Rejoice in His Light

[Jason Musgrove] Your last class taught by Mr. Musgrove. I don't know why you're so excited about it.

Now, the truth is, I've only known this class for a few months, so it's shorter than everyone else. So, the thought is I stood probably the best chance of getting through a sermon without tearing up, but we will see. I want to take you back an undisclosed amount of years, back to when I was in college. I wasn't in Bible college. I was studying to be an engineer. So, I studied physics and calculus, and for some reason that time I found the time to read more into God's Word than I ever had before.

See, I went to Mississippi State. Mississippi State, geographically at the time, was really far away from a church area. So, for the first time in my life, I was away from my parents. I was raised in the church. I was away from any brethren, at first at least. So, I had an opportunity to question, what do I actually believe in? See, I don't have to keep the Sabbath. I mean, that could have been what my parents were making me do. I don't have to go to church. I don't have to do all these things that I had been raised to do, but it made me ask some questions. Why was I doing those?

And so, I read. I read and I read, and I read a really thick book from a guy who had passed away 20 years before. Some parts of it were very boring, but in the midst of those books, that book, there was one sentence—one sentence that stood out to me, and I would quote it verbatim, but I just would rather share to you how it made me feel. He said that you have a purpose. It's really simple. I'm sure somebody had told me that by the time I made it to my early 20s, but I can't promise that I heard it.

This book told me that you had a great purpose, that God had a purpose for you. Now, the book also, in telling you about this purpose, told you that you had a choice. You see, you know who else had a purpose? Satan. The Satan. The adversary once had a purpose, and so we have a choice in this purpose—to either follow that purpose, follow God's way of life, or to follow our own way. And so that's where I was in college. I was at this choice between discovering my purpose that God had for me.

Now, I did not know what that meant at the time. I was really sure that it did not mean that I was ever going to become a pastor. That was never going to happen. But it did mean I was going to get baptized when I read that. I sought that day for baptismal counseling. And anybody knows how that goes—it was right in the essay, "See me in a month." But I started that process. I knew that I wanted to be baptized. I knew I wanted to serve God's people the best way that I could. I wanted to edify the church—to build it up, not tear it down.

And, as naive as it was, I knew that I swapped. I was in civil engineering. I wanted to study how the world worked, so I got into environmental engineering. I was an environmental engineer for about 15 years. So I thought that in finishing the world, in finishing God's plan, maybe if I learn how the world works, that I could help in some kind of way. Because, remember, I'm never going to be a pastor.

Let's think about this commitment, this purpose, and let's go to Proverbs 16. Proverbs 16, verse 3, says, "Commit your works to the Lord, and your thoughts will be established" (Proverbs 16:3).

So there's something that we have to do. Even if you're born in the church, you've lived this way of life. It is everything that you've ever known. At some point, God is going to ask you to commit. The word commit here is the Hebrew word galgal. However you might say that. Some of you will probably pronounce it better than a boy from Mississippi. But it means to roll away.

It's kind of interesting. It sounds very similar to Golgotha, the place of the skull, where sins were rolled away. So it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to say, "roll away your works." But in terms here, it means to roll yourself into God's way. You're committing yourself to the Lord, committing yourself to God, and your thoughts will be established.

You'll know that purpose—that desire that I had when I was young, and some of you have now—will be established in what you do. First, you had to make the commitment. You had to make that choice.

So this sermon, as you can tell, will be for the graduates. But the rest of us aren't dead, right? We remember those stones we cast in our youth, that commitment that we made. And let's revive those. Let's ignite those fires. So it's not just for them—it's for all of us. It's to remember those commitments.

It gives us the opportunity to be reminded of that mindset that we had, like I did when we were younger, at the same time. To remember that first love. To renew our goals and motivation, no matter what age we are, no matter where we are in our journey to this purpose that we have.

So I'm going to go back to Numbers. Probably ask any of the ABC students where we are going, but we're going to talk a little bit about the Nazarite vow. It's kind of hard to make a sermon out of the Book of Numbers. You got some begats. You got how much the tribute was paid by each tribe of Israel. But we find something interesting in Numbers, Chapter 6.

This is what we learn about the conditions of the Nazarite vow—a vow made to God. So we're going to read some parts of this, but let's talk a little bit about it. Summarize it, if you will, and then we'll go through it in great detail.

First off, this Nazarite vow—believe it or not—women could take it. It wasn't just for men. Women's vow was a little bit different because a husband or father could disavow her without any punishment, but women could take the Nazarite vow. It was usually for a set amount of time. Sometimes it was lifelong, but we do see that sometimes it was just dedicated for a set amount of time.

