“…Thus the priest shall make atonement for them, and they shall be forgiven.”

Leviticus 4:20b

The Law of Moses stipulated five standard offerings for Israel. The burnt offering (Lev. 1) made atonement for the worshiper and symbolized total dedication to God, as the entire animal was consumed on the altar. The grain offering (ch. 2), the only bloodless sacrifice, expressed the worshiper’s desire for God’s favor—it was a “memorial offering.” The peace offering (ch. 3) was a shared meal between the offeror, the priest, and the Lord—symbolizing Israel’s fellowship—or peace—with God. The sin offering (4:1–5:13) and guilt offering (5:14–6:7) both made atonement for sin like the burnt offering. In this article, we’ll focus on the sin offering—its meaning, procedure, and message for us today.

The purpose of the sin offering — The sin offering addressed two primary issues: ritual impurity (e.g., 12:6; 14:19) and unintentional sins (4:2, 13, 22, 27). While ritual impurity was not sinful in itself, uncleanness became a powerful metaphor to the Israelites for sin (see 16:30; 20:3; Ezek. 36:17). Sin makes us feel defiled, and defiled people need purification. David cried out, “Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!” (Psa. 51:2). But sin not only defiled the individual—it also polluted the community and the sanctuary itself. Like a cloud of unholy dust, this defilement clung to everything it touched. The only remedy was the cleansing blood of the sin offering, which purified the worshiper and restored holiness to God’s people and dwelling place.

Directions for the sin offering — In general, the worshiper brought an animal “without blemish” from the herd or flock to the entrance of the tent of meeting, laid their hands on it, and slaughtered it (4:3-4). The priest then carried out the blood rites (5-7) and burned the fat portions on the altar (8-10). In certain cases, birds (5:7-10) or even grain (11-13) could be offered as a substitute for those who were poor.

More specifically, two distinct procedures are outlined: one for the high priest or the entire congregation (4:3-21), and another for leaders or ordinary Israelites (22-35). In the first case, a bull was required; in the latter, an animal from the flock sufficed. The main difference lies in the extent of defilement:

• When the high priest or the congregation sinned, their sin polluted the sanctuary itself, requiring blood to be applied inside the tent, on the veil and the altar of incense. The entire animal was then burned outside the camp (4:12, 21).
• In contrast, when a leader or common person sinned, the blood was applied only to the horns of the bronze altar (which was outside the tent), and only the fat was burned. The remaining meat could then be eaten by the priests (6:24-30).

All sin is serious, but sins of the high priest (Israel’s chief spiritual leader) and corporate sins of the entire nation were so severe that their defiling effects penetrated even to the dwelling place of God, necessitating a greater sacrifice and a deeper level of cleansing.

What are “unintentional sins”? — The sin offering was reserved for “unintentional sins.” Unintentional sins are those committed in ignorance or by mistake—distinct from “high-handed” sins, which are committed in defiant rebellion and for which no sacrifice was provided (Num. 15:30–31). An Israelite might know the law generally but be unaware that they had violated it (cf. Gen. 20:2-7). For example, someone could be ritually unclean without realizing it and still eat from the peace offering—an act that rendered them guilty (Lev. 7:20). A modern parallel might be accidentally driving the wrong way down a one-way street—the driver didn’t mean to break the law, but they are still held responsible.

In some cases, the person may not have known the law at all, but ignorance did not remove guilt. Whether through an honest mistake or lack of knowledge, the violation still occurred. Like modern law, which holds someone accountable for speeding whether or not they saw the sign, God’s law held his people accountable even for unintentional transgressions. The sin offering was God’s gracious provision for cleansing these kinds of sins and restoring the sinner’s standing before him (4:20).

The sin offering emphasizes two important lessons for us today.

The responsibility of leaders — The sin offering highlights the greater accountability of leaders. Both the high priest (4:3-12) and tribal leaders (22-26) bore heightened responsibility, and thus their sins had greater consequences for the community. When the anointed priest sinned, he brought “guilt on the people” (3), illustrating how the sin of one in authority could spiritually compromise the entire nation.

