Faith Without Presumption, Kingship Without Discernment: A Socio-Rhetorical and Theological Reading of 1 Samuel 14

Posted by expedition44 on May 3, 2026

Introduction:

1 Samuel 14 stands as one of the most carefully crafted narratives within the Saul cycle, juxtaposing two modes of leadership and two postures before YHWH. The chapter is not merely a record of military engagement but a theological commentary on discernment, covenant fidelity, and the subtle erosion of kingship when fear and control replace trust. At its center are Jonathan and Saul, whose actions are narrated in deliberate contrast. The text invites the reader to discern not only what happens, but how and why it happens—through linguistic nuance, narrative pacing, and intertextual echoes.

**Jonathan’s Initiative: Faith Framed by ’Ulay (אולי)**

Jonathan’s opening words in 1 Samuel 14:6 are among the most theologically dense in the Former Prophets: “It may be (’ulay) that YHWH will act for us, for nothing restrains YHWH from saving by many or by few.” The Hebrew ’ulay does not communicate skepticism but rather a non-presumptive openness to divine agency.¹ It is faith stripped of entitlement. As Goldingay observes, this is “confidence in God’s character without presuming upon God’s timing or method.”² Jonathan’s posture aligns with a broader biblical motif in which faithful actors move forward based on what they know of YHWH’s nature rather than guaranteed outcomes (cf. Judg 7; 2 Sam 15:25–26). His request for a sign (vv. 9–10) reflects ANE patterns of divinatory discernment, yet it is distinctively reframed within covenantal trust rather than manipulation.³ Unlike pagan omens intended to control divine will, Jonathan’s sign functions as participatory discernment—a listening posture embedded in action. The result is not merely tactical success but a theological demonstration: “YHWH struck a panic” (v. 15). The Hebrew ḥărādâ (חרדה, “trembling”) and the description of the earth quaking evoke theophanic imagery, suggesting that the battle belongs to YHWH alone.⁴ The narrative carefully removes grounds for human boasting. Salvation is divine in origin, human in participation.

Saul’s Posture: Ritual Without Discernment

In contrast, Saul is introduced as stationary—“sitting under the pomegranate tree” (v. 2)—a detail that signals more than geography.⁵ While Jonathan moves toward the Philistine outpost, Saul remains at the periphery, accompanied by priestly figures (Ahijah) and cultic apparatus. This juxtaposition reveals a key theological tension: proximity to religious structure does not guarantee alignment with divine movement. Saul’s rash oath in verse 24 intensifies this tension. The curse—“Cursed be the man who eats food until evening”—is framed as zeal for vengeance, yet its effect is debilitating. The Hebrew notes that “the people were faint” (wayyāʿap hāʿām), underscoring the king’s failure to shepherd wisely.⁶ Alter remarks that Saul’s vow “transforms religious intensity into destructive excess.”⁷

From a Deuteronomistic perspective, Saul’s action reflects a deeper failure to heed the voice of YHWH (šāmaʿ). His leadership increasingly substitutes external acts of piety for relational attentiveness. This pattern anticipates the prophetic critique found later in 1 Samuel 15:22, where obedience is elevated over sacrifice.⁸

**The Language of Trouble: ʿĀkar (עכר) and Covenant Reversal**

Jonathan’s response in verse 29 is striking: “My father has troubled (ʿākar) the land.” This term deliberately recalls Joshua 7, where Achan is identified as the one who “troubled Israel.”⁹ The narrative thus employs a covenantal echo to reposition Saul within Israel’s story—not as deliverer, but as disruptor. This reversal is theologically significant. In Israel’s covenant framework, the king is to mediate blessing, embody Torah, and secure communal stability.¹⁰ By invoking ʿākar, the text signals that Saul has inverted this role. As Brueggemann notes, “Saul becomes the very impediment to the well-being he was anointed to secure.”¹¹

Blood, Law, and Reactive Religion

The people’s subsequent violation, eating meat with blood (vv. 32–33); introduces another layer of theological complexity. The prohibition against consuming blood (Lev 17:10–14) is rooted in the association of blood with life (nepeš).¹² The people’s sin emerges not from rebellion but from exhaustion, itself a consequence of Saul’s oath. Saul’s response is to build an altar—his first recorded altar (v. 35). Scholars often interpret this as reactive rather than formative.¹³ It is an attempt to correct disorder through ritual rather than addressing the underlying leadership failure. The pattern is consistent: Saul responds to crisis with religious action, yet without deep covenantal alignment.

