The Abrahamic Covenants: A Progressive Invitation into God’s Family
Throughout salvation history, God has revealed Himself through covenants—binding relationships that establish a family bond between God and His people. Nowhere is this pattern more evident than in the covenants He makes with Abraham, which unfold in a series of progressively deeper commitments in Genesis 15, 17, and 22. Each of these covenants carries a distinct sign and increasing personal cost, ultimately foreshadowing the radical nature of the New Covenant in Christ.
To fully appreciate these covenants, we must understand the ancient practice of covenant-making, particularly in the context of suzerain-vassal treaties. These agreements were common in the ancient Near East, typically between a greater king (suzerain) and a lesser ruler (vassal). The suzerain would promise protection and blessings in return for the vassal’s loyalty, and the covenant was ratified through ritual acts—often involving animal sacrifice. The slaughtered animals symbolized the fate of the one who broke the covenant: "May what happened to these animals happen to me if I fail to uphold my end of the agreement."
This context is crucial for understanding Genesis 15, where God makes the first covenant with Abraham. In this passage, Abraham is instructed to cut animals in half—a well-attested practice in covenantal rituals. What follows, however, is astounding: instead of requiring Abraham to walk through the pieces, God alone, represented by a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch, passes between them. This signifies that God is taking upon Himself the full burden of the covenant, pledging His own fidelity even if Abraham’s descendants fail. Unlike earthly suzerains, who demanded loyalty from their vassals, God establishes a covenant based on His own initiative and promise. This moment foreshadows Christ, who will later take upon Himself the consequences of human infidelity.
Genesis 17 marks the next stage in this covenantal progression. Here, God reaffirms His promise, but this time, He requires a sign from Abraham and his household—circumcision. Unlike the animal sacrifice of Genesis 15, which was external and symbolic, circumcision is personal and permanent. It is a sign cut into the very flesh of Abraham’s descendants, marking them as God’s own. This deeper personal involvement in the covenant foreshadows the increasing demands of divine intimacy. As the covenant progresses, it not only requires a sign but also a direct participation in God’s promise.
The final and most climactic covenantal moment comes in Genesis 22, with the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. This episode, more than any before it, reveals the true cost of covenantal relationship. Whereas the previous covenants involved external symbols and personal marks, this covenant demands Abraham’s deepest love—his own son. By asking Abraham to offer Isaac, God is demonstrating the radical nature of covenant fidelity: true faith requires total trust, even to the point of apparent loss. Yet, at the last moment, God stays Abraham’s hand and provides a ram as a substitute, reinforcing the principle that God Himself will ultimately provide the sacrifice. This event, of course, prefigures the sacrifice of Christ, the true Lamb of God, who is not spared but freely gives Himself for the salvation of the world.
Each of these covenants builds upon the last, leading from a general promise of land and descendants (Genesis 15) to a personal mark of belonging (Genesis 17), culminating in the ultimate test of love and sacrifice (Genesis 22). As the covenants progress, they become more costly and intimate, preparing the way for the New Covenant in Christ—a covenant not written on stone or flesh, but on the heart.
The Mosaic Covenants: Stipulations in Response to Disobedience
As salvation history progresses, the pattern established in the Abrahamic covenants continues: God invites His people into a covenantal relationship, but they repeatedly fail to live up to its demands. Nowhere is this pattern clearer than in the Mosaic covenants, where Israel’s failure to remain faithful leads to an increasingly complex and restrictive law. Unlike the Abrahamic covenant, which was primarily one of divine promise and familial incorporation, the Mosaic covenant is more legal in nature—a development necessitated by Israel’s persistent rebellion.
The covenant at Mount Sinai (Exodus 19–24) is the next major turning point in salvation history. Here, God does something unprecedented: He enters into a corporate covenant with an entire nation, making Israel His chosen people. The covenant is ratified with a solemn ceremony, as Moses sprinkles the blood of sacrificed animals on both the altar (representing God) and the people (Exodus 24:8). This act signifies that Israel is now bound to God in a sacred, familial relationship—a covenant sealed in blood.