Those in positions of authority have the greatest potential to lead others astray. After Jeroboam introduced idol worship in the northern kingdom, the prophet declared that God would “give Israel up because of the sins of Jeroboam, which he sinned and made Israel to sin” (1 Kgs. 14:16; cf. 12:28-35). On the other hand, Samuel reminded Israel that national blessing depended on both the people and their king walking with God: “If both you and the king who reigns over you will follow the Lord your God, it will be well” (1 Sam. 12:14).

These lessons can easily apply to the church today. To whom much is given, much is required (Lk. 12:48). Captains bear more responsibility than passengers when it comes to the safety of the ship. Likewise, leaders in the church, whether elders or teachers, are to lead by example (1 Tim. 3:1-13; 4:12; Jas. 3:1; 1 Pet. 5:3). The sin offering reminds us that when leaders fall, the effects are widespread—and the need for atonement is urgent.

The character of God — The sin offering reveals both the purity and the mercy of God. Sin is not a private matter—it defiles everything it touches, including people, places, and relationships. Because of the Lord’s holiness, he could not allow such defilement to remain in the midst of his people (15:31). Yet because of his mercy, he provided a means by which that defilement could be removed: the sin offering. Through this offering, the animal’s lifeblood ransomed the sinner from judgment and cleansed the contamination of sin (4:5-7, 14-21). God’s character is consistent: he is both holy and merciful.

At the cross, these two qualities meet in perfect harmony. Jesus’ death is the ultimate sin offering (Rom. 8:3; Heb. 1:3; 13:11-12)—powerful enough to both cleanse and forgive all our sins (Heb. 9:28; 10:10, 12, 14). As John writes, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to purify us from all unrighteousness.” (1 Jn. 1:9)

And the priest shall burn them on the altar as a food offering with a pleasing aroma. All fat is the LORD’s. It shall be a statute forever throughout your generations, in all your dwelling places, that you eat neither fat nor blood.

Leviticus 3:16-17

We’ve been exploring the various sacrificial offerings described in the opening chapters of Leviticus. In chapter 1, we saw that the burnt offering symbolized Israel’s total commitment to the Lord, as the entire animal was consumed by fire on the altar. In chapter 2, the grain offering served as a way for the people to ask God to “remember” them with favor. In both offerings, Israel was instructed to give their very best—the animal for the burnt offering was to be “without blemish,” and the flour for the grain offering was to be “fine flour.” This same theme of honoring God with wholehearted devotion continues in the peace offering, described in chapter 3, but with several unique details.

Directions for the peace offering. Chapter 3 provides instructions for peace offerings from both the herd (i.e., bulls, 1-5) and the flock (i.e., sheep or goats, 6-16). The chapter concludes with a prohibition against eating fat or blood (17), since the peace offering was unique in that it was the only sacrifice from which the worshiper was permitted to eat. The procedure for the peace offering is similar to that of the burnt offering. The worshiper would bring an animal without blemish to the entrance of the tent of meeting, lay his hands on it, and slaughter it (1-2a). From that point, the priests would take over: they would throw the animal’s blood against the sides of the altar (2b), butcher the animal (3-4), and place the designated portions on the altar of burnt offering where it was burned as a “food offering with a pleasing aroma to the Lord” (5).

Uniqueness of the peace offering. While the burnt offering was entirely consumed on the altar, in the peace offering only the “fat portions” were offered to God (3-5). These fatty cuts of meat were considered by ancient Israel to be the very best parts of the animal—like filet mignon today. The remaining meat was divided between the priest (7:31-34) and the offeror (7:15-21) and consumed as a sacrificial meal. Thus the peace offering was a meal—a “food offering” (5, 11, 16)—consumed by three parties: the Lord, the priest, and the offeror. As the name suggests, it was a celebration of peace and fellowship with God.

Significance of the peace offering. In ancient Israel, sharing a meal was not only an act of hospitality (Gen. 18:1-8; 24:32-33, 54), but also a way to honor others, especially by giving them the best portion of the food (43:33-34; 1 Sam. 9:23-24). By offering the fat portions of the peace offering to God, Israel was acknowledging that he deserves the highest honor (Lev. 3:3-4, 16).