Divine Violence and Theological Trajectory

The chapter’s portrayal of divine violence (panic among the Philistines, widespread defeat) raises enduring theological questions. How does one reconcile such depictions with the character of a loving God? Christopher Wright argues that these events must be read within Israel’s vocation as an instrument of divine justice in a specific historical moment.¹⁴ Longman adds that YHWH’s warfare is “not paradigmatic for all time but particular to redemptive history.”¹⁵ The text itself resists glorifying violence; it centers on YHWH’s agency and Israel’s deliverance. Moreover, when read through the broader canonical lens, these narratives participate in a trajectory that culminates in the cruciform revelation of God in Jesus Christ. Boyd suggests that earlier depictions of divine violence are accommodated within Israel’s cultural framework, ultimately pointing toward a fuller revelation of God’s self-giving love.¹⁶ Thus, 1 Samuel 14 must be read not in isolation but as part of a progressive unveiling of divine character.

Saul’s Delay: Arriving Where God Has Already Moved

A subtle but profound motif in the chapter is Saul’s repeated delay. While Jonathan initiates action, Saul seeks confirmation after the fact (v. 37), only to encounter divine silence. The narrative suggests not divine absence but Saul’s misalignment with divine timing. This motif resonates with broader biblical patterns in which leaders fail not through overt rebellion but through hesitation, misreading, or arriving late to God’s work (cf. Exod 32; Num 14). As Peterson paraphrases, Saul is “occupied with religion while missing God.”¹⁷ The tragedy is not that Saul acts wrongly once, but that he consistently fails to discern where YHWH is already active.

Canonical and Theological Connections

The themes of 1 Samuel 14 reverberate across Scripture:

Jonathan’s trust anticipates David’s confession that “the battle is YHWH’s” (1 Sam 17:47).
Saul’s failure echoes prophetic critiques of hollow religiosity (Hos 6:6; Mic 6:6–8).
The tension between divine initiative and human response finds fulfillment in Christ, who perfectly embodies obedience and discernment (John 5:19).

Within the ANE context, kings were often portrayed as divine agents whose success validated their legitimacy.¹⁸ Israel’s narrative subverts this expectation: legitimacy is not grounded in victory alone but in faithful alignment with YHWH’s voice.

LIFE APPLICATION: Learning to Move When God Moves

There’s something here we can’t miss if we’re going to read this faithfully—not just as observers of Israel’s story, but as people being formed by it. This text was first given to a people learning how to live under the kingship of God in a world of war, instability, and competing loyalties. They were asking, What does it look like to trust YHWH when everything around us feels uncertain? And into that question, this story speaks—not with abstract theology, but with lived contrast.

Jonathan shows them what it looks like to move with God without needing control. He knows who God is, even if he doesn’t know exactly what God will do. Saul, on the other hand, shows them how easy it is to stay close to the language of faith, the structures of worship, even the appearance of leadership, and still be out of step with the heart of God. That’s what Israel needed to see. Not just who wins battles, but who is actually walking with YHWH.

Now we’re reading this thousands of years later, in a completely different world. We’re not standing on battlefields or navigating Philistine threats. We are far removed from those battlefields even though we are at war today. But the deeper question hasn’t changed. We’re still asking what it looks like to trust God in the middle of real life. And if we’re honest, we still feel that same pull toward control, toward managing outcomes, toward wanting certainty before obedience.

So what do we take from this?

We take the reminder that God is already at work before we ever arrive. Jonathan didn’t create the victory. He stepped into something God was already doing. That still holds true. We don’t have to manufacture meaning or force outcomes. The invitation is to pay attention, to listen, to recognize where God’s life is already breaking in, and to join Him there. God could use anyone to fulfill this story, but those who devotionally partner with Him and actually step in are the ones that become part of the story. We take the warning that it’s possible to be busy with spiritual things and still miss God. Saul wasn’t absent. He was present, surrounded by the right people, saying the right kinds of things. But his heart drifted into control and fear. That can happen now just as easily. We can build ministries, lead conversations, carry titles, and still find ourselves reacting instead of discerning. And maybe most importantly, we take the reassurance that God’s purposes are not fragile. Even in the middle of Saul’s missteps, God still moves. He still saves. He still brings about what He intends. Our hope is not in getting everything right. It’s in staying close, staying responsive, staying willing.

