The Covenant of Marriage Communication – Conference Notes

Communicating as Covenant Partners: A Christ-Centered Theology and Practice of Marriage Communication

Introduction

Marriage is more than a social institution or emotional partnership—it is a holy covenant established by God, modeled throughout Scripture, and fulfilled in Christ’s relationship with the Church. Communication within marriage is not merely a set of skills; it is a sacramental expression of covenanted love, shaped by identity in Christ and sustained by grace.

In a world of transactional relationships and consumerized romance, Christian couples are called to something deeper: speaking truth in love (Eph. 4:15), bearing one another’s burdens (Gal. 6:2), and reflecting God’s steadfast love (חסד, chesed) in how they listen, speak, and respond to one another.


1. The Hebraic Concept of Covenant

In Scripture, covenant (ברית, berith) is not a contract; it is a relational pledge grounded in faithfulness and identity. It structures marriage not around feelings or performance, but around being–with–one–another under God.

  • Genesis 2:24—“Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.”
    One flesh implies unity in identity, purpose, and narrative—a shared life.
  • Malachi 2:14–16—God calls Israel my companion (רעיה, re‘iyah) in covenant, highlighting vow-keeping as essential to relational integrity.
    Marriage communication reflects this same vow-oriented faithfulness.

2. Christ and the Church as the Ultimate Covenant Model

Ephesians 5:25–33 anchors marital love in Christ’s sacrificial love for the Church:

  • Self–giving love
  • Cleansing through the Word
  • Nurturing growth and flourishing

In this model, communication is not negotiable nor optional—it is an expression of covenant identity.


1. Jesus: Communicating with Presence and Truth

Jesus embodied communication that was:

  • Attentive — He saw and called individuals by name (Mark 10:21; John 4:27–30).
  • Restorative — He spoke truth that healed rather than harmed (John 8:1–11).
  • Sacrificial — His words pierced, yet offered life (John 6:60–69).

Application for couples:

  • Be fully present in conversation (no half-listening).
  • Seek truth to heal, not to win.

2. Paul: Words That Build Up

Paul repeatedly encourages the church to communicate with grace:

  • Ephesians 4:29 — “Let no corrupting talk come out … but only such as is good for building up.”
  • Colossians 3:12–14 — Compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, forgiveness, love.

Application for couples:

  • Make speech an agent of edification, not accusation.
  • Aim for restoration and peace (Matt. 5:9).

3. Proverbs: Wisdom for Everyday Speech

Proverbs 15:1 contrasts gentleness with provocation:

  • “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.”

Application for couples:

  • Choose tone and timing wisely.
  • Slow down before responding; give space for Spirit-guided reflection.

John and Stacy Edwards’ Love & Respect highlights the “Crazy Cycle”:

  • Wives want love, feel unheard →
  • Husbands want respect, feel dismissed →
  • Escalation ensues.

While their gender framing has sparked discussion, the core insight resonates with covenant communication: each partner deeply desires to be known, honored, and treasured.

Redemptive pattern:

  • Respond to hurts with clarifying questions rather than assumptions.
  • Affirm identity (“I hear you; your heart matters to me”), then seek understanding.

Drawing from One Extraordinary Marriage (6 Pillars of Intimacy):

1. Physical Presence

Not just being in the same room—being fully present and undistracted.

2. Emotional Space

Create an environment where vulnerability is welcomed, not weaponized.

3. Spiritual Unity

Pray together before you problem-solve together.

4. Intellectual Engagement

Value curiosity over defensiveness.

5. Relational Investment

Set rhythms (weekly check-ins, shared devotions) that speak covenant over chaos.

6. Communal Support

Accountability with trusted mentors or couples enriches communication health.


1. Love Languages (Gary Chapman)

Understanding each other’s primary love languages—words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, gifts, physical touch—enhances mutual empathy and expressive clarity.

2. Rhythms from Sacred Marriage (Gary Thomas)

Thomas reframes marriage as sanctification before satisfaction. Communication becomes a means to God’s glory, not just emotional comfort.

3. Eternal Perspective from The Meaning of Marriage (Timothy Keller)

Marriage reflects Christ’s gospel: steadfast, gracious, covenantal. Communication is therefore missionary—bearing witness in everyday speech.

4. You and Me Forever (Francis & Lisa Chan)

Focuses couples on shared Gospel mission, reducing self-absorption and enhancing sacrificial dialogue.


1. Listen Before You Respond

Listening communicates worth and attention.

Practical tip:

  • Reflect back what you heard before responding.

2. Speak Truth in Love

Truth without love wounds; love without truth obscures reality.

Practical tip:

  • Use “I” statements and describe specific behaviors, not character labels.

3. Forgive and Seek Forgiveness

Covenant speech includes reconciliation language.

Practical tip:

  • Practice short, daily reconciliations to prevent relational drift.

4. Pray Before Difficult Conversations

Invite the Spirit to shape hearts before words are exchanged.

Practical tip:

  • Frame hard discussions with scripture (“Lord, make us quick to listen…” James 1:19).

5. Celebrate Small Wins

Acknowledging growth builds trust.

Practical tip:

  • Weekly “gratitude moments” during meals or prayer times.

Communication in Christian marriage is not primarily a technique—it is covenant language. It reflects who we are in Christ and how covenant love shapes everyday life. Words become acts of worship, spaces of grace, and pathways of transformation when we speak and listen in the presence of God.

May our marriages echo the speech of Christ—patient, kind, humble, forgiving, and anchored in love that never ends (1 Cor. 13:4–8).

Discussion Questions

1. Covenant vs. Contract: How Does Ontology Shape Communication?

The Hebrew concept of בְּרִית (berith) frames marriage as a covenant grounded in identity and faithfulness rather than performance or emotional satisfaction.

  • In what ways does viewing marriage as covenant (rather than contract) reshape expectations during conflict?
  • How might this covenantal framework alter the way couples interpret silence, criticism, or emotional withdrawal?
  • How does Malachi 2:14–16 challenge modern consumerist assumptions about relational fulfillment?

2. Christological Communication: Imitating the Speech of Jesus

Ephesians 5 roots marriage in the self-giving love of Christ.

  • How does Christ’s communicative posture (John 4; John 8; Mark 10:21) inform a theology of attentiveness and truth-telling in marriage?
  • What does it mean to “cleanse by the washing of water with the word” (Eph. 5:26) in the context of marital speech?
  • In practical terms, how can couples ensure their words are redemptive rather than corrective alone?

3. The “Crazy Cycle” and the Doctrine of Sin

Eggerich’s “Crazy Cycle” describes relational escalation when love and respect feel absent.

  • How does this dynamic reflect the broader biblical doctrine of sin as relational fracture (Gen. 3)?
  • In what ways does pride distort listening and self-giving communication?
  • How might a theology of repentance interrupt destructive communication cycles?

4. Sanctification Through Speech

Gary Thomas argues marriage is more about holiness than happiness.

  • How can communication function as a primary instrument of sanctification?
  • Reflect on James 1:19–20 and Ephesians 4:29. What spiritual disciplines are necessary for obedient speech?
  • How might difficult conversations serve as means of grace rather than merely problems to solve?

5. Identity in Christ and Shared Mission

Drawing from Keller and the Chans, marriage reflects the gospel and participates in mission.

  • How does shared identity “in Christ” stabilize communication when emotions fluctuate?
  • What practices (prayer, shared Scripture, missional engagement) tangibly reinforce covenant identity in daily dialogue?
  • How does a shared eternal vision recalibrate trivial conflicts?

Bibliography

Chapman, Gary. The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts. Chicago: Northfield Publishing, 2015.

Chan, Francis, and Lisa Chan. You and Me Forever: Marriage in Light of Eternity. Colorado Springs: Claire Love Publishing, 2014.

Eggerichs, Emerson. Love & Respect: The Love She Most Desires; The Respect He Desperately Needs. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2004.

Keller, Timothy, with Kathy Keller. The Meaning of Marriage: Facing the Complexities of Commitment with the Wisdom of God. New York: Dutton, 2011.

Thomas, Gary. Sacred Marriage: What If God Designed Marriage to Make Us Holy More Than to Make Us Happy? Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2000.

Gregoire, Sheila Wray. The Great Sex Rescue. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2021.

Wright, Christopher J. H. Old Testament Ethics for the People of God. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2004.

Block, Daniel I. “Marriage and Family in Ancient Israel.” In Marriage and Family in the Biblical World, edited by Ken M. Campbell, 33–102. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2003.

The Covenant of Marriage – Conference Notes

A Biblical-Theological and Socio-Historical Exploration

1. Berit (בְּרִית): Covenant as Ontological Bond

The Hebrew term berit cannot be reduced to “contract.” In the Ancient Near Eastern world, covenants (Hittite suzerainty treaties, parity treaties, kinship covenants) established binding relational realities. They were often ratified by oath, sacrifice, and symbolic acts (cf. Gen 15; Jer 34:18–20). The covenant did not merely regulate behavior; it created a new relational status.

Hebrew philological studies suggest that covenant language often involved embodied ritual actions — cutting animals, sharing meals, oath invocations — signifying life-and-death seriousness. The expression “cut a covenant” (karat berit) implies sacrificial solemnity. Marriage, when named covenant in Malachi 2:14, is therefore elevated into this sacred category.

