When we open to Deuteronomy 14, it is tempting to skim quickly. It reads like a list, a series of dietary restrictions on what Israel could and could not eat. To the casual eye, these are mere regulations, rules for ancient Israel’s health or cultural identity. But Scripture is never shallow, never accidental. Behind every command lies a revelation of the mind of God, and in Deuteronomy 14, we are given not just laws about food but a living parable written into the very fabric of creation. God was teaching Israel to discern, to see the world through His eyes, to understand holiness not as something abstract but as something embodied, something lived out in daily bread and daily choices.

Notice how the chapter begins: “You are the children of the Lord your God” (Deut. 14:1). God always begins with identity. Before He tells His people what they must do, He reminds them who they are. He does not say, “If you keep these laws, then you will be My children.” No. He says, “You are already My children. Therefore live as My children.” Holiness flows out of belonging, not the other way around. This is the same pattern we see in Exodus 20: God delivered Israel out of Egypt before giving them the Ten Commandments. Grace precedes obedience. In the New Testament, it is the same: John 1:12 declares, “To all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.” And Paul reminds us in Ephesians 2 that salvation is by grace through faith, not of works, but once saved, we are created for good works. Identity first, conduct flows after.

So, when God tells Israel, “You shall not eat any abomination” (Deut. 14:3), He is not giving them arbitrary health tips. He is training His children in discernment. The word “abomination” in Hebrew is tōʿēvah, the same word used for idolatry, for sexual perversion, for dishonest business practices. In other words, what Israel ate was not neutral. It was participation. Every bite of food was an act of worship or an act of corruption. This is why Paul later writes in 1 Corinthians 10:31, “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” Eating and drinking are never just eating and drinking. They are pictures of the soul’s diet, the spirit’s appetite.

Now God turns to the animals. Some are clean, some unclean. The distinction is not random. Animals fit for food must chew the cud and have divided hooves. Here, creation itself becomes a parable. Chewing the cud is slow, thoughtful, deliberate. The animal takes in food, digests, brings it up again, chews it over. That is meditation. That is Psalm 1:2 “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night.” To chew the cud is to do more than glance at Scripture; it is to internalize it, to let it nourish you deeply, to turn it over in your heart until it becomes part of you.

But cud-chewing alone is not enough. The animal must also have divided hooves. The hoof speaks of walking, of the path one takes. A divided hoof pictures separation, the ability to distinguish between holy and profane, clean and unclean, right and wrong. This is discernment lived out. It is James 1:22: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.” It is 2 Corinthians 6:17: “Come out from among them and be separate, says the Lord.” True holiness requires both, an inward digestion of truth and an outward walk of obedience.

Some animals had one trait but not the other. The camel chewed the cud but lacked the hoof. That is a picture of knowledge without separation, people who study, reflect, perhaps even delight in the Word, but their walk remains entangled with the world. Then there is the pig. The pig had the hoof but did not chew the cud. Outwardly it looked right, the appearance of separation, but inwardly it lacked reflection. That is hypocrisy. Outward holiness without inward transformation. Jesus said to the Pharisees in Matthew 23:27, “You are like whitewashed tombs, which outwardly appear beautiful, but within are full of dead people’s bones.” The pig is a living symbol of that danger, the form of holiness without the substance.

Is it any wonder then, that when Jesus encounters the demoniac in Mark 5 and Luke 8, He casts the legion of demons into a herd of swine? Pigs, unclean by law, became vessels for unclean spirits. Why pigs? Because the pig embodies the essence of the demonic: knowing the truth but never submitting to it. James 2:19 reminds us that even the demons believe, they know who Jesus is, but they do not obey, they do not “chew the cud.” They have outward acknowledgment but no inward transformation. The swine rushing into the sea becomes a parable of destruction: outward separation is nothing without inward renewal.

Jesus crosses the Sea of Galilee and steps into the region of the Gerasenes (Mark 5:1–20; Luke 8:26–39). Immediately He is confronted by a man possessed by many demons. This man lives among the tombs, a place of death and uncleanness. He is violent, uncontrollable, breaking chains, crying out night and day, cutting himself with stones. He is the picture of disorder, the opposite of God’s creation order. Everything about him is unclean, unclean spirits, unclean dwelling place, unclean actions.

When Jesus approaches, the demons recognize Him instantly: “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” (Mark 5:7). Notice they confess His identity correctly. They know exactly who He is. This is what James 2:19 means when it says, “Even the demons believe, and shudder.” Demons are not atheists. They know God is real. They know Jesus is the Son of God. But they do not bow in obedience. They acknowledge outwardly, but their hearts remain rebellious. They “have the hoof” but never “chew the cud.”