So the question this text leaves us with isn’t, “Are you doing enough?” It’s quieter than that.

Are you listening?

Are you paying attention to where God is already moving in your life, your family, your community?

And when you sense it, are you willing to step forward, even if you don’t have everything figured out?

That’s the kind of life this story invites us into. Not perfect clarity. Not total control. But a steady, relational trust in the God who is always ahead of us, still calling us to walk with Him.

Footnotes (SBL Style)

Bruce K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 642.
John Goldingay, Old Testament Theology, Vol. 2 (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2006), 412.
John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 287.
David T. Tsumura, The First Book of Samuel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 358.
Robert Alter, The David Story (New York: Norton, 1999), 83.
Bill T. Arnold, 1 & 2 Samuel (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003), 213.
Alter, David Story, 84.
Dale Ralph Davis, 1 Samuel (Fearn: Christian Focus, 2000), 144.
Ralph W. Klein, 1 Samuel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2008), 134.
Christopher J. H. Wright, Old Testament Ethics (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2004), 265.
Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel (Louisville: WJK, 1990), 107.
Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22 (New York: Doubleday, 2000), 1024.
Peter Leithart, A Son to Me (Moscow: Canon Press, 2003), 120.
Christopher J. H. Wright, The God I Don’t Understand (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008), 95.
Tremper Longman III, God Is a Warrior (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015), 67.
Gregory A. Boyd, Crucifixion of the Warrior God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017), 412.
Eugene H. Peterson, Leap Over a Wall (San Francisco: HarperOne, 1997), 89.
K. Lawson Younger Jr., Ancient Conquest Accounts (Sheffield: JSOT, 1990), 229.

When the Church Feels Like a Marketplace: Holding the Tension Between Torah, Temple, and the Tables Jesus Turned

Posted by expedition44 on April 9, 2026

A Discomfort Worth Business church Models

There are moments when something feels off, even if everything looks right. The lights are good, the systems are clean, the structure is efficient—but underneath it all, there’s a quiet unease. You hear language that sounds more like strategy than shepherding. You notice transactions happening where you expected prayer or discipleship. And somewhere in the back of your mind, the image surfaces: Jesus turning over tables. That instinct shouldn’t be dismissed too quickly. It may be closer to the prophetic instinct than we are comfortable admitting. At the same time, it should not be weaponized into a simplistic critique, because Scripture itself forces us to sit in the tension rather than resolve it prematurely. The question is not whether churches should handle money or organize resources, but whether something deeper has shifted in orientation. And increasingly, in many modern contexts, it has.

Torah, Worship, and the Reality of Provision

If we return to the Torah, we are immediately confronted with a framework that refuses to separate worship from material reality. Israel’s sacrificial system required tangible elements—animals, grain, oil—and participation demanded accessibility. The law itself provides a mechanism for this, allowing worshipers to convert offerings into money, travel, and then purchase what is necessary upon arrival.¹ This is not concession but intentional design. Worship is embodied, and provision is part of covenant life.

By the Second Temple period, this developed into structured systems of exchange: animals available for sacrifice and currency exchange for the temple tax.² These were not inherently corrupt. Properly ordered, they were acts of inclusion. They allowed the distant, the traveler, and the outsider to participate in the life of worship.³ In other words, economic activity, when rightly oriented, can serve the purposes of God. But that qualifier—when rightly oriented—is everything. Because Scripture consistently shows how quickly provision can become distortion when its telos shifts.

Jesus and the Collapse of a Corrupted System

When Jesus enters the temple and overturns the tables, He is not reacting to the mere presence of commerce. He is issuing a prophetic judgment. By invoking Isaiah 56 and Jeremiah 7 together, He identifies a system that has not only drifted but has fundamentally betrayed its purpose.⁴ What was meant to be a house of prayer for all nations had become a place where economic practices obscured access to God.

Historical and textual considerations suggest that this activity had overtaken the Court of the Gentiles, displacing the very space intended for the nations.⁵ The implications are profound. The inclusion of the outsider had been replaced with obstruction. What once facilitated worship had begun to control it. Economic systems, likely marked by inflated pricing and exploitative exchange practices, had created a structure in which access to worship was entangled with financial burden.⁶ This is why Jesus’ response is not mild correction but disruptive confrontation. He is not fine-tuning a system; He is exposing it as misaligned at its core.

