The Miraculous Pillars of the Old Testament

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Why Christianity Begins Long Before Bethlehem

If you ask a contemporary person where Christianity began, they might mention the stable in Bethlehem. Open almost any introductory book on the Christian faith, and it will quickly move to the birth of Jesus, His miracles, His death on the cross, and His resurrection.

While these events are unquestionably central, they are not where the story begins. The New Testament never presents itself as the beginning of the Faith. Instead, it assumes its readers already inhabit a world whose realities were established much earlier.

The Gospel of Matthew does not begin by explaining who God is or why mankind stands under judgement. Paul the Apostle assumes the theological world established by Genesis and Israel’s history is already in place. John deliberately takes his readers back to the very beginning, not to reconstruct those foundations, but to reveal that the Creator introduced in Genesis is the very Word who became flesh. The New Testament writers do not invent a new worldview; they interpret Christ within one already established by God’s mighty acts in the Old Testament.

The Christian faith rests upon a carefully ordered sequence of divine acts through which God progressively reveals who He is, what mankind is, why the world is broken, and how redemption will come. Christianity is not merely a religion containing miracle accounts; it is a religion built upon a small number of indispensable miracles that establish its entire theological framework.

When most people think of miracles, they imagine isolated supernatural events: Jesus healing a blind man, Elijah calling down fire from heaven, or Daniel surviving the lions’ den. These miracles reveal God’s compassion, authenticate His messengers, or display His sovereign power. They are magnificent demonstrations of divine authority.

Yet the Bible itself treats some miracles differently. They are not simply mighty acts of God, but foundational acts of God. They establish theological realities upon which every subsequent page of Scripture depends. Like the foundation stones of a great cathedral, they may appear no different from the stones surrounding them, yet they bear the weight of the entire structure. Remove them, and the building itself begins to fail.

This essay argues that the Old Testament contains four such foundational miracles. Together they establish the theological architecture upon which the Gospel is built, answering five fundamental questions:

• Who is God?
• What is mankind?
• Why must sin be judged?
• How does God save?
• How does God form a holy covenant people?

These foundational miracles establish the theological world into which Christ enters. Without them, the Incarnation becomes difficult to explain, the Cross loses its meaning, and the Resurrection becomes little more than an astonishing display of supernatural power. The New Testament does not replace these foundations; it completes them.

Of course, the Old Testament contains far more than miracles. Its laws, poetry, wisdom, and prophetic writings are indispensable. Yet these writings repeatedly interpret and build upon God’s decisive acts in history. The focus of this essay is those foundational miraculous acts.

The Architectural Analogy

Every building contains many different components. Decorative windows add beauty. Interior walls divide rooms. Roof tiles protect from the weather. These are all important, but if one is removed, the building remains standing.

Remove a structural pillar, however, and the entire edifice becomes unstable. Everything above it depends on that single point of support. The same principle applies to Scripture.

Many biblical miracles are beautiful, encouraging, or dramatic. They authenticate prophets, strengthen faith, or display God’s mercy. But only a handful function as structural pillars. Remove the miracles of Elijah or Elisha, and much would be lost, yet the theological coherence of Christianity would remain mostly intact.

• Remove Creation, and there is no Creator.
• Remove the Flood, and universal judgment becomes unintelligible.
• Remove Isaac, and the entire covenant story begins to unravel: there is no Israel, no Davidic king, and ultimately no promised Messiah.
• Remove Sinai, and there is no covenant law, no priesthood, no sacrificial system, and no coherent framework for understanding Christ’s atoning death.

These are the miracles that establish the essentials of the biblical narrative. They also reveal something about the way God discloses Himself. Modern readers might expect revelation to arrive all at once. Instead, Scripture unfolds progressively. God does not reveal every doctrine in Genesis, nor does He discard earlier revelation when giving new revelation. Rather, each foundational miracle builds naturally upon those that came before.

By the time Matthew opens his Gospel, the theological foundations required to understand Jesus have already been laid. The New Testament then builds upon them. Far from beginning a new religion, the New Testament completes an ancient one.

Pillar One: Creation

God Establishes Reality Itself

If you ask which miracle is the greatest in Scripture, many Christians instinctively think of the Resurrection. Yet before there could ever be an empty tomb, there first had to be a universe in which tombs existed. Every miracle recorded in the Bible presupposes one miracle that is categorically different from all the others: Creation itself. Every later miracle occurs within creation. Creation establishes creation.