Malachi rebukes Israelite men who deal treacherously (bagad) with “the wife of your covenant.” The covenant is not merely between spouses; “the LORD was witness.” The text suggests divine juridical oversight. Marriage is a theologically accountable bond under YHWH’s covenant justice.

2. Genesis 1–2: Creation as Proto-Covenantal Structure

Genesis 1:26–28 situates humanity as royal vice-regents bearing the imago Dei. The Hebrew plural deliberation (“Let us make…”) and the parallel structure (“male and female he created them”) present differentiated unity within shared image-bearing.

The dominion mandate (radah) is given jointly. Thus, marriage emerges within a shared vocational stewardship.

Genesis 2 deepens this through narrative theology. The woman as ezer kenegdo must be handled carefully. Ezer appears 21 times in the Hebrew Bible; in most cases it refers to divine aid (e.g., Ps 121:1–2). It connotes indispensable strength. Kenegdo (“corresponding to him,” “according to what is opposite”) implies complementarity of relational correspondence, not subordination.

The covenantal nature becomes clearer in Genesis 2:24:

“Therefore a man shall leave (‘azab) his father and mother and cling (dabaq) to his wife…”

Dabaq frequently describes covenant fidelity to YHWH (Deut 10:20; 30:20). The semantic overlap is significant. Marriage mirrors Israel’s covenantal clinging to God.

The phrase “one flesh” (basar echad) reflects kinship formula language. In the ancient world, flesh signified shared clan identity (cf. Gen 29:14; 2 Sam 5:1). Marriage forms a new covenant kinship unit.

Thus, Genesis presents marriage not merely as companionship but as a covenantal reconstitution of primary allegiance and shared identity before God.


1. Prophetic Marriage Metaphor and Covenant Theology

The prophetic corpus elevates marriage into theological metaphor. Hosea’s enacted prophecy (Hos 1–3) frames Israel’s idolatry as adultery. The covenant violation is sexualized imagery because marriage best captures the intimacy and exclusivity of divine-human covenant.

Isaiah 54:5 declares:

“For your Maker is your husband (בֹּעֲלַיִךְ).”

The marital title affirms covenant loyalty despite judgment. Jeremiah 31:32 explicitly refers to YHWH as husband in relation to Sinai covenant.

This is theologically decisive: marriage becomes the primary analogy for covenant faithfulness, exclusivity, and restorative grace. The logic moves from divine covenant to human marriage, and back again.

2. Second Temple Developments

By the Second Temple period, Jewish marriage involved ketubah agreements, bride-price (mohar), and legally binding commitments. While economic dimensions existed, marriage retained theological framing under Torah.

Divorce debates between Hillel and Shammai (m. Gittin) reveal interpretive tensions over Deuteronomy 24. By Jesus’ time, some permitted divorce for trivial reasons. Thus, covenant permanence was contested.


Roman marriage functioned within patria potestas. The male head wielded legal control. Marriage types (cum manu vs. sine manu) affected whether the wife came under the husband’s legal authority or remained under her father’s household.

Aristotle (Politics 1.1253b) described the husband-wife relationship hierarchically within household management. The household codes reinforced stratified order: husband over wife, father over children, master over slave.

Yet Roman moralists also valued marital fidelity as stabilizing civic order.

Against this background, New Testament teaching neither abolishes structure nor baptizes patriarchy; instead, it reorients marriage christologically and covenantally.


In Matthew 19:3–9, Jesus addresses divorce controversies. His interpretive move is hermeneutically profound: he appeals to Genesis 1 and 2 as normative revelation.

By joining both creation texts (“male and female” + “one flesh”), Jesus presents a canonical synthesis. The verb “joined together” (synezeuxen) implies divine yoking. God is the covenantal agent.

Jesus’ restriction of divorce does not ignore Mosaic concession but reframes it as accommodation to hardness of heart. Covenant permanence reflects divine intent.

In elevating Genesis over concessionary legislation, Jesus restores marriage to its creational-covenantal gravity.


1. Ephesians 5:21–33 — Mystery and Covenant Christology

The participial structure beginning in 5:18 (“being filled with the Spirit”) governs the household code. Verse 21 introduces mutual submission (hypotassomenoi allelois).

When Paul instructs wives to submit, the verb is borrowed from v. 21 — situating marriage within the larger ethic of Spirit-shaped humility.

Husbands are commanded to love (agapate) “as Christ loved the church and gave himself up.” The analogy is covenantal and sacrificial. Christ’s headship (kephalē) must be read through cruciform self-giving.

Verse 25–27 evokes covenant purification imagery. Christ sanctifies the church, presenting her in glory — echoing prophetic marital restoration themes.

Verse 32 is climactic:

“This mystery (mystērion) is great — but I speak concerning Christ and the church.”

Marriage is typological participation in the new covenant. The earthly union signifies the eschatological union.

Thus, Paul situates marriage within redemptive history — not merely ethics but covenant drama.

2. 1 Corinthians 7: Reciprocity in a Patriarchal Context

In Corinth, influenced by both asceticism and libertinism, Paul affirms marital sexual obligation. The reciprocal language of authority (exousiazei) over one another’s bodies is unprecedented in Roman literature.

Marriage is framed as mutual covenant obligation, not unilateral male entitlement.


1. Coram Deo: Marriage Before the Face of God

Ecclesiastes 5 warns against rash vows. Biblical marriage vows invoke divine witness. The covenant is triangulated — husband, wife, and God.

Marriage is therefore an act of worshipful oath-taking.

2. Covenant Fidelity as Sanctification

Hebrews 13:4 affirms marriage as honorable and the bed undefiled. Sexual exclusivity is covenant fidelity embodied.

Sanctification occurs through daily covenant keeping: forgiveness, repentance, reconciliation. Marriage becomes a means of grace.

3. Eschatological Orientation

Revelation 19 and 21 culminate in nuptial imagery. The Lamb’s marriage fulfills prophetic anticipation. Earthly marriage is provisional signpost toward ultimate covenant union.


Modern Western culture often treats marriage contractually — dissolvable when preferences change.

Biblical covenant marriage requires:

  • Vow consciousness
  • Theological literacy
  • Liturgical seriousness
  • Church accountability

Premarital counseling must teach covenant ontology, not merely compatibility tools.

Pastorally, couples must be shepherded toward:

  • Prayer as covenant renewal
  • Eucharistic imagination (self-giving love patterned after Christ)
  • Endurance rooted in God’s covenant faithfulness

Marriage thrives when grounded not in emotional volatility but in the steadfast love (hesed) of God.


Conclusion

Marriage in Scripture is covenantal from creation to consummation. It is:

  • Rooted in Genesis’ covenant-shaped anthropology
  • Interpreted through prophetic covenant metaphor
  • Restored by Jesus’ appeal to creation
  • Reframed in Paul’s Christological mystery
  • Fulfilled in eschatological union

To stand in marriage is to stand before the Lord — bound by oath, sustained by grace, accountable to divine witness, and participating in the redemptive covenant story of God.

When the church recovers this theological depth, marriage becomes not merely a personal commitment but a living proclamation of God’s covenant faithfulness.


  1. Covenant Ontology and Marriage:
    How does the Hebrew concept of berit (particularly as expressed in karat berit, “cutting a covenant”) deepen our understanding of marriage as an ontological bond rather than a contractual agreement? In what ways does Malachi 2:14 reinforce this covenantal seriousness?
  2. Genesis 2:24 and Covenant Fidelity:
    In light of the semantic range of dabaq (“to cling/cleave”) elsewhere in Deuteronomy’s covenant language, how might Genesis 2:24 intentionally frame marriage as an analogue to Israel’s covenant loyalty to YHWH? What theological implications arise from this connection?
  3. Second Temple and Greco-Roman Contexts:
    How did Jewish covenant consciousness interact with Greco-Roman legal structures such as patria potestas? In what ways do Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 19 and Paul’s instructions in Ephesians 5 both affirm and subvert their socio-historical environments?
  4. Christological Typology in Ephesians 5:
    How does Paul’s use of mystērion (Eph 5:32) situate marriage within redemptive history? What are the implications of reading marriage primarily through the lens of Christ’s covenant with the church?
  5. Eschatology and Pastoral Formation:
    If earthly marriage functions as an anticipatory sign of the eschatological marriage of the Lamb (Rev 19–21), how should this shape pastoral counseling, marital endurance through suffering, and the church’s theology of permanence?

Bibliography & Further Reading

Biblical and Lexical Resources

Bauer, Walter, Frederick W. Danker, William F. Arndt, and F. Wilbur Gingrich. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (BDAG). 3rd ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000.

Brown, Francis, S. R. Driver, and Charles A. Briggs. The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1996.

Koehler, Ludwig, Walter Baumgartner, and Johann Jakob Stamm. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (HALOT). Leiden: Brill, 1994–2000.


Covenant Theology and Old Testament Foundations

Robertson, O. Palmer. The Christ of the Covenants. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 1980.

Gentry, Peter J., and Stephen J. Wellum. Kingdom through Covenant. Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012.

Hahn, Scott W. Kinship by Covenant. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009.

Ancient Hebrew Research Center. “Covenants from a Hebrew Perspective.”

Ancient Hebrew Research Center. “Definition of Covenant.”


Marriage in the Old Testament and Ancient Near East

Matthews, Victor H. Marriage and Family in the Biblical World. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2003.

