The Sacrifice of The High Priest
The Sacrifice of The High Priest A Poetic Meditation Contrasting the Type & the Substance Hear the heavy pound of hooves led to the slaughter. Heavier still, the weight of my sin. See a hand, once resting on matted fur, Raised to atone for my sin … again. Watch fingers of the high priest dripping blood; A pool formed at the base of the altar. Behold, this gruesome scene, wrought by me. My sins ever needing a substitute. Know the blood of bulls and rams will not do; For I am destitute of righteousness. Smell the stench; it’s egregious. Yet this is grace. I see my sin, once precious in my sight, As foul, costly, and resulting in death; its consequence. This ritual performed by the High Priest will be done again. Tonight another lamb. Tomorrow a bull, then more lambs again. Costly, continual; A picture of the pervasiveness of sin, Yet a promise of God’s grace toward us and His promised presence. Despite the state of our stubborn hearts and unclean camp, He is here, making provisi...