At this point, a stronger word is necessary. The issue is not simply that the system was imperfect. It had become predatory. It leveraged the sacred for gain. It functioned in a way that mirrored the very economic injustices the prophets had long condemned.⁷ Jesus’ actions must be read in continuity with that prophetic tradition. He is not introducing a new critique; He is embodying an old one with unmistakable clarity. And that same critique might be more real of our churches than ever before.

The Real Question: What Is the Church Becoming?

This brings us directly into the present. The issue is not whether a church rents space, sells resources, or organizes financially. The issue is what kind of people those practices are forming and what kind of witness they are projecting. Scripture presses us to evaluate not only actions but trajectories. Money is never merely functional—it is formative. It reveals what we trust, what we prioritize, and ultimately what we worship.⁸

If we are honest, many modern church contexts have not simply adopted neutral structures but have absorbed the logic of the marketplace itself (that Jesus directly engaged). The language of branding, scaling, growth metrics, and customer experience has quietly replaced the language of formation, sacrifice, and shared life. This is not a minor shift. It is a reorientation of identity. And it should be named plainly: when the church begins to think like a business, it risks becoming something other than the body of Christ.

A clear diagnostic remains helpful here:

When a church begins drifting toward marketplace distortion:

Access to belonging or formation becomes subtly conditioned by financial capacity
The environment prioritizes curated experience over embodied participation
Language reflects branding, scalability, and optimization rather than shepherding
Leadership decisions are governed by sustainability metrics rather than faithfulness
The poor and marginalized are functionally sidelined

When a church is stewarding resources faithfully:

Finances are transparently directed toward discipleship, care, and mission
Generosity is tangible and outward-facing
Leadership operates with accountability and humility
The community functions as a participatory body rather than a consumable experience
Resources are held with looseness, not as identity or security

This is not theoretical. These patterns are observable. And they reveal far more than spreadsheets ever could.

The Subtle Drift Toward Market Logic

The most dangerous shifts are rarely abrupt. They are incremental. A church begins by seeking to reach more people, then to sustain growth, then to manage complexity, and eventually to preserve what has been built. Each step seems reasonable. Each decision appears justifiable. But over time, the framework changes. People become metrics. Gatherings become products. Success becomes measurable in ways that Scripture never prioritizes.

The book of Revelation offers a piercing critique of economic systems that shape allegiance and identity, portraying entire structures of commerce as complicit in spiritual compromise.⁹ The warning is not against trade itself but against systems that form people into participants of empire rather than citizens of the kingdom. When the church begins to mirror those systems—when it adopts their language, their priorities, and their measures of success—it risks losing its distinctiveness altogether.

Jesus as the Reorienting Center

Jesus’ actions in the temple are not simply corrective; they are revelatory. He exposes what has been normalized and calls it what it is. He reclaims sacred space as a place of prayer, presence, and access, particularly for those who had been excluded.¹⁰ That reorientation is not optional for the church—it is foundational. And here is where the tension sharpens. We must ask, without deflection, whether there are patterns within modern church life that Jesus Himself would confront. Not critique from a distance, but actively disrupt. That question requires courage, because it moves us beyond abstract theology into lived practice.

Studying the Text

There is a deeply Hebraic way to frame what is at stake here, and it presses beyond systems into the level of the heart. The biblical language of worship is not built on transaction but on orientation. The Hebrew word ʿābad (עָבַד) carries the dual sense of “to serve” and “to worship,” reminding us that worship is not something offered at a distance but embodied in lived allegiance.¹² Likewise, šāḥâ (שָׁחָה), often translated “to worship,” literally means to bow down, to orient oneself in submission before a king.¹³ When these are paired with qōdeš (קֹדֶשׁ)—that which is set apart, wholly other—we begin to see that sacred space is not defined by activity but by alignment.¹⁴ Even the language of redemption, gāʾal (גָּאַל), evokes not a commercial exchange but a relational act of covenantal restoration carried out by a kinsman-redeemer.¹⁵ In this light, the danger of a marketplace mentality is not merely that money is present, but that it subtly reshapes worship into something the Hebrew Scriptures never envisioned: a negotiable interaction rather than a surrendered life. When worship becomes something we manage, structure, and transact, it drifts from ʿābad into something closer to control, and from šāḥâ into something that no longer bows. The question, then, is not simply what we are doing in our spaces, but whether we are still a people rightly oriented—bowed, serving, and set apart—or whether we have unconsciously redefined worship in the image of the systems we inhabit in actions of control.