This immediately sets it apart from every other supernatural act recorded in Scripture. God heals diseased bodies, stills storms, multiplies bread, and raises the dead—but all these miracles operate within a world that already exists. Genesis records the one miracle that establishes the existence of the world itself.

The opening words of Scripture are therefore among the most important ever written:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. (Genesis 1:1)

Before there is light or darkness, before there are galaxies, oceans, mountains, or living creatures, there is simply God. Scripture does not argue for His existence; it assumes it. God is not introduced as one being among many, nor as a force emerging from nature. He stands outside of creation as its eternal, sovereign Creator.

This establishes the first great distinction of biblical theology: the distinction between the Creator and the creature. Everything else follows from this.

If God is the Creator, then the universe is not self-existent. It owes its existence entirely to Him. Reality is therefore neither accidental nor ultimately governed by impersonal forces. History has purpose because its Author has purpose.

This simple distinction protects Christianity from two opposite errors. On one side lies materialism, which claims that matter is all that exists and that life is the product of blind, purposeless processes. On the other lies pantheism, which dissolves the distinction between God and the universe by treating creation itself as divine. Genesis rejects both. God is neither identical with the universe nor imprisoned within it. He freely creates it, sustains it, and governs it.

The Creator Enters Creation

The New Testament writers repeatedly return to this foundational pillar. John deliberately echoes Genesis when he opens his Gospel:

In the beginning was the Word … All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made (John 1:1–3).

Likewise, Paul writes that Christ is “the image of the invisible God,” and that “by him all things were created … and in him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:15–17).

Notice what both writers assume. They do not present Jesus as entering an already existing worldview. Instead, they identify Him as the very Creator introduced in Genesis. The Incarnation therefore makes sense only because creation has already established that the Creator stands distinct from His creation.

The astonishing claim of Christianity is not merely that God became human, but that the Creator entered the creation He had made.

The Foundation of Human Dignity

Creation establishes far more than God’s existence; it establishes the nature of mankind.

Unlike the surrounding ancient Near Eastern myths, Genesis declares that men and women are created in the very image of God (Genesis 1:26–27). Human dignity is therefore neither earned nor granted by governments, societies, intelligence, or usefulness. It arises from mankind’s relationship to its Creator.

This single doctrine has shaped Western ideas of justice, equality, and the value of every human life. Without Creation, there is no objective reason why human beings possess greater dignity than any other biological organism. The biblical doctrine of the imago Dei is foundational for morality itself.

Why the Physical World Matters

Creation also establishes the inherent goodness of the physical world. Repeatedly, Genesis declares that God’s work was “good.” Matter is not evil. Human bodies are not prisons from which souls must escape. Marriage, work, rest, creativity, and stewardship all belong to God’s original design. This has important implications for Christianity.

The Incarnation is possible because creation is good. The bodily Resurrection is meaningful because the body matters. The promise of a new heaven and a new earth is coherent because God intends not to abandon creation, but to redeem it. Paul captures this beautifully in Romans 8, where he writes that creation itself waits in eager expectation for its liberation from corruption. Redemption is not God’s rejection of the physical world; it is its restoration.

The First Pillar Holds

Creation, therefore, establishes much more than origins. It establishes reality itself. It reveals who God is, who we are, why every human life possesses inherent dignity, and why history has purpose.

Every subsequent pillar assumes this first one. Only after God has established Himself as Creator can Scripture reveal Him as Judge, Covenant-Maker, Redeemer, and ultimately, as the incarnate Son who enters His own creation to save it.

The story of Christianity does not begin in Bethlehem. It begins with the words:

In the beginning, God created …

Pillar Two: The Flood

If Creation answers the question, “Who owns the world?” the Flood answers the equally important—and far more unsettling—question: What does God do when the world rebels against its Creator?

Modern Western culture often prefers to think of God exclusively as Creator, Sustainer, or Loving Father. Judgment is regarded as an uncomfortable relic of an earlier, less enlightened age—an idea to be explained away or politely ignored. Yet Scripture refuses to separate God’s love from His holiness. The same God who speaks the universe into existence also holds that universe morally accountable.