At this stage, the Law is given as a means of guiding the people in their newfound covenantal identity. The Ten Commandments (Exodus 20) serve as the fundamental moral foundation, reflecting the natural law inscribed on the human heart. However, this initial set of laws is not exhaustive. As Israel continues its journey through the wilderness, its repeated disobedience necessitates further stipulations.
One of the most striking examples of this development occurs with the Golden Calf incident (Exodus 32). Just after receiving the covenant, Israel falls into idolatry, fashioning a false god to worship. This act of betrayal prompts a shift in the covenantal dynamic. Originally, the priesthood was intended for all the firstborn sons of Israel (Exodus 19:6), but because of their sin, only the Levites—who remained faithful—are set apart for priestly service (Exodus 32:26-29). This marks the beginning of a more rigid and hierarchical priesthood, replacing what was intended to be a universal participation in divine service.
In response to this grave act of infidelity, God also imposes additional laws designed to discipline Israel and curb their tendencies toward idolatry. The Book of Leviticus introduces extensive purity laws, sacrifices, and rituals meant to instill in Israel a sense of holiness and separation from the surrounding pagan nations. Many of these laws, particularly those governing sacrifice and dietary restrictions, function as training wheels—temporary measures designed to keep Israel from veering off into apostasy.
As Israel continues to struggle with obedience, the laws become even more stringent. By the time we reach Deuteronomy, we see a covenant renewal that includes additional legal stipulations. The Deuteronomic Law, often described as a second law, is given to the next generation of Israelites before they enter the Promised Land. This version of the law is notably harsher, containing provisions that anticipate the people’s future disobedience (Deuteronomy 28). The blessings of obedience and the curses of disobedience are laid out in stark terms, reinforcing the conditional nature of the Mosaic covenant.
A key theological insight emerges from this progression: the Law, in its increasing complexity, is not an end in itself but a response to human weakness. Saint Paul later articulates this reality when he states that “the law was added because of transgressions” (Galatians 3:19). The original intent was not to burden Israel with an impossible legal code but to safeguard them from their own proclivities toward sin.
Yet, despite all these safeguards, Israel ultimately fails to uphold the covenant. The cycles of sin, judgment, and partial restoration continue throughout the period of the judges and kings, culminating in the exile—a direct consequence of Israel’s inability to live in accordance with God’s law. This tragic trajectory demonstrates that external regulations, no matter how numerous or detailed, cannot transform the human heart. Something greater is needed—a new covenant, one that does not merely impose laws from the outside but changes people from within.
This brings us to the next stage in salvation history: the promise of a new and final covenant, one that will succeed where the Mosaic covenant failed. The prophets begin to speak of a time when God will write His law upon the hearts of His people (Jeremiah 31:31-34), when obedience will no longer be a matter of external compulsion but of inward transformation. This promise finds its fulfillment in Christ, whose covenant does what the Law could not—it truly makes us one with God.
The Prophetic Call: Failure to Love and the Consequences of Covenant Infidelity
As Israel’s history unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that the law—though given as a guide to love God and neighbor—has not succeeded in transforming the hearts of the people. The law was meant to direct Israel toward authentic worship and justice, yet time and again, they fall into idolatry and social oppression. Recognizing this, God raises up the prophets, who serve as both covenant prosecutors and heralds of future hope. They expose Israel’s sins, warn of impending judgment, and point forward to a time when God will establish a new covenant capable of achieving what the old could not.
At the heart of the prophetic message is the dual failure of Israel: they neither worship God rightly nor love their neighbor as they should. This is not mere negligence—it is an active betrayal of the covenant relationship they swore to uphold. The two great commandments—to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength (Deuteronomy 6:5) and to love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus 19:18)—are persistently ignored, leading to the eventual curses of covenant failure.
False Worship and Idolatry: Betraying the Covenant with God
The prophets repeatedly call out Israel for forsaking true worship. Instead of serving the Lord alone, they run after foreign gods, breaking the very first commandment. The imagery the prophets use to describe this sin is often shocking: they compare idolatry to adultery, prostitution, and even harlotry.
