Henry Law
Numbers 6:21. This is the law of the Nazarite.
Here a new ordinance appears. It seems a special flower set by God’s hand within the garden of the Jewish law. Therefore let special fragrance now be sought by faith, for surely special fragrance may be found.
Israel’s whole race was severed from the world. But the wide circumference was girdle to a narrower circle. Where all were separate, the Nazarites were specially separated. These stood apart, as a special dedication to the Lord. Amid surrounding columns they rose the highest pyramids. Among God’s servants they wore distinguished livery. Where all were nationally holy, they showed the holiest badge.
They bound themselves by voluntary vows. Some mighty motive must have urged their hearts. But it is not revealed. Conjecture may suppose, but cannot be assured. The vow might be the act of men weighed down by consciousness of sin – appalled by sight of inborn evil, or penitent through grievous falls. It might be gratitude for signal mercies; it might be zeal to arouse others to think more of God. But the real cause is veiled. This only is declared: that Nazarites, obeying a strong impulse, gave themselves specially to God.
My soul, the Nazarite here speaks with warning voice to you. Your days, are they days of devoted service? Your public walk, is it resplendent with godliness? Are all observers led to mark that you are wholly God’s? But surely, above all, you should be pre-eminently His.
Believer, think of His dealings with you – His tender love and smiles of never-failing care. Think of your Jesus, His cross, His blood, His wounds, His agonies. Think of the mercy seat, the interceding prayer, the coming glory, the eternity of bliss. Think of hell merited, and heaven your free-grace home. Surely each morning should see you self-bound by stricter vow and dedicated to greater piety.
The Nazarite’s motives are unknown. But Nazarite-rules are rigidly prescribed. They are threefold. Let them now be viewed.
1. No juice of grape, no produce of the vine, from kernel unto husk, may touch the consecrated lips.
Not only is the intoxicating cup banished far, but all which grows on the intoxicating tree. Enticement’s total troop, from first to last, must be expelled. Like Achan and his little ones – all must die (Num 6:3,4).
Believer, this principle is broad and deep. You openly avow that you are not your own. Your body, spirit, mind and soul are purchased by redeeming blood. They are all bound a living sacrifice to the one altar – Christ. Hence you must keep them pure, clean, bright, strong, vigorous for His work. They should stand as servants, with loins girt, ready at all times to discharge His will.
Then untiringly flee whatever, like the juice of grape, may tend to weaken firm energy, or to stir up the sleeping brood of sensual and ungodly lusts. Alas, what evil lingers still in every saintly heart! A sudden spark may cause a fearful blaze. Keep far from the beguiling cup.
Touch not the kernel or the husk. Flee not strong potions only, but all that may insidiously corrupt the taste. More than gross vice is branded here. Evils may enter in the smallest form. At first they may seem harmless, as the gentle dove. Avoid them. They are the weed’s first seed. Rapidly they grow. Fatally they spread. Mightily they strengthen. Soon they pervade the enervated soul.
2. No razor approaches the Nazarite’s hair.
His flowing locks openly announce his separate state. His head pre-eminently bears the signal of his service. The dedication must not be a secret act, known only to his conscience and the Lord. The front must witness that the man is God’s (Num 6:5).
Believer, here is another lesson for your life. Religion is not for the closet or the knees alone. It is not a lily, growing only in the shade. It is to be the one attire in which you move abroad – the holy crown which sparkles on your brow. It must be conspicuous, as locks hanging from the head. It is not to be cut short or hidden. It must arrest attention. Like the flag, it must proclaim the country to which the ship belongs.
Christian meekness and the Spirit’s wisdom never conceal one’s faith. Truth scorns all pitiful reserve. Bold honesty rejects such timid shame. Pure religion shines as the sun, without one cloud. Thus others profit by its rays. Thus, like a magnet, it draws souls to God.
3. He must avoid all contact with the dead.
He must not close the eyes of his expiring friends or catch their parting breath or bear their corpses to the grave. Among the living he must live. Where life is absent, he must be absent too (Num 6:6,7).
Wherefore is death to be thus shunned? Reasons are obvious. It is the penalty of sin – the sign of God’s most righteous wrath. It is a proof of innocence destroyed, of evil touched, of vengeance merited. It is abomination’s colleague. Therefore it is an emblem of what holy men should holily abhor. Life too is God’s inseparable essence. He cannot die. Therefore to intermix with death denotes a separation from their God.
Here is again a rule for Christian walk. He who is Christ’s must flee the touch of everything allied to sin. The holy garments may not be defiled. The blood-washed feet must shun polluted paths. The vessels for the Master’s use may have no stain. The Spirit’s temple must be pure. Corruption in no form may soil it.
