The Arithmetic of Atonement Text: Numbers 29:26-28
Introduction: The Glorious Monotony of Grace
We live in an age that is allergic to repetition. We crave novelty. We want the next new thing, the latest update, the fresh take. Our worship can sometimes be infected with this same spirit. We want a new song, a fresh experience, a different kind of service. But when we come to a passage like this one in the book of Numbers, we are confronted with something that feels, to our modern sensibilities, remarkably monotonous. Day after day, during the Feast of Booths, the sacrifices are listed. The numbers change slightly, but the pattern is fixed. Bulls, rams, lambs, goats. Grain offerings, drink offerings. Over and over.
But we must resist the temptation to let our eyes glaze over. This is not divine paperwork. This is not the Lord being needlessly bureaucratic. When God repeats Himself, we should pay closer attention, not less. This repetition is not tedious; it is theological. It is a drumbeat of grace. It is the steady, rhythmic heartbeat of a covenant-keeping God teaching His people the grammar of worship and the high cost of their sin. He is showing them, day after day, that access to His presence is not a light thing. It is a bloody business. It is an expensive business. And it is a business that He Himself has ordained and provided for.
The book of Numbers, as a whole, chronicles the failure of a generation. It is a story of grumbling, rebellion, and unbelief. And yet, right in the middle of it, you have these intricate, detailed instructions for worship. God does not abandon His people because of their sin. Rather, He provides the way for their sin to be dealt with. This chapter, detailing the offerings for the seventh month, is a crescendo of worship. It begins with the Feast of Trumpets, moves to the Day of Atonement, and culminates in this, the Feast of Booths, an eight-day festival of joyful remembrance and forward-looking hope. The sheer number of animals sacrificed is staggering. This is not a religion of vague sentimentality; it is a religion of blood, fire, and smoke. It is earthy, costly, and constant. And in this glorious monotony, we are being taught the nature of our sin and the even greater nature of God's provision, a provision that would ultimately find its fulfillment in one final, perfect sacrifice.
The Text
‘Then on the fifth day: nine bulls, two rams, fourteen male lambs one year old without blemish; and their grain offering and their drink offerings for the bulls, for the rams and for the lambs, by their number according to the legal judgment; and one male goat for a sin offering, besides the continual burnt offering and its grain offering and its drink offering.’
(Numbers 29:26-28 LSB)
The Unblemished Sacrifice (v. 26)
We begin with the requirements for the fifth day of the feast.
"‘Then on the fifth day: nine bulls, two rams, fourteen male lambs one year old without blemish...’" (Numbers 29:26)
Here we are, deep into the week-long Feast of Booths. The Israelites are living in temporary shelters, reminding them of their forty years of wandering in the wilderness, and reminding them that they are pilgrims on this earth. But this remembrance is not a somber affair; it is a feast, a time of great joy and celebration of God’s provision. And at the heart of this celebration is sacrifice. Joy and atonement are inextricably linked.
Notice the specific numbers. Nine bulls, two rams, fourteen lambs. The number of bulls has been decreasing by one each day since the feast began. On day one, it was thirteen. On day two, twelve, and so on. This daily reduction is a picture of a debt being paid down, a countdown to a final satisfaction. But the numbers of the rams and lambs remain constant: two and fourteen. Two often speaks of witness and testimony. Fourteen is twice seven, the number of perfection and completion. Every day, the testimony of God's perfect provision is laid on the altar.
But the most crucial descriptor is not the number, but the quality: "without blemish." This was not a command to bring their second-best. They were not to clear out the barn of the lame, the blind, or the sickly. God demands their best. This requirement serves two purposes. First, it teaches the people that holiness is about integrity, wholeness, and perfection. God is perfect, and what is brought to Him must reflect that perfection. Second, and more importantly, it is a prophetic pointer, a type. These unblemished animals were all stand-ins, placeholders for the one truly unblemished sacrifice that was to come. The author of Hebrews tells us that the blood of bulls and goats could never truly take away sin (Heb. 10:4). They were an annual reminder of sin, not a final removal of it. Each perfect lamb pointed to the Lamb of God, who would take away the sin of the world (John 1:29). Peter says we were redeemed not with perishable things, but "with precious blood, as of a lamb unblemished and spotless, the blood of Christ" (1 Pet. 1:19). Every animal that died on that altar was a promissory note, cashed in full at Calvary.
