Leave it to Leviticus to have me busting out a good belly laugh at five in the morning. Not because of what the Text says—I would never disrespect the Word like that—but because of the mental image in my mind of Leviticus 27:14 playing out in real life.
Consider this: A man decides that he is going to consecrate his house to God. That house will now either be used in the direct service of God, or (more likely) sold, and its proceeds go towards the priestly service. He can still redeem it if he wants, though. All rights of redemption are intact. Just add twenty percent onto the sale price and it returns to you.
This is a fantastic gesture. I’ve never heard of anyone selling their house and giving the proceeds to the local church (although it definitely happened in Acts 2-5). In today’s economy at least, an entire house would fetch a nice price. Lots of churches would be pleased to have a gift of this size.
The only catch is that the priest now acts as the appraiser—the same priest who is also a judge (Deuteronomy 17:8-9), town doctor (Leviticus 13), home inspector (Leviticus 14), and spiritual teacher (Leviticus 10:10-11). And that’s in addition to their role as sacrificial mediator between man and God. Levitical priests wore a lot of hats! This multifaceted role underscores the complexity of the priest’s function within the community, as they were instrumental in maintaining both spiritual and physical well-being. The significance of Leviticus 7:38 highlights the priests’ responsibilities in overseeing sacrificial offerings, emphasizing their centrality in Israel’s worship practices. By engaging in these diverse tasks, the priests helped ensure that the moral and ethical standards of the community were upheld in accordance with divine law.
So imagine that the priest walks up to your house for an inspection. You’re standing nearby, heart filled with selfless pride at the magnanimous gesture of giving your house to the priesthood. The priest walks up, takes a look around your house, and declares it as “bad.”
According to this chapter, that’s his job. He values it as either “good or bad,” which means looking at the structural integrity of the house, its location, and usefulness in priestly service. Whatever he decides the house is worth, that is its value.
Anyone who’s ever watched a show like Pawn Stars or Antique Roadshow has probably seen people stroll into the store with what they think is a priceless treasure, only to be told that it’s worth a few dollars at most. They’re heartbroken. It’s like watching their entire worldview crumble before our eyes.
That’s the situation these people would’ve found themselves in. You donate a house to the treasury, only to find that it’s not worth near what you thought.
Here’s the key though: God cares about the giving, not the gift.
When the poor widow brought two mites to the Temple as an offering, Jesus said that she gave more than everyone else—not because it was financially worth more, but because it was all she had (Mark 12:41-44).
Paul reaffirms this concept in 2 Corinthians 8:12, when he says that “if the readiness (to give) is present, it is acceptable according to what a person has, not according to what he does not have.”
The next time you come into services Sunday morning, think about those Israelites who gave an entire house, only to find out it wasn’t worth much. Then think about the widow, who most likely assumed her two coins weren’t worth anything, only to find out it was the most valuable gift that day.
The most important thing is the fact that you gave to God. The monetary value is a distant second.