In addition, shared meals would confirm a covenant relationship. Today, we seal agreements with signatures or handshakes, but in the ancient world, covenants were often formalized over a meal. For example, when Isaac and Abimelech entered into a covenant, they shared a meal to mark the occasion (Gen. 26:28-30). A similar event took place between Jacob and Laban (31:44-46, 53-54).

This tradition also appears in the establishment of the Mosaic covenant: after God entered into covenant with Israel qt Mount Sinai (Ex. 20-24), Moses, Aaron, Nadab, Abihu, and seventy elders went up the mountain to eat a meal in God's presence: “… [they] went up, and they saw the God of Israel. There was under his feet as it were a pavement of sapphire stone, like the very heaven for clearness. And he did not lay his hand on the chief men of the people of Israel; they beheld God, and ate and drank.” (Ex. 24:9-11)

Eating the peace offering reminded Israel of three important things:

Honor belongs to the Lord — By reserving the very best portions of the animal—the fat—for the Lord, Israel acknowledged that God alone deserves the highest honor. Leviticus 3:16 ends with the statement, “all fat is the Lord’s,” and verse 17 establishes a lasting prohibition against eating fat. This principle was violated by Eli’s sons, Hophni and Phinehas, who took the fat for themselves and "treated the offering of the Lord with contempt.” (1 Sam. 2:12-17) God later rebuked Eli for allowing this abuse: “Why then do you scorn my sacrifices and my offerings that I commanded for my dwelling, and honor your sons above me by fattening yourselves on the choicest parts of every offering of my people Israel?” (1 Sam. 2:29) Their violation showed a failure to give God his due.

Life belongs to the Lord — In addition to not eating fat, Israel was also prohibited from eating blood (Lev. 3:17). The reason for this is not spelled out here but echoes God’s words to Noah. After the flood, humanity was permitted to eat the flesh of animals but forbidden to eat “flesh with its life, that is, its blood.” (Gen. 9:4) Blood represented the animal’s life and thus belonged to God, the Creator and Sustainer of life. This is explained in God’s instructions for the Day of Atonement (Lev. 17:10-12; cf. Deut. 12:23). By abstaining from fat, Israel acknowledged that God deserved all honor. By abstaining from blood, Israel acknowledged that God is sovereign over all life.

Israel belongs the Lord — The peace offering was not only a celebration of fellowship with God, but also a reminder of Israel’s covenant responsibilities. By participating in this sacred meal, the worshiper recalled the blessings that came with being God’s covenant people—and the loyalty, obedience, and faithfulness that covenant required. The peace offering was a joyful moment, but also a sobering one: to sit at God's table was a privilege that came with covenant commitments. Sharing this sacrificial meal with the Lord was a way for Israelites to say, “Thank you, Lord, for redeeming me. I acknowledge that I belong to you—and I will live accordingly.”

These same concepts are present in the Christian’s covenant meal, the Lord’s Supper (cf. Lk. 22:20 and Ex. 24:8). Like the peace offering, the Lord’s Supper serves as a time for Christians to celebrate their redemption won through Christ’s death on the cross (1 Cor. 11:26). And like the peace offering, it is also a time for self-examination (11:28) and for reaffirming our covenant commitment to the Lord and to his church (10:17; cf. 11:20-22). Unlike the peace offering, however, Jesus was the one who offered the sacrifice on our behalf—a self-sacrifice in which his own blood gave us peace with God (Eph. 2:11-22).

He joins us here, He breaks the bread,

The Lord who pours the cup is risen from the dead,

The One we love the most is now our gracious host,

Come take the bread, Come drink the cup, Come share the Lord.

You shall season all your grain offerings with salt. You shall not let the salt of the covenant with your God be missing from your grain offering; with all your offerings you shall offer salt.

Leviticus 2:13

In last week’s article, we looked at the first offering described in the opening chapters of Leviticus—the burnt offering (Lev. 1). This was the most costly sacrifice an Israelite could present to God. Because the entire animal was burned on the altar, unlike some other offerings, it left nothing for the priest or worshiper to eat. The burnt offering symbolized the complete giving of oneself—heart and soul—to God. We see glimmers of the gospel in this text, especially in light of Jesus’ conversation with a certain scribe in Mark 12:28-34.

