The Fat Belongs to God Text: Leviticus 3:12-17
Introduction: The Grammar of Fellowship
We moderns, particularly we modern evangelicals, have a tendency to treat the book of Leviticus like an old, dusty attic. We know it's part of the house, but we don't go up there much, and when we do, we're a bit bewildered by what we find. It seems strange, bloody, and frankly, irrelevant. We have Christ, so why bother with the intricate details of goat fat and blood splatter? But this is a profound mistake. This is like trying to understand the oak tree while despising the acorn from which it grew. Leviticus is not an obstacle to understanding Christ; it is the divinely authored picture book that explains His work with visceral, unforgettable clarity.
The sacrifices were, as I've said before, a kind of audio-visual aid for a spiritually rudimentary people. God was teaching them the grammar of holiness. He was teaching them the difference between clean and unclean, sacred and profane, life and death. And here in chapter 3, we come to the peace offering, or the fellowship offering. This is distinct from the burnt offering, which was all about total consecration, and the sin offering, which was about atonement for specific transgressions. The peace offering was a meal. It was a time of communion, of fellowship between God and the worshiper. It was a picture of what Eden was supposed to be, and what the Marriage Supper of the Lamb will be. It was a holy barbecue.
But this fellowship is not a casual, back-slapping affair. It is not a potluck where God is just another guest. This fellowship is structured, ordered, and defined entirely by God's own terms. He sets the menu. He determines the procedure. And as we will see in our text, He lays claim to the most important parts. Our secular world wants fellowship without standards, communion without cost, and a relationship with "the divine" on its own terms. Leviticus smashes that idol to pieces. True peace with God is not something we invent; it is a gift we receive according to the pattern He provides. And that pattern, from the laying on of hands to the prohibition of fat, points us directly to the Lord Jesus Christ, who is our peace.
The Text
‘Moreover, if his offering is a goat, then he shall bring it near before Yahweh, and he shall lay his hand on its head and slaughter it before the tent of meeting, and the sons of Aaron shall splash its blood around on the altar. And from it he shall bring near his offering as an offering by fire to Yahweh the fat that covers the entrails and all the fat that is on the entrails, and the two kidneys with the fat that is on them, which is on the loins, and the lobe of the liver, which he shall remove with the kidneys. And the priest shall offer them up in smoke on the altar as food, an offering by fire for a soothing aroma; all fat is Yahweh’s. It is a perpetual statute throughout your generations in all your places of habitation: you shall not eat any fat or any blood.’
(Leviticus 3:12-17 LSB)
Identification and Substitution (vv. 12-13)
We begin with the presentation of the animal and the central act of substitution.
"‘Moreover, if his offering is a goat, then he shall bring it near before Yahweh, and he shall lay his hand on its head and slaughter it before the tent of meeting, and the sons of Aaron shall splash its blood around on the altar." (Leviticus 3:12-13)
Whether the offering is from the herd or the flock, a bull, a lamb, or a goat, the essential actions are the same. This uniformity teaches us that access to God is not dependent on our wealth or status, but on our obedience to His one way of approach. The worshiper brings his goat "before Yahweh." Worship is always a response to a summons from God. We do not initiate; we are invited into His presence.
The critical action is this: "he shall lay his hand on its head." This is not a gentle pat. This is a formal, legal act of identification. The worshiper is leaning his weight on the animal, signifying a complete transfer. In the sin offering, this is a transfer of guilt. Here, in the peace offering, it is a transfer of identity. The worshiper is saying, "This goat is me. It stands in my place. Its death will be my death, so that I might have life and fellowship with God." This is the doctrine of substitution in picture form. Before there can be any communion, any shared meal, there must be a substitute that bears the weight of the worshiper's identity and dies in his stead. Without this, fellowship with a holy God is impossible.
The worshiper then slaughters the animal himself, "before the tent of meeting." This was not a sterile, distant affair. The man who laid his hand on the goat's head felt its life, and then he was the one who took it. Sin is personal, and the cost of it is visceral. He had to see and feel the consequence of the great chasm between a holy God and a sinful man, a chasm that can only be bridged by death. Then the priests, the appointed mediators, take the blood, which is the life of the animal, and splash it on the altar. The life that was forfeit is now presented to God, consecrating the place of worship and making the subsequent meal possible. This is all a shadow. Christ is the substance. We lay our hands on Him by faith, identifying with Him. He was slaughtered before the world, and His blood, presented in the heavenly tabernacle, is the entire basis for our peace with God.
God's Portion (vv. 14-16a)
Next, we see the specific parts that are reserved for God alone. This is the heart of the matter.
