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About reveds

Occupation: Pastor, Ebenezer Presbyterian Church, Lennox, SD Education: BS - Christian Education, Sterling College; MDiv. - Princeton Theological Seminary Family: Married, with Four children. Hobbies: Running (will someday run a marathon), Sci-Fi (especially Doctor Who and Sherlock), Theater, and anything else my kids will let me do.

The Fault in the Covenant?

“For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no occasion to look for a second.” (Hebrews 8:7)

At first glance, this verse sounds as though God’s first covenant, His covenant with Israel established at Sinai, was somehow defective. “If that first covenant had been faultless…” implies, doesn’t it, that something about it failed? But that conclusion would be both theologically troubling and biblically unfounded. After all, the law of God is “holy and righteous and good” (Rom. 7:12). The problem, as always, lies not with God, but with us.

When the writer of Hebrews contrasts the “first covenant” with the “better covenant” established through Christ (Heb. 8:6), he is not suggesting that God made a mistake and had to start over. Rather, he exposes the fatal flaw of the old covenant system: not in its divine origin, but in its human participants. The law was perfect in revealing God’s will, but powerless to change the human heart. The fault lay not in the covenant itself, but in the covenant-breakers.

As Hebrews 8:8 goes on to say, “For he finds fault with them when he says…” and then quotes Jeremiah 31’s promise of a new covenant. The author is careful: God doesn’t find fault with it, He finds fault with them. Israel’s unfaithfulness made clear what the law could only expose, not cure: the incurable disease of sin. The old covenant was designed, in part, to reveal this very weakness of man that no amount of sacrifice or law-keeping could reconcile us to God.

In this light, the new covenant in Christ is not a divine correction, but a divine completion. It accomplishes what the old covenant only anticipated. Where the law was written on tablets of stone, Christ writes His law on hearts of flesh (Heb. 8:10). Where the old covenant demanded obedience from hard hearts, the new covenant grants obedience through renewed hearts. What the old covenant shadowed in sacrifices and ceremonies, the new covenant fulfills in the once-for-all sacrifice of the Son of God.

We might say that the “fault” of the first covenant was its necessary inadequacy, it was never intended to perfect sinners, but to prepare them for the One who could. The law was a mirror to show our sin, not the soap to cleanse it. It condemned the guilty, but it could not justify. Only Christ, the Mediator of the better covenant, can do that.

A Word About Redemption Under the First Covenant

Though the first covenant could not perfect the conscience, it was never devoid of grace. Its sacrifices and ceremonies pointed forward to Christ, and by faith in those promises the saints of old were truly redeemed. The Westminster Confession of Faith beautifully captures this truth:

“Under the law, [the covenant of grace] was administered by promises, prophecies, sacrifices, circumcision, the paschal lamb, and other types and ordinances… all foresignifying Christ to come; which were, for that time, sufficient and efficacious, through the operation of the Spirit, to instruct and build up the elect in faith in the promised Messiah, by whom they had full remission of sins, and eternal salvation.” (WCF 7.5)

From Abel’s altar to Abraham’s tent, from Moses’ tabernacle to David’s throne, the people of God were saved by the same grace, through the same faith, in the same Christ. The difference between the old and new covenants lies not in the substance of salvation, but in the manner of its administration. The saints of the Old Testament looked forward in faith to what was promised; we look backward in faith to what has been accomplished. But both rest upon the same foundation, the redeeming work of the Son.

And so the beauty of Hebrews 8:7 is not in exposing divine imperfection, but divine mercy. God knew the frailty of His people, yet He did not leave them under the law’s curse. He promised a covenant of grace in which the very thing man could never accomplish, obedience from the heart, would be written into his being by the Spirit of God.

The first covenant shows us our fault; the second covenant shows us our faultless Savior.

SDG

Coming to Zion: From History to Spiritual Fulfillment

When you read through the Scriptures, certain words begin to take on deeper meaning as you trace them from Genesis to Revelation. “Zion” is one of those words. It appears again and again — in the Psalms, the Prophets, and the New Testament — and carries with it layers of history, promise, and fulfillment.

But what is Zion? Is it simply a mountain in Jerusalem, or does it mean something more? How should Christians today understand it?

A Mountain in History

At its most basic level, Zion refers to a real place. It was the name of the Jebusite stronghold that David captured and made the City of David (2 Samuel 5:7). Over time, the term expanded to include Mount Moriah, where Solomon built the Temple, and eventually came to represent Jerusalem itself, the center of Israel’s worship and the visible symbol of God’s covenant presence with His people.

So yes — Zion is a mountain. A literal one. God’s dealings with His people always take place in real time and space. He doesn’t work in myth or abstraction, but in history — with dust and stone and blood and covenant promises.

A Symbol of God’s Dwelling

As redemptive history unfolds, however, Zion becomes more than geography. It becomes theological — a picture of God’s dwelling among His people.

The Psalms sing of Zion as the joy of all the earth (Psalm 48:2), the place where God dwells forever (Psalm 132:13–14). The prophets look forward to a renewed Zion, where the nations will stream to the mountain of the Lord and learn His ways (Isaiah 2:2–3; Micah 4:1–2).

Zion, then, begins to represent the people of God themselves — the community where God’s presence abides, where His law is loved, and His glory is seen. It is not merely a spot on the map, but a signpost pointing toward a greater reality.

The Fulfillment in Christ

That greater reality is found in Jesus Christ, the true cornerstone of Zion (Isaiah 28:16; 1 Peter 2:6).

In Him, God has come to dwell with His people in fullness. In Him, the law goes forth and the nations are gathered. And through Him, believers are brought into the true Zion — not the earthly city that can be shaken, but the heavenly Jerusalem that endures forever.

The writer of Hebrews puts it beautifully:

“But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem…” (Hebrews 12:22)

Notice that — not “you will come,” but “you have come.” In Christ, we already belong to that heavenly city. We are citizens now of Zion above, whose builder and maker is God (Hebrews 11:10).

The Reformed confessions and theologians have long read Zion this way — as both ecclesiological and eschatological. That is, Zion points to the Church now (where God dwells by His Spirit) and to the glorified people of God yet to come (where we will dwell with Him forever).

The Zion to Come

One day, this vision will be complete. The New Jerusalem will descend from heaven like a bride adorned for her husband (Revelation 21:2). The city and mountain and temple will all find their perfect fulfillment in the presence of the Lamb, who is Himself the light of Zion’s glory.

Until that day, every time we gather as the Church — singing, praying, hearing the Word — we are, in a very real sense, standing on holy ground. We are worshiping in the courts of Zion.

Conclusion

Zion began as a hill in ancient Jerusalem. But through the unfolding plan of God, it has become a name for His eternal dwelling with His people — first in type and shadow, now in Spirit and truth, and one day in unveiled glory.

So when the Psalms call us to “rejoice in Zion” or “sing praises to Zion’s King,” we are being invited to delight in Christ Himself — the true and living presence of God among us.

We may not see the mountain, but by grace, we belong to the city.