Hosea vividly portrays Israel as an unfaithful spouse, chasing after other lovers (Hosea 2:5). God had betrothed Israel to Himself, yet they break their vows, seeking security in pagan deities and foreign alliances. Despite this infidelity, God remains the faithful husband, promising to one day restore the relationship and transform Israel’s heart (Hosea 2:16-20).
Jeremiah declares that Israel has forsaken “the fountain of living water” and instead dug for themselves “broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13). Their idolatry is not only spiritual adultery but also self-destructive, as they turn to gods who cannot save.
Ezekiel is even more explicit, likening Jerusalem to an adulterous wife who prostitutes herself to every passing nation, offering herself to foreign gods in exchange for political and military security (Ezekiel 16).
This false worship is not limited to idolatry alone; the prophets also condemn externalism and hypocrisy in religious practice. The people continue to offer sacrifices and keep feasts, but their hearts are far from God.
Isaiah delivers a scathing rebuke: “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me” (Isaiah 29:13). He warns that rituals devoid of true devotion are meaningless.
Amos goes even further, declaring that God hates their feasts and sacrifices because they are tainted by injustice: “I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies… But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:21-24).
The message is clear: worship is not just about external rites—it must be accompanied by a heart turned toward God in love and obedience. If Israel fails in worship, they fail in the very purpose of their existence as God’s chosen people.
Social Injustice: Failing to Love Neighbor
Closely tied to their false worship is Israel’s failure to uphold justice. The law was meant to shape a people who would reflect God’s own righteousness, protecting the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the stranger (Deuteronomy 10:18-19). Instead, the powerful exploit the weak, enriching themselves at the expense of the most vulnerable.
Isaiah condemns the leaders of Israel, calling them “princes of Sodom” because they “trample the poor” while offering sacrifices to God (Isaiah 1:10-17). He demands justice, not empty rituals.
Micah exposes the greed of the ruling class: “They covet fields and seize them, houses, and take them away; they oppress a man and his house, a man and his inheritance” (Micah 2:2). Their land-grabbing is a direct violation of the covenant, which was designed to keep land within families so that no one would be permanently impoverished.
Ezekiel describes how Jerusalem’s leaders “extort from the poor” and “shed innocent blood” while pretending to serve the Lord (Ezekiel 22:6-12). Their sins are not just private but systemic, woven into the fabric of society.
The prophets make it clear that failure to love neighbor is not just a social problem—it is a spiritual one. Oppression of the weak is a direct violation of the covenant, and God will not ignore it.
The Curses of Covenant Failure
Because Israel has broken both dimensions of the covenant—failing to love God and neighbor—the curses outlined in Deuteronomy 28 begin to take effect. The prophets warn that judgment is inevitable unless there is true repentance.
Jeremiah warns that exile is coming as a result of their sins: “Because you have forsaken the Lord… I will cast you out of this land into a land that neither you nor your fathers have known” (Jeremiah 16:10-13).
Ezekiel has a vision of God’s presence departing from the Temple (Ezekiel 10), signifying the breakdown of the covenant relationship. Without God’s presence, Israel’s religious and national identity is meaningless.
Habakkuk struggles with the impending Babylonian invasion, asking why God would allow such devastation. Yet, he concludes with the famous words: “The righteous shall live by faith” (Habakkuk 2:4), anticipating the New Covenant reality where righteousness will no longer come through the law but through faith.
These judgments culminate in the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile. The people are scattered, the Temple is destroyed, and it seems as if the covenant has failed entirely. But this is not the end of the story.
The Prophetic Hope: A New Covenant of Transformation
Even as the prophets pronounce judgment, they also proclaim hope. They recognize that something greater is needed—a covenant that does not merely impose laws from the outside but changes people from within.
Jeremiah speaks of a time when God will “write [His] law upon their hearts” (Jeremiah 31:33), creating a people who will obey Him from within rather than by external compulsion.
Ezekiel echoes this promise, declaring that God will give them “a new heart and a new spirit” (Ezekiel 36:26), replacing their hearts of stone with hearts of flesh.
Isaiah foresees a Suffering Servant who will bear the sins of the people and establish a covenant of peace (Isaiah 53, 55:3).
