Flying the Black Flag

And when they go out into the outer court to the people, they shall put off the garments in which they have been ministering and lay them in the holy chambers. And they shall put on other garments, lest they communicate holiness to the people with their garments. -- Ezekiel 44:19

Most of us would like to think that the Lord would want to "communicate holiness" to His people.  A stricture such as this seems, in our day, excessive and exclusive and elitist.  The priests are the only ones who get to go into the temple.  They don't earn the right to minister, but they are born to it.  The whole idea does violence to our egalitarian posture and democratic mindset.  Why should the people be denied the benefits of holiness?  Whatever that is.

The old model of the Aaronic priesthood served its purpose, but it was flawed by the weakness of man and limited by death.  Jesus is our Great High Priest who entered but once into the Holy of Holies, finished His work of expiating all sin, and sat down at the Father's right hand (Hebrews 4:14-16, 9:11-12, 10:12).  Still, it is a model which can tell us about our condition and about the remedy. 

The truth is that we must reject and abandon the old nature -- everything of the old nature.  That's hard to conceive of, especially for people who are naturally meek and mild and not given to rebellion or selfish ambition.  Some of us are born good.  OK, not me.  Some of you.  Growing up, I had a cute little blonde cousin, Deb, a few years younger than I was.  She was -- and as far as I know, is -- a sweet and gentle person, a throwback, perhaps, to her grandmother, my aunt, who was of a character radically different than any of her nine violent, vicious, hot-tempered siblings.  You couldn't offend Deb.  A harsh word never came out of her mouth.  If one of us accidentally hurt her, physically or emotionally, she would try not to cry in front of us, lest we feel regret for our roughness.  How could God say to a person like little Deb that in her flesh dwells no good thing?  On the surface, it doesn't seem right, but He does say it:  It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is of no avail.

That's the message the rigorous separation of the sons of Aaron is meant to convey.  Light and darkness have no communion.  One is either in light or in shadow.  We are either living and walking by the Spirit in faith, or we are in bondage, in the shackles of the flesh.  There can be no alliance between the holy and the profane. 

Ah, but, I say, I have this strength, this talent, these resources, this wealth.  Surely my skill and intelligence are of some value.  Surely God does not expect me to abandon this and embrace only the poverty of spirit? 

He does. 

That "good" part of myself has to be purged and refined.  It must be abandoned to the sacrificial fires of judgment.  If what we see as good goes up in smoke, well, we misjudged it.  If it endures -- even if it endures, it may be unrecognizable, so transmuted as to leave us wondering as to its continued value or usefulness.  But we are free to take up whatever is left and make the best use of it in our obedience. 

We really can't live a mixed life.  There is weird stuff in the regulations Moses gave to Israel.  Don't yoke two different kinds of animals together to plow.  Don't wear "wool blend" suits.  How does that hurt anything?  It seems silly, but it's a picture.  A life that is mixed is a life that painful.  The spirit and the flesh contend, and one is always making the other to suffer.  If you ever get the flesh down, show it no mercy.  Finish it off.