Westbrook, Raymond. Old Babylonian Marriage Law. AfO Beiheft 23. Vienna: Institut für Orientalistik, 1988.

Wright, Christopher J. H. Old Testament Ethics for the People of God. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2004.


Second Temple and Greco-Roman Context

Cohick, Lynn H. Women in the World of the Earliest Christians. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009.

Osiek, Carolyn, and David L. Balch. Families in the New Testament World: Households and House Churches. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997.

Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001.

Witherington, Ben III. Women in the Earliest Churches. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.

Bryn Mawr Classical Review. 2021. Review of scholarship on marriage and family in antiquity (BMCR 2021.03.05).


New Testament Theology of Marriage

Keener, Craig S. Paul, Women & Wives: Marriage and Women’s Ministry in the Letters of Paul. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1992.

Westfall, Cynthia Long. Paul and Gender: Reclaiming the Apostle’s Vision for Men and Women in Christ. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2016.

Thielman, Frank. Ephesians. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010.

Thiselton, Anthony C. The First Epistle to the Corinthians. NIGTC. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000.


Theological and Pastoral Reflection

Hauerwas, Stanley. A Community of Character. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1981.

John Paul II. Man and Woman He Created Them: A Theology of the Body. Boston: Pauline Books, 2006.

Reconstructing Judaism. “Covenant & Marriage” (D’var Torah).

CBE International. “How the New Testament Turned Marriage in the Ancient World on Its Head.”

“The Three Heavenly Visitors in Genesis 18: A Divine Council Theophany?”

Introduction

Genesis 18 presents a unique and theologically charged encounter in the Hebrew Bible: Abraham is approached by three visitors whom the narrator initially introduces with the divine name YHWH (the LORD) and later identifies as “men” (Heb. ’anashim). The narrative blurs the categories of divine presence and angelic messengers, generating interpretive complexity that has occupied Jewish and Christian interpreters alike. The episode has been variously read as a test of Abraham’s hospitality, a Christophany (pre-incarnate Christ), or as an example of divine council imagery, where heavenly beings function as God’s agents in the cosmos.

The divine council concept — an assembly of heavenly beings under the sovereignty of the one God — is widely discussed in biblical scholarship (e.g., Psalm 82; Job 1–2; 1 Kings 22:19) and has been popularized in recent years by scholars such as Michael S. Heiser. It provides a framework for reading passages that feature interactions between humans and multiple divine or semi-divine figures without undermining monotheism.

In this article, I argue that three main features of Genesis 18 support interpreting the visitors as divine council / spiritual beings whose presence reflects a partial or mediated theophany — a visible manifestation of the divine.


1. Narrative Identification: YHWH’s Presence and Angelic Agency

A compelling reason to view the visitors as more than ordinary humans lies in the narrator’s framing. The episode opens with the statement: “The LORD appeared to Abraham…” (Heb. vay-yēra’ YHWH), immediately associating the visit with a divine theophany. Yet Abraham sees three men (Genesis 18:1–2), and later two of these continue on to Sodom where they are explicitly called angels (mal’akim) in Genesis 19:1.

This interplay — singular divine presence and plural visitors — invites careful interpretation. One scholarly option is that one visitor functions as the theophanic presence of YHWH, while the other two represent heavenly agents operating within God’s divine court. The text makes this distinction narratively: the LORD speaks covenantal promises (e.g., the birth of Isaac) through one figure, while the others carry out a related mission (going on to Sodom to investigate its wickedness).

In broader divine council imagery, heavenly messengers are often depicted as “standing in the presence of YHWH” or “coming from the assembly of the holy ones” — reflecting a hierarchical divine order in which God presides but heavenly beings act as His representatives. The Job 1–2 and 1 Kings 22 scenes illustrate this pattern in other texts.

Thus, the narrative structure — singular divine announcement and plural agents — coheres with a council model wherein God interacts with humanity through a cohort of spiritual beings rather than appearing directly in full divine essence. This feeds into a mediated theophany: God is present and speaks through a heavenly agent while supported by others.


2. Theophany and “Visible Gods” in Ancient Israelite Context

A second argument arises from ancient Near Eastern and Israelite perceptions of heavenly beings. In the wider Ancient Near East, divine assemblies — councils of gods — were a common motif in narrative and ritual texts. Israelite religion, while monotheistic in its affirmation of YHWH as the supreme God, nevertheless shows evidence of a heavenly host or divine council assembly through passages that portray heavenly beings in council or in service to God. Psalm 82’s “God stands in the divine assembly” imagery suggests that Israelite tradition could conceive of spiritual beings subordinate to Yahweh but active in the divine realm.

Scholars like Michael Heiser and others have argued that such divine council imagery underlies many biblical narratives — not as evidence of polytheism, but as part of a biblical supernatural worldview in which God’s rule over cosmic order is mediated by spiritual beings. These beings can interact with the human sphere while remaining subordinate to Yahweh’s authority.

In this light, the three “men” of Genesis 18 resemble members of the divine council or heavenly host coming to execute God’s will: announcing covenantal blessing and assessing impending judgment. Their behavior — eating food, communicating with Abraham, and then departing — mirrors other divine council appearances where demons or angels take on human form in narrative. This fits more naturally with cosmic hierarchical imagery than with a purely anthropomorphic deity walking about in ordinary human guise.


3. Theophany Features: Speech, Authority, and Human Response

Finally, the theophanic qualities of the encounter support reading the visitors as divine or heavenly figures rather than mere mortals. Key elements include:

  1. Divine Speech and Promise: One visitor speaks as YHWH, using Yahweh’s own name and authority in promising a son to Abraham and Sarah — a hallmark of divine speech rather than angelic proclamation alone.
  2. Human Worship and Interaction: Abraham’s actions — bowing, addressing them in the singular as “my lord,” and engaging in covenant dialogue — reflect recognition of divine presence, not merely polite reception of guests.
  3. Discrepancy Between Appearance and Ontology: The visitors appear as ordinary humans but are operationally supernatural. Two are later identified as angels in Sodom, while the third remains as Yahweh’s representative in dialogue with Abraham. This layered identity — human-like appearance, divine speech, and angelic mission — is consistent with other biblical theophanies where God appears in human form (e.g., to Manoah’s parents in Judges 13).

These features suggest a mediated theophany: God reveals Himself in a way that humans can encounter (visible visitors) while maintaining divine otherness. The narrative’s emphasis on hospitality, promise, and accountability underscores the encounter’s theological gravity, not merely its moral exemplarity.


Conclusion

Genesis 18’s three visitors resist simple categorization as either mundane travelers or strictly anthropomorphic God. Instead, multiple narrative and theological signals point to an interaction with divine or heavenly figures that function within a divine council motif:

  1. The text’s framing blends YHWH’s presence with angelic agency, matching divine council hierarchies.
  2. Ancient Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern contexts include heavenly hosts and councils under God’s sovereignty.
  3. Theophany features — authoritative speech, human reverence, and heavenly mission — reflect mediated divine encounter.

Thus, reading these visitors as divine council beings who participate in God’s cosmic governance and interact with Abraham offers a cohesive interpretive lens. It respects textual complexity, aligns with broader biblical imagery, and highlights the significance of this pivotal covenantal moment.

Selected Bibliography

Primary Text

  • The Holy Bible, Genesis 18–19 (Hebrew text and major English translations)

Articles and Online Resources

Secondary Scholarly Works

  • Heiser, Michael S. The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015.
  • Walton, John H. The Lost World of the Old Testament: Ancient Israelite Cosmology and the Origins Debate. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2018.
  • Sommer, Benjamin D. The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.
  • Smith, Mark S. The Origins of Biblical Monotheism: Israel’s Polytheistic Background and the Ugaritic Texts. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.
  • Collins, C. John. Genesis 1–4: A Linguistic, Literary, and Theological Commentary. Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2006 (esp. methodological notes on divine appearance).
  • Arnold, Bill T. Introduction to the Old Testament. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014 (sections on divine messengers and theophany).

Small Group Study Questions (Genesis 18)

Theological Implications
If the visitors are understood as divine council beings participating in a mediated theophany, how does this affect our understanding of God’s sovereignty, judgment (Genesis 18–19), and covenant faithfulness?

Textual Observation
Genesis 18:1 states that “the LORD appeared to Abraham,” yet Abraham sees three men. How does this tension between divine identification and human appearance shape your reading of the passage?

Divine Council Framework
Other biblical texts (e.g., Job 1–2; Psalm 82; 1 Kings 22) portray God presiding over heavenly beings. How might those passages help us understand the role of the three visitors in Genesis 18?

Theophany and Mediation
Why might God choose to appear through human-like figures or heavenly messengers rather than in an unmediated form? What does this suggest about God’s desire for relationship and accessibility?

Hospitality and Revelation
Abraham shows hospitality before fully understanding who his guests are. What connection does Genesis 18 make between faithful hospitality and divine revelation?

Healing Before Fruitfulness: Joseph’s Sons and a Theology of Restoration

The Joseph narrative (Gen. 37–50) presents one of the Hebrew Bible’s most sustained reflections on suffering, providence, and restoration. Betrayed by his brothers and sold into slavery, Joseph experiences prolonged affliction through servitude, false accusation, and imprisonment before his elevation to authority in Egypt. This narrative arc is not merely biographical but theological, portraying divine sovereignty at work within, rather than apart from, human injustice.