Now, why would you take this vow? Well, would you take it because, hey, I'm a weak person? This is my only option that I had, making up for some moral weakness that I may have? Every instance that we see where the Nazarite vow was taken was in thanksgiving. It was being thankful to God. You dedicated a portion of your life—or maybe the rest of your life—to God because you were thankful. Not because you were sad or hurt or needed somewhere to go, but because you were thankful to God.

And a Nazarite comes from the word Nazir, or "to separate" or "keep away from," not to be confused with Nazarene. So some people think that Jesus Christ was a Nazarite, but that just means a resident of Nazareth. We do not see an example of Jesus taking the Nazarite vow. However, Christ and Christians are spiritual Nazarites in a spiritual sense, and we're going to go through that.

So some famous Nazarites were—I'm sure you can name them. I told some of the students, please don't raise your hand, hold your questions to the end because they like to ask Mr. Musgrove difficult questions. Samson took the Nazarite vow. Samuel. Paul may have taken the Nazarite vow—we see in Acts. And then, of course, John the Baptist took the Nazarite vow.

So let's go through some of these conditions of the Nazarite vow and see how they apply to Christians, how they apply to us—our purpose in life. If you are in Numbers 6, we find our first one in verse 4. Well, let's read verses 3 and 4:

"He shall separate himself from wine and similar drink; he shall drink neither vinegar made from wine nor vinegar made from similar drink; neither shall he drink any grape juice nor eat any fresh grapes or raisins. All the days of his separation he shall eat nothing that is produced by the grapevine, from seed to skin" (Numbers 6:3-4).

Now, it’s easy to say, well, that just applies to wine—he shouldn’t be a drunkard. That makes sense. All Christians should follow that. But it’s a little stricter than that. It’s everything from the vine—from seed to skin. Grapes, raisins—all of it.

Why? Why would this condition be placed on the Nazarites? What sense would that make?

Well, what do grapes symbolize? These things from the vine—especially raisins—they symbolize abundance. Indulgence. We see in other places that it talks about avoiding the raisin cakes of the pagans. My question is always, what is a raisin cake? It seems like it’d be pretty easy to avoid. Doesn’t sound that great. But it symbolizes excess. You avoid that excess. You don’t pursue it. You don’t even partake of it.

It’s not bad or wrong to enjoy the good things in life, but they shouldn’t be our focus. The point here is to pursue the things of God—not yourself.

We are approaching the Pentecost season. Pentecost and Passover—these were the harvest festivals. The barley harvest and the wheat harvest. They were the essential harvests for survival. Bread at the time was called meat—it was the staple of the meal.

Then you had the fall harvest. That was the harvest of excess—grapes, fruits. Those are wonderful, but you had to have the first harvest first in order to survive the year. So grapes became a symbol of indulgence.

If you were to take this vow, you’re not called to an easy life. This is a warning—you’re not going to go around just eating grapes all the time. You’re going to face struggles.

Let’s go to James 1. Save your place there in Numbers—we’ll be back.

James 1:12–18 says:

"Blessed is the man who endures temptation; for when he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him. Let no one say when he is tempted, 'I am tempted by God'; for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone. But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed. Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death. Do not be deceived, my beloved brethren. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. Of His own will He brought us forth by the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures" (James 1:12–18).

If we are to fulfill this, we have to avoid those excesses. Avoid putting anything between us and God—even delicious raisin cakes.

Jumping back to Numbers, we see our second condition.

"All the days of the vow of his separation no razor shall come upon his head; until the days are fulfilled for which he separated himself to the Lord, he shall be holy. Then he shall let the locks of the hair of his head grow" (Numbers 6:5).

Now this vow is kind of meddling, right? "My hair is mine. Is God really going to tell me how to grow my hair?" Why would it matter what my hair looks like? "I’ve devoted my whole life to You, and now You’re going to tell me how to cut my hair?"

Well, this became the physical identification of a Nazarite. That’s where we get some of the descriptions and misconceptions of Jesus Christ being a Nazarite—because many depictions show Him with exceedingly long hair. You could identify a Nazarite because they let their hair grow long.

So what does that mean for us today? Are we not supposed to cut our hair? I’m failing at that miserably at the moment. Actually, if you’re an ABC student, you’ve probably been told several times to get a haircut—some of you.

So how does this apply to us?

This is meant to identify us as someone who is avowed to God. You’re not going to look like yourself anymore. You’re not going to look like a member of the world. You're saying: “I want to be different than I was before I made this vow. I’m going to change my hair, my thoughts, my heart—to be directed toward God.”

