Numbers 6:3–7

Here, however, the primary concern does not appear to be the danger of drunkenness. Even grape juice and fresh or dried grapes were forbidden. So these instructions to the Nazarite must be about something wider: earthly joys. They are allowed in themselves. But the Nazarite gives them up willingly, because he is specially consecrated to God.

Wine clearly has a stimulating effect, and taken to excess it takes away the understanding (Hos. 4:11). A Nazarite drank neither wine nor strong drink as a matter of principle. So nothing could limit his power of judgment — an important point, especially in spiritual matters. This is why Aaron and his sons were not permitted to drink wine when they entered the sanctuary (Lev. 10:8-11).

In the first place, the Nazarite was not to drink wine. The fruit of the vine, in every shape and form, was to him a forbidden thing. Now, wine, as we know, is the apt symbol of earthly joy — the expression of that social enjoyment which the human heart is so fully capable of entering into. From this the Nazarite in the wilderness was carefully to keep himself. With him it was a literal thing. He was not to excite nature by the use of strong drink. All the days of his separation he was called to exercise the strictest abstinence from wine.

Each command has a distinct lesson in it. Wine, in Scripture, symbolises joy (Judges 9:13; Ps. 104:15). The Nazarite must give it up. This world cannot minister to the joy of those who walk with God. Many Christians seem never to learn this. The Nazarite is not without joy. His joys are deeper and purer than this world's vines can offer. The wine of earth may stir and excite the imagination. It can give a thrill of pleasure for the moment. But it can never produce the deep joy that marks the one who walks with God, as Enoch did. "The joy of the LORD is your strength" (Neh. 8:10), but it comes down from heaven. Nothing grown in this cursed world produces it.

It is separation not only from what was defiling, but from what was the best in nature. This does not condemn nature. A Christian should never do that. We must uphold the honour of God in what He created, right to the end. It is always sad when a person weakens what is due to God in anything He has made. Yet there is no reason to deny the power that lifts us above it.

In Mediterranean countries wine is plentiful. Enjoying the fruit of the vine in one form or another was common. So a Nazarite who always refused anything made from the vine must have stood out. But a Nazarite lived for God. He was prepared to give up legitimate earthly pleasures. He viewed life from God's perspective. He looked at things differently from those around him. Whatever got in the way of his consecration had no place in his life.

Verse 3: "Separate himself from wine" — that is, joy. The Lord came expecting to find joy among men. He looked for a response to His love in the hearts of men, but found none. So He was a Nazarite from the first. To be a Nazarite is to be separated from every natural affection that death can touch — to be separated to the Lord... So we are Nazarites too. Our own proper joy lies beyond death. So everything I give up here that has the mark of death is simply giving up what hinders a deeper grasp of the joy and blessing of that life which death cannot touch.

In the Scriptures, wine speaks of earthly joy, and God sought that joy from His earthly people, Israel. In Isaiah 5 God compares Israel to a vine... He had done everything possible. Yet when He came to taste the fruit, there was no wine for Him. He could have no joy in His earthly people.

As we know from Jotham's parable in Judges 9, the olive tree speaks of fatness (Judg. 9:8, 9), the fig tree of sweetness (9:11) and the vine of joy: "Shall I leave my wine that cheers God and men?" (9:13). Wine therefore speaks of joy: for God in the drink offering, and for mankind (Ps. 104:15).

It is not a question of the harm of this, that, or the other. As a rule there was no harm in the vine tree, and nothing wrong with it in itself. But the point is this: if anyone aimed at being a Nazirite, if he wanted this holy separation to the Lord, he had to give up wine and strong drink completely. Others might drink wine; but the Nazirite was not to touch it.

Here, however, the primary concern does not appear to be the danger of drunkenness. Even grape juice and fresh or dried grapes were forbidden. So these instructions to the Nazirite must be about something wider: earthly joys. They are allowed in themselves, but he gives them up freely because he is specially consecrated to God.

Note too that not even certain parts of the fruit are left out of this instruction: "from the seeds to the skins". The skins stand more for the outward appearance, while the seeds show the secret principles behind them. Think here of 1 John 2, where John reduces all that the world has to offer to three principles: "the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life" (1 John 2:16)... The Nazirite avoids not only the outward appearance but also what is worldly at the core.