"And from it he shall bring near his offering as an offering by fire to Yahweh the fat that covers the entrails and all the fat that is on the entrails, and the two kidneys with the fat that is on them, which is on the loins, and the lobe of the liver, which he shall remove with the kidneys. And the priest shall offer them up in smoke on the altar as food, an offering by fire for a soothing aroma..." (Leviticus 3:14-16a)
After the substitutionary death, the animal is prepared. While the worshiper and the priest will get to eat certain portions of the meat, the very first and best portion is set aside for God. Notice what it is: the fat. Specifically, the layers of fat around the internal organs, the kidneys, and the lobe of the liver. In the ancient world, fat was synonymous with richness, goodness, and energy. It was the best part, the choicest portion. The kidneys and liver were considered the seat of the emotions and the will. So, what is God claiming? He is claiming the very best, the richest part, and the very center of the creature's life and being.
This is a powerful lesson in lordship. In this fellowship meal, God eats first. And He gets the best. This demolishes any idea that we come to God as equals. We come as creatures to our Creator, as subjects to our King. He has a right to the very best of all that we have and all that we are. To withhold the fat would be to say that something other than God deserves our highest energy, our richest affections, our deepest loyalties. This is the essence of idolatry.
This portion is offered up "in smoke on the altar as food." This is anthropomorphic language, of course. God does not have a stomach. But it is teaching us a profound truth. Our worship, when offered according to His prescription, is pleasing to Him. It is a "soothing aroma." This is not about the smell of burning fat, but about the disposition of the obedient heart that it represents. God is pleased, He is satisfied, when His people acknowledge His supreme worth by giving Him the very best. This all finds its ultimate fulfillment in Christ. He was the perfect offering, whose entire inner being, whose richest affections and strongest will, were entirely devoted to the Father. His sacrifice was the ultimate soothing aroma, and it is only because of His offering that our paltry offerings can be accepted at all.
The Perpetual Principle (vv. 16b-17)
The passage concludes with a summary principle and a perpetual statute that governs all of Israel.
"...all fat is Yahweh’s. It is a perpetual statute throughout your generations in all your places of habitation: you shall not eat any fat or any blood.’" (Leviticus 3:16b-17)
Here the specific instruction is broadened into a foundational principle: "all fat is Yahweh's." This is a declaration of divine ownership. Just as the tithe is the Lord's, representing His ownership of all our wealth, so the fat is the Lord's, representing His ownership of the very best of the creature's life. This is not just a rule for the tabernacle; it is a "perpetual statute" for them in all their dwellings. This was to shape their entire worldview. Every time they ate meat, they were to be reminded that the best belongs to God.
And then the prohibition is extended to include blood. "You shall not eat any fat or any blood." Why? Because the fat represents the richness of life, and the blood represents the essence of life itself. As Genesis 9:4 and Leviticus 17:11 make clear, "the life of the flesh is in the blood." God is sovereign over life. He gives it, and He has the sole right to take it. The blood was reserved for the altar, to make atonement. To eat blood was to treat the sacred instrument of atonement as a common thing. It was to profane the symbol of life and redemption.
For us in the new covenant, these specific dietary laws are no longer binding. Christ, our peace offering, has been sacrificed once for all. We are not required to drain the blood from our steak or trim off every bit of fat. But is the principle perpetual? Absolutely. "All fat is Yahweh's" is eternally true. Does the best of your energy, your money, your time, your affection, belong to God? Or are you giving Him the leftovers while you feast on the best parts yourself? And is the blood of Christ precious to you? Do you treat His life, given for you, as the sacred center of your reality, or has it become a common thing, a mere historical fact that you tip your hat to on Sunday mornings? The details of the ceremony have passed away, but the grammar of fellowship remains. God is Lord, He deserves the best, and peace with Him is only possible through the shed blood of a substitute.
Conclusion: Feasting on Christ
The peace offering was a meal of celebration. After God received His portion from the altar, the priest and the worshiper's family would eat the rest of the meat in the presence of the Lord. It was a tangible expression of peace, joy, and communion. It was a foretaste of Heaven.
But it was a communion predicated on three things we have seen in this text. First, substitution: a life had to be given in their place. Second, propitiation: God had to be satisfied by receiving the best portion first. And third, prohibition: they had to honor God's sovereignty over life and its richness by abstaining from the fat and the blood.
This is a perfect picture of our fellowship with God through the gospel. Our fellowship is made possible only through Christ our substitute. It is secured only because God the Father is fully satisfied and pleased with the offering of His Son, the ultimate soothing aroma. And our fellowship is maintained as we live out the principle that all that we are and have belongs to Him. We must continually give Him the "fat", the best of our lives, and we must continually plead the "blood", relying on nothing for our standing but the finished work of Jesus.
We come to a meal as well, the Lord's Supper. It is our peace offering, our fellowship meal. And as we eat the bread and drink the wine, we are doing what the Israelite did with his goat. We are identifying with our substitute. We are acknowledging that God is satisfied with His portion. And we are declaring that our whole lives, from the richest fat to the lifeblood, belong entirely to Him who bought us. That is true peace. That is true communion.