The Flood is therefore not simply an extraordinary historical catastrophe. It establishes an entirely new theological reality. It reveals that the Creator is also the Judge of all the earth. Without this pillar, much of the New Testament simply becomes unintelligible.

Universal Sin Requires Universal Judgment

The Genesis creation account concludes with a world declared “very good.” Yet only a few chapters later, that same world has descended into extraordinary violence and corruption. Genesis describes mankind’s condition with unflinching directness:

The LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. (Genesis 6:5)

This is not merely an account of isolated criminals or particularly wicked cities. The diagnosis is universal. Human rebellion has become systemic. Violence fills the earth because sin has thoroughly infected the human heart.

God’s response is equally universal. Unlike the later destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah—where judgment falls upon specific cities—the Flood encompasses the earth in its entirety. Mankind as a species stands accountable before its Maker.

This is a crucial development in biblical theology. Creation established that the world belongs to God; the Flood establishes that everyone who inhabits that world is morally accountable to Him. Judgment is therefore not arbitrary, tribal, or merely political. It is universal because God’s authority is universal.

This theological foundation undergirds the entire New Testament. When Paul declares that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23), he is not introducing a new doctrine. He is drawing upon a pattern already established in Genesis. Likewise, when John the Baptist announces Jesus as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world,” he assumes a problem that extends to the entire human race.

Without the Flood, the Cross could easily appear to solve a relatively small problem. The Flood demonstrates that mankind’s rebellion is universal in scale, and therefore the solution itself must be universal.

In History, Judgment Is Accompanied by Grace

Yet the Flood is remarkable for another reason. Although it is the Bible’s first great act of universal judgment, it is simultaneously its first great demonstration of sovereign grace.

Throughout Scripture, judgment and mercy appear together. Even while announcing destruction, God instructs Noah to build an ark. And the ark is not an afterthought; it is part of God’s redemptive plan from the very beginning. Before judgment falls, God provides a means of salvation.

Noah is not saved because he constructs an impressive vessel. The ark itself is God’s provision. God warns. God instructs. God provides. Noah simply responds in obedient faith.

The writer of Hebrews captures this dynamic perfectly:

By faith Noah, being warned by God concerning events as yet unseen, in reverent fear constructed an ark for the saving of his household. (Hebrews 11:7)

Already, Scripture is teaching that salvation is never achieved through autonomous human effort, but through trusting God’s gracious provision. This anticipates one of the great themes of the Gospel: long before Christ, God demonstrates that although His judgment is real, He delights to preserve rather than destroy.

The rainbow covenant reinforces precisely this point. Following the Flood, God establishes a covenant with Noah, identifying the rainbow in the clouds as a sign that He will never again destroy the earth by water (Genesis 9).

A Reset

The Flood also functions as a kind of re-creation. Careful readers have long noticed that the language of Genesis 6–9 deliberately echoes Genesis 1. The waters once again cover the earth. Dry land reappears. Living creatures emerge to fill the earth. God blesses Noah and his family with words strikingly similar to those spoken to Adam:

Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. (Genesis 9:1)

)This parallelism is no accident. The Flood does not merely destroy; it resets. Mankind receives a fresh beginning under a renewed covenant.

Yet something immediately becomes apparent: the core problem has not been removed. No sooner does Noah leave the ark than sin reappears. Genesis records Noah’s drunkenness and a shameful fallout within his own family (Genesis 9:20–27).

The message is unmistakable. The true problem was never merely the external environment; it was the human heart. The floodwaters could wash away a corrupt civilization, but they could not wash away sin itself. That would require something far greater. Already, the reader begins to sense that another, deeper act of divine intervention will eventually be necessary.

The Pattern of Final Judgment

The New Testament writers repeatedly return to the Flood because it establishes the paradigm for God’s future dealings with mankind. Jesus Himself compares His future return to the days of Noah:

For as were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. (Matthew 24:37)

Christ’s point is not merely that people were behaving badly before the Flood. Rather, He highlights their profound indifference. They were eating, drinking, and marrying—living ordinary lives—while remaining completely oblivious to God’s warnings until judgment suddenly and unavoidably arrived.

