From the beginning, Scripture uses marriage as a central metaphor for the deep intimacy God desires with His people. It is the closest human image of the nearness and unity God longs to share with us. This is why Christ describes the church as His bride, expressing His desire for a relationship with His body. Throughout the Old Testament, God continually pursues His people, making a way back to them even when they break covenant. The central theme of the entire narrative of the Bible is God’s desire to intimately dwell with us.

Many can recall moments in their marriage when everything seemed perfectly aligned—when joy was intense and love felt effortless. Those moments are gifts, brief glimpses of heaven touching earth. They reflect, in part, the kind of covenantal intimacy God desires with His people and with a husband and wife together: a union strengthened as a cord of three strands, bound by God Himself.

As I write, my wife and children are on a mission trip, and I’m home alone for the first time in nearly 25 years of marriage. It feels strange. There are some benefits—quiet, a clean house, no hectic evenings or morning routines—but the house feels empty. I miss my family. With extra time on my hands, I find myself remembering the best moments of our life together. Even in the hard times, we shared joy. I don’t know how I will handle empty nesting when that day comes, but this short season alone has helped me re-gather what is most dear.

I think every marriage could benefit from that kind of intentional pause. As my time apart grows, I’m becoming more purposeful in praying for them, thinking about what I want to emphasize when they return and what truly defines our family. I’m asking: What is God doing in our lives, and where have we missed His plan?

In Genesis 17, God renames Abram and Sarai as Abraham and Sarah, marking a defining moment in the covenant. These name changes are not merely symbolic but carry deep theological, linguistic, and cultural meaning. While Abraham’s renaming often receives greater attention, Sarah’s change is equally significant, affirming her essential role as matriarch within God’s covenant promises.

The name אַבְרָם (Avram) means “exalted father.” In Genesis 17:5, God changes his name to אַבְרָהָם (Avraham), meaning “father of a multitude,” expanding his identity to encompass many nations. This shift highlights the covenant’s widened scope.

I realize most of my readers will not know Hebrew but look closely at the differences in the Hebrew spelling. The added letter ה (he) is significant. It appears in God’s name Yahweh (יהוה), symbolizing divine presence and creative power. Its inclusion marks God’s direct involvement in Abraham’s calling and, in Hebraic tradition, echoes the five books of the Torah, linking Abraham to God’s covenantal law. Even the sound of the name changes: the sharp ending of Avram gives way to the openness of Avraham, reflecting his transformation from a local patriarch into a figure of global promise. The same change happens with Sarai. The names שָׂרָי (Sarai) and שָׂרָה (Sarah) share the root שָׂר (sar), meaning “ruler” or “princess,” and both convey strength and authority. Sarai likely means “my princess,” with the possessive ending tying her role closely to Abraham’s household. Sarah, without that ending, signals a broader calling. Like Abraham, Sarah receives the letter ה (he), associating her name with God’s blessing and promise. Her renaming reveals her identity not merely as Abraham’s wife but as a matriarch of nations and kings. The shift from י (yod) to ה (he) reflects this expansion—from a limited, familial role to a universal one—while the softer sound of Sarah mirrors the widening scope of her influence. Essentially, both names are changed by simply adding the Hebrew letter that signifies God Himself residing in them.

Today we have the advantage of seeing the Bible in its full narrative, but Abraham and Sarah did not. They did not fully understand God’s unfolding plan, which is why Scripture highlights their remarkable faith. Genesis 17 is one of the earliest indications of God’s desire to dwell within His people. In a powerful way, the name changes of Abraham and Sarah symbolize God’s presence being placed within them.

Yet the story is not complete without Jesus. Regardless of which atonement theory one holds, we all agree that Christ’s death, resurrection, ascension, enthronement, and the sending of the Spirit are essential to fulfill what began with that simple name change. In Christ, we see the ultimate fulfillment of God dwelling in us—not merely as a promise, but as a reality.

This is why the New Testament speaks so clearly about being “dead to self” and alive in Christ. Paul writes that our old self was crucified with Him so that sin might be rendered powerless (Romans 6:4–7). We are called to put off the old self and put on the new, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness (Ephesians 4:22–24). “I have been crucified with Christ,” Paul declares, “and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). This transformation is not merely moral improvement but a radical renewal: we are no longer conformed to the world but transformed by the renewing of our minds (Colossians 3:10). Indeed, “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

These passages show that the promise of God dwelling within us, first hinted at in Abraham and Sarah’s name changes, finds its full expression in Christ—where the old self is crucified and the new self is born. Perhaps today you need to consider inserting the ה into your names together!