Let’s go to Romans 12. Still saving your place in Numbers.

"I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service" (Romans 12:1).

So it's no big deal if God tells you how to cut your hair. He tells you how to act, how to be—because you are a sacrifice to Him. Everything you are, you owe to God. You’ve devoted your life to Him. You are that living sacrifice.

God created us. And then through sin, we threw it away. But what happened then? He redeemed us. So are you really going to start setting limits on how much you’re willing to show that love, that devotion to God? He's asking the only reasonable thing of us—which is everything. The point is that we are trying to be transformed into the image of God. And we should be identified by that transformation. Hair, again, is symbolic of a covering. We are subject to the will of God. So hair became a symbol of our willingness to submit to God.

Now, I’m not questioning anybody’s hairstyle—obviously. This is spiritual now. That you spiritually submit to God everything. That’s what’s symbolic here.

Don't turn there, but in the story of Elisha, there's an interesting passage—actually a confusing one. You read it without getting into the depths of Bible study, and you’re left wondering, "What on earth did I just read?" It’s the story of Elisha and the bear. You all know that one.

So forty youths—forty young men, depending on your translation—started taunting Elisha. It’s in 2 Kings 2:23. Don’t turn there—I’m not going to either. I’ll just paraphrase it. Elisha was on his way to Bethel, and these youths began mocking him, saying, "Go up, you old bald head! Go up, you old bald head!" And then a bear comes out and murders the youths. That seems a bit extreme, a little out of place. Harsh, even.

But why? Why would that be in the Bible? What lesson are we meant to take from it?

Well, these young men weren’t just making fun of Elisha’s appearance. They were mocking his identity as a man of God. However his hair looked—whether he was bald or not—we don’t know for sure. But his appearance identified him as a servant of God. So what they were really saying was, “Go away, you man of God. Go away.” That’s why the judgment was so severe. His hair was symbolic of his consecration, and God protected him.

And that’s how it should be with us. We should carry that same visible commitment. We are lights to the world. People should be able to look at us and say, “They’re not of this world. They’re different. They are light.” And we’ll talk more about that in a little bit.

Let’s look at James 4. There are many places we could go, but start with verse 4—it starts out pretty strong:

"Adulterers and adulteresses! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Whoever therefore wants to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God" (James 4:4).

That’s intense. But it's the truth. If you're not following God—if you’re not even looking like someone who’s following God—you’re aligning yourself with the world. And Scripture doesn’t mince words: that makes you an adulterer. Or, for the ladies, an adulteress. Friendship with the world is opposition to God.

So this thing with the haircut in the Nazarite vow? It’s not about haircuts—it’s about holiness. It’s about visibly separating ourselves. Our actions, our conduct, our whole way of life should be holy. Set apart. It’s not just about outward appearance—it’s about our spiritual identity.

Now let’s look at John 15—one more point on this. You’ll recognize this one from Passover readings. 

John 15:18–19: "If the world hates you, you know that it hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you" (John 15:18–19).

That really drives home the point about staying away from those grapes. Life is going to be hard—we're meant to be set apart. The world is going to hate us for it. So what happens in response to that hatred? Do we try to blend in with the world? Try to become part of it? No. We’re called to be set apart from the world. That means we will look different, act different, and be different.

Jumping back to Numbers, verse 6 says, "All the days that he separates himself to the Lord, he shall not go near a dead body. He shall not make himself unclean even for his father or his mother, for his brother or his sister, when they die, because his separation to God is on his head. All the days of his separation he shall be holy to the Lord" (Numbers 6:6–8).

If you took this vow, you couldn’t go near a dead body—not even if it was your father, your mother, your brother, or your sister. That sounds harsh. It’s a lot to ask. But why would God require this of the Nazarites? One answer is that it mirrors the priesthood. Priests were holy and separated, and they too were forbidden from going near the dead while in that role. So when a Nazarite took this vow, they were aspiring to that same holiness. They were asking God to set them apart for His purpose—and God honored that by giving them standards that elevated their calling.

Don't turn there, but an interesting verse I like to think about when I think about this is Mark 12:27. This is when Christ is answering the Sadducees. The Sadducees didn't believe in resurrection from the dead. That's why they were sad, you see. And He tells them that God is not the God of the dead. He's the God of the living. You, therefore,—talking of the Sadducees—are greatly mistaken. So God is not the God of the dead. He's the God of the living.