Conclusion

The discomfort many feel is not something to be dismissed. It may be an echo of the prophetic voice that runs from the Torah through the prophets and into the ministry of Jesus. At the same time, wisdom requires that we do not collapse into reactionary conclusions. The presence of structure or financial systems is not inherently unfaithful. The Torah affirms provision. The early church managed resources and shared them generously.¹¹

But neither should we soften the warning. When money begins to shape identity, when access becomes entangled with transaction, and when the church begins to resemble the marketplace more than the kingdom, something has gone wrong. And it is precisely in that space that the image of overturned tables must be allowed to confront us again.

The church was never meant to be a place that sells access to God. It was meant to be a people who embody His presence freely. When money serves that reality, it becomes a tool of life. When it begins to redefine that reality, it becomes an idol. And idols, in the biblical story, are never reformed. They are overturned.

Notes

Deut 14:24–26.
E. P. Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 BCE–66 CE (Philadelphia: Trinity Press, 1992), 69–71.
John H. Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 305–307.
Isa 56:7; Jer 7:11.
Craig A. Evans, Mark 8:27–16:20 (WBC 34B; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2001), 186–188.
N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 417–419.
Amos 5:21–24; cf. Richard B. Hays, The Moral Vision of the New Testament (San Francisco: HarperOne, 1996), 200–203.
Prov 11:4; Matt 6:21; Tremper Longman III, How to Read Proverbs (Downers Grove: IVP, 2002), 168–170.
Rev 18:11–13; Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 74–77.
Luke 19:45–46; Scot McKnight, The King Jesus Gospel (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011), 152–154.
Acts 2:44–45; 4:32–35; Michael J. Gorman, Reading Revelation Responsibly (Eugene: Cascade, 2011), 103–105.
Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 773–75.
William L. Holladay, A Concise Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971), 367.
R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer Jr., and Bruce K. Waltke, Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Chicago: Moody, 1980), 787–88.
Helmer Ringgren, “גאל,” in Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 350–55.

NATURAL ORDER

Posted by expedition44 on January 14, 2025

I want to talk about what is meant by God’s order, but before I do that, I want to guide you through a brief exegetical teaching through the text. When you hear the word order in relation to a biblical sense we have been conditioned to think about creation, law, hierarchy in the church and marriage, and perhaps even church discipline. Although it encompasses those things, I find it unfortunate that we start there, and therefore I feel we might need some deconstruction to get to good.

In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice; in the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch. Psalm 5:3 NASB

As I begin to read this in Hebrew the first thing that I notice in contrast to most English translations is the phrase “My prayer” is not found in the text. It isn’t a bad translation as I get the context leans that way but in Hebrew the verse better reads, “I will order toward you” which emphasizes a slightly different posture. Interesting the word prayer isn’t really there, perhaps a NT implication or even insertion. Prayer in the OT was a bit different than the way we understand it today. It was communal and far less personal (unless God appeared to you in a bush and orally spoke directly to you), after Jesus ascends to the throne and sends the Spirit to dwell in us and intercede, the biblical concept of prayer takes on a different form than what it had been considered over the last 2000 years or more. The way people thought of “prayer” in the OT may or may not be accurate. Are we just reading what they thought prayer was supposed to be perhaps based on what they knew of their former deities? Is this something that they got a bit off track with and Jesus sought to adjust or shed new light on? Perhaps, but perhaps not. Maybe our prayer should take a cue from the OT notions. When we read this verse in Hebrew form, we see that David isn’t talking about ritualistic prayer, or is he? He isn’t necessarily folding his hands and closing his eyes – but he is sort of. He is making a statement that if his life is in alignment with what is of God – TOV (creation order language), then he expects God to acknowledge and “DO THINGS” on his behalf. This may tie into the never-ending OT grappling over whether God was retributive or not, but it certainly had the trajectory of demonstrating the idea of devotion in connection to intimacy with the Lord. This connection over the years will then be attributed to the conjecture of relationship with the father in prayer. Some prayer is communal and some is personal.

Different people interact with God differently and perhaps in different seasons. Some say they don’t hear God and others act like God never stops screaming in their ear. How can the voice of God differ from person to person? Is it based on the posture of the heart, covenant faithfulness, gifting, seasons, understanding, choice, some sort of prejudice, or something completely different that is higher than our understanding? I believe that God is just that dynamic. I don’t know why He communicates differently to people and what it might be based on; I don’t always have the eyes of God. I believe Him to be Sovereign and know significantly more than we do in a much more complex grid. I am convinced that there are many things that influence this covenant relationship at a cosmic level. It is far bigger than simply me, and to think of my relationship with God (the creator of the universe) as doating on my every thought seems like a selfish notion. Does that view minimize a personal relationship or exemplify it?

