Growing up in South India, I attended a church with an Anglican service format. The service would begin with the resounding music of the 19th-century pipe organ. It signalled that we needed to rise to our feet. 

The Bible would then be carried down the aisle and placed on an impressive bronze lectern shaped like an eagle with its wings spread wide. 

The pastor walked solemnly behind the person carrying the Bible. He wore white vestments with a purple sash embroidered with gold, draped around his neck and flowing to the floor. He would then make his way to a large Hogwarts-ish wooden chair facing the congregation. 

While our pastors were mostly friendly, from my perspective as a kid, they seemed inaccessible. A category of their own. A tad unapproachable. A whole lot holier than the rest of us who filled the pews.

Yet, looking back, they were just regular people who had bills to pay, kids to tuck into bed, and dishes to put away after dinner. 

Like them, we too are regular people and yet those who put their faith in Christ are called a “royal priesthood.” (1 Peter 2:9)

As crazy as it sounds—especially to someone who has grown up around priests who seemed to be cut from a different cloth (literally)—I am a priest too! 

And so are you.

As I make my way through the book of Leviticus during Lent, I am beginning to grasp the sacred privilege of being included in that royal priesthood of believers.

Verse after verse describes the exact design, color, and embellishments of the clothes of the priests. Chapter after chapter speaks of the precise practices they must follow. Every sacrifice and ritual had to be performed according to God’s specific commands.

Not because God was some kind of stickler for rules. But because He is perfectly, incomprehensibly, impeccably, spendorously pure and holy. The only way the priests (Aaron and his sons) could approach this holy God was by following all His commands out of absolute reverence for Him.

But Jesus changed all of that. 

He became the ultimate, once-for-all sacrifice.

And He turned us “regular people” into a “royal priesthood.”

Leviticus is not an easy read. With its details about dead animals and bloodied altars, it could make the most seasoned butcher feel queasy. And yet, with every chapter I read, I come away in awe of the holiness of God and stunned by the grace of God who gives broken people the right to boldly enter His presence. 

He gives us robes of righteousness. He clothes us with garments of praise. And He covers us with the vestments of royalty and priesthood. 

In the Old Testament, the roles of kings and priests were never merged. But because of the sacrifice of our Great High Priest, we are counted as part of God’s royal family and as the new priesthood. 

While we revel in that identity, along with it comes responsibility.

Along with access to the Most Holy Place comes accountability. 

1 Peter 2:9 goes on to say: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

Friend, your calling and mine is not just to sit on a priestly throne. It is to declare His praise. 

We do that by serving God. We do that by dying to ourselves. We do that through daily obedience. We do that by sharing who He is through our words and actions.

In this season of Lent, could I challenge us to remember our identity as priests and to live out our responsibility to serve God and declare His praise? 

 

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