Behold my covenant
(Genesis 17:1-27)
In the seventeenth chapter of Genesis, a prolonged 13-year divine silence is shattered with an extraordinary promise. This rhythm of silence followed by divine revelation echoes another profound moment later in biblical history: after 400 years of stillness, God sent His Son, Jesus, as the embodiment of His eternal commitment. Such significant intervals of silence surely strike a chord in our hearts. Yet, they are followed by momentous divine interventions.
Circumcision is introduced in this chapter with deep spiritual significance. Though it wasn’t the key to Abraham’s salvation, as elucidated in Romans 4:1-12, its spiritual essence, further highlighted in Exodus 4:21-26, is undeniable. Yet, over time, the Jews began to interpret circumcision as a token of self-righteousness, clouding its original intent.
Their spiritually-clouded vision culminated tragically when they failed to discern Christ for who He was, resulting in His crucifixion on the Passover. But as we reflect on this narrative, it’s essential to understand the broader message: circumcision is not just about a ritual, the Lord’s table isn’t solely about tradition, and baptism transcends the water’s symbolism. At their core, these acts are about truly seeing Christ, for all of God’s promises find their “Yes” in Him (2 Cor 1:20). It is this Christ-centric vision that we must nurture and cherish.
God makes impossible promises
Genesis 17:1-8
At the ripe age of ninety-nine, an age where most are looking back on their lives rather than towards the future, God interrupts Abram’s narrative with a proclamation so profound that it reshapes his very identity. Genesis 17 begins with the Almighty presenting Himself to Abram with a directive that holds within it both a command and an invitation: “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless.” This blamelessness wasn’t merely about moral perfection but about being wholly committed to the path God was laying out.
Now, imagine Abram’s mindset. Thirteen long years had passed since any divine revelation (Gen 16:16), years that likely felt like a deafening silence. And then, in an instant, this silence is filled with the voice of God, bearing an impossible promise—a covenant that reflects back to God’s words in Genesis 12:1-3, 7 and 13:14-17, and magnifies in Genesis 15:1-17. God wasn’t just renewing His commitment, but was expanding it in a way that defied human understanding.
Abram’s response is profound yet simple; he fell on his face. This gesture speaks of reverence, awe, and perhaps an overwhelming realization of the gravity of God’s promise. From this position of humility, God renames him. Abram, which means “exalted father,” becomes Abraham, translating to “father of a multitude.” The irony here is palpable. Abraham, at ninety-nine, childless, was to wear the name that declared him as a progenitor of nations. One can only imagine the potential mockery he’d face for such a name. Yet, this renaming signified God’s nature of turning impossibilities into realities.
This divine encounter didn’t stop with a name change. God promises Abraham fruitfulness, legacy, kingship, an everlasting covenant, and ownership of the Canaanite lands. This isn’t just about land or descendants; it’s about the establishment of God’s eternal promise, an “everlasting covenant” that binds God to Abraham and his descendants forever.
Reflecting on this, we see parallels with Matthew 16:16-18. Just as Abraham’s name change signified an impossible promise, so did Simon’s renaming to Peter, the rock on which Christ would build His church. Both names, given by God, looked forward to promises that seemed unattainable from a human perspective.
In these verses from Genesis 17, the overarching theme is unmistakable: God specializes in making impossible promises. He is not bound by the constraints of human limitations or the passage of time. When God speaks, even the most improbable scenarios are transformed into tangible realities.
He wants us to remember them
Genesis 17:9-14
Genesis 17:9-14 moves from the grandeur of God’s promise to Abraham to the tangible, personal sign that would serve as an everlasting reminder of this covenant: circumcision. At its core, circumcision was not just a physical act but a profound symbol, emphasizing God’s overarching desire—that His people remember His promises.
God’s instruction is clear, “Every male among you shall be circumcised.” This act wasn’t merely a religious rite. It marked descendants as God’s set-apart people, uniquely His. The removal of the foreskin, while a physical act, carried a deeper spiritual significance: setting apart, consecrating, and distinguishing Abraham’s line from others. It was an outward sign pointing to an inward reality.
In the broader biblical narrative, circumcision finds parallels with other symbols and practices. Romans 2:25-29 explains that real circumcision is not just an outward act but is an “outward sign of inward citizenship.” It’s about the heart set apart for God, not just the flesh. This idea of remembrance and setting apart isn’t unique to the Old Testament.
