leviticus

one of my regular jobs in utah was working for a producer who was sometimes referred to as the godfather of the utah film industry. he looked like mr. burns from the simpsons and smoked like a chimney, but i liked him and he really liked me. i would always work as the film loader on his sets, a job which is the literal heart of the production: i take in the exposed film, send out fresh film, and if i stop working, the production grinds to a halt. and mr. burns liked to keep a tight watch over the film totals throughout the day, so i made sure to always know how much we'd shot for that day and how much was left.

throughout the productions, he'd call me into his office or his trailer and we'd discuss how much film we were likely to need for the next order. i liked being a part of these discussions and i liked that he trusted me with things. i also liked that he was so happy with my work that he said i should be bumped up to a higher position but he didn't want to lose me where i was at and so said he'd pay me at a higher rate on the next show (sadly, that was my last show before i moved to texas.)
because he liked me and trusted me, it didn't mean i could do whatever the heck i wanted on set. rather, he trusted me because he knew i'd do what was right.

the third book of the old testament is the book of leviticus, infamously known as one of the most boring books in the bible. i've never found it painfully dull, but that's likely because i was bracing for it, and because i kind of get into that "old testament" stuff.

leviticus is basically a list of rules of how to observe the law of moses, such as the breed and amount of animals required to be sacrificed based on your sins from the past week. it can seem, at best, pretty tedious and micro-managing. at worst, it can seem totalitarian, dictating every little can and cannot.

but it's because we need to do what's right. that God has a right and a wrong way to do things and He can trust us and bless us more as we better learn to live rightly and do what He asks us to do.



dang. this analogy seemed so much clearer two years ago when i first thought about it.