A Biblical Theology of Christ’s Redemptive

Work Through the Old Testament

Curated by Keizzer Ignacio

OVERVIEW
Long ago, the Lord spoke through the prophet Isaiah:
"Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and you shall call his name
Emmanuel," meaning "God with us." This moment marked the fulfillment of the
long-held hopes and expectations of both Israel and the entire world. It signified
God’s return—his coming to dwell among his people.

The entire narrative of creation and redemption is centered on God making his
dwelling among his people. It is not a story of humanity striving to reach God or
attempting to ascend to his presence. Instead, it is about God choosing to come
down and be with his people. This theme—God dwelling with humanity,
Emmanuel—will be the focal point of this curation as we explore the beauty and
joy of this divine reality.

Faced with such a profound promise from God, we must ask: How is it possible for
God to be with us? How can he come near to us? The answer lies in his voluntary
and gracious condescension. He willingly draws near to meet with us. Thanks be
to God that he has chosen to do so through his covenant. It is by means of his
covenant that God remains present with his people, fulfilling and bringing to life
the promise of Emmanuel.
Understanding God’s Covenant
God’s covenant is the bond that he freely and historically establishes with his
people. At its core, this covenant is one of relationship—specifically, a fellowship
of life. Throughout Scripture, it is often described in terms of deep friendship.
Psalm 25:14 declares:
"The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him, and he makes known to
them his covenant."
A careful study of Hebrew poetry, particularly in the Psalms, reveals the use of
parallelism—where two lines either reinforce or expand upon each other. In this
verse, "friendship" and "covenant" are placed in parallel, emphasizing that the
covenant of God is, at its heart, an intimate relationship. The covenant is often
summarized in the phrase: "I will be your God, and you will be my people." This
expresses the essence of divine friendship—a reciprocal, joyful communion
between God and his people.

Thus, when God is with us, he is not merely present as a distant deity but as our
friend and our God, while we, in turn, are his people. This mutual giving of oneself
in joyful fellowship defines the entire biblical narrative—from Genesis to the final
fulfillment in the new heavens and new earth, where God will eternally dwell with
his people. This covenantal relationship is the driving force behind redemptive
history, revealing God’s deep love and relentless pursuit of his people, drawing
them into his household.

Isaiah foresaw this glorious reality—the day when God would gather those who
had been far from him, bringing them to his holy mountain and welcoming them
into his house. Even more, he would invite them to his altar, into the closest
possible communion with him. This is the ultimate fulfillment of Emmanuel—God
with us.
As we study this theme, we will trace how it unfolds throughout history, showing
how God progressively brings his people closer to him. This progression reaches
its climax when Jesus Christ, the true Emmanuel, takes on flesh and dwells among
us. His coming marks the turning point in history, the pinnacle of God's
redemptive plan, shifting from promise to fulfillment. Throughout the Old
Testament, the anticipation builds toward this moment, culminating in what the
Apostle Paul describes as "the fullness of time."

How Do We Know This to Be True?

Before we embark on this journey through Scripture, discovering its profound
insights like precious gems, we must first ask: How do we come to know these
truths?
The Heidelberg Catechism, Question 19, poses this very question:
"How do you come to know this?"
The answer given is:
"The holy gospel tells me that God himself began to reveal the gospel already in
Paradise. Later, he proclaimed it through the holy patriarchs and prophets and
foreshadowed it by the sacrifices and other ceremonies of the law. Finally, he
fulfilled it through his own beloved Son."