Matthew 26:26-29 brings us to the Last Supper where Jesus introduces a new sign for a new covenant. The breaking of bread and the drinking of wine symbolize His body and blood, given for humanity’s redemption. This new sign, as Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 10:14-17, is for a new people, the body of believers, united in Christ. Just like circumcision served as a constant reminder for the Israelites, the Lord’s Supper, as outlined in 1 Corinthians 11:23-26, serves the same purpose for Christians. Every time they partake in it, they “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”
The throughline in this passage and its New Testament parallels is evident: God consistently provides His people with tangible symbols to remember His eternal promises. Whether it’s the act of circumcision, or the partaking of the Lord’s Supper, God’s central message remains—remember. Remember His promises, His faithfulness, and His unfailing love.
He wants us to recognize them”
Genesis 17:15-21
The narrative of Genesis 17 unfolds further with another significant and symbolic gesture—the renaming of Sarai. The names “Sarai” (שָׂרָי) and “Sarah” (שָׂרָה) emerge from the same Hebrew root that translates as “princess” or “woman of strength.” Yet, their nuances carry weight. While Sarai, likely a possessive form, can be rendered as “my Sarah,” suggesting a confined sense of ownership or belonging, the transition to “Sarah” broadens this scope. In renaming her Sarah, God wasn’t merely updating her title, but was expanding her identity. No longer was her strength limited to her immediate clan. Now, she would be a matriarch, not just for a family, but for an entire nation and beyond. This change signifies that her strength and legacy were now aligned with God’s grander vision—encompassing the future nation of Israel and extending to the entire world.
When God promises that Sarah would bear a son, Abraham’s reaction becomes even more profound in this context. His laughter, a cocktail of surprise, skepticism, and perhaps even joy, reflects humanity’s struggle to comprehend the vastness of God’s plans. Abraham, trying to reconcile this grand promise with his current reality, makes an earnest plea for Ishmael, his firstborn. This isn’t merely about favoritism, but a glimpse into Abraham’s struggle to fully grasp the magnitude and specificity of God’s promise.
Yet, God, in His infinite patience, clarifies His intent. The promise was specific. Sarah would birth Isaac, and through him, God’s covenant would find its continuity. Though Ishmael, too, was destined for greatness, the covenant’s lineage was through Isaac.
This storyline finds a kin in the New Testament. In Luke 1:5-25, 57-79, after a long silence from heaven, another elderly couple, Zechariah and Elizabeth, are promised a son, John. Just as Sarah, once bound by her barrenness, is transformed into a vessel of divine promise, Elizabeth’s story mirrors this miraculous intervention. John, whose name means “Yahweh is gracious,” becomes another testament to God’s unyielding grace and favor.
From Sarai to Sarah, from Abraham’s laughter to Zechariah’s muteness, the message shines through clearly: God desires us to not just hear His promises, but truly recognize them. Even when they seem implausible or even impossible, His faithfulness remains unwavering, urging us to see beyond our limited perspectives and embrace His grand design.
He wants us to respond to them
Genesis 17:22-27
Upon the conclusion of God’s profound conversation with Abraham, we witness immediate action. Abraham, then ninety-nine years old, does not hesitate, procrastinate, or deliberate. Instead, he promptly takes Ishmael and every male in his household, and follows through with the act of circumcision, as God had instructed. It wasn’t just about the physical act, but a powerful demonstration of faith, obedience, and commitment.
In the immediacy of Abraham’s response, there’s an echoing theme: God’s grand and seemingly impossible promises demand our immediate action. As Romans 6:1-14 posits, baptism isn’t simply an aquatic ritual. It represents our death to sin and resurrection to a new life in Christ. This is not about compliance with rituals, but a heart’s response to divine grace.
Our walk with God isn’t confined to mere symbols like circumcision or even the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s table. It transcends to genuinely seeing and encountering Christ, with every promise being “Yes” in Him (2 Cor 1:20). Abraham’s life narrative, affirmed by Jesus in John 8:56, tells of a man who joyfully saw Christ’s redemptive work from a distance. In faith, Abraham remembered, recognized, and responded, as illustrated in Hebrews 11:8-16.
In today’s spiritual landscape, circumcision is no longer in view, but rather baptism and the Lord’s table. They, like circumcision, are more than mere rituals. They are our profound responses to God’s promises, urging us to identify with and participate in God’s redemptive work. This chapter goes on further reminding us that God’s promises often come wrapped in layers of impossibilities. Yet within every impossibility is an invitation—to remember Him, to recognize His works, and to respond with heartfelt devotion.
View all Genesis commentary posts