A critical but often underexamined moment occurs prior to Joseph’s reconciliation with his brothers: the naming of his sons, Manasseh and Ephraim (Gen. 41:50–52). In the Hebrew Bible, naming frequently functions as a theological interpretation of lived experience, encoding meaning, memory, and confession. The narrator’s explicit preservation of Joseph’s naming explanations signals their interpretive importance.

Joseph names his firstborn Manasseh (מְנַשֶּׁה), declaring, “For God has made me forget (nashani) all my hardship and all my father’s house” (Gen. 41:51). The Hebrew root נשה (nashah), often translated “to forget,” does not imply amnesia or repression. Rather, within biblical and rabbinic usage, it conveys release from the dominating power of memory. Joseph’s past is not erased; it is rendered non-determinative. Rabbinic commentators emphasize that Joseph continues to remember his family and heritage, indicating that “forgetting” here refers to healing rather than denial.¹ This is a foreshadowing of a later theme of God holding no record of wrongs as an indicator of the way that His followers should also live.

Joseph’s second son is named Ephraim (אֶפְרָיִם), derived from the root פרה (parah, “to be fruitful”), accompanied by the declaration, “For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction” (Gen. 41:52). Notably, Egypt is still described as ’erets ‘onyi—“the land of my suffering.” Fruitfulness does not follow removal from affliction but emerges within it. The text thus resists any simplistic theology in which blessing is contingent upon the absence of suffering. It is a direct correlation to the Yahweh identifying Himself differently from the “other” ancient “gods” that functioned solely on the retribution principle.

The sequence of these names is theologically decisive. Healing (Manasseh) precedes fruitfulness (Ephraim), and both occur prior to forgiveness and reconciliation with Joseph’s brothers (Gen. 42–45). The narrative therefore distinguishes between inner restoration and relational restoration. While reconciliation ultimately requires repentance, truth-telling, and transformation on the part of the offenders, healing is portrayed as a divine act that does not depend upon the moral readiness of others. God’s restorative work in Joseph begins while the relational rupture remains unresolved.

This narrative logic challenges the assumption that closure or apology is a prerequisite for healing. Joseph’s story suggests instead that divine healing reorders the self, freeing one from the formative power of trauma and making space for generativity. Reconciliation, when it comes, is no longer a desperate need but a fruit of a healed identity.

Canonical Resonances: New Testament and Revelation

This pattern—healing preceding fruitfulness and reconciliation—finds resonance within the New Testament. Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11:28 (“Come to me… and I will give you rest”) addresses interior restoration prior to the resolution of external conflict. Likewise, Paul’s theology of suffering in Romans 5:3–5 traces a movement from affliction to endurance, character, and hope—an internal transformation that precedes eschatological vindication.

In Revelation, similar logic governs the experience of the faithful. The saints are depicted as conquering (nikaō) not by escaping suffering but by faithful endurance within it (Rev. 12:11). The promises to the churches repeatedly emphasize fruitfulness, reigning, and restored vocation as outcomes of perseverance rather than prerequisites for divine favor (Rev. 2–3). Healing, symbolized by access to the tree of life and the wiping away of tears (Rev. 22:1–5; 21:4), is ultimately God’s work, accomplished even while injustice and opposition persist.

Within this broader canonical framework, Manasseh and Ephraim function as typological witnesses to a theology of restoration in which God heals before resolving every relational or historical wrong.

Healing is not the end of the story, but it is the condition that makes genuine fruitfulness—and ultimately reconciliation—possible.

Second Temple Jewish Parallels: Healing, Memory, and Fruitfulness in Exile

Second Temple Jewish literature provides important conceptual parallels to the pattern evident in Joseph’s naming of Manasseh and Ephraim, particularly with respect to memory, healing, and divine fruitfulness amid unresolved exile. These texts frequently wrestle with the problem of how God restores individuals and communities before historical or political reconciliation is complete.

In several Second Temple sources, remembering and forgetting function not as opposites but as theological tensions. Sirach, for example, acknowledges that past wounds are neither erased nor ignored, yet insists that wisdom enables one to live fruitfully without being governed by injury (Sir. 30:21–25). Here, healing is portrayed as an interior reordering that precedes external change—a conceptual parallel to Manasseh’s role as release from suffering’s formative power.

Similarly, the Wisdom of Solomon frames affliction as the context in which divine fruitfulness is cultivated rather than negated. The righteous are described as disciplined through suffering so that they might bear enduring fruit (Wis. 3:1–9), a logic that closely mirrors Ephraim’s naming as fruitfulness within the land of affliction. Vindication is future-oriented, but transformation occurs in the present.

The Dead Sea Scrolls further reinforce this pattern. In the Hodayot (Thanksgiving Hymns), the speaker repeatedly testifies to divine healing and restoration of the inner person while remaining socially marginalized and eschatologically unresolved (1QHᵃ). Healing precedes deliverance; identity is stabilized by God before historical redemption is realized. This reflects a theology in which God’s restorative work is not delayed until covenantal enemies are defeated or exile is reversed.

Of particular relevance is the Second Temple preoccupation with Joseph as a paradigmatic righteous sufferer. In works such as Joseph and Aseneth and later expansions of the Joseph tradition, Joseph is portrayed as morally transformed and divinely favored long before reconciliation with his brothers occurs. His interior faithfulness and divine blessing function independently of familial restoration, reinforcing the distinction between personal healing and relational reconciliation.

Moreover, Second Temple Israel broadly understood exile as an ongoing condition—even after the return from Babylon. Healing and fruitfulness were therefore conceptualized as provisional, anticipatory realities rather than final resolutions. This framework illuminates the theological significance of Manasseh and Ephraim: Joseph embodies a form of restored life that flourishes prior to—and apart from—the full repair of covenantal relationships.

Within this Second Temple horizon, Joseph’s sons function not merely as narrative details but as symbolic markers of how God restores the faithful amid incomplete redemption. Healing reorients memory; fruitfulness establishes vocation; reconciliation, when it comes, is a subsequent and contingent grace rather than the precondition of wholeness.

Conclusion

Joseph’s story reminds us that God’s work in our lives is often deeper—and earlier—than we expect. Long before reconciliation arrived, long before the family wounds were reopened and named, God had already begun healing Joseph’s heart. Manasseh testifies that God can loosen the grip of pain that once defined us. Ephraim bears witness that fruitfulness can emerge even in places we would never choose.

This matters for us because many of us are waiting. Waiting for an apology. Waiting for understanding. Waiting for relationships to be repaired. Joseph’s life gently but firmly tells us that healing does not have to wait. God is not constrained by unfinished stories or unresolved conflict. He is able to restore the inner life even when the outer circumstances remain broken.

That does not diminish the value of forgiveness or reconciliation—Scripture still calls us toward both. But it does free us from believing that our wholeness depends on someone else’s repentance. Healing is God’s gift, not the reward of closure.

So the invitation is simple and hopeful: bring the wound to God. Let Him name it, tend it, and release its power over you. Fruitfulness will come in time. But healing, as Joseph’s sons remind us, can begin now—even before the story is finished.


Footnote-Style References

  1. Rabbinic tradition: See Genesis Rabbah 91:1, which emphasizes that Joseph’s “forgetting” does not negate memory of his father or covenantal identity, but reflects relief from suffering’s grip.
  2. Lexical: Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (HALOT), s.v. “נשה,” noting semantic range including release and neglect rather than cognitive loss.
  3. Narrative theology: Walter Brueggemann, Genesis (Interpretation Commentary; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1982), 331–334.
  4. Suffering and fruitfulness: Nahum M. Sarna, Genesis (JPS Torah Commentary; Philadelphia: JPS, 1989), 286–288.
  5. Naming as theological act: Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 2011), 47–62.
  6. Canonical resonance: Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: CUP, 1993), 84–102.
  7. Sirach: Ben Sira 30:21–25; see Michael W. Duggan, Sirach (New Collegeville Bible Commentary; Liturgical Press, 2016).
  8. Wisdom of Solomon: Wis. 3:1–9; see John J. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (Westminster John Knox, 1997).
  9. Dead Sea Scrolls: Hodayot (1QHᵃ); see Carol A. Newsom, The Self as Symbolic Space (Brill, 2004).
  10. Joseph traditions: Joseph and Aseneth; see Ross Shepard Kraemer, When Aseneth Met Joseph (Oxford University Press, 1998).
  11. Exile as ongoing condition: N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God (Fortress, 1992), 268–272 (used here for Second Temple Jewish worldview rather than NT theology).

COOL OF THE DAY AND HEAT OF THE DAY

After Adam and Eve have sinned, they hear “the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden,” and—gripped by fear—they hide themselves among the trees. Traditionally, this scene is imagined as taking place peacefully “in the cool of the day,” often understood as the evening breeze.1

Yet this seemingly straightforward phrase conceals a significant translation challenge. The Hebrew expression commonly rendered “in the cool of the day” is far from unambiguous, and its interpretation has substantial implications for how the scene is understood theologically and narratively. The Hebrew phrase in question is לְרוּחַ הַיּוֹם (lǝrûaḥ hayyôm).2 The first difficulty with translating lǝrûaḥ hayyôm as a reference to a particular time of day is that the phrase occurs nowhere else in the Old Testament. If it were a conventional idiom for a specific portion of the day, one would reasonably expect it to appear more than once.