So He tells those that are vowed to Him to stay away from death—to avoid that. Why? Well, following God—and this is what I get from that from Mark 12—it's not meant to be a macabre existence. It's not supposed to be meaningless. We're not to be sitting in the corner, even though we can't eat raisin cakes, or you're sitting in ashes and hitting ourself on the back and beating ourself up. God is the God of life—a life of endless possibilities, a focus on spiritual life. See, even back here in the Nazarite vow, this is symbolic of resurrection. We're focused on the resurrection.

So those that are dead, they're dead. They're looking forward to the resurrection. But those that are alive—that is what you're focused on. We're focused on life now and life in the future. So they were to stay away from dead things, which is exactly what you and I should be focused on. Now, I'm not telling you to avoid any funerals, but you're supposed to be focused on the Spirit. We're dedicated to God. We have this purpose, and that purpose is to be focused on spiritual things.

Let's look at Romans 8. Romans 8:5–6:

“For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.”

So that is supposed to be us. We're not focused on dead things. We're focused on living—on the life, the promise of an inheritance that God gives us. That is our focus. We're to start concerning ourselves with the things of life. We're called to be holy, called to be spiritual, and called to produce those spiritual fruits.

Back in Numbers, kind of the last aspect of the Nazarite vow we'll talk about, is down in verse 9. Now this is what happens if during your separation, you accidentally—through no fault of your own—you're walking on a road, and somebody dies next to you. Besides having to deal with that psychiatrically, you are to separate yourself again.

So in verse 9 it says:

"If anyone dies very suddenly beside him, and he defiles his consecrated head, he shall shave his head on the day of his cleansing; on the seventh day he shall shave it. Then on the eighth day he shall bring two turtle doves or two young pigeons to the priest, to the door of the tabernacle of meeting. And the priest shall offer one as a sin offering and the other as a burnt offering, and make atonement for him because he sinned in regard to the corpse. And he shall sanctify his head on that same day. He shall consecrate to the Lord the days of his separation, and bring a male lamb of the first year as a trespass offering. But the former days shall be lost because his separation was defiled.” (Numbers 6:9-12)

So the clock starts over.

The point here is sacrifice—that this separation, this vow, this purpose of God requires sacrifice. You see it described there. This runs the whole gamut of sacrifices. There's these offerings to God. They're the same that consecrated the priesthood. So you had to be reconsecrated. And so you and I are called to be sacrifices—we saw before.

Now, we don’t—if we accidentally come in contact with the dead body—we don’t have to reconsecrate ourselves because why? Jesus Christ. We’ll see that pointed out in a minute. But the sacrifice here is you. You are the living sacrifice.

And so, interesting here, continuing in verse 13—what happens at the end of the vow? So you dedicated so much amount of time—these years—to God. You stayed away from dead bodies. You kept your hair long, didn’t cut it. You didn’t eat anything from the vine. What happens at the end of it?

Verse 13 says:

"Now this is the law of the Nazarite: When the days of separation are fulfilled, he shall be brought to the door of the tabernacle of meeting, and he shall present his offering to the Lord..." (Numbers 6:13)

One male lamb—again, describes the offering. One male lamb, and essentially—verse 15—a basket of unleavened bread.

And so you separated yourself. You’ve given this section of your life to God. And now you have to make sacrifices at the end of it? Why? Seems a little bit over the top. Why would God ask for these sacrifices? You just devoted a portion of your life. Your hair? You can’t have the cool hairstyle anymore for a little while? Yourself to God? Why? More sacrifices.

Even after the vow, there had to be more sacrifices in order to understand how much God has done for us. We owe God a few things—as mentioned before—and that is everything.

We are God’s people. We didn’t used to be, but we are now. We will be used to call people today and to work with God—well, God will work through us in the day tomorrow.

And so we do need a sacrifice. If you question that—Jesus Christ lived a perfect life. And what happened at the end of Christ’s perfect life? There was a sacrifice. Our sacrifice was required—not because of Christ—but because of us.

And so this was the lesson. The Nazarites were being taught that sacrifice at the end of this is still required.

So God left us some examples. I could use any of these and put Samson here or Samuel. I’m just going to use one. One found in the story of a man who was called the greatest—and I found it kind of interesting. His name was John before his birth.

Let’s see, if you want to turn to Luke, we’re done with Numbers.

I'm not going to read all about John the Baptist, but he had an interesting story. He had a unique reason why he was a Nazarite.

John’s parents, if you want to read here in Luke, were Zacharias and Elizabeth. Zacharias was a temple priest, and Elizabeth—well, the author of Luke phrases this in a way that men everywhere should probably take note of. In verse 18, Zacharias says to the angel, "How shall I know this? For I am old, and my wife is well advanced in years." He didn’t call her old—just “well advanced.” That’s wisdom right there.