The Apostle Peter uses the Flood as the definitive pattern for understanding both the present world and its future. Just as the ancient world was judged by water, the present heavens and earth are “being kept for the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly by fire” (2 Peter 3:7).

Peter’s argument assumes deep theological continuity. The God who judged the world once will judge it again. History is not moving in endless, meaningless cycles. It is moving toward a final, ultimate moral reckoning.

Without the Flood, the doctrine of Final Judgment would appear almost without precedent in Scripture. With the Flood, it becomes the logical culmination of a pattern established near the very beginning of the biblical narrative.

Why the Flood Is a Pillar

Many miracles throughout the Old Testament demonstrate God’s power over nature. The Flood does something greater: it permanently establishes the moral architecture of reality.

It teaches that:

• The Creator possesses absolute moral authority over His creation.
• Mankind is universally accountable to Him.
• Sin warrants Divine judgment.
• God graciously provides a means of salvation for those who trust Him.
• History develops over time and moves toward a final day of reckoning.

Every one of these truths becomes foundational for the Gospel. Without the Flood, Christianity loses its understanding of why salvation is so desperately necessary. The Cross becomes an act of divine compassion without a clear explanation of what it actually accomplishes.

But once the Flood has established both the reality of universal guilt and God’s willingness to preserve a believing remnant, the logic of redemption begins to snap into focus.

The stage is now set for the next great pillar. If Creation revealed who God is, and the Flood revealed what mankind deserves, the next question becomes logically unavoidable: How can a holy God save guilty people without abandoning either His justice or His promises?

Scripture begins answering that important question through an elderly, childless couple—and the miraculous birth of a son whose very existence seemed impossible. That son was Isaac.

Pillar Three: Isaac

God Establishes Salvation by Promise

At first glance, the birth of Isaac appears almost underwhelming when compared with the cosmic grandeur of Creation or the terrifying judgment of the Flood. There are no mountains shaking, no oceans covering the earth, no dramatic displays of divine power before entire nations. Instead, there is simply an old couple who have long since abandoned hope of having children. However, Isaac’s birth is one of the most indispensable miracles in the entire Bible because it establishes the principle upon which all salvation rests: God fulfills His promises through His own power, rather than through human ability.

Without Isaac, there is no covenant nation. Without the covenant nation, there is no royal Davidic line, and in turn, no Messiah. The miracle of Isaac is therefore not simply the birth of a child; it is the birth of redemption history itself.

Promise Before Fulfillment

The significance of Isaac cannot be understood apart from the promises that precede him. When God first calls Abram in Genesis 12, He makes a promise:

I will make of you a great nation … and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed (Genesis 12:2–3).

The promise is breathtaking. The circumstances are impossible. Abram has no heir, and his wife Sarah is barren. As the years turn into decades, the tension steadily increases. By Genesis 15, God formally establishes His covenant. By Genesis 17, He explicitly declares that Sarah herself will bear the promised son. Yet the fulfillment is delayed.

The narrative therefore forces a theological question onto the reader: Can God’s promise fail?

Everything depends upon the answer. If God’s covenant with Abraham can collapse due to biological impossibility, then none of His later promises can be trusted either. Isaac’s birth becomes God’s emphatic answer. The God who created the universe out of nothing is not bound by the ordinary processes of nature. The covenant depends entirely on God’s faithfulness, not human capability.

Life From Death

The Apostle Paul develops this idea in Romans 4. He describes Abraham as contemplating his own body, “which was as good as dead,” alongside Sarah’s barren womb (Romans 4:19).

Those words are noteworthy. Paul deliberately uses the language of death. Abraham and Sarah are not merely elderly; from the standpoint of reproduction, they are effectively dead. Yet this is when God chooses to act.

Throughout Scripture, God demonstrates that He delights in bringing life out of absolute hopelessness. Isaac is the first great example of a pattern that echoes through the rest of the biblical narrative:

• Sarah’s barren womb gives birth to Isaac.
• Rebekah’s barrenness gives birth to Jacob.
• Rachel, who was barren in her early years, gives birth to Joseph.
• Hannah gives birth to Samuel.
• Elizabeth gives birth to John the Baptist.
• Finally, Mary—a virgin—gives birth to Jesus.