On the other hand, the phrase shows that the vow only applied for a limited period of time. That time would pass by. The moment would come when the Nazirite was expressly permitted to experience joy (Num. 6:20). For Christians today this period covers their whole life on earth. It is a restricted time, a window of opportunity, so to speak, when we can show that we wish to live for our Lord.

Wine makes merry; it makes glad the heart of man. But Christ had not one feeling in common with a world estranged from God. He could love and pity, but He kept away from all earthly joy and gladness. To Him in whom God was well pleased, nothing here below gave Him enjoyment... This blessed Nazirite walked as God's heavenly stranger through the world.

The vine tree has its roots in the earth. The Nazirite, while under his vow, was to taste nothing made from the vine tree, from the seeds even to the skins. He was to be entirely separate from the pleasures of the world to the Lord. Every believer is a Nazirite, according to the blessed Lord's own vow: "I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom" (Matt. 26:29). Being associated with Him, we are under His vow, and ought to be true Nazirites to God. But this can only be by finding all our joy, delight, and satisfaction in the love of Jesus.

The Nazirite knows that there are a thousand things that can have a negative influence on him, or at least be a distraction for him, although they are harmless in themselves, judged by normal moral standards. This has perhaps never been as true as in our own age of electronic communication. Every subject and every distraction is there, right at our fingertips... But as far as we are ready to give things up for the Lord's sake, we find that He grants us more joy than earthly things could ever give.

It is plain that this was not the ordinary condition of a man. Long hair did not become him, though it is in character with the woman. Long hair is the sign of subjection to another. Subjection is not God's order for the man. He is meant to be the image and glory of God. But in the Nazarite the rule was altogether special. There was a giving up of man's natural rights, of the place of dignity which God gave him in nature.

The long hair of the Nazarite told everyone that he had given up his dignity and personal rights as a man. He did this to devote himself to the service of God. What was glory for the woman was shame for him… Without this dependence there is no service for God and no power for it. What was a sign of weakness for the Nazarite became the source of his strength.

Here again, note, the question is not as to the right or wrong of the case. As a general rule it was right for a man to cut his hair; but it was not right — no, it was altogether wrong — for a Nazarite to do so. This made all the difference. It was quite right for an ordinary man to shave and drink wine. But the Nazarite was not an ordinary man. He was set apart from all that was ordinary, to walk a path of his own.

In our chapter we find the interesting statement: "The consecration of his God is upon his head"… Here, to some extent, the threads meet and the connection becomes clear. Because the Nazarite was separated to God and consecrated to Him, he had let his hair grow. In God's sight that hair had become a sign of his consecration — a crown indeed. This is all the more remarkable since long hair, as such, would have been a dishonour for a male Nazarite.

Hair is the outermost covering of all, over the skin. It is the point where the animal meets the outside world. It is also the point of separation… So the Nazarite let his hair grow long as a token of his separation from everything that would defile. If defilement came in, he had to shave off his hair as a token that he had lost his separation.

Sin has utterly tainted what would otherwise be lovely. But the Nazarite is a picture of Christ in His separation as a man to God. He was without blemish and without spot. Everything that grew up in that Holy One was lovely and acceptable to God… His food was to do the will of Him who sent Him and to finish His work. To have cut off the beautiful hair of the untainted Nazarite would have been to cut off the feelings, interests, thoughts, affections, purposes and acts of Christ. They were all fragrant and precious in the sight of God.

The phrase shows that the vow only applied for a limited period of time. That time would pass. The moment would come when God gave the Nazarite clear permission to experience joy. For Christians today this period covers their entire life on earth… It is a limited time. It is a window of opportunity, so to speak, when we can show that we wish to live for our Lord.

Contact with a corpse caused defilement. We know that death is a result of sin. Romans 6:23 states plainly that death is "the wages of sin." This link between death and sin unlocks the meaning of the third mark of a Nazarite. Contact with sin causes defilement, and that is the deathblow for consecration. Defilement interrupts the enjoyment of fellowship. Without day-to-day fellowship with the Lord — without "abiding in Him" — we can do nothing.

Once the consecration of God rested on a person's head, that great and important fact became the standard and test of all morality. It put him on completely new and unusual ground. He now had to look at everything from a new and unusual point of view. He was no longer to ask what suited him as a man, but what suited him as a Nazarite. So if his dearest friend lay dead beside him, he was not to touch him.