The Prescribed Accompaniments (v. 27)
The sacrifices were not offered alone. They were to be accompanied by specific offerings of grain and wine.
"‘and their grain offering and their drink offerings for the bulls, for the rams and for the lambs, by their number according to the legal judgment...’" (Numbers 29:27)
Worship is not a free-for-all. It is not something we invent based on what feels right or seems meaningful to us. It is regulated by God. He gives the instructions "according to the legal judgment," or as some translations put it, "according to the ordinance." God is particular about how He is to be approached. Cain learned this lesson the hard way. True worship is an act of submission to God's Word.
The grain offering, made of fine flour and oil, represented the dedication of a person's life and labor to God. It was their sustenance, the fruit of their work, offered back to the Giver. The drink offering, or libation of wine, was a symbol of joy and fellowship. When you put it all together, you see a complete picture of redemption. The burnt offering (the bulls, rams, and lambs) represents substitutionary atonement, the animal dying in the sinner's place. The grain offering represents the sanctified life that results from that atonement. And the drink offering represents the joy and communion with God that is restored through it all. This is the gospel in miniature, preached every single day of the feast.
These offerings were presented "by their number." God is a God of detail. He is not sloppy. The amount of flour and oil was specified for each type of animal. This teaches us that our obedience is to be thorough. It is not enough to get the big things right while letting the details slide. Our whole lives, down to the particulars, are to be offered up in service to Him.
The Constant Need for Atonement (v. 28)
Finally, alongside all these offerings of joyful celebration, there is a stark and constant reminder of why they are necessary in the first place.
"‘and one male goat for a sin offering, besides the continual burnt offering and its grain offering and its drink offering.’" (Numbers 29:28)
Every single day, in addition to all the other sacrifices, two things were offered: a "continual burnt offering" (one lamb in the morning, one in the evening, every day of the year) and "one male goat for a sin offering." The continual offering was the baseline of worship, the constant acknowledgment of their covenant relationship with God. But the sin offering was the constant acknowledgment of their covenant failure.
Even in the midst of their highest celebration, the Feast of Booths, they could not escape the reality of their sin. The goat for the sin offering was a daily confession that even their best worship was tainted. Their joyful celebrations were offered by sinful people. Their most sincere acts of obedience were flawed. This is a profoundly humbling reality. There is never a moment when we graduate from our need for a sin offering. There is no level of spiritual maturity that puts us beyond the need for the blood of atonement.
This is why the modern, therapeutic gospel is so vapid and powerless. It wants the joy of the feast without the blood of the goat. It wants communion with God without the confession of sin. But the two are inseparable. The joy of our salvation is so profound precisely because we understand the depth of the sin from which we were saved. The continual burnt offering and the daily sin offering were the bookends of Israel's worship. They were a constant reminder that their entire existence before a holy God was predicated on two things: God's covenant faithfulness and His gracious provision for their unfaithfulness.
Conclusion: The Finished Work
So what are we to do with this? We are not required to offer bulls and goats. To do so would be an insult to the finished work of Jesus Christ. The author of Hebrews is emphatic: Christ offered one sacrifice for sins for all time (Heb. 10:12). The entire sacrificial system, with its glorious monotony and staggering numbers, was a shadow. And when the substance comes, the shadows flee away. Jesus is our unblemished bull, our faithful ram, our perfect lamb, and our sin-bearing goat. He is all of it.
The decreasing number of bulls during the feast pointed to a final payment. Christ declared from the cross, "It is finished." The debt is paid in full. The countdown is over. The constant number of lambs and rams testified to a perfect, ongoing provision. Christ's perfection is eternally sufficient for us. The grain and drink offerings pointed to the life of grateful obedience and joy that we are now free to live. Because of His sacrifice, our lives can be a pleasing aroma to God.
And the daily sin offering reminds us that our only approach to God, every single day, is through the blood of the substitute. We never outgrow the gospel. We never move past our need for the cross. We do not come to God on the basis of our good performance during the feast. We come on the basis of the goat. We come on the basis of Christ, our sin offering.
Therefore, we should not read a passage like this and thank God that we are free from such tedious rituals. We should read it and be overwhelmed by the immense cost of our sin, a cost that was paid daily in symbols, and paid once for all in reality. And this should lead us not to boredom, but to worship. It should lead us to a deep, abiding, and grateful joy that is rooted not in novelty or excitement, but in the steady, constant, and gloriously monotonous grace of God, who provided the Lamb for Himself.