We've got company coming. My mother and father-in-law are about to come round for a meal - so we need to tidy up.

Now our house isn't that bad - we're not exactly candidates for Kim and Aggie from "How Clean is Your House" to come round, but there's something about this visit that sends me into overdrive. So we hoover, we dust, we finally take those bottles to the bottle bank, the covers come off the cushions and into the washing machine; before I know it I'm dusting in places I'd never normally look and only stop when I realise just how late it is and I'm still scrubbing the grouting in the shower. Why should I be cleaning the shower? I don't know! They're only coming round for the afternoon. Everything has to look immaculate for their visit and for some reason I must convince them that I live in a house where dust wouldn't even dare to settle.

Compare then to how I am when my best friend comes round for a meal. She knocks on the door and we welcome her in. She lived with me for five years - she knows I don't live in a palace. So she comes in, plonks herself on the sofa and we start to talk. And for some reason, I don't even think about whether I've dusted the computer table.

Two groups of people, both of whom I love, and yet two radically different expressions regarding what they expect. I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one who does this, so I ask you - which is more honest? Is love and acceptance really dependent on how big a show we put on?

To go to the temple was a big event. To make a sacrifice was a big event. The animals that were to be sacrificed were special: in the reading today we heard that they were the first-born males of the animals that they had. This comes from a command given way back in the book of Exodus. They had to be blemish free and perfect. The sacrifice of the first-born male animal was to symbolise and reflect the killing of the first-born Egyptians, which was the final act that led to their release from slavery. The Hebrew people built this into their rituals

It wasn't just animals that were brought as offerings: they brought the best part of their harvest of fruit and vegetables as well. They even brought wood so that the sacrifice could be burnt. There was effort going into this: they were sacrificing by giving up some of the best things they possessed - their harvest.

And why were they doing it? They knew that they had fallen short of what God expected of them. The laws that Moses had given them were to be observed to the letter, and you can bet that there was no shortage of people telling them where they'd gone wrong. So to make amends - it had to be done publicly - the temple became the place where you showed how sorry you were. Did it perhaps become a competition? Who could bring the grandest sacrifice? Who would put on the biggest show? Going to the temple to sacrifice was the only way you could make amends to God for what you had done wrong - it was the understood way that you said sorry to God. The blood of the animal was spilt and through this you made amends for your wrongdoings. This was the way you made yourself pure. And because as people, we keep getting it wrong - there would always be a need to do it again. Offering a sacrifice was the way you made yourself acceptable to God. Made yourself pure. Giving up something good and blemish-free was the covenant between humanity and God.

But the problem is that there would never be enough. Never be enough calves and sheep, however blemish-free they were.

In Jesus the sacrifice was made complete. A final perfect and blemish-free sacrifice. Instead of the blood of an animal being spilt as an annual offering at the temple to make amends for one family's turbulent year, through shedding the blood of Jesus all of the transgressions were atoned for. For everyone. All that we need to do is to recognise it.

In doing so, in recognising his sacrifice we can realise two important truths:

• We are acceptable.
• We still have to change.

Jesus didn't wait for us to change - he didn't wait for us to be born, but he still paid the price for all our transgressions before we'd even had a chance to go astray. In our hearts we can realise that God did that for us - for the people we are now; and however you view yourself, whatever you think of the person you are today, what you may think of your body or whatever else may be concerning you - you ARE acceptable to God.

The challenge that Jesus gives us continues the idea of sacrifice but through us - Jesus challenges us to become living sacrifices to God. Instead of symbolic piety in a temple, we are challenged to be transformed into the people that God wishes us to be - in all our diversity - to be the best that we possibly can be.

To be pure now is different. Purity is about being untainted - to be the people we are called to be. If you're created as a lesbian, then to be pure is to accept Jesus and get on with being the best lesbian you can be. The same goes for all of us - however we identify: to be people that folk look up to, to be folk who inspire others because of their qualities.

To be a living sacrifice is to put yourself out for other people and to do the right thing - the way you would expect your friend to treat you - to stand by you, not to judge you.

I started today by comparing how I treated two different houseguests: which behaviour would be more appropriate for sharing a meal with Jesus? When we share a meal with Jesus, there's no need to put on heirs and graces. No need to go overboard with pretending we live in a palace. Jesus comes to us and accepts us as we are.

Amen.

(Dan Joseph)

This sermon was first preached in the Metropolitan Community Church of Manchester. Click here for further information.