Moreover, lǝrûaḥ hayyôm is an unusual way to denote time. This helps explain why even translations marketed as “literal” or “formally equivalent” rarely render the phrase word-for-word.3 For a temporal expression to function idiomatically, it must unambiguously mark a particular time, as do standard Hebrew terms such as בֹּקֶר (bōqer), “morning”; צָהֳרַיִם (ṣohŏrayim), “noon”; or חֹם הַיּוֹם (ḥōm hayyôm), “the heat of the day.” Lǝrûaḥ hayyôm does none of this, leaving the temporal reference frustratingly imprecise.4

By far the greatest challenge to the traditional translation centers on the word rûaḥ itself. Rûaḥ is nowhere else translated as “cool.” When the term does not mean “spirit” or “breath,” it is most commonly rendered “wind.” Yet nowhere in the Old Testament is rûaḥ associated with coolness or refreshment.5 On the contrary, it is frequently linked with heat and intensity. Could it be a contranym? While the point is not that winds in the ancient Near East could not be cool or gentle, nor that such a breeze could not theoretically be described as a rûaḥ, the issue is evidentiary. There is no positive lexical or contextual evidence that an early reader of the Hebrew Bible would understand rûaḥ to mean a cool or gentle breeze apart from strong contextual signals—signals that are entirely absent from Genesis 3:8.

Indeed, when God reveals himself in connection with a rûaḥ elsewhere in Scripture, the wind is consistently stormy or forceful rather than mild or pleasant. This is evident in the poetic retelling of the Red Sea crossing in Exodus 15, the storm-theophany of Psalm 18, and the overwhelming visionary encounter of Ezekiel 1–2, discussed further below. In none of these contexts does rûaḥ evoke the image of a quiet, refreshing wind accompanying a tranquil afternoon walk.6

One alternative rendering of lǝrûaḥ hayyôm is suggested by a parallel expression in Song of Solomon, where the phrase “until the day breathes” (עַד שֶׁיָּפוּחַ הַיֹּום; Song 2:17; 4:6) uses the verb yāpûaḥ (“to breathe, blow”) to mark a time of day. Given that rûaḥ can also mean “breath” (e.g., Gen 6:17), Genesis 3:8 may be read as referring to “the breath of the day.”7

If rûaḥ hayyôm functions similarly to yāpûaḥ hayyôm, the phrase is best understood as figurative rather than as a fixed temporal marker. On this reading, it likely points not to evening but to morning—the moment when the day “comes alive.”

This interpretation also invites broader canonical connections between Genesis and the Song of Solomon, including shared imagery and rare vocabulary, and frames Genesis 3 as a tragic inversion of later garden imagery, where the lover-king comes to his garden only to find betrayal rather than mutual delight.

A second possible rendering of lǝrûaḥ hayyôm is suggested by Song of Solomon’s phrase “until the day breathes” (עַד שֶׁיָּפוּחַ הַיֹּום; Song 2:17; 4:6), where the verb yāpûaḥ (“to breathe, blow”) marks a time of day. Since rûaḥ can also mean “breath” (e.g., Gen 6:17), Genesis 3:8 may be read as “the breath of the day.”8

Read this way, the phrase functions as figurative, poetic language rather than a precise time reference and likely points to morning—the moment the day comes to life. This reading also opens canonical connections between Genesis and the Song of Solomon and frames Genesis 3 as a tragic reversal of later garden imagery, where the lover-king comes to the garden only to encounter betrayal instead of delight.

aken together, the linguistic and canonical evidence strongly suggests that lǝrûaḥ hayyôm in Genesis 3:8 should not be understood as a reference to a pleasant evening breeze or a specific time of day.9 The phrase is unique in the Hebrew Bible, employs rûaḥ in a way unsupported elsewhere as “cool” or “gentle,” and lacks the lexical clarity normally expected of temporal expressions. Moreover, rûaḥ consistently denotes breath, wind, or spirit—often with power and intensity—rather than refreshment.

The most plausible renderings, therefore, understand lǝrûaḥ hayyôm not as clock-time but as a figurative or experiential description. Whether read as “the wind of the day,” “the breath of the day,” or an atmospheric manifestation accompanying God’s approach, the phrase signals the moment when the day is animated and God’s presence becomes perceptible.10 In light of biblical patterns, this presence is better read as theophanic than pastoral.

First, the Hebrew word translated “tent” is ’ōhel (אֹהֶל). Beyond its basic meaning, ’ōhel is etymologically associated with radiance or shining. A tent, after all, is supported by beams that radiate outward from a central point to hold up the roof. On this reading, the phrase may be heard not only spatially but symbolically: Abraham is seated at the entrance of his tent as one who is “radiating light.”11

The next phrase is particularly suggestive. Most modern translations render keḥōm hayyôm as “in the heat of the day.” However, the preposition here is not beth (ב), which would normally indicate “in,” “on,” or “within,” but kaph (כ), which is typically rendered “like” or “as.” Grammatically, the phrase may therefore be read as “like the heat of the day,” rather than simply “in the heat of the day.”

“The heat of the day” is a common idiom for midday—the time when the sun is at its brightest and most intense. As one rabbinic interpretation notes, the text may be implying more than a time reference. Abraham himself is portrayed as the heat of the day—like the sun—spreading warmth, illumination, and life. In this reading, Abraham stands at the entrance of his ’ōhel radiating the warmth, love, and enlightenment of God outward to the world.12

Abraham famously practiced hospitality. He established what was essentially a roadside “bed and breakfast” along a trade route. He welcomed travelers, fed them, and gave them rest. When they thanked him, Abraham redirected their gratitude to YHWH, saying that it was God who provided food, rest, day, and night. Scripture teaches that through this practice he caused people to call on the name of God.

Abraham sat at the entrance of his dwelling, radiating the light of God, ready to offer kindness, comfort, and truth to anyone who passed by. His love for God naturally overflowed into love for others. This is true evangelism—not coercion or isolation, but hospitality, witness, and shared life.13

Posture Toward God: Hiding vs. Hospitality

Genesis 3Genesis 18
GardenTent
Trees used for concealmentTent opening used for welcome
FearEagerness
God seeksAbraham runs
rûaḥ exposesḥōm radiates
Silence and shameDialogue and intercession

The irony is sharp:

  • Adam hides in paradise
  • Abraham opens his life in the wilderness

Genesis 3 shows us:

God’s presence is not dangerous in itself—but it becomes unbearable to those who refuse truth.

Genesis 18 shows us:

God’s presence becomes warmth and blessing to those who live open-handedly before Him.

Same God.
Different hearts.
Different “weather.”

You’re right to hear Song of Songs echoing here.

  • Genesis 3: God comes to the garden → no mutual delight
  • Song of Songs: the beloved comes to the garden → union
  • Genesis 18: God comes to a tent → table fellowship

The biblical story moves:

  • From breath that exposes
  • To heat that nourishes
  • To fire that eventually indwells (Pentecost)
  1. Kvam, Kristen E.; Schearing, Linda S.; Ziegler, Valarie H., eds. (1999). “Hebrew Bible Accounts”Eve and Adam: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Readings on Genesis and GenderBloomington, IndianaIndiana University Press. pp. 15–40. ↩︎
  2.  Tuling, Kari H. (2020). “PART 1: Is God the Creator and Source of All Being—Including Evil?”. In Tuling, Kari H. (ed.). Thinking about God: Jewish Views. JPS Essential Judaism Series. Lincoln and PhiladelphiaUniversity of Nebraska Press/Jewish Publication Society. pp. 3–64. ↩︎
  3. Leeming, David A. (June 2003). Carey, Lindsay B. (ed.). “Religion and Sexuality: The Perversion of a Natural Marriage”. Journal of Religion and Health42 (2). Springer Verlag: 101–109. ↩︎
  4. Hart, David Bentley (2018). “The Devil’s March: Creatio ex nihilo, the Problem of Evil, and a Few Dostoyevskian Meditations”. In Anderson, Gary A.; Bockmuehl, Markus (eds.). Creation ex nihilo: Origins, Development, Contemporary ChallengesNotre Dame, IndianaUniversity of Notre Dame Press. pp. 297–318. ↩︎
  5.  Bulgakov, Sergei (2001) [1939]. “Evil”. The Bride of the Lamb. Translated by Jakim, Boris. Grand Rapids, MichiganWm. B. Eerdmans. p. 170. ISBN 9780802839152. ↩︎
  6. Ehrman, Bart D. (2005) [2003]. “Christians “In The Know”: The Worlds of Early Christian Gnosticism”Lost Christianities: The Battles for Scripture and the Faiths We Never KnewOxfordOxford University Press. pp. 113–134. doi:10.1017/s0009640700110273ISBN 978-0-19-518249-1↩︎
  7. Hillel, Daniel (2006). The Natural History of the Bible: An Environmental Exploration of the Hebrew ScripturesColumbia University Press. p. 245. ↩︎
  8. Morris Eaves; Robert N. Essick; Joseph Viscomi (eds.). “God Judging Adam, object 1 (Butlin 294) “God Judging Adam””William Blake Archive↩︎
  9. Kugel, James L. (1999). Traditions of the Bible: A Guide to the Bible As It Was at the Start of the Common EraCambridge, MassachusettsHarvard University Press. ↩︎
  10. Beynen, G. Koolemans, Animal Language in the Garden of Eden: Folktale Elements in Genesis in Signifying Animals: Human Meaning in the Natural World, Roy G. Willis, ed., (London: Routledge, 1994), 39–50. ↩︎
  11. Tosefta: Berakhot 1:15; Maaser Sheni 5:29; Rosh Hashanah 2:13; Taanit 2:13; Megillah 3:6; Sotah 4:1–6, 12, 5:12, 6:1, 6; Bava Kamma 9:29; Sanhedrin 14:4. Circa 250. In, e.g., The Tosefta: Translated from the Hebrew, with a New Introduction. Translated by Jacob Neusner. Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002. ↩︎
  12. Liana FinckLet There Be Light: The Real Story of Her Creation, pages 190–208. New York: Random House, 2022. ↩︎
  13. Jacob Bacharach. The Doorposts of Your House and on Your Gates. New York: Liveright, 2017. (novel loosely retelling the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac). ↩︎
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Signs of Covenant Faithfulness

At the heart of covenant faithfulness is trust in God Himself. Abraham “believed the LORD, and He credited it to him as righteousness” (Gen 15:6). This pattern carries through Scripture: covenant faithfulness begins not with works, but with confident reliance on God’s promises (Hab 2:4; Rom 1:17).