The Good News Unveiled by God Himself

There are essential truths that demand our attention. At the very core of the good
news—God dwelling with us as our covenant-keeping Lord—is this profound
reality: it is God himself who unveils the gospel.
 It is God who first made the gospel known.
 It is God who declared it through the voices of the patriarchs and prophets.
  It is God who hinted at it through the sacrifices and ceremonies in the law.
 And it is God himself who ultimately brought it to fulfillment in his beloved
Son.
Behind all of this stands the glorious doctrine of divine inspiration—God has
spoken, and his very words are inscribed in Scripture. The Apostle Paul confirms
this when he writes:
"All Scripture is breathed out by God…" (2 Timothy 3:16)
The prophets, patriarchs, and biblical authors were moved by God, yet what they
recorded are not merely human words but the very words of the living God. And
what does this tell us about our Creator? It reveals his tender care for his people—
his desire for us to have a word that is both trustworthy and preserved.
So when we open the pages of Scripture, we are not just encountering an ancient
document or distant history. We are stepping into the presence of the living God,
who speaks, who acts, who promises to dwell among us. This is the best news we
could ever receive—because it assures us that God's word is unshakable and true.
His word does not address insignificant matters; it speaks to the weightiest, most
eternal realities. And because it is his authoritative and perfect revelation, we can
build our lives upon it with unwavering confidence.

The Good News That Centers on Christ

The second great truth found in the entire Bible is this: the gospel is ultimately all
about Jesus. Every page of Scripture leads to him:
 The Old Testament looks ahead to Christ as the long-awaited fulfillment.
 The New Testament proclaims and unpacks his coming and his redemptive
work.
In Christ, every promise of God finds its completion. He is not just a part of the
story—he is the story. He is the fulfillment of God with us. And yet, the gospel is
not merely about knowing these truths or affirming them as historical facts. It is
about something far more personal. It is about believing and embracing this truth
for ourselves. It is about saying: This is for me. This is my hope. In Jesus, my sins
are forgiven. In Jesus, I have the unshakable hope of eternal life.
And here’s the foundation of it all: this is not a message created by man; it is
revealed by God himself. This is the wonder of Emmanuel—God, in Christ,
stepping into human history, keeping his covenant, and drawing us into eternal
fellowship with himself.

The Good News Rooted in History

A third essential truth we must grasp is that the gospel is not just an abstract idea;
it is something God has revealed in real history. God is the one who unveils the
good news about his Son, and he does so in a way that is deeply woven into the
fabric of human history. When God speaks through his word, he is not speaking
from a distance, detached from the world around us. No, he speaks into history,
within history—his word is the most important reality shaping history itself.
We live in a world filled with events that seem to shift the course of history—wars,
elections, crises, breakthroughs. We are constantly told that this moment, right
now, is a turning point, that everything is about to change. But when we step back
and look with eyes of faith, we see that while these events may be significant,
they are not ultimate. The most defining moment in all of human history is the
unfolding of the gospel—the good news that God first revealed in Paradise and
brought to completion in his Son. This gospel has already shaped history, and it
will continue to do so until Christ returns in glory.
This is why what we are exploring here is not just an intellectual exercise. It is a
matter of ultimate significance—for our lives, for our understanding of ourselves,
for how we interpret the world around us. The gospel is not just another message
among many; it is the message. It is the good news that will be proclaimed to the
nations. It is the good news that will gather God's people from every corner of the
earth and bring them into his family.
After his resurrection, when Jesus stood before his disciples, he reminded them
that the Scriptures had foretold not only his suffering and resurrection but also
the proclamation of his gospel to all nations. Just as his death and resurrection
were sure, so too is the certainty that this good news will go forth and accomplish
its purpose.
And so, in a world that feels like it is constantly shifting—where chaos seems to
reign, where uncertainty looms large—we can stand firm in the one thing that is
unshakable: the gospel. This is the good news that comes to us from God. It is our
hope. It is our anchor. It is the most defining reality of all time.