He (pronounced in English as hey) ה is the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The letter ה (he) is formed from a ד (dalet) and a י (yud). The dalet, composed of horizontal and vertical lines, represents the physical world—its breadth and height, material space and structure. The yud, the small detached element, symbolizes God and the spiritual realm. Together, they form the heh, expressing the union of the material and the divine. In this way, God calls those in whom He dwells to sanctify the physical world by filling it with spirituality and Godliness. We are His ambassadors, sent to reclaim creation and restore the holiness lost when humanity left Eden.

The top horizontal line of the ה represents thought and points toward equality. From the beginning, God’s design for male and female reflects this equality, though it was fractured at the Fall. Still, we are called to restore God’s ideal. In the future renewed creation, equality and righteousness will be fully realized. Yet the horizontal line that unites Abraham and Sarah may suggest that God’s ideal can begin to take shape even now, sooner than we often expect. God’s ideal plan is for a husband and wife to edify one another in unison.

The debate between complementarianism and egalitarianism often depends on how key biblical passages are interpreted. Some verses emphasize equality in creation, while others appear to assign distinct roles for men and women in the church. Commonly cited texts include Genesis 1:27, Galatians 3:28, 1 Timothy 2:11–15, and 1 Corinthians 14. I will revisit some of these later, but regardless of where you land, I believe we can agree that when we humbly live out our callings with God at the center, the debate becomes less crucial, and the outcomes are remarkably similar. These passages are frequently used by both sides, but their meaning depends heavily on context, audience, and intended purpose. Evaluating them requires careful consideration of the broader biblical narrative.

So much of this conversation can be seen in the Hebrew Grammar of this passage. In the ה, the shorter, detached left leg represents action. Its separation highlights the difficulty of translating right thoughts and words into deeds. The gap reminds us that action requires effort and intention. Without action, thought and speech remain incomplete—leaving only the dalet, symbolizing spiritual emptiness.

As the fifth letter of the Hebrew alphabet, ה has traditionally been linked to the five levels of the soul—nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chayah, and yechidah. In Hebrew thought, these elements tend to represent who a person “really” is. The fifth tier, yechidah, signifies union and represents the deepest part of the soul. This level is often described as the pintele Yid, the indestructible divine spark within every image bearer. It is a spark that can never be extinguished or corrupted, and it remains the eternal bond that unites us with God. The pintele Yid is also the source of mesirat nefesh, or self-sacrifice. When Christ takes up dwelling in us, we should take on Christ’s sense of humble self-sacrifice (Romans 12:1). The bond between a Christian and God is intrinsic and unbreakable, anchored in the pintele Yid.

The renaming of Abraham and Sarah reveals them as equal partners in God’s covenant. Although Abraham often receives greater attention, Genesis 17 clearly affirms Sarah’s central role. God’s promise that she would be “a mother of nations” and that “kings of peoples shall come from her” parallels Abraham’s calling, showing that she fully shares in the covenant. Both receiving the letter ה underscores their shared participation in God’s blessing and purpose.

This shared status challenges ancient cultural norms that minimized women’s significance. By renaming Sarah and granting her covenantal promises, God elevates her beyond the domestic sphere. Her name, “princess” (שָׂרָה), signals real authority—later demonstrated in decisive moments such as the sending away of Hagar and Ishmael (Gen 21:10–12).

Sarah’s renaming is especially powerful because she was barren (Genesis 11:30). In her time, not having children was a source of shame, but God turns her from an outsider to a mother of nations. Her laughter in Genesis 18:12, often considered doubt, can also show her surprise at God’s bold promise—a barren woman giving birth to kings. This shows how God picks unlikely people, like Moses or David, to do great things.

Sarah’s influence goes beyond Israel. In Galatians 4:22–31, Paul calls her the mother of the “children of promise,” contrasting her with Hagar. In 1 Peter 3:6, she’s a model of faith. Her name, שָׂרָה, becomes a symbol of strength and hope. Some would even deduce from these passages that she might even be credited with greater faith than Abraham.

There are many deeper details in this text that I won’t address here, but the central theme from Genesis to Revelation is clear: God desires to dwell within us. He wants our marriages to be holy and intimate, reflecting—but never fully replacing—our deepest union with Him. What would a marriage look like if the distractions and compromises of the world were set aside, and a couple pursued the purpose God always intended for them? This is the heart of what it means to be in Covenant with the almighty God. That we may be fully devoted to image Him as He resides in us. And your marriage partner is God’s gift of grace to this plan.