Leviticus—
the book everyone skips,
tripping over rules piled high like stones in a desert.
But here—
at the edge of Exodus’ long drama—
the story is not abandoned,
it is gathered,
the voice calls,
the promise still breathes.
And He called.
Not because we were ready,
not because we were holy,
but because He remembered.
The Holy One—
terrifying and tender—
desired to live among the broken,
to make a home among those who could never reach Him.
Cloud by day, fire by night,
not close enough.
Thunder at Sinai, the earth shaking,
not close enough.
A tent stitched by human hands,
cloud descending—closer still—
but not yet home.
Imagine:
God moving into your home,
peering into your kitchen,
your late-night fears,
your secret shames.
Would you show Him around?
Would you hide the closets?
When He moves in,
transformation is not negotiable.
Holiness brushes the dust from our corners,
and our hearts, startled, stumble toward light.
But first—
a barrier must be breached.
A gulf that blood alone can bridge.
A lamb.
Pure, unblemished, costly.
Its life for yours,
its innocence draped over your guilt
like a coat too beautiful to fit.
The hand pressed on the animal’s head—
an apology carved into flesh.
A sorrow heavier than a knife.
A restoration no cheap words could afford.
The law laid it out:
worship costs.
Holiness costs.
Coming close to God costs.
Every sacrifice—
a sketch of a greater day,
a greater Lamb,
a greater cost.
A hill outside the city.
A cross instead of a tent.
Blood spilled not on an altar,
but on the dirt of the world.
There,
the unclean made clean,
the distant brought near,
the broken gathered home.
God’s dwelling place no longer stitched in canvas,
but beating in the living hearts of His people.
No veil.
No separation.
No death.
No disease.
Only promise fulfilled.
Only Presence.
Only Love that burns away the dark
and stays.
There is no one like Him.
And still,
He calls.
Original message by Sean Tan, The Bridge Church Macquarie Park NSW
The Afterword 
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