Covenants

Covenants traces six great promises—Promise, Person, and Prayer—from a garden to an upper room, until Scripture stops being a pile of books and becomes one unfolding story.

You believe God keeps His promises. You have always believed it. But underneath that belief there is often a quieter, more exhausting one — a nagging sense that His goodwill toward you is somehow riding on your performance, that the promise is real but perhaps not quite meant for you, that if you prayed harder, believed better, failed less, then maybe the blessing would finally come. It is an exhausting way to live, and it is not the good news.

It is night in the land of Canaan. A childless old man asks God a very human question: How can I know? And God does not answer with an argument. He tells the man to cut animals in two and lay the halves opposite each other. Then, as a deep sleep falls, the man watches God Himself — veiled in fire — pass alone between the pieces. Both parties were meant to walk that aisle. Only

One does, taking the entire oath, and the entire curse for breaking it, onto Himself, while the man it was sworn to lies unconscious in the dark.

That is what a covenant is — not a contract, but a promise sealed in blood. In six unhurried chapters, Covenants walks the six great promises that hold up the whole of Scripture, from a garden to an upper room — each one Promise, Person, and Prayer — until the many separate books stop being a pile and become a single, unfolding story.

From a curse overheard in a garden to a cup lifted at a table. From a rainbow hung in judgment to a throne death could not empty.