Obedience is not the covenant’s foundation but its fruit. Israel was called to walk in God’s ways because they already belonged to Him (Exod 19:4–6; Deut 6:4–6). Jesus echoes this covenant logic: “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). Faithfulness is lived out through responsive obedience.


The Sabbath functions as a covenant sign of communion, trust and faithfulness (Exod 31:12–17). By resting, Israel confessed that their life and provision came from God, not their own labor. Sabbath-keeping embodied faith in God’s sustaining care and faithfulness.

At first glance, practices such as circumcision, foot washing, baptism, and communion can feel foreign—even uncomfortable—to modern readers. Yet within the biblical story, they are deeply connected. Each functions as an embodied sign through which God teaches His people what covenant faithfulness, belonging, and transformation look like.

In the Old Testament, circumcision served as the covenant sign given to Abraham and his descendants (Gen 17:9–14). It marked the body and permanently reminded Israel that their identity and future depended entirely on God’s promise. It was not merely a ritual act, but a visible declaration that God creates life where human ability fails.

Foot washing appears in the Old Testament as an act of hospitality, humility, and purification (Gen 18:4; 19:2; 1 Sam 25:41). In a dusty world, washing another’s feet signaled welcome and relational submission. This cultural practice laid the groundwork for its deeper theological meaning in the New Testament.

Baptism emerges in continuity with Old Testament washing rites that symbolized cleansing and renewal (Exod 29:4; Lev 16:4; Ezek 36:25). These washings pointed forward to a more complete purification—one not merely of the body, but of the heart. In the New Testament, baptism becomes the covenant sign of union with Christ, symbolizing death to the old life and resurrection into new life (Rom 6:3–4).

Communion, like circumcision, is a covenant meal. It echoes the Passover, where Israel remembered God’s saving act through a shared, embodied practice (Exod 12). Jesus reframes this meal around Himself, declaring the bread and cup to be His body and blood—the means by which the New Covenant is established (Luke 22:19–20). Communion continually reorients the Church around Christ’s sacrificial faithfulness.

Foot washing reaches its theological climax when Jesus washes His disciples’ feet (John 13:1–17). In this act, Jesus unites cleansing, humility, and love. He demonstrates that covenant belonging in the New Testament is marked not by dominance or status, but by self-giving service. The act does not replace baptism or communion but interprets them: those who have been cleansed by Christ are called to live cleansed lives marked by humble love.

Together, these practices reveal a consistent biblical pattern. God teaches spiritual truths through physical actions. Covenant faithfulness is not abstract; it is embodied. Circumcision marked God’s people as recipients of divine promise. Washings prepared them for holy presence. Baptism unites believers to Christ’s death and resurrection. Communion sustains them through continual remembrance and participation in Christ’s life.

What seems strange to modern culture is, in Scripture, profoundly intentional. From Genesis to the Gospels, God forms His people through signs that engage the body, the community, and the memory—shaping not only what they believe, but how they live.

Communion functions in the New Covenant in ways that closely parallel how circumcision functioned in the Old Covenant. In the Old Testament, circumcision was the covenant sign given to Abraham and his household (Gen 17:9–14). It did not create the covenant; rather, it marked those who belonged to it. Circumcision identified a person as part of God’s covenant people and continually pointed back to God’s promise to bring life where human ability had failed.

Similarly, communion does not establish the New Covenant but bears witness to it. At the Last Supper, Jesus identified the cup as “the new covenant in My blood” (Luke 22:20). Each time believers participate in the Lord’s Supper, they are visibly and repeatedly reminded that their life with God is grounded not in their own faithfulness, but in Christ’s sacrificial death.

Both circumcision and communion are physical, embodied signs of spiritual realities. Circumcision marked the body and permanently reminded Israel that their existence depended on God’s miraculous promise. Communion involves tangible elements—bread and wine—that engage the body and senses, proclaiming that the Church’s life flows from Christ’s broken body and shed blood (1 Cor 11:26).

Both signs are also communal and covenantal, not merely private. Circumcision incorporated individuals into a covenant people, shaping their identity and responsibilities. In the same way, communion is a shared meal that proclaims unity in Christ’s body (1 Cor 10:16–17). Participation affirms belonging to the covenant community and submission to its Lord.

Finally, both signs call for faithful response and self-examination. Circumcision without covenant loyalty was condemned by the prophets (Jer 4:4). Likewise, Paul warns against receiving communion in an unworthy manner, detached from repentance and love for the body of Christ (1 Cor 11:27–29). In both cases, the sign points beyond itself to a life of faithful trust and obedience.

In short, circumcision marked Israel as a people created by God’s promise, while communion continually re-centers the Church on the saving work of Christ. Different signs, same covenant logic: God gives a visible marker to remind His people who they are, how they were redeemed, and upon whom their life depends.

Circumcision appears nearly one hundred times in Scripture and plays an important role in both Old and New Testament theology (Rom 4:9–12; Gal 2:1–12; 5:1–10). At first glance, this emphasis can seem strange. Yet Scripture treats circumcision as a serious theological symbol, not a mere cultural practice.

In Genesis 17, circumcision is given as the sign of God’s covenant with Abraham. However, it was not unique to Israel. Many peoples in the ancient Near East practiced circumcision, including Israel’s neighbors (Jer 9:25–26), as well as cultures in Egypt, Syria, and Phoenicia. Historical and archaeological evidence shows that circumcision existed long before Israel emerged as a nation. This suggests that circumcision alone did not set Israel apart from surrounding nations.

What made circumcision distinctive was not the act itself, but the promise attached to it. When God commanded Abraham to be circumcised, Abraham was beyond the age of fathering children, and Sarah was past childbearing years (Gen 18:11). Yet God promised that through Sarah, Abraham would have an innumerable offspring (Gen 17:21; 18:14). The covenant, therefore, depended entirely on God’s miraculous intervention.

Circumcision marked the household of Abraham as participants in a promise that could only be fulfilled by God. At the time, the meaning of this sign may not have been fully clear. Its significance became evident when Isaac was born. That birth confirmed that Israel’s existence was not the result of human strength, but of divine faithfulness.

From that moment on, circumcision served as a lasting reminder that Israel owed its life to the Lord. It pointed back to the miracle that brought the people into being and continually reinforced their dependence on God’s covenant grace.

In the New Testament, circumcision no longer defines membership in God’s people. As Paul teaches, belonging to God’s family is no longer marked by a physical sign, but by faith in Christ (Gal 5:6). Paul even links circumcision to baptism (Col 2:10–12), showing that both are covenant signs grounded in faith. In Christ, God’s people—men and women alike—are marked not by the body, but by trust in the saving work of God.

Biblical covenant faithfulness is God’s work of creating and sustaining a people through promise, and the faithful response of that people lived out in embodied trust and obedience. From the Old Testament to the New, God marks His covenant not merely with ideas, but with visible, physical signs—circumcision, washings, baptism, and communion—that remind His people that their life comes from Him alone. These signs do not create the covenant; they testify to it, pointing beyond themselves to God’s saving action. Covenant faithfulness, therefore, is trusting God’s promise, receiving His cleansing and provision, remembering His saving work, and living humbly and obediently as His redeemed people.

Is it time to start writing a War Scroll yet?

Recent developments within American political life raise serious theological and pastoral concerns, particularly when Christian language and symbols are invoked to legitimize the exercise of state power. When sectors of evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity publicly align themselves with coercive or dehumanizing immigration enforcement practices, such alignment risks distancing Christian witness from the ethic and teachings of Jesus himself (Matt 7:15–20; Luke 4:18–19).

This week, 37-year-old Alex Jeffrey Pretti, an intensive care nurse from Minneapolis, was shot and killed by federal agents during an immigration enforcement operation on January 24, 2026. Pretti was well-known locally as a VA hospital ICU nurse with no serious criminal history. Bystander video analyzed by news outlets appears to show Pretti holding only a phone and not a weapon before being sprayed with a chemical agent, tackled to the ground, and then shot by agents. Footage suggests that one of the agents appears to remove a handgun from the struggle just moments before shots are fired. As many as 10 shots can be heard in the clip that captured the event. Federal officials have said that agents fired in what they described as defensive action after Pretti allegedly approached with a handgun and resisted disarmament; local authorities have confirmed he was a lawful gun owner with a permit to carry. The shooting has sparked protests and intense public scrutiny over the handling of the incident and the actions of federal forces in Minneapolis. The NRA specifically made a statement against the Trump administration.* Perhaps we don’t know all of the story; it is hard to tell if Alex was just being tackled by several government officials or if he was part of the struggle. So far in the footage, we can’t see what was happening up close. But all of this seems excessive and out of line.