Now, Leviticus 2 turns to the grain offering. What is this offering all about? The chapter divides into four parts: uncooked grain offerings (1-3); cooked grain offerings (4-10); regulations about ingredients (11-13); and grain offerings presented as firstfruits (14-16).

Burnt offerings and grain offerings. Grain offerings were often presented alongside burnt offerings (14:20; 31:23-12-13), which likely explains why they are listed back to back in Leviticus. These sacrifices were thought of as “food offerings” to the Lord (1:9; 2:2)—not because the Israelites believed that God needed food or grew hungry (Psa. 50:12), but because offering food was an important gesture of honor and respect toward a guest. According to Israelite customs of hospitality, both meat and bread were served to honored guests (Gen. 18:6-7; Jdg. 6:19; 13:15-19)—hence the pairing of the burnt offering (meat) and grain offering (bread) symbolized a complete tribute to the Lord.

How was the grain offering made? Grain offerings could be prepared in one of three ways: uncooked flour (1-3), baked bread (4-10) or roasted grain (14-16). They were always to contain salt (13) and oil (1, 4-7, 15), and sometimes also frankincense (1, 15). The worshiper would bring these elements to the priest (1-2a), who would take them to the altar (6:14). The priest would burn a handful of the elements on the altar of burnt offering—not the incense altar (2, 9, 16)—and the remainder was given to the priests for food (3).

What was the grain offering for? Grain offerings served several purposes. While the burnt (1:4), sin (4:20), and guilt offerings (5:16) were intended to make “atonement” for the worshiper, the grain offering functioned as a “memorial” (אַזְכָּרָה, ʾazkarah) to the Lord (2:2)—a way for the Israelites to ask that God would “remember” them. This did not suggest that God had forgotten them, but rather that he would be mindful of them and extend his favor toward them. As David prayed: “What is man that you are mindful him, and the son of man that you care for him?” (Psa. 8:4; see also Eccl. 12:1 regarding our remembrance of God). The grain offering, then, was a means of seeking God’s grace—whether in praise or in petition (Psa. 20:2-3; Lk. 23:42).

In addition, grain offerings provided a tangible way for Israelites to express their faith and gratitude to God. The offering required fine flour—carefully prepared and of high value—and olive oil. For uncooked grain offerings or those brought as firstfruits, frankincense was also required (1, 15). Frankincense, a fragrant resin from the Boswellia tree of southern Arabia, was expensive—truly a gift fit for royalty (Isa. 60:6; Mt. 2:11). The precise quantities of flour and oil are debated, but conservative estimates suggest roughly 8 cups of flour (Ex. 29:40; Lev. 5:11) and a quarter of a gallon of oil (Ex. 29:40; Num. 15:4). In other words, this was no token gesture—a mere pinch of flour, a teaspoon of oil, and a sprinkle of incense. It was a costly and deliberate sacrifice, one that visibly expressed the worshiper’s devotion, trust, and thankfulness to God.

Like the burnt offering, the grain offering also has several meaningful connections to New Testament themes.

Giving God our best every day. The grain offering required fine flour, olive oil, and costly frankincense—not leftovers, but choice ingredients. Yet, apart from the frankincense, these were common household staples, used in daily life. The offering, then, symbolized whole-person devotion expressed through everyday means. In the same way, our daily lives are to be presented to God as an act of worship (Rom. 12:1). Whether we offer our material resources (2 Cor. 9:7) or ourselves (Mk. 12:30), we are called to give God our very best.

Taking care of each other. We noted that the portion of the grain offering not burned on the altar was given to Aaron and his sons as food (Lev. 7:9-10). The Lord had assigned specific portions of various offerings to the priests as their rightful share (6:17-18; 7:34; Num. 18:8). This provision enabled them to devote themselves fully to their duties in the tabernacle. When this system of support broke down, the worship of God suffered—as seen in Nehemiah’s time (Neh. 13:10–11).

This principle carries over into the New Testament, where the church is called to care for those who labor in preaching and teaching. Paul explicitly applies this pattern to gospel ministers (1 Cor. 9:13–14; Gal. 6:6). In this way, God built into Israel’s worship system a means of sustaining and honoring a vulnerable group—a principle that continues in the life of the church today.