The third mark belongs to man since the fall and is part of his very being: sin, proved by its consequence, death. This was what the Nazarite had to avoid at all cost. Even the strongest ties, family ties, must not count when the question is setting oneself apart for the service of God. How little we understand this! Many Christians say, "Let me first go and bury my father." Others say, "I cannot; my relatives would not allow it." Such are not Nazarites.

For us, defilement comes through contact with moral death. So a dead man stands for someone dead in his sins. It is a very solemn thought for us all. Many live surrounded by relatives who are not converted, and defilement can be picked up so easily… How much, then, we need to be on our guard in our daily dealings, if we want to keep our place of separation and of communion. Let us never forget that all the days of our separation — and for the Christian that means his whole life — we are holy to the Lord.

Contact with a physically dead body does not defile us now. But there are spiritually dead bodies — corrupt religious systems — that insult the holiness of God. He expects believers to keep completely separate from these.

Suppose that by accident, as we say, he was with a man who died suddenly. He lost the whole of his previous period as a Nazarite. He had to begin the days or months or years of his separation again. A mere expression of regret would not do. He was defiled by the dead, and the unbending law of defilement applied. Only after the offering of the sacrifice that removes such defilement could he be fit for God's presence and company.

The reader needs to understand very clearly that this is in no way a question of the soul's salvation, of eternal life, or of the believer's perfect security in Christ… Christianity has two great links. They are closely connected, yet quite distinct: the link of eternal life, and the link of personal communion. Nothing can ever snap the first. The second can snap in a moment, under the weight of a feather.

Concerning contact with the dead, here too it is not a case of literal fulfilment. We also know that He touched the frame on which the widow's dead son was being carried. Yet Numbers 19 states, "anything that the unclean person touches shall be unclean." But seen from the spiritual side, the Lord Jesus was completely separate from death, that is, from sin and its consequences.

In our chapter we find the interesting statement: "The consecration of his God is upon his head." Here the different lines of thought come together and the connection becomes clear. Because the Nazarite separated himself to God and consecrated himself to Him, he let his hair grow. In God's sight that hair became a sign of his consecration — a crown. This is all the more remarkable, since long hair by itself would have been a dishonour for a male Nazarite (1 Cor. 11:14).

Once the consecration of God rested on a person's head, that great and important fact became the standard and test of all morality. It placed him on wholly new and unusual ground. He now had to look at everything from a new point of view. He was no longer to ask what was fitting for a man, but what was fitting for a Nazarite. So if his dearest friend lay dead beside him, he was not to touch him.

The third thing has to do with what belongs to man since the fall and is part of his very being: sin, proved by its consequence, death. This was what the Nazarite had to avoid at all cost. He must not weigh even the strongest ties, those of the family, when it was a question of setting himself apart for the service of God. How little we understand this! Many Christians say: "Let me first go and bury my father." Others say: "I cannot, my relatives would not allow it." Such are not Nazarites.

The ties of nature are right enough, and truly of God in their proper place. But if they are not kept in their place, they are sure to hinder true devotedness… Was ever a son's love so tender as the love that glowed in the heart of the Man Christ Jesus? Was ever obedience to parents so perfect as His? Yet when service made its claims, and the integrity of true Nazariteship had to be held, He could say, "Woman, what does this have to do with me?" And again, "Who is my mother?" Only the true and perfect Servant knew how to adjust conflicting claims and keep each in its place.

Christ made Himself a Nazarite. He did not take His place as a man, or His rights as Son of man. For the glory of God He made Himself completely subject, and He submitted to all that that glory required. He identified Himself with the godly few among the sinful people whom He had loved, and became a stranger to His mother's children… He separated Himself from all the links of human life to devote Himself to the glory and service of God, and to obedience to Him.

Anything that brings us into contact with sin has its effect on our Nazariteship. We lose the power that comes with communion with God, and the special presence of the Spirit with us — however much of that power God had given us. Sadly, we lose the time that went before too; we must begin again. It is great grace that God does not take away all privilege of serving Him… let us always remember that we are under grace.

Christianity has two great links. They are closely connected, but they are quite distinct: the link of eternal life, and the link of personal communion. Nothing can ever break the first. The weight of a feather can break the second in a moment.