Let’s step softly into this, like we’re entering the Holy Place, candles flickering, incense rising, everything still. You ask the most sacred question someone can ask in this age, “How can I sacrifice to Adonai, now, from where I am?” That question alone is an offering, you know. In Hebrew, korban (קָרְבָּן, sacrifice) and its root karav (קָרַב, to draw near) mean that the question isn’t what you can give up, but how you can get close. And just by asking, you’re already near.
The first place we see offerings in Scripture is long before Sinai, long before Moses, even before the priesthood. Cain and Abel brought offerings in Genesis 4. No Temple, no Tabernacle. Just human hearts deciding to bring something of themselves to God. And that is key, because the offerings God desires have always been more about heart than ritual. When He accepted Abel’s gift, it wasn’t just the lamb, it was the intent. The Hebrew says God “looked with favor toward Abel and his offering,” meaning He saw the person first, then the gift. That hasn’t changed. He still sees you first.
When the Tabernacle was built, God gave instructions in Exodus 25. He said, “Speak to the children of Israel, that they bring Me an offering, from every man whose heart moves him you shall take My offering.” That phrase, “whose heart moves him,” is the core. That’s the beginning of a holy sacrifice, not blood, not gold, not bulls. It is a moved heart, a willing heart, a trembling desire to bless Him that marks the start of every holy offering.
In Temple days, sacrifices were categorized: olah (עֹלָה, burnt offering), chatat (חַטָּאת, sin offering), asham (אָשָׁם, guilt offering), shelamim (שְׁלָמִים, peace offering), todah (תוֹדָה, thanksgiving offering). Each one had a different purpose. Let’s think on the olah for a moment. That’s the burnt offering, fully consumed, nothing held back. That’s what Romans 12:1 echoes when Paul writes, “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” That verse is full of Torah, almost singing. “Present” is priest language. “Living sacrifice” is the inverse of the olah, fully consumed but alive. And here’s the miracle: your whole self, in every day, becomes that offering. Your tired hands, your whispered prayers, your quiet yes in the face of struggle. That’s the smoke rising from the altar.
And what about peace offerings, the shelamim? That was the only offering where the worshiper ate part of it. It was intimate. It meant, “I have peace with God, and I want to celebrate with Him.” Now when you sit in your room and praise Him out loud for no reason but His goodness, you’re reenacting that. You are the priest and the worshiper. You’re sitting at the table of shelamim.
David said something in Psalm 141:2 that draws all of this together, “Let my prayer be set before You like incense, the lifting of my hands like the evening sacrifice.” He wasn’t in the Temple when he wrote that. He was likely on the run or in exile. But his prayers became incense, and his raised hands became offerings. So what do you do now when you lift your hands at home, when no one sees, and you say, “Baruch Atah Adonai” (בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהוָה, Blessed are You, Lord) in the quiet? You are doing the very thing the priests did. Your prayers are more potent than ever. Revelation 5:8 says they are collected in golden bowls in Heaven. That means Heaven treats your prayers as treasures. They never fall. They are held.
And don’t forget the todah, the thanksgiving offering. It was a voluntary sacrifice to say, “Thank You for bringing me through.” Psalm 50:23 says, “Whoever offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving honors Me, and to him who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God.” When you say thank You, when you sit with pain or limitation and still say, “You are good,” you’re offering todah straight to the Throne. Not just words, fire.
When the Temple was destroyed, many mourned that the sacrifices ended. But listen to Hosea 14:2: “Take words with you and return to the LORD. Say to Him, ‘Forgive all our sins and receive us graciously, that we may offer the fruit of our lips.’” The “fruit of our lips,” our speech, praise, truth, is now our offering. Not just because there’s no altar, but because our mouths became the altar. That’s why Hebrews 13:15 says, “Through Yeshua, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise, the fruit of lips that confess His name.” That’s korban in its purest form.
And then comes the secret of your season. The world calls it aging. God calls it ripening. Anna the prophetess in Luke 2 was a widow, elderly, confined to the Temple courts. But she fasted, prayed, and worshiped, and became the first to publicly declare Messiah in the Temple. She wasn’t cast aside. She was elevated. That wasn’t retirement. That was priesthood. That was fire on the altar.
You live now in your own mikdash me’at (מִקְדָּשׁ מְעַט, little sanctuary). Ezekiel 11:16 says God Himself promised this to those who couldn’t return to the Temple, “I will be to them a little sanctuary in the lands where they have gone.” That’s your house now, your chair, your kitchen. When you whisper prayers while folding laundry, anoint your doorway, or speak Scripture aloud, you are standing in your own Holy of Holies. You are a vessel holding sacred fire.
You can offer the sacrifice of intercession, praying for others when they don’t even know. That’s priestly. You can offer the sacrifice of stillness, letting your body rest in Him when it aches. That’s trust. You can offer the sacrifice of gratitude for daily manna: breath, a soft morning, a Word that lands on your spirit and lingers.
And when you give encouragement to others, just a word, a line of truth, a verse spoken, you are sharing your spiritual bread, and that too is a sacrifice. Hebrews 13:16 says, “Do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.”
So you want to know how to sacrifice today? At your age, young or old, with no car, right from your chair, in your own home? You don’t have to leave.
You offer yourself. That’s the truest offering there ever was. The one God recognizes first.
You speak truth. You lift praise. You give what only you can give.
You lay your day down and say, “Use it, Lord.”
You let your limitations become your altar.
And from there, you burn incense no one else sees, but Heaven does.
The bowls are filling. The fire never goes out. And the presence of Adonai is with you, always.
Shalom, Shalom.
If this message blessed you, please leave a comment. I would love to hear from you. Todah.
image done by ai at my direction.
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