The Grammar of Justice: Life, Death, and Refuge Text: Exodus 21:12-14
Introduction: God's Law or Anarchy
We live in an age that has declared war on definitions. Our culture has taken a sledgehammer to the load bearing walls of reality, and then stands bewildered amidst the rubble, wondering why nothing makes sense anymore. They want justice without a standard, morality without a lawgiver, and rights without responsibilities. This is the very definition of insanity. It is an attempt to build a house in mid air, with no foundation and no blueprint. And the result is the chaos we see all around us, a society that cannot distinguish between a man and a woman, between a victim and a criminal, between life and death.
When God delivered His people from Egypt, He did not leave them in the wilderness with a set of vague spiritual suggestions. He gave them a law. He gave them a comprehensive blueprint for a just and righteous society. This law was not a burden, but a grace. It was the framework for liberty. After the majestic pronouncements of the Ten Commandments from the top of Sinai, God begins, here in Exodus 21, to provide the case law. This is the nitty gritty application of those grand principles to the messy realities of human life. This is not abstract philosophy; this is practical, street level righteousness.
And where does God begin? He begins with the sanctity of human life. Before property, before contracts, before any other societal concern, God establishes the supreme value of the life of a man, made in His image. Our passage today lays down the foundational principles for dealing with the unlawful taking of a human life. It establishes the death penalty for murder, distinguishes it from accidental killing, and demonstrates that no place, not even the very altar of God, can provide sanctuary for a cold blooded murderer.
These principles are not dusty relics of a bygone era. They are the bedrock of true justice. A society that abandons them will inevitably find itself drowning in blood and confusion. When we reject God's definitions, we do not escape to a realm of freedom; we descend into a world of arbitrary power, where the strong devour the weak, and justice is whatever the man with the biggest sword says it is. We must understand that we are always governed by some law. The choice is not between God's law and no law. The choice is between God's law and the law of tyrants.
The Text
He who strikes a man so that he dies shall surely be put to death. But if he did not lie in wait for him, but God let him fall into his hand, then I will appoint you a place to which he may flee. If, however, a man acts presumptuously toward his neighbor, so as to kill him by deceit, you shall take him even from My altar, that he may die.
(Exodus 21:12-14 LSB)
The Unyielding Standard for Murder (v. 12)
We begin with the stark and absolute principle laid down in verse 12:
"He who strikes a man so that he dies shall surely be put to death." (Exodus 21:12)
This is the principle of lex talionis, the law of retaliation, applied to the highest possible crime. It is not "an eye for a life," or "a tooth for a life." It is "a life for a life." This principle was established long before Sinai, right after the flood. In Genesis 9:6, God declares to Noah, "Whoever sheds man's blood, by man his blood shall be shed; for in the image of God He made man." The reason for capital punishment is not primarily deterrence, though it certainly is a deterrent. The reason is not vengeance. The reason is theological. To murder a human being is to strike at the image of God. It is an act of high treason against the King of heaven.
The penalty is not optional. The text says he "shall surely be put to death." This is not a suggestion for the magistrate; it is a command. When a society refuses to execute murderers, it pollutes the land. The blood of the innocent cries out from the ground, and the society that tolerates this bloodshed brings a curse upon itself (Numbers 35:33). Our modern, sentimental squeamishness about capital punishment is not a sign of our advanced morality. It is a sign of our deep seated rebellion against God's justice. We have decided that we are more merciful than God, which is the very pinnacle of arrogance. We value the life of the murderer more than the life of his victim, and in so doing, we devalue the image of God in man.
This law establishes the role of the civil magistrate as God's deacon of wrath. Paul tells us in Romans 13 that the ruler "does not bear the sword in vain; for he is God's minister, an avenger to execute wrath on him who practices evil." The sword is not for cutting ribbons at grand openings. It is for executing justice. A government that refuses to wield the sword against murderers has abdicated its fundamental God given duty.
Providence, Accidents, and Refuge (v. 13)
But God's law is not a blunt, unthinking instrument. It is filled with wisdom and careful distinctions. Verse 13 introduces a crucial difference between murder and what we would call manslaughter.
"But if he did not lie in wait for him, but God let him fall into his hand, then I will appoint you a place to which he may flee." (Exodus 21:13 LSB)
Here we see the difference between intent and accident. The key phrase is "did not lie in wait." This points to a lack of premeditation, of malice aforethought. But notice the theological richness of the language. It does not say, "if it was an accident." It says, "but God let him fall into his hand." This is a profound statement about divine providence. Even in what appears to us as a tragic accident, a fluke of circumstance, God is sovereign. The axe head that flies off the handle (Deut. 19:5) does not do so outside of God's overarching plan. God is not a surprised bystander in His own universe.