This prophetic hope finds its fulfillment in Jesus Christ. He is the true and faithful Israelite who perfectly loves God and neighbor. In Him, the new covenant is not written on tablets of stone but on human hearts, accomplished through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This transformation is foreshadowed in the Transfiguration, where Christ appears in glory, fulfilling the Law and the Prophets in His very person.
The failures of Israel, then, are not just a record of human sin but a testimony to the necessity of Christ’s mission. The old covenant, though holy and good, was insufficient to change the heart. The New Covenant in Christ does what the Law could not—it makes us truly children of God, conformed to His image
The Transfiguration: The Fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets
After centuries of covenant history—of God reaching out to His people, of laws given and broken, of prophets warning and waiting—the Transfiguration stands as a moment of profound revelation. On a high mountain, Christ unveils His divine glory before Peter, James, and John, and in this moment, the Law and the Prophets find their fulfillment. Moses and Elijah, the greatest representatives of these two pillars of Israel’s covenant history, appear with Jesus, witnessing something they could never have imagined: the face of God made visible in Christ.
Moses and Elijah: The Law and the Prophets Fulfilled
The appearance of Moses and Elijah is not accidental. They represent the entirety of Israel’s sacred tradition:
Moses, the great lawgiver, represents the Torah—the covenant given at Sinai that shaped Israel’s identity and guided them toward holiness.
Elijah, one of the greatest prophets, represents the prophetic tradition that called Israel back to fidelity whenever they strayed.
Together, they stand for all that God has revealed to His people through the Old Covenant. Yet, despite their roles as mediators of divine revelation, neither Moses nor Elijah had ever seen God fully.
Moses, though he spoke with God “face to face, as a man speaks to his friend” (Exodus 33:11), was still not permitted to see God’s full glory. When he asked to see God’s face, he was only allowed to see God’s back as He passed by (Exodus 33:18-23).
Elijah, who encountered God at Mount Horeb, did not see Him in wind, earthquake, or fire, but only in a “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:11-13). The fullness of God’s presence remained hidden.
Now, at the Transfiguration, what was once veiled is revealed. Moses and Elijah finally see what they longed for: God’s face, shining in the person of Jesus Christ. This is not merely a vision of divine light but the very presence of God Himself, now made visible and accessible through the Incarnation. The centuries of longing, of partial revelation, of waiting for something greater—all of it finds its fulfillment in Christ.
The Unexpected Fulfillment of Their Mission
Yet, what Moses and Elijah see in Christ is not just divine glory in an abstract sense. They see the way in which God will bring about the fulfillment of their work, and it is not what anyone expected.
Luke’s account of the Transfiguration provides a crucial detail: “They spoke of his exodus, which he was to accomplish in Jerusalem” (Luke 9:31). The use of the word exodus is significant, for it connects Christ’s mission directly to Moses’ role in leading Israel out of slavery. However, this new exodus is not a liberation from Pharaoh, but from sin and death itself.
For Moses, who led the first exodus, this must have been astonishing. The Law he received at Sinai could guide the people, but it could not save them. Now, standing with Christ, he beholds the true exodus—the one that will accomplish what the Law could not: the redemption of God’s people, not through external obedience, but through Christ’s own self-offering.
For Elijah, the experience must have been just as profound. His prophetic ministry was marked by dramatic confrontations with false gods, calling Israel back to the Lord. Yet despite his miracles and victories, Israel continued to fall into apostasy. Now, he sees the fulfillment of all prophecy: God Himself entering into human suffering to transform the heart, something the external warnings and chastisements of the prophets could never fully accomplish.
In this moment, Moses and Elijah realize that their work was always pointing toward Christ. The Law was not an end in itself but a preparation for the One who would fulfill it. The Prophets were not merely warning voices but foreshadowings of the True Prophet who would bring God’s final word. And the face of God, once hidden, is now revealed in a way they could never have anticipated—not as a consuming fire but as a man who will lay down His life for the world.
