The Cutting Edge of Faith

By Dr. Eli Lizorkin-Girzhel

Thank you to my friends for your support!

In the unfolding story of Genesis, chapter 17 marks a pivotal turning point. It serves as the entrance to a covenant with YHVH and sets the stage for the joy that will accompany Isaac’s birth. However, before the full weight of this promise can be realized, Abraham and all those in his household are called to cross a threshold—one that is not only spiritual and symbolic but also deeply personal and physical. The story in Genesis 17 features a significant insight almost always missed by us in our readings. But before we refer to it, a few introductory remarks are in order.

The Revelation of El Shaddai

The chapter opens with a theophany that redefines the very nature of the God who is speaking. The Holy One appears to Abram (Avram, אַבְרָם) and introduces Himself by a new name: El Shaddai (אֵל שַׁדָּי). Our Bibles often translate this as “God Almighty”—a title of raw, omnipotent power, drawing on the root shadad (שָׁדַד), meaning to overwhelm or destroy. Yet the Hebrew invites another translation option. The same consonants point to shadayim (שָׁדַיִם), the Hebrew word for “breasts”—an ancient and powerful symbol of nurture and the capacity to sustain human life. In this light, God’s self-revelation as El Shaddai becomes less about an overwhelming force (“God Almighty”) and more about being the “All-Sufficient One”—the God who nourishes and sustains, who makes good on His parental promise.

A New Identity

In Genesis 17, God speaks a new reality into existence. The name Abram, which means “exalted father” from av אָב (“father”) and ram רָם (“high”), becomes Abraham, which means “father of a multitude,” from av אָב (“father”) and hamon הָמוֹן (“many” or “a multitude”). In a stunning declaration, God calls things that are not yet as though they already were. Abraham, still childless at ninety-nine, is redesignated as the progenitor of many nations. The Holy One adds the Hebrew letter “hei” (ה) to Abram’s name—a signature letter from the Divine Name, YHVH (יהוה). The very Hebrew letter that symbolizes both God Himself and the life He gives was now planted into the name Abram to transform it into Abraham.

The Sign of Covenant

The LORD (YHVH) tells Abraham that the sign of the covenant between Him and Abraham and his offspring will be the sign of circumcision (brit milah, בְּרִית מִילָה). In doing so, God takes the very organ of human procreativity—the locus of man’s power to control his future, to build his dynasty, and to establish his name—and marks it as His own. It is a sign inscribed in the flesh (ot bavasar, אוֹת בַּבָּשָׂר): a permanent mark, not merely recorded on paper or even carved in stone, but bearing a weight far greater than both. It stands as an enduring reminder—passed on from generation to generation—that the highest creative capacity of a man (making a child) must yield to the authority of the LORD.

What is important, however, is that the command extends beyond Abraham. YHVH instructs him:

“Every male among you shall be circumcised… he who is born in your house and he who is bought with money from any foreigner who is not your descendant.” (Genesis 17:10–12)

The covenant embraces not just the biological line but also the entire household—the whole community that dwells with Abraham. Every male, from heir to servant, must bear this mark. It is a profound leveling, demonstrating that belonging to God is not a matter of pedigree alone but of being incorporated into the household of faith.

The Single Day

What happens slightly later is the ultimate proof of Abraham’s trust. That very same day, without hesitation or strategic delay, Abraham took Ishmael and every male born in his house and bought with his money and “circumcised the flesh of their foreskins” (Genesis 17:23).

His obedience was not only thorough but also immediate without consideration for dangerous consequences. Why would the timing matter? Because by circumcising every male in his household on a single day, Abraham rendered his entire encampment completely defenseless, trusting that the LORD (YHVH), El Shadai, will be his mighty shield, fully trusting his earlier promise (Gen 15:1).

To understand this peril, we need only look ahead to the tragic story of Dinah in Genesis 34. There, after Shechem, a Hivite prince, violates Jacob’s daughter, he seeks to marry her. Her brothers, Simeon and Levi, respond with cunning deception. They insist that intermarriage can only occur if every male in Shechem’s city undergoes circumcision (milah, מִילָה).

Hamor and Shechem persuade their townsmen to comply. But on the third day, when the men are “in pain” (Genesis 34:25)—at their most physically vulnerable and incapacitated—Simeon and Levi descend upon the city and slaughter every male. Circumcision, in that context, became a weapon of mass destruction. Jacob was very displeased with the actions of his sons.

So, coming back to our earlier story, Abraham, the seasoned and wise warrior, was surely aware of the realities on the ground. He had recently led his 318 trained men to rescue his nephew Lot and his family from being kidnapped, demonstrating his strategic capability (Genesis 14). He was well aware that a fighting force of incapacitated men would be no help at all.

By ordering a mass circumcision on a single day, Abraham was not just performing a ritual; he was fulfilling God’s command at the high cost of personal and communal safety and security. He was leaving his flocks unguarded, his tents vulnerable, and his family defenseless against any passing tribe, vengeful neighbor, or unknown nomadic foe. He was placing his entire future, his wealth, and his very life into the hands of El Shaddai, the All-Sufficient One. He was well aware that all fighting men would be in pain for 7-14 days and would not be able to protect the camp.

From Abraham to Christ

This powerful moment of Abraham’s complete vulnerability finds its ultimate fulfillment in the ministry and death of Jesus. Just as Abraham rendered his entire household defenseless, trusting in El Shaddai’s protection, Jesus would later strip Himself of divine privilege and power, making Himself utterly vulnerable on a Roman cross. The parallel deepens when we consider the words Jesus spoke from that cross: “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit” (Luke 23:46). These are not merely words of resignation but of profound trust—the same trust Abraham demonstrated when he placed his entire camp’s safety into God’s hands. Where Abraham surrendered his capacity to protect his household through military might, Jesus surrendered His very life, trusting the Father not only with His physical safety but with His spirit. Just as Abraham’s obedience on that single day opened the door for Isaac’s birth and the fulfillment of the covenant, Jesus’s complete self-surrender on the cross opened the door for our rebirth into new creation. In His cry of committal, Jesus models for us what Abraham demonstrated—that true faith releases its grip on self-preservation and entrusts everything into the hands of the All-Sufficient One, who alone can bring life from death, hope from barrenness, and a multitude from the vulnerability of a single surrendered life.

Conclusion

This is the cutting edge of faith for us today. We are all, in some way, tempted to build our own security—whether through strategic planning, financial safety nets, or personal ability. But God still calls us to a place of sacred vulnerability, where we lay down our self-sufficiency and trust Him with the things we cannot control.

It is in that space of surrendered power that His covenant is truly sealed in our lives. The question is not whether we can strategize our way to safety, but whether we trust the All-Sufficient One enough to make ourselves vulnerable to His promise and power.