Regardless of whether Alex was resistant, as an ardent constitutional 2A supporter and owner of an NRA gun range, this has me considering a revolution. I have taught History at many educational levels. The American Revolution emerged from a growing conviction that British authority had become unjust and tyrannical. Colonists faced taxation without representation, loss of local self-governance, standing armies enforcing civil law, economic restrictions, and denial of due process. Influenced by the Enlightenment and biblical ideas of God-given rights, many concluded (right or wrong) that when government violates its covenant to protect liberty, resistance becomes morally justified. Minnesota is getting dangerously close to the similarities of the Boston Massacre, which occurred on March 5, 1770. Could we be six years away from a Civil War revolution?

I recognize how complex these conversations are. Unlike some voices on my side who completely reject any connection to the MAGA movement, I do not. In fact, I can see certain elements of Christian language and symbolism appearing in our government. Yet, these are often eclipsed by hypocrisy and rhetoric that conflict with biblical teaching. I sometimes smile, but the reflection behind it remains sorrowful.

I don’t watch the news much anymore; I have decided it isn’t good for my desire to be completely kingdom-minded. So, when I get too enthralled with discussions like this, I am thankful that my pastoral senses kick in (likely the Holy Spirit) and I remember the Jesus that I am faithfully in covenant with never called for the faithful to start that sort of a revolution. In fact, the political climate of Jeremiah was likely significantly worse, with sons and daughters taken into slavery by the coming empire, and Jeremiah’s words were strikingly calm,

Recently you may have observed that federal recruitment materials have, at times, incorporated Scripture and explicitly religious language. The concern is not merely that biblical texts appear in public discourse, but that such language is deployed by agencies tasked with the use of force. As David Wehner argues, when Immigration and Customs Enforcement frames its mission in theological terms, it implicitly communicates that its actions carry divine sanction. In one regard, isn’t this good? Is the government finally trying to align with the path of the scripture?

One of several example of this can be found in the September 2025, (a now-renamed) U.S. Department of War social media account that posted a video showing military personnel with overlaid Bible text:

“Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid, nor dismayed. For the Lord your God is with you, wherever you go.”Joshua 1:9

In the 1920s and 1930s, elements within the German Evangelical Church aligned themselves with nationalist ideology through the Deutsche Christen (“German Christians”) movement. Christian theology was reshaped to support political aims, including the construction of a “heroic” and racially reimagined Jesus, detached from his Jewish identity and biblical context (Heschel, The Aryan Jesus). While contemporary America is not equivalent to Germany under National Socialism, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s warning remains instructive: when the church confuses loyalty to Christ with loyalty to political power, it ceases to function as the church at all (Ethics; Letters and Papers from Prison).

From a discipleship perspective, the central question is not partisan but Christological: What does faithfulness to Jesus require when power is exercised in ways that harm the vulnerable? The New Testament consistently places the treatment of the stranger, the poor, and the powerless at the center of faithful obedience (Matt 25:31–46; Lev 19:33–34; Heb 13:2).

The Gospels portray Jesus as resisting coercive power, refusing to dehumanize opponents, and explicitly rejecting the use of divine authority to justify domination (Luke 22:25–27; John 18:36). Any policy or practice that undermines human dignity must therefore be assessed not merely by its legality, but by its conformity to the character of Christ (Hauerwas, The Peaceable Kingdom).

At the center of Christian confession stands the claim that God became flesh among the marginalized, the displaced, and the suffering (John 1:14; Luke 2:7). Faithfulness to Christ calls the church not to baptize power, but to bear witness to a kingdom that restores dignity, practices mercy, and speaks truth—even when doing so is costly.

I believe our government has drifted far from the ethics of Jesus. The way power is being exercised in the name of immigration enforcement (as well as other ideals) is not consistent with the character of Christ.

It is not Christlike to use children as instruments of coercion or entrapment. It is not Christlike to publicly humiliate an elderly citizen—forcing him out into freezing conditions in his underwear. It is not Christlike to fire on unarmed protesters at close range. It is not Christlike to detain human beings in degrading, inhumane conditions. It is not Christlike to tear gas a family’s vehicle and send three children, including an infant, to the hospital. And it is not Christlike to terrorize immigrant communities, communities of color, or anyone else, for that matter.2

Make no mistake, America is not a “Christian nation” nor was that ever the intent. Yet the way many Christians behave in public life today resembles something far closer to a distorted form of Christianity than to the faith of Jesus. In many cases, authoritarian power is being legitimized by a misuse of Christian language and symbols.

When Christianity is weaponized for political control, it becomes something other than the gospel. When the name of Jesus is invoked to justify fear, exclusion, or violence, the message of the cross is compromised. And when Christians remain silent—or worse, defend policies that dehumanize and brutalize others—we betray the very gospel we claim to uphold. If you didn’t catch the satire, don’t worry—I’m not starting or joining any militant revolution, no matter how messed up things seem. The only revolution in my future is sharing the joy and peace of following Jesus—you could definitely call that a revolution!



  1. Jeremiah 29:5-7 ↩︎
  2. @Benjamin Cremer ↩︎

Bibliography

  1. Bellah, Robert N. “Civil Religion in America.” Daedalus 96, no. 1 (1967): 1–21.
  2. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. Ethics. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005.
  3. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. Letters and Papers from Prison. New York: Touchstone, 1997.
  4. Hauerwas, Stanley. The Peaceable Kingdom. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1983.
  5. Heschel, Susannah. The Aryan Jesus: Christian Theologians and the Bible in Nazi Germany. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008.
  6. The Bible, New Revised Standard Version.
  7. Wehner, David. “The MAGA Jesus.” The Atlantic.

NOTES:

*https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cnvg812n01no

The title of this article is a bit tongue and cheek; I do not believe the War Scroll was aligned with the view of Jesus in any way. I hope you are able to pick up on the hyperbole. The War Scroll, found among the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran, is a detailed eschatological text attributed to the Essenes, a Jewish sect living in the area during the Second Temple period. It describes a final, cosmic battle between the “Sons of Light” (the righteous community) and the “Sons of Darkness” (their enemies, including the forces of evil and oppressive nations). The scroll outlines military organization, strategy, and rituals, presenting the war as part of God’s ultimate plan to purify Israel and establish divine rule. Scholars view it as reflecting the Essenes’ apocalyptic worldview and their belief in an imminent, divinely guided victory over evil.

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GENESIS 17 AND THE COVENANT

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.

Her first name Sarai in Hebrew (שָׂרַי, “my princess”), meant princess and could have denoted her as an Egyptian princess which Gen 12:11-20 might allude to; but later she is *renamed by the Lord because of her faith as Sarah (שָׂרָה, which also meant “princess”, but is slightly different. In Hebrew text also has a number correlation and often means something. This is a form of numerology. Regarding Sarah’s name change, the Yod (whose numerical value is 10) was “taken” from Sarai and divided into two Heys (whose numerical value is 5). Half was given (by God) to form the name Sarah and the other half was given to form the name Abraham (from Abram). The implication was that she was already “whole” or “complete” which later is described by Jesus as “perfection” being what believers can attain to in the way they are made new in Christ. In this thinking, Abraham was not complete and needed something from her to be returned to the complete or equal state. There is a sense of “reversing hermon” going on here if you speak that language. It is a reverse of the God taking something from Adam to make Eve; for Abraham to be reinstated, Sarah would have to give something from herself. That is why if you don’t read this in Hebrew you can’t truly understand the implications of Hebrews 11 and why Sarah is actually considered “THE” true heroine of faith (Heb. 11:11) and Abraham isn’t mentioned. Is your mind blown yet? Essentially, at this point in the Timeline what God was attempting to accomplish in Sarah was to re-establish the royal priesthood that had been lost in the fall. Perhaps she thought Issac was the one that would bring life, and perhaps that was God’s plan that men then continued to mess up. The woman began the fall, but man has sustained it. Together in covenant relationship through a strand of three cords we can restore it, but will we get there and when?

(The above paragraph is an excerpt from an earlier x44 post. If you haven’t read the PART 1 and 2 of the Expedition 44 posts of the Akedah or binding of Isaac, you may want to read those posts. You can find them using the search bar to the upper right of this post.)

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.

MATT 13:44 Hidden Treasure Discussion

In Matthew 13, Jesus tells a series of parables that He calls “the secrets of the kingdom of heaven.” Through these 7 stories, Jesus reveals how God’s kingdom is at work in the world right now.

The kingdom of heaven is God’s rule and authority breaking into ordinary human life. These parables show how that kingdom has been unfolding since Jesus’ first coming and how it will continue to grow—often quietly, patiently, and unexpectedly—until He returns.

The first four parables in Matthew 13 were spoken publicly by the Sea of Galilee. A large crowd gathered, so Jesus taught from a boat just offshore. These parables were meant for everyone to hear.