Believer, rigidly apply this maxim. It drives you from the contagion of ungodly scenes. How many crowds are nothing but a place crowded with dead bodies! The bodies breathe, but hold no breathing soul. The words, the works, are strong-smelling as an open grave. Arise; depart. The living dwell not amid tombs. The atmosphere pollutes. Depart; touch not the dead.
How many books are full of death! They may appear fascinating. But they only look good, as corpses decked with flowers. Their taint destroys. Their chilly touch corrupts.
This rule brands many a pulpit as a plague-spot. A lifeless teacher often guides in paths of death. No spark from heaven has vivified his soul. What then but putrefaction issues from his lips? On earth there is not a more pitiable sight than death in a preacher’s form, digging the grave of souls.
Here too we see the misery of those who by dead works expect to buy soul-life. All works are dead which do not grow on the stem of faith. Such are but rotten berries. They do not live to God. How can they purchase life?
But no precautionary care can always keep men from the dying scene. Death has an unrestricted range. It moves among the busy haunts. Its icy hand is everywhere. In every spot it seizes victims. Thus the most watchful Nazarite might most unwillingly stand by the dead.
If so, corruption has been by his side; pollution has polluted him; his vow is broken. Therefore atonement must be made. The ordinance now commands him, as guilty, to seek God. He is required to place a whole burnt offering on the blazing altar. He must then add a sacrifice for sin. Moreover, as a debtor, he must buy remission by a trespass offering. Thus the chief types, which shadowed out Christ’s blood, must all be brought.
This is not all. The former period as a Nazarite is cancelled. The previous days are counted as lost time. He must cut short the locks which hitherto had proved his separate state. He must commence afresh his dedicated walk (Num 6:9-12).
Hark! What a voice cries here: Beware of sudden evil. Satan is a lurking foe. He shoots his darts from hidden ambushes. When all seems safe, a wound is given. There is a pitfall in the firmest paths. Where least suspected, nets are spread. David arose, unconscious of the slippery ground. A few brief moments rolled him in the mire. But there is hope for suddenly-contracted guilt. This type attests this blessed truth. It bids the failing Nazarite to recover his lost state by offerings of blood. Reader, at all times there is open access to a forgiving God. There is a Saviour waiting to obliterate. Come, plead His merits: present His expiating death. There is no stain which He removes not.
The type moreover shows that pardon found must be the starting-post of new devotedness. The washed feet ascend anew the holy hill. The cleansed hands fight with more vigour. The Nazarite, passing the appointed gate, enters again upon his sacred course.
These reconciling rites were ordered, if the offence were sudden, unintended and abhorred. But what if deliberate transgression be indulged? The ordinance is silent here and thus warns solemnly. Where shall he turn who turns presumptuously from God? Where is his hope who boldly touches sin? Reader, never burst the bounds of conscience. Grieve not the Spirit’s gentle mind. Drive not the holy inmate from your breast. Some who ran well have wantonly cast off the gracious yoke. The after-course has been fall upon fall, without a check or turn.
The Nazarite continued only for a fixed time. The days expired. The vow was then discharged. The badge of consecration was laid down.
But grand solemnities attested the completion of this hallowed state. The Nazarite enters the tabernacle’s gate. He stands beside the sacrificing altar. He brings each victim, which symbolises sin’s desert. No rite is absent which confesses the need of remission and trust in reconciling blood. A lamb, as a burnt offering, dies. A lamb again, as a sin offering, is wholly consumed. A perfect ram, as a peace offering, solicits peace. Meat offerings in every form are piled. Drink offerings in abundance flow. Voluntary gifts profusely follow. All hair is next shorn off. The fire receives it. It ascends in the ascending flame of the peace offering (Num 6:13-21).
But wherefore is there this expenditure of blood? What is the purpose of this multitude of rites? They all seek expiation. They all look onward to the cross, and thus they graphically show that the holiest deeds of holiest men can only find acceptance through the dying Jesus. For surely this full train of pardon-suing sacrifice distinctly states that the Nazarite’s devoted course still needed to be cleansed.
Believer, is this not the conscious feeling of your humbled soul? You are the Lord’s. You strive to serve Him wholly, unreservedly for ever. You would bring to Him your every moment, faculty and power. You would present the offering of your thoughts, your words, your works. But what failures! You would do good; evil is present. In public acts, what inconsistency! In private duties, what outbreaks of corruption! In the closet, evil thoughts assail. On the knees, the tempter haunts. Some base imagination stains ascending praise. Your self-denial is too often self-indulgence. The badge of Nazarite too often hides a worldling’s heart.
What then shall be done? Behold the cross. There is your only help. Thence only is your peace. Only in that most precious blood can you obliterate your guilt. Come, wash therein your every duty, service, prayer, thanksgiving. Cleanse there the stains of your most holy hours. Live under vows as a strict Nazarite. But wrestle for forgiveness as a sad short-comer.