The pattern is unmistakable. Repeatedly, God creates life where life should not exist. Each miraculous birth moves the biblical story one deliberate step closer to Christ. The Messiah’s family line is sustained not by human vitality, but by repeated, sovereign acts of divine intervention. Long before the Resurrection, Scripture teaches that God’s power is most vividly displayed at the point where human possibility ends.

Human Effort Cannot Produce Salvation

Genesis also records a failed alternative. Unable to see how God’s promise could possibly come true, Abraham and Sarah attempt to solve the problem themselves. Sarah gives her maidservant Hagar to Abraham, and Ishmael is born.

From a purely human perspective, the solution appears entirely reasonable. God had promised descendants; Abraham now has a son. Problem solved. But Scripture insists that the real problem has not been solved at all. God refuses to recognize Ishmael as the covenant heir. Instead, He declares:

Sarah your wife shall bear you a son, and you shall call his name Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him (Genesis 17:19).

The lesson is important and permanent: human beings cannot accomplish God’s saving purposes through their own ingenuity. The covenant cannot be manufactured; it must be received.

Paul later builds much of his theology in Romans and Galatians around this exact distinction. Ishmael represents human effort; Isaac represents divine promise. Salvation, therefore, begins with grace rather than achievement. Long before the Law is given, Genesis has already established that God’s people exist because God keeps His promises—not because human beings successfully execute religious projects.

The Beloved Son

Isaac’s story reaches its theological climax in Genesis 22. This chapter is often remembered simply as Abraham’s supreme test of faith, but its significance extends much further.

For the first time, Scripture brings together several themes that will ultimately converge in Christ. Isaac is repeatedly described as Abraham’s beloved son. He is the son of promise. The entire covenant depends upon him. Yet God commands Abraham to offer him as a sacrifice.

From a human perspective, the command appears to threaten everything God has previously established. Abraham nevertheless obeys. Hebrews later explains why:

He considered that God was able even to raise him from the dead (Hebrews 11:19).

At the last moment, God intervenes. A ram is provided in Isaac’s place. The son lives because another dies. Substitution enters the biblical narrative with extraordinary clarity.

Abraham names the place Jehovah Jireh—”The Lord will provide.” Those words resonate far beyond Genesis. Centuries later, another beloved Son would ascend another hill in that same region. This time, there would be no substitute. The Father would provide not a ram, but His own Son.

Genesis 22 does not merely foreshadow the Cross through superficial similarities. It establishes the theological categories of promise, beloved sonship, obedience, sacrifice, substitution, and divine provision that find their ultimate fulfillment in Christ.

Pillar Four: Sinai

God Establishes Covenant, Holiness, and Atonement

The first three pillars progressively answer three great questions.

• Who is God? The Creator.
• What is mankind’s condition? Guilty before a holy Judge.
• How will God save? Through His gracious promise.

Yet one essential question still remains: How can sinful people live in the presence of a holy God? The answer begins at Mount Sinai.

Modern readers often reduce Sinai to a legal code—the place where Moses received the Ten Commandments. That is true, but it represents only a fraction of what occurred. Sinai is not primarily about rules; it is about relationship. God is establishing a covenant people among whom He intends to dwell.

The dramatic events surrounding the mountain make this unmistakably clear. Thunder crashes. Lightning flashes. Fire descends. The mountain trembles violently. A trumpet blasts. The people are terrified and dare not approach. The overwhelming impression is one of absolute, unapproachable holiness.

The Creator who lovingly formed mankind now reveals that His holiness cannot simply coexist with human rebellion. A massive gap exists between a perfect God and fallen mankind. Something must bridge it.

The Law Reveals the Problem

The Law given at Sinai reveals God’s character. Its commands are not arbitrary; they reflect His justice, faithfulness, purity, and covenant love.

Yet the Law also exposes something deeply uncomfortable: Israel cannot keep it. Almost immediately after entering into covenant, the nation falls into idolatry with the golden calf. The problem, therefore, lies not with the Law, but with the human heart.

Paul captures this perfectly centuries later: “Through the law comes knowledge of sin” (Romans 3:20). The Law does not create sin; it reveals it. Like an x-ray, it exposes the fracture that was already there. Sinai therefore establishes that mankind’s deepest problem is not merely ignorance, but moral inability.