But the parable of the treasure hidden in the field begins a second group of teachings. Though given on the same day, these parables were spoken privately, after Jesus and His disciples went back into the house. Matthew tells us they were addressed to the disciples alone—and that detail matters. 4 parables to the public seekers and 3 to his disciples starting with this one; the parable of the hidden treasure, the parable of the pearl of great price, and the parable of the dragnet. 

Together, all seven parables reveal the work of the kingdom, but this shift from public teaching to private instruction reminds us that deeper understanding comes through closeness and commitment to Jesus.

It could be a picture of Israel1 – Chosen and then buried until the second coming (dispensationalism) – As I see the correlation, I am not sure I see the theology of Jesus actually being the one to intentionally “cover” or bury Israel. Also, the context of the other parables doesn’t seem to match up with this interpretation exactly, it seems like a reach.

Some have recognized the correlation to the 7 churches John writes about in revelation and believe that this story is a precursor to his letter to them years later.2

  • Ephesus (Revelation 2:1–7): known for having laboured hard and not fainted, and separating themselves from the wicked; admonished for having forsaken its first love (2:4)
  • Smyrna (Revelation 2:8–11): admired for its tribulation and poverty; but for which it is foretold that it will suffer persecution (2:10)
  • Pergamon (Revelation 2:12–17): located in a city where ‘Satan’s seat’ is; needs to repent of allowing false teachers. Admonished for eating “food sacrificed to idols” and “sexual immorality”. (2:16)
  • Thyatira (Revelation 2:18–29): known for its charity, whose “latter works are greater than the former”; admonished for tolerating the teachings of a false prophetess.
  • Sardis (Revelation 3:1–6): admonished for being spiritually dead even though it had a false public reputation of “being alive”. Cautioned to fortify itself and return to God through repentance (3:2–3)
  • Philadelphia (called Alaşehir since 1390; Revelation 3:7–13): known as steadfast in faith, keeping God’s word and enduring patiently (3:10)
  • Laodicea on the Lycus, near Denizli (see Laodicean Church) (Revelation 3:14–22): called lukewarm and insipid; described as fiscally wealthy but spiritually poor. (3:16)

Can you identify which one of these churches lines up with this parable? It is Sardis. Most “Christians” are soiled (dead), but there is a faithful remnant that is alive. 500 years before John’s “revelation of Jesus” letter was written, Sardis was one of the most powerful and richest cities in the region. But it weakened through moral failures and was conquered by both the Persian and Grecian empires because it “fell asleep.” When the invaders were climbing the hill to attack the city they uncovered the red soil. It was said that someone rain into the palace and yelled “RED” and the rulers took no heed thinking they were impenetrable falling back asleep and were overcome by the morning. That is where the soliloquy “CODE RED” emerged from.3

Let’s consider the text a bit more in depth.

KINGDOM OF HEAVEN – The “Kingdom of God” and its equivalent form “Kingdom of Heaven” in the Gospel of Matthew is one of the key elements of the teachings of Jesus in the New Testament. The Gospel of Mark indicates that the gospel is the good news about the Kingdom of God. The term pertains to the kingship of Christ over all creation.4 

TREASURE – This to represent the free gift of the gospel. Some struggle here with finding something in a filed. We want to think in modern Western terms. Who owns a found treasure? The government? If you keep it is it stealing? I will remind you that we need to first understand the way the intended audience would have understood this within their culture before you apply it to your world. In the ancient world fields were gleaned by the destitute allowed to “work” the remains of the field. Remember Ruth? Ruth is allowed to glean in the fields as part of the Mosaic Law, which mandated that farmers leave some of their harvest for the poor and sojourners (Leviticus 19:9-10, Deuteronomy 24:19). Many people buried their “wealth” in Bible times as they did not trust it from thieves in their residence when they were away or would leave it as an investment for later. Much of this treasure became lost. The parables reference this and the idea of lost things in other places of scripture such as the prodigal son. Common law dictated that if you found treasure like this you could keep it.5 In other words, don’t get hung up in the story with the morality of keeping hidden treasure, give Jesus the benefit of the doubt that there were no questionable ethics going on within the narrative.

The treasure is Jesus and free gift that He has brought from heaven to earth to us, it was intended to remain hidden but to be brought to the lite and shared for the betterment of others. This is a picture of the sort of kingdom prosperity God offers, not established from a worldly perspective or gain, but as an experience to truly experience what is worth from a kingdom perspective.

BUY THE FIELD – This is a harder one. Some have deduced the idea of earthly wealth prosperity thinking here. They use this as an angle to buy and control the world or nations. I don’t think the text suggest that, in fact quite the opposite. That notion seems to actually be very counter to the thrust of the narrative. This act illustrates the joy and dedication required to embrace spiritual wealth over worldly possessions. The parable emphasizes that the Kingdom of Heaven is worth everything, and believers are called to prioritize it above all else. The pursuit of righteousness is costly in some regard and requires strategic stewardship.

JOY – The biblical definition of joy says that joy is a feeling of good pleasure and happiness that is dependent on who Jesus is rather than on who we are or what is happening around us. Joy comes from the Holy Spirit, abiding in God’s presence and from hope in His word.

Biblical joy can be a confusing thing, especially since it’s something that doesn’t come just in the best of times. Because it is dependent on who Jesus is and God’s presence in us as the Holy Spirit, biblical joy is accessible to us even in the worst of times, and it can never be taken away from us. In Jesus’ upside-down kingdom sometimes joy even comes in tribulation.

“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.” —John 16:22 ESV

The Bible is full of stories of real people’s brokenness and hardships, yet somehow it is also filled with songs of praise to God and stories of incredible hope and joy. A central theme to the kingdom of God is that Jesus came that we might have Joy in abundance.

Today, we can find true, lasting joy in God’s word and by asking the Holy Spirit for help. Because of this, biblical joy is accessible to us even in the worst of times and is found in having a relationship with our Savior, Jesus Christ – THE TREASURE OF LIFE. I pray that you find this treasure, live it out as part of the devoted remnant and bear the fruit of this gift with others in your life.

Feel free to download and use this discussion guide for you small group.

  1. https://www.raystedman.org/new-testament/matthew/the-case-of-the-buried-treasure ↩︎
  2. Hemer, Colin J. The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia in Their Local Setting (JSOT Press, 1989), p. 283 ↩︎
  3. Briant, Pierre (January 2002). From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire. Eisenbrauns. p. 36. ISBN 9781575061207. ↩︎
  4. France, R. T. (2005). “Kingdom of God”. In Vanhoozer, Kevin J.; Bartholomew, Craig G.; Treier, Daniel J.; Wright, Nicholas Thomas (eds.). Dictionary for Theological Interpretation of the Bible. Grand Rapids: Baker Book House. pp. 420–422. ISBN 978-0-8010-2694-2. ↩︎
  5. Oras, Ester (2012), “Importance of terms: What is a wealth deposit?”, Papers from the Institute of Archaeology22: 61–82, doi:10.5334/pia.403
    . ↩︎
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Peace Under Pressure

Navigating Difficult People the Way of Jesus

Biblical peace is not avoidance or passivity.
It is authority under God’s order and control, rooted in God’s presence, shaped by love, and expressed through wise, restrained action.

Jesus shows us how to remain grounded—even when others are hostile, manipulative, or exhausting.

John 14:27
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you… Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

Jesus offers a peace that does not remove difficult people but changes how we meet them.

Jesus encountered criticism, traps, hostility, and betrayal constantly.
His responses were never reactive—but always intentional.

Jesus never acted from superiority or pride.
He embodied meekness—strength under control.

Sermon on the Mount

  • “Blessed are the meek…” (Matt. 5:5)
  • “Love your enemies… pray for those who persecute you.” (Matt. 5:44)

Discussion Prompt:
How is meekness different from weakness in real-life conflict?


Jesus did not feel the need to answer every accusation.

  • Silence: John 8:6 — Jesus says nothing when pressed to condemn
  • Measured rebuke: John 8:47 — “Whoever belongs to God hears God’s words.”

Sermon on the Mount

  • “Do not throw your pearls before pigs.” (Matt. 7:6)

Discussion Prompt:
When is silence wise—and when does silence become avoidance?


Jesus often answered hostility with questions that exposed motives.

  • Mark 11:28–29 — Jesus responds to a challenge with a question
  • Luke 10:26 — “What is written in the Law?”

Sermon on the Mount

  • “Why do you look at the speck… and ignore the plank?” (Matt. 7:3)

Discussion Prompt:
How do good questions slow down reactive conflict?


Jesus didn’t argue opinions—He returned people to God’s word.

  • Mark 10:2–3 — “What did Moses command you?”
  • Matthew 5 — Jesus reframes the Law toward the heart

Discussion Prompt:
How does Scripture reframe conflict beyond “winning”?


Jesus often told stories instead of making accusations.

  • Luke 7:40–42 — A parable that invites self-recognition

Sermon on the Mount

  • Parables and images that confront without crushing

Discussion Prompt:
Why do stories disarm defensiveness better than direct confrontation?


Jesus’ peace does not make us passive.
It makes us anchored.

  • Anchored in God’s presence (John 14:23)
  • Anchored in love, not ego (Matt. 5–7)
  • Anchored enough to respond wisely instead of reactively

Where are you facing a difficult person or situation right now—
and which response of Jesus might God be inviting you to practice?

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