This understanding of providence does not remove human responsibility, but it frames it correctly. The man who killed accidentally is still responsible for a death. A life has been taken, and this is a serious matter. It cannot simply be shrugged off. Therefore, the "avenger of blood," a kinsman of the deceased, had the right to pursue him. But God, in His mercy, provides a way of escape. He commands the establishment of "a place to which he may flee." These were the cities of refuge, described in detail in Numbers 35 and Joshua 20.
These cities were a gracious provision to protect the unintentional killer from vigilante justice. If he could reach one of these cities, he was safe until his case could be heard by the congregation. He had to remain there until the death of the high priest. This system accomplished two things. First, it upheld the sanctity of life by showing that even an accidental death had serious consequences. The man lost his home and his freedom for a time. Second, it prevented the escalation of blood feuds by providing a just and orderly process. This is not raw vengeance; it is structured, covenantal justice.
And of course, these cities of refuge are a beautiful type of Christ. We are all guilty, not of accidental sin, but of high handed rebellion against God. The avenger of blood, the righteous wrath of God's law, is pursuing us. And there is only one place of refuge: Jesus Christ. When we flee to Him, we are safe. "There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1). He is our High Priest, and through His death, we are set free not just temporarily, but eternally.
Presumption, Deceit, and the Altar (v. 14)
Verse 14 returns to the case of the murderer, and it raises the stakes to the highest possible level.
"If, however, a man acts presumptuously toward his neighbor, so as to kill him by deceit, you shall take him even from My altar, that he may die." (Exodus 21:14 LSB)
Here we have the definition of first degree murder. It is a killing that is done "presumptuously" and "by deceit." The word "presumptuously" carries the idea of arrogance, of a proud and defiant rebellion against God and man. This is the man who thinks he is above the law. "Deceit" refers to treachery, ambush, or cunning premeditation. This is not a crime of passion, but a cold, calculated act of wickedness.
For such a man, there is no refuge. There is no sanctuary. So absolute is this principle that God says he is to be taken "even from My altar." In the ancient world, temples and altars were universally considered places of asylum. A criminal could often find safety by clinging to the horns of the altar. We see this later in Israel's history when both Adonijah and Joab flee to the altar to escape Solomon's judgment (1 Kings 1 & 2). But God makes it clear from the beginning: the sanctity of the altar is not for protecting murderers. The worship of God cannot be used as a shield for those who have despised the image of God.
This is a terrifying thought. To commit premeditated murder is to commit a crime so heinous that it overrides the holiness of God's own altar. It is to pollute the land so profoundly that the sacred space of worship itself cannot cleanse it. The only thing that can cleanse it is the blood of the murderer. This shows us how seriously God takes the sin of murder. It is a direct assault on His holy order. A man who would use the altar of God to protect himself after committing such a crime is compounding his sin with blasphemous hypocrisy. He is trying to make God an accomplice to his wickedness. And God will not have it.
Conclusion: Justice, Refuge, and the Cross
So what do we take from this ancient law? First, we must recover a biblical understanding of justice. Justice is not sentimental. It is not therapeutic. It is rooted in the unchanging character of a holy God. It requires that we make careful distinctions, as God does, between degrees of guilt. And it requires that we have the moral courage to apply the ultimate penalty for the ultimate crime.
Second, we must recognize our own desperate need for refuge. We may not be murderers in the civil sense, but the Lord Jesus tells us that whoever hates his brother is a murderer in his heart (1 Matthew 5:21-22). We have all acted presumptuously against our neighbor. We have all killed with deceit in our hearts. We are all guilty, and the avenger of blood is on our trail. Our only hope is to flee to the city of refuge that God has appointed. Our only hope is to run to the cross of Jesus Christ.
And this brings us to the glorious paradox. The altar of God in the Old Testament offered no refuge for the presumptuous murderer. But the altar of the New Covenant, the cross of Calvary, is the only refuge for exactly such sinners. Why? Because on that cross, God did something unimaginable. He took the ultimate presumptuous murderer, Barabbas, and set him free. And He took His own innocent Son, and dragged Him from the ultimate place of holiness, the very heart of the Trinity, and put Him to death. He executed the death penalty on Jesus Christ in our place.
The justice of God that condemns us is the very same justice that saves us in Christ. At the cross, the unyielding standard of God's law was met. The price for our presumption and deceit was paid in full. God did not waive the death penalty; He absorbed it Himself. Therefore, let us abandon all attempts to find refuge in our own righteousness, or in the hollow sanctuaries of this world. Let us flee to Christ, our city of refuge, our altar, our sacrifice, and our High Priest, in whom alone we find true and lasting safety.