The Good News Revealed Progressively in the Entire OT

A fourth essential truth about the gospel is that God unveils it progressively. He
does not lay it all out at once in a single moment but unfolds it over time, as we
will see throughout this study. Think of a seed—within it is everything necessary
for what it will become. But it does not remain a seed. Over time, it pushes roots
deep into the soil, a stem reaches upward, and it grows until, in due time, it stands
as a mighty oak, strong and unshakable.
This is how God has revealed his redemptive plan. From the very beginning, in
Paradise, he gave a promise—a serpent-crusher would come, one who would
strike the head of the enemy. But the fullness of this promise was not immediately
clear. As history unfolded, God gave more revelation, more detail. He made known
that this serpent-crusher would be a descendant of Abraham, the one through
whom blessing would come to all nations. This promised one would bring the very
presence of God to the world, drawing the nations to his mountain, gathering
them into his house, standing before his altar.
Then, as God's revelation continued to unfold, this promised offspring of Abraham
was revealed to be a great high priest—one who would atone for the sins of his
people, removing the barrier that separated them from a holy God, a God who is a
consuming fire. This high priest would not only deal with sin but would remove it
completely, as far as the east is from the west. And even more, this serpent-
crushing, sin-bearing priest would also be a son of David—a king whose reign
would never end, who would establish a kingdom of righteousness, peace, and
everlasting joy.
The people of God struggled to grasp this in the Old Testament. They saw
glimpses, but they could not fully comprehend. Yet the prophets spoke of a
coming new covenant, one in which every promise would be fulfilled in a single
person. And now we see—this serpent-crusher, this offspring of Abraham, this
high priest, this royal son of David—they all find their completion in one person:
Jesus Christ, Emmanuel, God with us.
This will be our journey in this study—to follow this unfolding story, to trace how
God has revealed the good news step by step, and to allow our hearts to burn
with wonder, just as the disciples on the road to Emmaus did when they heard
how all of Scripture pointed to Jesus—his life, his sacrificial death, and his
triumphant resurrection.
At the center of all of this is a promise, a truth spoken at the end of Psalm 16:11
—"You make known to me the path of life." And as the New Testament reveals,
especially in Peter’s sermon at Pentecost in Acts 2, this promise reaches its
fulfillment in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is the heartbeat of the gospel—
the path of life made known, the fullness of joy found in God’s presence, and
pleasures that last forever at his right hand.
THE GARDEN
From the very beginning, the story of Scripture is a story of presence—the
presence of God dwelling with His people. The opening words of Genesis set the
stage: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” But before form
took shape, before beauty flourished, there was emptiness. The earth lay formless
and void, cloaked in darkness. And yet, there in the deep, God’s Spirit hovered—a
whisper of hope, a sign that God was near.
Then, with a sovereign and royal decree, God spoke. The voice of the Almighty
shattered the silence: “Let there be light.” And light obeyed. Day by day, He
shaped the world—separating sky from sea, forming land from water, filling the
void with life. The heavens stretched above, the earth took its place below, and
creatures filled the skies, seas, and fields. But all of it was moving toward one
glorious moment—the sixth day—when God formed humanity in His image,
breathing His own life into man.
To be made in the image of God is no small thing. It is not just about bearing
resemblance; it is about relationship. Man was created to know God, to enjoy His
presence, to walk in communion with Him. The Heidelberg Catechism captures
this truth well: “God created man good and in His own image, in true
righteousness and holiness, so that he might truly know God his Creator, love Him
with all his heart, and live with Him in eternal happiness for His praise and glory.”
The purpose of mankind, then, is beautifully simple and yet profoundly weighty—
to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.
And so, God placed man in a garden, not merely as a home but as a sacred space,
a temple where heaven and earth met, where God and man walked together in
perfect fellowship. There, Adam was given a commission—to work the garden, to
keep it holy, to expand its borders so that one day, the whole earth would be filled
with the glory of God as waters cover the sea. In this, Adam was more than just a
caretaker; he was a priest and a king, set apart to serve and love his Creator.
But with privilege came responsibility. Within the garden stood a tree—one tree
among many, but one set apart by a command. “You may eat of any tree in the
garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you shall not eat, for on
the day you eat of it, you shall surely die.” This was not an arbitrary restriction. It
was a divine test, a moment of truth that would reveal whether Adam’s heart
belonged fully to God. Would he trust his Creator’s word? Would he live for God’s
sake alone?
Death was not merely the ceasing of breath—it was separation, a breaking of
fellowship, an exile from the presence of the One who is life itself. To disobey was
to choose distance from God, to step away from His goodness, to abandon the
fullness of joy found in Him alone.
The garden was a beginning, but it was not the end. Adam was not only to
preserve its holiness but to extend its borders, to bring the presence of God to the
ends of the earth. The world was not yet what it would one day be. The mission
was clear: Fill the earth, subdue it, make all creation a place of God’s dwelling.
This was the goal of creation from the very start. God’s design was never just a
garden—it was a world filled with His presence, a people who lived before Him in
joy and holiness, an earth overflowing with His glory. But before that vision could
be realized, Adam would be tested.
Would he trust the voice of his Maker, or would he choose his own way?
The story of God with us had only just begun.