God’s enduring faithfulness. The instructions for the grain offering specify that it must not include yeast or honey (11)—both of which can promote fermentation and, in this context, symbolized corruption and decay. In contrast, every grain offering was to be seasoned with salt, referred to as the “salt of the covenant” (13). Salt, a natural preservative, came to symbolize the enduring and incorruptible nature of God’s covenant faithfulness—his promises would not spoil, fade or be broken. This is echoed elsewhere in Scripture, where God’s promises are described as lasting and unbreakable (Num. 18:19; 2 Chron. 13:5). By adding salt to their offerings, the Israelites were reminded that God’s devotion to them would never fail.

Under the new covenant, this symbolism continues, except the image of salt is applied to us. Jesus tells his disciples, “You are the salt of the earth” (Mt. 5:13), calling us to be his agents of preservation, purity and blessing in a decaying world. Paul likewise urges believers to let their speech be “seasoned with salt” (Col. 4:6), reflecting the grace and truth that characterize those who belong to the eternal covenant in Christ. Just as the salt of the grain offering pointed to God’s enduring faithfulness, so our lives today should reflect the unchanging nature of God’s grace—preserving what is good, proclaiming what is true and living in covenant loyalty to the One who is forever faithful.

If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall offer a male without blemish…And the priest shall burn all of it on the altar, as a burnt offering, a food offering with a pleasing aroma to the LORD.

Leviticus 1:3-9

Leviticus is perhaps one of the most overlooked books in Scripture by Christians today. Its detailed and often perplexing regulations concerning sacrifices and the priesthood can feel alien and irrelevant to modern readers. As a result, we may not approach the book with much interest or we may simply ignore it. However, the book holds many rich treasures that strengthen our faith in Christ. One such treasure is the burnt offering.

Let’s set the stage first. God rescued Israel from slavery in Egypt and entered into a covenant relationship with them at Sinai (Exodus 1-24), then instructed them to build a tabernacle so that he could dwell with them (Exodus 25-40). With the tabernacle finished, the LORD spoke the content of Leviticus to Israel through Moses a month later (Lev. 1:1; cf. Ex. 40:1-2; Num. 1:1). The book provides laws for the nation so that they can be faithful members of God’s kingdom. These laws helped them show their faithfulness in two ways: First, they instructed Israel how to maintain fellowship with the God who dwelt with them. Second, they instructed Israel how to reflect God’s holiness so that they could fulfill their calling to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Ex. 19:4-6). In fact, the Hebrew title of the book is wayyiqra’, which means “and he called.” Our English title “Leviticus” is derived from the Greek Septuagint and means “concerning the Levites.” This title is misleading as the book concerns all of Israel, not just the priesthood. The first section of the book teaches the Israelites how to present five main sacrifices to the LORD: the burnt (1:3-17), grain (2:1-16), peace (3:1-17), sin (4:1-5:13) and guilt offerings (5:14-6:7).

What was the burnt offering? The burnt offering was by far the most costly because the entire animal was burned up on the altar; no portion was left to be given to the priest or shared with the worshiper. The burnt offering goes back to at least Noah’s day (Gen. 8:20). Abel’s sacrifice, though not called a burnt offering, may have been an early form. It checks a few boxes: “Abel also brought of the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions. And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering” (Gen. 4:4). Abel’s sacrifice was taken from the flock (Lev. 1:10), included the fat portion (12) and was accepted by God (“a pleasing aroma to the LORD,13). The ram caught in the thicket on Mt. Moriah which Abraham offered in place of his son Isaac was called a “burnt offering” (Gen. 22:13). Usually burnt offerings were made with an accompanying petition (1 Sam. 7:9-10) or word of praise (Psa. 66:13-15). The aim of the worshiper was to be “accepted before the LORD” (3)—the offerer desired God to hear and grant their request or accept their praise.

