A Covenant of Fire, Mercy, and Promise!

Genesis 15:6 And he believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness.  Genesis 15:17-18  When the sun had gone down and it was dark, behold, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between these pieces.  18 On that day, the LORD made a covenant with Abram, saying, “To your offspring I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates, 

In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.

This act is one of Scripture’s clearest pictures of divine grace. Covenants in the ancient world required both parties to walk through the cut pieces, symbolizing mutual responsibility. But here, only God passes through, taking full responsibility for fulfilling His promise. He binds Himself unilaterally to Abram and his descendants—Israel. The land promise, the coming redemption, and the future inheritance were not based on man’s faithfulness but on God’s unbreakable word.

Yet the scene also shows a battle in the waiting. Before the presence of God appears, vultures descend—unclean birds seeking to steal the sacrifice (Genesis 15:11). Abram drives them away, foreshadowing every believer’s struggle. We offer God our worship, our lives, our praise—but the enemy comes, trying to rob us of our faith and steal our promises. Like Abram, we must rise up, stand guard, and fight to protect what God has spoken. Let us not passively watch while doubt, distraction, or discouragement pick apart our altars.

The symbols that appeared—smoke and fire—are rich with meaning. The smoking oven speaks of judgment, refining, and awe; the burning torch speaks of mercy, light, and hope. Together, they reveal the character of the God of Israel: just and holy, yet merciful and near. In Messiah Yeshua (Jesus), we see both realities embodied. He is Zion’s salvation that burns like a torch (Isaiah 62:1), and He is also the one cut off for the sins of His people (Isaiah 53:8). He walked between the pieces, taking on the burden of blood so that we could walk in the freedom of grace.

Yet, this covenant speaks beyond the personal—it is national. God’s promises to Abram include a literal land for his descendants, and Scripture affirms that this land promise is everlasting (Psalm 105:8-11). The modern restoration of Israel in 1948 was not the result of mere human determination—it was the unfolding of God’s unbreakable covenant. Even after dispersion and judgment, He has remained faithful.

Ezekiel 36 gives voice to His divine intention:

“… It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am about to act, but for the sake of my holy name … And I will sanctify my great name, which was profaned among the heathen… and the heathen shall know that I am the LORD… when I shall be sanctified in you before their eyes. For I will take you from among the heathen, and gather you out of all countries, and will bring you into your own land. Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you… A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you…” (Ezekiel 36:22–26)

From the beginning, God’s plan has echoed with both physical return and spiritual awakening, calling His people back to their land and stirring their hearts to return to Him. His promise was never just to bring them home, but to cleanse them from defilement, ignite them with new life, and fill them with His Spirit through their Messiah. The exile is ending. The restoration has begun.

This is the same God who calls to us today. He still walks between the pieces. He still sanctifies His name through mercy and judgment. And He still offers to remove hearts of stone and replace them with hearts of flesh. In Yeshua, we become part of this redemptive story—grafted in, renewed, and rooted in eternal promise. (Romans 11:11-32)

So rise up, and stand your ground. Bring your offering of praise with boldness. Guard the altar of your heart—drive away every vulture that dares to steal what God has spoken. Trust the One who walked the blood-stained path alone. His fire has not gone out. His torch still blazes in the darkness. And His covenant promises remain unshakable, eternal, and true.

Copyright 1999-2025 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.

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After our very small wedding in Jerusalem, my wife and I planned to have the big ceremony she’d always dreamed of, in Havre De Grace, Maryland. Rivka had it planned it to the tee. It was an outdoor wedding next to the longest standing lighthouse on the east coast. We were going to wow our guests with an entrance by way of sailboat. Ten dancers with candles in glasses were to proceed my beautiful bride as I awaited her under our hand-crafted chuppa, lit by the sunset on the bay.

Between Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur are ten days. These days are known as “Yamim Noraim”, “the Days of Awe” — or also translated, the “Awesome days”. In Judaism it has been long believed that these days seal your fate for the upcoming year — and also allude to your final destiny, concerning whether your name continues to be written in the Book of Life.

One of the major themes of Rosh Hashana is called Akedat Yitzchak, which means the Binding of Isaac. According to Jewish tradition, God told Abraham that the ram’s horn – otherwise known as a shofar – should be blown on Rosh Hashana to remind people of the sacrifice that God provided Himself when Abraham was about to offer Isaac on Mount Moriah.

The concept of ownership often influences how one can view the world, but if we recognize the truth that our time here is short and we can’t take anything with us, it will change our perspective. We are simply stewards of what has been entrusted to us. I’ve been running Worthy and its sites for 25 years, and I’ve never thought I was an owner but rather a steward of a ministry.

The last and most intimate metaphor for Messiah’s relationship with us is as Bridegroom to Bride. For some, the Lord’s intention to marry will be the most significant and wondrous purpose in all of Creation. The preparation for the wedding will be the most meticulous and profound of all historical processes, orchestrated by His Holy Spirit in cooperation with every devoted and expectant saint who ever lived.

One constant pitfall we must watch for is taking credit for something that God does in or through us, or using the gifts and callings of God for self-exaltation. In that light it may be easier to handle poverty, weakness, or insignificance, than wealth, ability, power or authority, since poverty and frailty are not normally things we boast about, and they cause us to recognize our need for God. Prosperity, gifting, and anointing, on the other hand can be powerful temptations, leading to pride, covetousness, and self-sufficiency.

Reading this parable, we are struck by the serious consequences of failing to produce Kingdom fruit. But there’s something I want to particularly point out. Many of the great heroes of the faith — people like Moses and David, were not given great responsibilities immediately. Each of these men first served as a lowly shepherd, tending sheep. Having tested them first in this humble vocation, God then felt confident to elevate them to positions of greatness — but it all started with a small step!