Sacrifice Establishes the Pattern of Atonement

At Sinai, another great institution is born: the priesthood, closely tied to the sacrificial system. Modern readers often find the book of Leviticus difficult precisely because they miss its purpose. The sacrifices were never intended to be an end in themselves. Rather, they taught Israel that fellowship with God requires atonement. Sin has consequences. Forgiveness is costly. Life must be given for life.

The repeated, daily sacrifices served as living, visceral lessons. They continually pointed beyond themselves toward something greater. As the writer to the Hebrews explains, “It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (Hebrews 10:4). Their purpose was pedagogical. They prepared God’s people to recognize the perfect, once-for-all sacrifice when it finally arrived.

God’s Presence Among His People

Perhaps the greatest gift of Sinai was not the Law itself, but God’s decision to dwell among Israel. Immediately after the covenant is established, God gives detailed instructions for constructing the Tabernacle.

This is no coincidence. The covenant exists because God desires communion with His people. The Tabernacle proclaimed an extraordinary truth: the holy Creator intended to live among sinful human beings.

But His presence had to be mediated. Hence the priests. Hence the sacrifices. Hence the strict division between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place. Every aspect of Israel’s worship declared that access to God is both wonderfully possible and profoundly restricted.

The entire system created a deep, aching expectation. Surely one day a better priest must come. Surely one perfect sacrifice must finally accomplish what thousands of animal sacrifices never could. Surely God must one day dwell with His people in a fuller, unmediated way.

Sinai Finds Its Fulfillment in Christ

The New Testament repeatedly insists that Jesus fulfills, rather than abolishes, Sinai. He is the true High Priest who does not need to offer sacrifices for His own sins. He is the perfect sacrifice whose blood takes away sin. He perfectly fulfills the moral demands of the Law. And He inaugurates the New Covenant promised by Jeremiah.

Through His death, the veil of the Temple is torn from top to bottom, symbolizing that the barrier to God’s presence has been removed. The writer to the Hebrews therefore contrasts Mount Sinai with Mount Zion—the terrifying mountain of the Law gives way to the joyful, accessible heavenly city entered through Christ’s priesthood (Hebrews 12).

Sinai achieved its purpose. It revealed both God’s flawless holiness and mankind’s desperate need for a perfect mediator.

The Architecture Complete

At this point, the remarkable structure of the Old Testament begins to emerge in full view.

These four miracles are not isolated wonders. Together, they construct the entire theological framework upon which Christianity rests.

• Creation establishes that God is the sovereign Creator and mankind bears His image.
• The Flood establishes that mankind is universally accountable before a holy Judge.
• Isaac establishes that salvation depends entirely on God’s gracious promise, not human achievement.
• Sinai establishes God’s holy standard, the mechanism of atonement, and the longing for a perfect priest.

Only after these pillars are securely in place does Israel begin waiting for the Messiah. Notice what this means: the Messiah must be the Creator entering His own creation. He must deal with universal human guilt. He must come through the line of divine promise. And He must fulfill the Law, accomplish the final sacrifice, and bring God’s presence permanently to His people.

These are not merely ideas revealed in the New Testament. They are expectations created by the Old Testament itself.

Matthew Is Not the Beginning

Many readers instinctively think Christianity begins with the opening words of Matthew’s Gospel. In truth, Matthew begins much later in the story than we often realize. By the close of the Pentateuch, the essential theological architecture of Christianity is already standing.

The remaining miracles of the Old Testament—the parting of the Red Sea, the fall of Jericho, the fire of Elijah, the miracles of Elisha, Daniel in the lions’ den, and the ministries of the prophets—are magnificent acts of God. They preserve His covenant people, authenticate His messengers, and repeatedly call Israel back to faithfulness. They are indispensable to the biblical story.

But they do not establish fundamentally new theological pillars. They preserve the building; they do not replace its structure.

When the New Testament opens, therefore, it does not announce the beginning of a new religion. It announces the arrival of the One for whom the entire Old Testament has been preparing. The Creator enters His creation. The promised Son is born. The perfect sacrifice is offered. The true High Priest takes His seat.

In the next article, we will examine the miraculous pillars of the New Testament which complete the foundation of great cathedral of redemption—revealing that Christianity has always been one coherent story, from Creation to New Creation, from promise to fulfillment, from Genesis to the book of Revelation.