How were burnt offerings given? There were three acceptable ways Israelites could offer a burn offering, depending on their financial circumstances: one could make an offering from their herd—the most valuable (3-9)—but offerings from their flock (10-13) and of birds (14-17) were just as acceptable. Mary and Joseph offered birds when dedicating Jesus at the temple (Lk. 2:24; cf. Lev. 12:1-8). Offerings from the herd and flock were to be only males "without blemish” (3, 10), because an animal’s physical defects (22:22-24) would lessen the value of the offering, making it unworthy of the LORD (see Mal. 1:8). The worshiper would lead the animal to the “entrance to the tent of meeting” (3), “lay his hand on the head” so that it was “accepted” on their behalf (4) and slaughter it before the LORD (5a). The priests would then collect the blood, splash it against the sides of the altar (5b), skin and butcher the sacrifice (6), wash its entrails (9a) and burn the entire thing (9b).

What did the burnt offering achieve? It was a costly and bloody ritual that reminded Israelites of their sin in the presence of God. However, it also reminded them of God’s grace. The burnt offering made “atonement” for the worshiper (4). That is, the sacrifice achieved both expiation (the removal of sin) and propitiation (the appeasement of wrath). Sin is a rebellion against a holy and just God; it both corrupts and condemns. God graciously accepted sacrifices like the burnt offering on the sinner’s behalf—the life of the animal in exchange for the life of the worshiper—and purified the worshiper of sin.

But how can Leviticus say such sacrifices “make atonement” when the Hebrew writer explicitly says that “it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (Heb. 10:4)? Perhaps we can make sense of this by thinking of the sacrifice like writing a check—which God accepted but did not cash until Jesus came to pay it in full. God could forgive sin in the Old Testament in view of the ultimate sacrifice that was coming under the New. David understood the limits of the burnt offering and reasoned that all he could do was give the LORD his broken life and trust in his mercy: “For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” (Psa. 50:16-17)

What does the burnt offering mean for Christians? “When Christ came into the world, he said, “Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body have you prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings you have taken no pleasure. Then I said, ‘Behold, I have come to do your will, O God, as it is written of me in the scroll of the book.’” (Heb. 10:5-7) The Hebrew writer, quoting from Psalm 40:6-8, explains that Jesus achieved what burnt offerings only symbolized. He came into the world, took on a flesh and blood body and gave his body as a sacrifice on the cross for us.

The burnt offering, a sacrifice in which the entire animal was consumed with fire on the altar, symbolized the worshiper’s total commitment to God. When asked what was the greatest commandment, Jesus responded with Deuteronomy 6:4-5, to love God with “all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” and to love your neighbor as yourself (Mk. 12:30-31). The scribe who asked Jesus the question responded, “You are right, Teacher… to love him with all the heart and with all the understanding and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, is much more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” (Mk. 12:32-33). This scribe was “not far from the kingdom of God.” He got it—he understood what God desired: our whole self.

Jesus exemplified this total giving of self to God and others in love on the cross. In him, we are purified and redeemed. Our sins are completely atoned for and there is no need for us to offer sacrifices to either appease God’s wrath (propitiation) or plead for his mercy (expiation). Jesus’ sacrifice has done it all (Rom. 3:25; Col. 1:14; 1 Jn. 2:2). Now we are to give ourselves as a “living sacrifice” to God out of love and gratitude (Rom. 12:1-2). A life of such sacrifice would be “a pleasing aroma to the LORD” (Lev. 1:9, 13, 17).

Then Samuel said to Saul, “Why have you disturbed me by bringing me up?” Saul answered, “I am in great distress, for the Philistines are warring against me, and God has turned away from me and answers me no more, either by prophets or by dreams. Therefore I have summoned you to tell me what I shall do.”

1 Samuel 28:15

The account of the witch of Endor in 1 Samuel 28 raises several difficult questions: Was she truly able to summon the dead? Was the spirit that appeared really Samuel? Where did this spirit come from? And since the spirit tells Saul that he and Jonathan will “be with me,” does that suggest Saul was saved or lost?

The text does not provide definitive answers to every question we might ask. We know that the Law of Moses clearly condemned necromancy (Deut. 18:9-12). The Law called such practices abominations—it never claimed they didn’t “work.” We cannot infer from this text whether occult practices are effective or not. Regardless, would we expect the Bible to give saints detailed instructions on how to perform a seance? Clearly the text warns us against ever doing such a thing.