God’s order is described in everything naturally defined by Yahweh and described generally as what is good (TOV). This is creation, the waters, the counting of the ark, the building of the temple, the pieces of firewood set in order for a sacrificial fire, showbread set out in two rows of six cakes on the gold table (Lev 24:8); seven altars set up by the pagan mantic Balaam (Num 23:4); stalks of flax arranged by Rahab for hiding the spies (Josh 2:6); a table prepared for dining (Ps 23:5; Isa 21:5); words produced for speaking (Job 32:14); a legal case developed for presentation (Job 13:18); etc. In II Sam 23:5 David exults in the covenant granted him by Yahweh, “for he has made with me an everlasting covenant, / ordered (ʿărûkâ) in all things and secure.^[1] We see God’s order in many ways, but the common thread that binds seems to be that it is given as a framework for our devotion to Him. This intimate devotion that is often described as reading or memorizing scripture, devotional repetition, standards of practice and living, and so much more are all described as what it means to be defined as SET APART. That we are defined and claimed as part of God’s order not the chaos of the world.

What defines this? Covenant. Covenant is the secure, accessible, and recognizable attribute of everything good that God offers to us. It is the basis of all of our interaction with the LORD. Without covenant we are detached or separated from the creator and his ways. When David chooses every morning to be in order, he is making a statement about the balance of life and the posture of the heart. The Hebrew term בְּרִית bĕriyth for “covenant” is from a root with the sense of “cutting”, because pacts or covenants were made by passing between cut pieces of flesh of an animal sacrifice.^[2] It meant something deep.

The New Covenant is a biblical interpretation originally derived from a phrase in the Book of Jeremiah and often thought of as an eschatological world to come related to the biblical concept of the Kingdom of God. Generally, Christians believe that the New Covenant was instituted at the Last Supper as part of the Eucharist, which in the Gospel of John includes the New Commandment.^[3] A connection between the Blood of Christ and the New Covenant is portrayed with the saying: “this cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood”. Jesus is therefore the mediator of this New Covenant, and that his blood, shed is the required blood of the covenant. This is true looking back in both testaments and can be seen in all of the biblical covenants of the bible.

In the Christian context, this New Covenant is associated with the word ‘testament‘ in the sense of a ‘will left after the death of a person (Latin testamentum),^[4] the original Greek word used in Scripture being diatheke (διαθήκη) which in the Greek context meant ‘will (left after death)’ but is also a word play having a dual meaning of ‘covenant, alliance’.^[5] This notion implies a reinterpreted view of the Old Testament covenant as possessing characteristics of a ‘will left after death’ placing the old covenant, brit (בְּרִית) into a new application of understanding as revealed by the death, resurrection, ascension, and throning of CHRIST THE KING, JESUS. All things will forever connect at the covenants and be defined by the atoning accomplishments that transform into a covenant of eternity.

Order today might be better understood as a continually evolving algorithm based on the posture of your covenant faithfulness which, as I have described, is defined by many facets of devotion. Some may hear the audible voice of God more clearly while others simply see Him in every image. The revelation of God to us isn’t in a form of hierarchy. One form of transcendence doesn’t trump another. Who are we to judge anyway. But I do know that most of Christianity seems to be off course here. Rather than coming to the LORD as the cosmic wish granting genie in a bottle, let’s get back to biblical roots and think more covenantal and devotional based on the order that God modeled for us.

^[1] Harris, R. L., Archer, G. L., Jr., & Waltke, B. K. (Eds.). (1999). Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 696). Chicago: Moody Press.

^[2] Strong’s Concordance (1890).

^[3] “Comparison of the two covenants mediated by Moses and the two covenants mediated by Jesus”. 25 September 2022. Archived from the original on 2022-09-28. Retrieved 2023-01-29.

^[4]“testamentum: Latin Word Study Tool”. http://www.perseus.tufts.edu. Retrieved 2020-08-12.

^[5] G1242 – diathēkē – Strong’s Greek Lexicon (KJV)”. Blue Letter Bible. Retrieved 2020-08-12.