JESUS IN LEVITICUS
When we open the book of Leviticus, we often expect a wilderness of rules; yet if we listen closely, we begin to hear a single Name whispering through every sacrifice, every priestly garment, every drop of atoning blood. The Holy Spirit did not give us this book to burden us with ritual, but to unveil—through shadows and symbols—the coming Christ who would walk among us, full of grace and truth (John 1:14).
Leviticus is not a dusty manual of ancient worship; it is a portrait gallery in which every frame catches a different angle of the same radiant face.
Every sacrifice points to Him. The burnt offering rises like a picture of total surrender—Jesus giving Himself without reservation upon the cross, a sweet aroma to the Father (Ephesians 5:2).
The peace offering whispers of reconciliation—our once-broken fellowship restored, our wandering hearts drawn home by the blood of a spotless Lamb (Colossians 1:20).
The sin offering and the trespass offering show us the horror of our guilt, yet they show us even more the gentleness of the One who “bore our sins in His own body on the tree” (First Peter 2:24).
Page after page, the smoke of the altar curls upward and spells His name.
And there in the tabernacle—the tent of meeting—we see Jesus again. The veil, heavy and solemn, reminds us that sin creates distance; but it also reminds us that One would come to tear it from top to bottom, opening the way into the holiest presence of God (Hebrews 10:19–20).
The lampstand glows with a quiet, steady light, pointing to the Christ who stands among His people as the Light of the World (John 8:12).
The table of showbread speaks of the One who feeds our souls, the bread that came down from heaven, nourishing faith in every wilderness (John 6:35).
Even the high priest—clothed in glory and beauty—foreshadows the greater Priest who carries our names upon His heart forevermore (Hebrews 7:25).
Holiness shines through every chapter—yet not as a threat, but as an invitation. “Be holy, for I am holy,” the Lord says (1 Peter 1:16), and we hear in those words not condemnation but calling; for the One who commands holiness also provides it. Jesus cleanses what we cannot cleanse, fills what we cannot fill, and completes what our trembling hands could never finish.
The rituals of Leviticus remind us that we cannot approach God on our own terms—but Jesus reminds us that God has approached us on His terms: mercy, righteousness, sacrifice, love.
And so Leviticus becomes a gospel in symbols, a promise in patterns, a prophecy in smoke and blood. When we read it with Christ before our eyes, we are not trudging through an ancient lawbook—we are walking through a sanctuary where every detail sings of the Savior.
He is the Lamb, the Priest, the Offering, the Tabernacle; He is the fire on the altar and the glory above the mercy seat.
He is the God who dwells with His people and the God who makes His people fit to dwell with Him.
And because He has come—because the shadows have found their Substance—our hearts bow low, our voices rise high, and our souls whisper with wonder:
Jesus is on every page.
BDD
