves as a sacrifice. Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac did not happen in a vacuum. God had descended, interrupted into his life. God had revealed himself, and wrapped his presence around Abraham. God had revealed himself to Abraham as his Blesser, Promise, Shield, his Great Reward, his Provider, Rescuer, his Miracle Worker (see Gen. 12:1-3; Gen. 15:1; the stories of Abram and Pharaoh; and the promise of Isaac). The author of Hebrews recognizes that it was “by faith Abraham, when God tested him, offered Isaac as a sacrifice. He who had received the promises was about to sacrifice his one and only son…Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death” Heb. 11:17-19). Our God had come down to Abraham, and thus Abraham knew God would keep his promise and was powerful enough and good enough to do so. His faith, trust, and willingness was based on a faith that was based on the revelation of God. I can only think that it was in that context that Abraham was willing to offer his son.

Thousands of years after Abraham and Paul, the command to offer ourselves as sacrifices can loose its meaning. But it is a drastic call—one that echoes the shedding of blood of animals, a willingness to sacrifice the promises of God and one’s own son, and the shameful and humiliating self-sacrifice of very God on the cross. Looking to Jesus on the cross, we see a powerful love that we cannot understand that is physical and tangible. We see the goodness and love of God. Looking to the resurrected Lord Jesus at the right hand of the Father, we know God is powerful to raise the dead.

Seeing Christ on the cross and manger and with his crown, the call to sacrifice ourselves takes on a drastic new meaning. We see his pain and endurance and sacrifice. We recognize that we were dead in our sins and that we died with Christ (Eph. 2:1; Rom. 6). We are already dead, and brought to life again—this life is his life and we are only giving back to God what he has already given us (1 Cor. 6:20; Rom. 6; 1 Chron. 29:11).

Seeing Christ in the fullness of the Gospel casts out fear (1 Jn. 4:18). We see his goodness and love. Our God is for us (Rom. 8:31-32). What an incredible truth. Furthermore, we know that nothing—neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present or the future, nor any power, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation—can separate us from his love (Rom. 8:38-39). With the knowledge of God’s love and keeping power, we can venture to sacrifice ourselves in the security of his love. We cannot be snatched out of his hand (Jn. 10:28-29; Rom. 8:38-39). Giving ourselves in sacrifice need not evoke fear, because we know He is for us in his power and love.

Because of Christ’s grace poured out on the cross while we were still enemies (Rom. 5:8), we know we don’t have to beat ourselves back to the altar but can find grace when we crawl off to lay ourselves down once again. We know we can do nothing to earn his love—whether we do noble acts of sacrifice to try to earn his praise, or do acts of self-penance or self-hatred and self-guilt. He has died for us; He has done it all. We respond.

Knowing that the eternal God stepped into history and that his life is our life and he has given us eternal life, we see things from a different perspective. We have an eternal perspective. The sacrifice of ourselves may hurt, may seem frightening, but he will form us into his image. He will fulfill his promises and we will be with him. We gain a different perspective on wisdom. Sacrificing ourselves is something not understood by this world. It may appear counter-intuitive and foolish to our natural selves as well. But the wisdom of men is made foolish by the cross of Christ. When God is killed, the world is turned upside down. We have a perspective of gratitude, born out of Christ’s love that is poured out into our hearts by the Spirit (Rom. 5:5). Because he laid down himself for us, we can lay down ourselves for him, and only find more of him.