THE FALL
Adam, given a wife by the hand of God, stood before the tree that was strictly
forbidden. And there, in that sacred garden, a serpent, more cunning than any
other creature, approached the woman. He did not come with open violence but
with subtle deceit, whispering doubt into her ear. His strategy was ancient yet
devastatingly effective—he cast suspicion upon the goodness of God. Though the
Creator had lavished them with a paradise beyond imagining, the serpent fixated
on the one restriction. And with calculated precision, he planted a lie deep into
the human heart: that God was withholding something good, that He was not
truly to be trusted, that He was a tyrant rather than a loving Father.
As the serpent spun his web of deception, the woman listened. And then, with an
outstretched hand, she grasped the fruit and ate. Adam, standing beside her all
along, did not intervene. He did not defend the honor of God or shield his wife
from this fatal error. Instead, he silently watched, testing rather than trusting,
questioning rather than obeying. And in that tragic moment, Adam fell—not just
as an individual, but as the representative of all humanity. He shattered the
covenantal bond between Creator and creation. The perfect fellowship he had
once enjoyed was now marred, broken beyond human repair.
In an instant, everything changed. Shame, a foreign feeling, now gripped Adam
and Eve. They no longer walked freely with God; instead, they hid, fleeing from
the One they once delighted in. But God, rich in mercy, pursued them. He did not
leave them to their ruin. He called out, "Where are you?"—not because He did
not know, but because they needed to see how far they had fallen. Trembling and
ashamed, Adam confessed his fear. But rather than humbly taking responsibility,
he shifted blame. "The woman You gave me," he said. And the woman, too,
deflected, pointing to the serpent. Sin had already begun its work, corrupting
hearts, sowing division, severing the trust that once reigned between man and
God.
Then, God turned to the serpent. And in the pronouncement of judgment, He also
spoke the first words of hope. The covenant of works had been broken, but the
story would not end in ruin. For God, in His infinite grace, established another
covenant—a covenant of redemption, a covenant of grace. He declared in Genesis
3:15 that a battle would rage between the offspring of the woman and the
serpent. And though the serpent would strike, though he would wound, he would
not win. One was coming, a Redeemer, who would crush the head of the serpent
and undo what had been done that day.
Though Adam and Eve were banished from the garden, sent east of Eden into a
world now shadowed by death, they went forth with a promise. Their exile was
not the end. Yes, they would now know sorrow. Yes, they would walk through
pain, toil, and the sting of loss. But they carried with them a word from God—
hope that one day, they would be restored. And though the entrance to Eden was
guarded, though a flaming sword and a mighty cherubim stood barring their
return, it was not a final exile. It was a foreshadowing of what would be required
for humanity to regain access to God’s presence. Someone would have to pass
through the sword. Someone would have to bear the judgment. Someone would
have to be pierced so that the gates could be opened once more.
This is the storyline of Scripture—the unfolding of God's redemptive plan. This
covenant of grace, initiated in Genesis, would weave its way through history. It
would be revealed to Abraham in the promise of a nation. It would be reaffirmed
to Moses through the law. It would be carried forward through David and the
expectation of a coming King. And it would be heralded by the prophets who
longed for the fulfillment of God's redemptive work. But in the fullness of time,
the covenant of grace would find its realization in Jesus Christ, the long-awaited
Serpent-Crusher, the Savior who would restore what sin had ruined.
Through Christ, the broken fellowship would be mended. Through Christ, the exile
would be reversed. Through Christ, the flaming sword would be satisfied, and the
way back to the Father would be made open. And so, the people of God, living
east of Eden, are called to hold fast to that promise. We are called to trust, to
hope, to cling to the truth that in Jesus, all things will be made new. The story is
not one of despair but of grace. The covenant of grace assures us that the bonds
of death have been broken, that the curse of sin has met its match, and that we
are being led home—to fullness of joy in the presence of God forevermore.