When Jesus commands them to leave, they beg Him not to send them into the abyss but instead into a herd of pigs nearby. Now, remember the context: pigs were unclean animals by law (Deut. 14:8). For Jewish readers, this is immediately significant. The very animals that symbolize outward separation without inward holiness become the hosts for spirits that know the truth but refuse to live in it. In other words, pigs are the perfect picture of the demonic.

Jesus grants their request, and the unclean spirits enter the swine. Instantly, about two thousand pigs rush down a steep bank into the sea and drown. This is not a random detail, it is a living parable. Just as the dietary laws of Deuteronomy taught that outward form without inward transformation is unclean, so here the pigs embody what happens to all who know the truth but reject it: destruction. Outward separation (the hoof) means nothing without inward reflection (the cud). Without true holiness, the end is ruin.

Even the sea itself carries symbolic weight. In Scripture, the sea often represents chaos, evil, and judgment. In the days of Noah, waters covered the earth in judgment. In Revelation, the beast rises out of the sea (Rev. 13:1). To see the herd of swine plunge into the waters is to see a prophetic picture: the destiny of all unclean spirits and all false holiness is destruction in the abyss. Outward forms cannot save from inward corruption.

And notice the contrast. The man who had been tormented is sitting clothed and in his right mind at the feet of Jesus (Mark 5:15). He becomes the picture of what God intended all along. He is no longer unclean, no longer enslaved, no longer driven by chaos. He is restored, inwardly and outwardly, through Christ. The pigs, however, are destroyed. Here we see the two outcomes: those who submit to Christ find renewal; those who resist, like the swine and the demons, rush headlong into destruction.

Even more, this event reveals Jesus’ absolute authority over both the spiritual and the symbolic. By sending demons into pigs, He is not just casting out spirits; He is declaring the fulfillment of Deuteronomy’s teaching. The laws about clean and unclean animals were always pointing to Him. And now, in this dramatic scene, He shows that uncleanness without transformation is doomed. The swine rushing into the sea is the law’s parable come to life.

And yet, the story doesn’t end there. The people of the region, when they see what has happened, beg Jesus to leave. Think about that: they preferred their pigs over deliverance. They saw a man restored, demons defeated, the power of God revealed, but they also saw their livelihood drowned in the sea. They chose economic comfort over the presence of Christ. How many today still make that same choice?

But the man who was delivered begs to go with Jesus. Instead, Jesus tells him: “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you” (Mark 5:19). And he does. He becomes the first missionary in that Gentile region, proclaiming Christ where others rejected Him.

So, in this one story, we see the entire theology of discernment in motion:

• Demons = knowledge without obedience.

• Pigs = outward separation without inward reflection.

• The sea = final judgment and destruction.

• The healed man = the true goal of God’s law, transformation and restoration in Christ.

• The people of the region = the warning against preferring comfort over holiness.

• The missionary commission = the call to spread God’s work after experiencing His power.

And when you connect it back to Deuteronomy 14, the brilliance of God’s teaching shines. For centuries, pigs had stood as symbols of what was unclean. And here, in this moment, Jesus shows us exactly why: because they embody the very essence of false holiness, the form without the substance, the knowledge without obedience, the outward without the inward. And their fate shows us what awaits all that is unclean apart from Christ.

The pattern continues with fish. Clean fish must have fins and scales. Fins give direction, the ability to move forward with purpose. Scales provide covering and protection, a natural armor. Without both, the fish drifts aimlessly or lies exposed. Spiritually, fins picture perseverance, pressing toward the goal, as Paul says in Philippians 3:14. Scales picture discipline, the armor of God, the protection of righteousness, as in Ephesians 6:11. A fish without fins or scales is a soul without discernment, carried by currents, defenseless against corruption. Paul warns in Ephesians 4:14 of those “tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine.” The very design of a fish preaches a sermon.

The birds tell the same story. Israel could eat birds that fed on grain and life, but not birds of prey or scavengers. Why? Because vultures and ravens feed on death and decay. God’s people were not to live on corruption, not to fill their souls with what is rotting. Proverbs 4:23 says, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” What you consume, spiritually and physically, will shape you. Jesus said in John 6:63, “The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” We were never meant to feed on carrion when the bread of life is offered.

All of this builds to a larger truth: Israel was to be a holy nation. They were to embody discernment in every part of life. Lev. 20:26 says, “You shall be holy to me, for I the Lord am holy and have separated you from the peoples, that you should be mine.” And Peter echoes it in the New Testament: “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation” (1 Peter 2:9). Every meal became an act of remembrance. Every bite was a reminder: we belong to God, we are set apart.