They had accepted their fate of being childless. But while Zacharias’ order was called up to serve in the temple, the angel Gabriel appeared to him and promised him a son—John. Because Zacharias didn’t believe the angel’s message, he was struck mute.

Now, if you think God doesn’t have a sense of humor, imagine this: Zacharias finishes his temple service, goes home to his beautiful, “well advanced in years” wife, and somehow has to communicate—without speaking—that they need to conceive a child. It’s not spelled out in scripture, but that had to be the most awkward game of charades in history. Still, it worked. Elizabeth conceived, and they gave birth to John.

John was born into a meaningful heritage. His father worked in the temple, and it would have made perfect sense for John to follow in his footsteps as a priest. But instead, John was led away from civilization. He ignored his birthright and lived in the desert, waiting. He refused to take on a role or duty before it was time. He waited for God’s timing. That’s a lesson in itself—he remained in a state of perpetual preparation. He grew in the desert and became strong in spirit.

In Luke 1:80, it says just that: "So the child grew and became strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his manifestation to Israel."

In God’s perfect wisdom, He knew exactly the moment to call John into action. And someone—perhaps Gabriel again—came to John and gave him instructions from Almighty God. It’s important to note: John didn’t just invent his own ministry. His last name wasn’t “Baptist” because he thought it sounded cool. He didn’t decide one day to start dunking people in water. Baptism came from God. God taught John to baptize with water for the remission of sin.

And we see over in John, John 1 and verse 33, this was the culmination of what John had been waiting for. He said, I did not know—John 1 and verse 33 said—"I did not know Him, but He who sent me to baptize with water said to me, 'Upon whom you see the Spirit descending and remaining on Him, this is He who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.'" (John 1:33)

So when John was called to act, John's ministry became successful. His faith was rewarded when he fulfilled all righteousness by baptizing the Son of God.

Now, I wanted to talk about John and his dedication to God and God's way of life, because I think it's very interesting what happens in John chapter 5 after John the Baptist passed away. He gets eulogized. Is that right? He has his eulogy given by Jesus Christ Himself.

John chapter 5 and verse 33 says, in verse 33, "You have sent to John, and he has borne witness to the truth. Yet I do not receive testimony from man, but I say these things that you may be saved. He was the burning and shining lamp, and you were willing for a time to rejoice in his light." (John 5:33–35)

That's what Jesus Christ said about John. Aren't we all waiting for Jesus Christ to say that about us? That we were a burning and shining lamp, and that for a little while, for the time that is allotted us, we give off a little bit of light that people can rejoice.

So that is ultimate great greatness that we seek.

Of course, you can't go here without thinking about Matthew 5.

Matthew 5, verses 13 through 16.

Some of you probably have this memorized. It says, "You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot." (Matthew 5:13)

So those that devote their life to God, that find that purpose, the flavor to the world—why would you want to be a flavorless part of the world?

Reading on: "You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." (Matthew 5:14–16)

So I'm wrapping up now, but I wanted to leave the class and everyone here with a little bit of something.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, however you look at it—I've had to say goodbye a lot lately. And so I've had a lot of times to think about parting words, and at least right now in my life, this is what I want to leave you all with.

Leave the class, 2025 class of ABC, with these thoughts.

Now, I don't know how much credit I could take for this. It comes from two of my favorite quotes. However, I just wanted them to rhyme. So now they rhyme in a little short poem. It's entitled:

Only Those Who Dare Brave the Deep Deserve the Peril

Ships are safest in the bay,
 Where gentle waters bid them stay.
 Their hulls unscarred, their sails at rest,
 Cradled where the waves caress.

But that is not what ships are for,
 Not built to idle on the shore.
 Their timbers yearn for salt and spray,
 For winds that call them far away.

Only those that dare the deep,
 Where tempests rage and shadows creep,
 Deserve the peril, earn the fight,
 To chase the stars, to taste the night.

For calm may keep a vessel whole,
 But never will it test the soul.
 So raise the anchor, face the tide,
 And let the inward parts decide.

So to avoid ending a message with my own words, I want to say that change is hard. Change is scary. Change is uncomfortable.

But when Peter knew that he was leaving this world behind, he was leaving the brethren, he knew that they would go through change. Hard change. Apostasy. False prophets.

And he left them with this one final thought, and this is what I'll close with:

He said that even though it is hard, even though you'll go through these things—and how I wish I could go through them with you—he said remember to grow: "in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory both now and forever. Amen." (2 Peter 3:18)