The Glory That Transforms
The Transfiguration is not only about Christ’s glory—it is about our transformation. Peter, James, and John witness something extraordinary, but it is not merely a spectacle. Christ is revealing to them, and to us, the destiny of humanity.
Moses, whose face once shone with reflected glory after speaking with God (Exodus 34:29), now stands before the source of that glory Himself. The transformation that happened to his face temporarily is now shown in Christ as something permanent. And just as Christ is transfigured, so too are we meant to be transfigured in Him.
As the psalmist declares, “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?” (Psalm 27:1). The radiance of Christ on the mountain is not only a revelation of His divinity—it is an invitation into His light. This is the light that dispels all fear, the light that makes us sharers in His divine life.
Paul later makes this explicit: “We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18). The New Covenant does not merely give us new laws to follow—it changes us from within, making us sharers in Christ’s own divine life.
This is why Christ’s exodus, His Passion, is essential. The glory of the Transfiguration is inseparable from the Cross. Peter wants to stay on the mountain, to build tents and remain in that moment of divine light (Mark 9:5). But Christ does not allow it. The vision is a foretaste of resurrection, but first must come suffering. The true path to glory is through the Cross, the final act of covenant fidelity that will make transformation possible.
The Transfiguration and Our Citizenship in Heaven
Although God is now fully manifest in Christ, the response to Him remains divided. Some, like Moses and Elijah, recognize Him as the fulfillment of everything they had longed for. Others, even those who profess to follow Him, continue to live as enemies of the Cross. This is precisely what Saint Paul laments in Philippians 3:18-19:
"For many, as I have often told you and now tell you even in tears, conduct themselves as enemies of the Cross of Christ. Their end is destruction. Their god is their stomach; their glory is in their shame. Their minds are set on earthly things."
Here we see the same pattern that played out under the Law and the Prophets. Time and again, God called His people into a covenant relationship, yet many failed to love Him truly. They honored Him with their lips while their hearts remained far from Him. They participated in outward rituals but remained inwardly devoted to their own desires, their own comfort, their own appetites. Paul warns that this is still happening—even in the Church.
This is a sobering reminder: not all who claim to follow Christ truly belong to Him. Some remain enslaved to earthly things, unable or unwilling to accept the transformation Christ offers. They may call themselves Christians, but their true allegiance is elsewhere. Their god is their stomach—their selfish desires, their pursuit of pleasure, their comfort. Their glory is in their shame, as they take pride in things that should lead them to repentance.
Yet Paul does not leave us in despair. Immediately after this warning, he reminds us of our true calling:
"But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with His glorified body by the power that enables Him also to bring all things into subjection to Himself." (Philippians 3:20-21)
This is the true fulfillment of the Transfiguration—not just that Christ was revealed in glory, but that we are called to share in that glory. Just as Christ’s face was transfigured, so too will our lowly bodies be transformed. Just as the Law and the Prophets found their completion in Him, so too will we find our completion in Him. The transformation that began in the Incarnation, was revealed at the Transfiguration, and was accomplished in the Cross and Resurrection is now at work in us.
Stand Firm in Christ
With this in mind, Paul concludes:
"Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, in this way stand firm in the Lord." (Philippians 4:1)
This is our response. Christ has revealed Himself, the New Covenant has been established, and the path to glory has been opened. But we must choose to follow. We must stand firm.
The history of salvation is filled with those who fell away—who abandoned the covenant, who settled for earthly things, who preferred comfort over transformation. But it is also filled with those who remained faithful, who trusted God, who endured suffering so that they might share in His glory.
The psalmist captures this trust when he proclaims: “I believe that I shall see the bounty of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD with courage; be stouthearted, and wait for the LORD.” (Psalm 27:13-14).
Now, the same choice stands before us.
Will we embrace our place in God's family, allowing Him to transform us in love and joy? Will we hold fast to Christ and stand firm in faith?
Or will we turn inward, serving only ourselves and living as enemies of the Cross?
The choice is ours. But the promise is clear: If we stand firm in Christ, He will transform us, making us sharers in His own divine life. The glory that shone from His face at the Transfiguration is the same glory He offers to us.
We were made for this.
Now we must choose it.
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