And yet, when Christ came, He declared all foods clean (Mark 7:19). Did this mean the lessons of Deuteronomy 14 were void? Not at all. The shadow passed because the substance had arrived. The dietary laws were training wheels, teaching discernment through creation. But in Christ, holiness is not about what enters the mouth, but what flows from the heart. In Him, we have the reality the symbols pointed toward. The Spirit now writes discernment on our hearts, fulfilling what Deuteronomy foreshadowed.

When Jesus declared all foods clean, He was not erasing Deuteronomy 14 as if it had been meaningless. Instead, He was showing that the purpose of those laws had been fulfilled in Him. Think of it this way: the Old Testament dietary laws were shadows; Jesus is the substance. Hebrews 10:1 says, “The law is only a shadow of the good things to come, not the realities themselves.” Shadows are not false, they are real indicators, but they point to something greater.

So what was the purpose of those Old Testament food laws? It was never simply about nutrition or health (though there may have been some health benefits). It was primarily about teaching holiness and discernment through physical symbols. God was training His people to recognize the difference between clean and unclean, holy and unholy, life and death. He was drilling into them the habit of discernment, making holiness part of their daily rhythm, every meal, every bite, every decision.

But here’s the key: those outward lessons were always meant to point to an inward reality. Jesus makes this clear in Matthew 15:11 “It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person.” Food laws dealt with externals, but sin is an internal problem. You can avoid pork all your life and still be filled with pride, lust, envy, or hatred. The law could point to the problem, but it could not fix it.

That’s where Jesus comes in. When He declares all foods clean, He is not saying, “Ignore Deuteronomy 14.” He is saying, “The lesson has been taught. The training wheels can come off. I am the fulfillment of what the law was always pointing toward.” Just as the sacrificial system pointed to His sacrifice on the cross, the food laws pointed to the holiness He would bring to His people through the Spirit.

Paul explains this beautifully in Colossians 2:16–17: “Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink… These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ.” The shadow had value, but now that the substance is here, the shadow is no longer needed in the same way.

So, why the change? The change is not in God’s holiness. That never changes. The change is in the stage of God’s plan. In the Old Testament, God was raising up a holy nation from among the nations. He gave them tangible laws to keep them distinct and to train them in discernment. In the New Testament, Christ fulfills those laws and then extends holiness to all nations through His Spirit.

In Ezekiel 36:26–27, God promised: “I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you… And I will put My Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes.” That promise is fulfilled in Christ. Instead of holiness being marked by external rules like what you eat, what you touch, where you walk, holiness is now an internal reality empowered by the Holy Spirit.

So when someone asks, “Why don’t Christians follow the Old Testament dietary laws?” the answer is not, “Because we don’t care about the Old Testament.” The answer is: “Because those laws pointed to Christ, and in Him the deeper reality has arrived.” We are still called to holiness, still called to discernment, but now it is not about what goes into the stomach, but what flows out of the heart.

Think of it like a child learning to write. At first, the child uses lined paper with big guidelines. Those lines are not permanent; they are tools to teach the child how to form letters properly. Once the child matures, they no longer need the guide lines, because the skill has been internalized. Were the lines pointless? No, they served their purpose. But once their purpose is fulfilled, they are no longer binding.

That’s exactly how the Old Testament food laws work. They were training lines, teaching discernment, holiness, and obedience. But now, through Christ, the Spirit has written holiness on our hearts. As Paul says in Romans 14:17, “The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.”

So no, Deuteronomy 14 is not void. It is fulfilled. Its lessons are eternal, even if its rituals are not binding. And that is the beauty of God’s Word; what began as a law about food becomes, in Christ, a revelation about the heart, the Spirit, and the true meaning of holiness.

So what do we learn from this chapter? That God teaches through patterns. That creation itself is a classroom. That holiness is both inward and outward, both meditation and walking. That hypocrisy is the danger of the pig; outward separation without inward reflection. That true discernment is learning to see as God sees, to consume what is life-giving, to walk distinctly, to guard our hearts, to let our identity as God’s children define everything we do.

The world says holiness is restrictive. But in Deuteronomy 14, holiness is revelation. It is God saying: “I made the world with meaning. Every hoof, every fish scale, every feather speaks of Me. Learn to read creation, and you will see My wisdom woven everywhere.”

That is the essence of discernment: to recognize the voice of God not only in Scripture but in the very order of creation, to see holiness not as a burden but as the beautiful pattern of life that aligns us with the Creator’s mind. And once you begin to see it, you realize nothing in the Bible is shallow. Every law, every word, every detail carries the fingerprint of God, inviting us to meditate, to walk, to separate, to live as children of the Lord our God.