Perhaps your recollection of this story is a little cloudy. Here’s a refresher. Saul’s decision to seek out a medium was the result of a long spiritual and political decline. Over time, he had repeatedly disobeyed God’s commands—most notably by offering unauthorized sacrifices (1 Sam. 13) and by sparing King Agag and the Amalekite spoils (1 Sam. 15). As a result, God rejected Saul as king and withdrew his Spirit from him (16:14). Samuel, God’s prophet and Saul’s means of receiving guidance, distanced himself from Saul and eventually died (25:1).

Meanwhile, David, whom God had chosen to replace Saul, was gaining strength and popularity. By the time of 1 Samuel 28, Saul faced a massive Philistine army and was overwhelmed with fear. He sought guidance from the Lord, but God gave him no answer—neither through dreams, nor prophets, nor the Urim (28:6). Isolated and desperate for direction, Saul turned to the very thing he had once outlawed: he sought a medium to contact Samuel’s spirit. This act of necromancy marked the tragic low point of Saul’s reign, showing how far he had fallen.

Was the spirit that appeared really Samuel, or a demon impersonating him? The text strongly indicates that it was indeed Samuel. The message the spirit delivers (16-19) is entirely consistent with what Samuel had declared during his lifetime (cf. 15:17-19, 22-23, 28). Saul receives no new revelation—only a reiteration of the judgment he already knew. Some scholars suggest that the medium’s startled reaction (28:12) implies she was a fraud and did not expect a genuine encounter with a spirit. Whatever the case, it appears that God allowed a true manifestation of Samuel’s spirit through a forbidden means—not to endorse necromancy, but to confirm Saul’s complete rejection and the certainty of his impending judgment.

Where did the spirit come from? The text says that Samuel was “brought up,” suggesting he came from Sheol, the Old Testament term for the realm of the dead. When Samuel tells Saul that he and his sons will be “with me” the next day (28:19), he is simply stating that they will die and join him in death—he is not making any judgment about Saul’s eternal destiny. Therefore, we cannot determine Saul’s salvation status based on this statement alone.

What does this text teach the church today? To grasp its relevance, we must consider the broader narrative context. The previous chapter (1 Sam. 27) describes David’s moral and spiritual dilemma. Though living among the Philistines and serving as a mercenary under King Achish, David was secretly attacking Israel’s enemies—not Israel itself. But in 1 Samuel 28:1-2, the Philistines prepare to march against Israel, and David appears trapped. He cannot fight against his own people, yet his position with the Philistines is precarious. When told he will march with the Philistines against Israel, David replies enigmatically, “Very well, you shall know what your servant can do.” (28:2)

At this critical moment, the narrative abruptly shifts from David to Saul and his desperate visit to the medium at Endor (1 Sam. 28:3ff), the night before the battle. The author is intentionally placing these two crises side by side, inviting a comparison. David is among the Philistines but God is with him. Saul is facing the Philistines yet with no guidance from the Lord. As 1 Samuel 28:6 (also v. 15) states, “And when Saul inquired of the Lord, the Lord did not answer him, either by dreams, or by Urim, or by prophets.” The two stories press the question upon us: whose sandals would we rather be in?

Saul’s greatest problem was not the Philistines—it was the silence of God. He stood on the eve of battle completely cut off from divine counsel. This contrast drives home a sobering truth: it is far worse to face life’s battles without the word of God than to be surrounded by enemies but still walking with him. For saints today, this passage warns us of the danger of drifting from God to the point that we no longer hear his voice in Scripture—and it reminds us that the presence of God is our greatest security, no matter how dire the situation.

Don’t get sidetracked by questions about whether necromancy works or whether Saul was saved. A.W. Tozer once said when asked whether Demas (2 Tim. 4:10) was ultimately saved or lost, “All I can say is that the last time we see Demas, he was walking in the wrong direction.” The same can be said of Saul. The final image we have is him walking into the night, cut off from God and his word (28:25). That should unsettle us. Fear doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, especially if it causes us to turn around and start heading in the right direction.