The Promise Keeper

When we make promises, we do so with the best intentions. We promise our children trips to the zoo, ice cream after dinner, or special outings. Yet life intervenes, circumstances change, and sometimes those promises fall by the wayside. Perhaps we've avoided the ice cream to prevent a messy car, or rescheduled plans when exhaustion set in. We're human, and our promises often reflect our limitations.

But what about God's promises? What about the covenants He makes with His people?

In ancient times, when two parties made a covenant, they performed a solemn ritual. Animals would be slaughtered, cut in half, and arranged in two rows, creating a pathway between them. Both parties would walk through this passage together, essentially declaring: "If I break this covenant, may I become like these dead animals."

When God made His covenant with Abraham, something extraordinary happened. Abraham gathered the animals as instructed, creating that sacred pathway. But then God did something unprecedented—He put Abraham to sleep and walked the covenant alone.

This singular act reveals the heart of God's relationship with humanity. He knew we couldn't keep our end of the bargain. He understood our weaknesses, our tendency toward sin, our inevitable failures. So instead of demanding we walk a path we couldn't complete, God walked it Himself.

Abraham lived in a world of polytheism, where people worshiped multiple gods, hedging their spiritual bets across various deities. But Abraham was different. He loved and served the one true God with unwavering devotion. His faithfulness and obedience set him apart, making him the perfect vessel for God's promise.

God told Abraham his descendants would be as numerous as the stars—an impossible promise for a childless elderly man married to a woman well past childbearing years. Yet Abraham believed. And when God finally blessed them with Isaac, Abraham's faith faced its ultimate test.

"Take your son, your only son, and sacrifice him," God commanded.

Imagine the confusion, the heartbreak, the seeming contradiction. How could descendants outnumber the stars if the only son must die? Yet Abraham's response reveals the depth of his trust. As he prepared to leave with Isaac, he told his servants: "We will worship and then we will come back to you."

Not "I will come back." We will come back.

Abraham trusted that somehow, some way, God would keep His promise. And when Isaac asked where the sacrificial lamb was, Abraham spoke prophetically: "God himself will provide the lamb."

He did provide a ram that day, caught in a thicket. But centuries later, God provided another Lamb—one who would carry wood on His back, just as Isaac did, but who would complete the sacrifice Abraham was spared from making.

God's relationship with us resembles a GPS navigation system in one beautiful way: when we miss our turn, He doesn't condemn us. He simply says, "Rerouting."

We fall short. We sin. We take wrong turns. Romans reminds us that all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory. But God isn't surprised by our failures. He already accounted for them when He walked that covenant alone. He's not leaning on us to keep the covenant—we're leaning on Him.

When God appeared to Moses in the burning bush, He presented a clear mission: free the Israelites from Egyptian bondage. But Moses responded with a litany of excuses that sound remarkably familiar:

"Who am I to do this?" "What if they don't believe me?" "I'm not a good speaker." "Please send someone else."

God patiently addressed each objection, demonstrating His power, promising His presence, and offering assistance. Yet Moses continued resisting until God, growing frustrated, agreed to send Aaron alongside him.

How often do we mirror Moses? When God calls us to serve, to join a ministry, to use our gifts, we respond with our own versions of "Yes, but..."

"I'm too busy." "I'm not qualified." "I'm too old." "I'm too young." "My schedule is packed."

We pile up excuses like bricks in a wall between ourselves and God's calling, forgetting that the God who calls is the God who equips. He doesn't need our ability—He needs our availability.

Scripture overflows with God's promises, and they remain as relevant today as when first spoken:

The Promise of Presence: "I will never leave you nor forsake you." Wherever we go, He's already there. We cannot outrun His love or escape His care.

The Promise of Protection: "All who rage against you will surely be ashamed and disgraced." God fights battles we don't even know we're facing, shielding us from dangers we never see.

The Promise of Provision: "I will help you speak and will teach you what to say." When God calls us to ministry, to witness, to share our faith, He doesn't abandon us to fumble through alone.

The Promise of Salvation: This is the crown jewel of all promises, captured perfectly in John 3:16-17: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him."

Let's examine this covenant of salvation like a legal contract:

Party One: God, who loves the entire world—not just the righteous, not just the religious, but everyone.

God's Obligation: He gave His only Son.

Our Obligation: Believe.

That's it. Whosoever believes. Romans 10:9 clarifies: "If you declare with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."

No elaborate rituals. No impossible standards. No performance metrics. Just faith.

God has already walked the covenant. He's already provided the Lamb. He asks only for our hearts in return.

Like Abraham, we're called to trust God even when His plans don't make sense. Like Moses, we're called to obey even when we feel inadequate. The journey requires faithfulness, obedience, and trust—but most of all, it requires surrender.

God is the ultimate Promise Keeper. His word stands firm across generations. When circumstances seem impossible, when the path ahead looks unclear, when our own strength fails, His promises remain.

He promises to be with us. To protect us. To provide for us. And to bring us home to spend eternity in His presence—no more sorrow, no more sickness, no more death.

The covenant has been walked. The Lamb has been provided. The only question remaining is: will we surrender our hearts to the Promise Keeper?