The shift from a bilateral to a unilateral covenant speaks to the heart of the transformation we must undergo in our spiritual lives. In the old covenant, the relationship between Yahweh and Israel was conditional: “If you obey my voice and hold fast to my covenant, you of all the nations shall be my very own” [1] (Exodus 19:5). This bilateral covenant required mutual agreement—Israel’s obedience in exchange for Yahweh’s blessing. It was a partnership where both parties had responsibilities, and Israel’s standing before God was dependent on their behavior. However, the new covenant changes everything. “This dramatic change replaces the earlier order by surpassing it, not destroying it.” [1] (Jeremiah 31:33) Rather than a mutual agreement, the new covenant is unilateral—God takes full responsibility for its fulfillment. It is no longer about Israel’s ability to keep the law but about God's promise to forgive and renew them regardless of their actions. “God forgives undeservedly, even after direct disobedience!” [1] (Jeremiah 31:34) This is grace without condition—a love freely given that asks for nothing in return. No longer do we need to prove our worth, for all is grace.
The nature of this divine love in the new covenant is one that surpasses all human understanding. There is no room here for the idea of deserving or earning anything; it is all a gift from God. “Yahweh even offers the unthinkable to our guilt-ridden species: ‘I will never call your sins to mind!’” [1] (Jeremiah 31:34) In this unconditional love, there is no accounting for our wrongs, no retribution, no moral ledger where our failings are counted against us. This is a love that does not wait for us to get it right, a love that exists regardless of our actions. “There is no such thing as deserving or earning anything. All is grace.” [1] (Ephesians 2:8–9) When we begin to truly internalize this understanding, we realize that our relationship with God isn’t based on what we’ve done or failed to do. It’s based on God’s desire to love us unconditionally, to forgive us endlessly, to draw us into an intimate, grace-filled relationship that we could never have earned.
And in that love, we are invited to recognize that we are not the primary agents of our transformation. It’s not about striving or achieving; it’s about receiving and surrendering. “It is an utterly honest recognition that I am not the primary ‘doer’ in the world of love. It is being done unto me.” [1] (Ezekiel 36:26-27) This is a hard truth to accept, especially in a world that constantly emphasizes individual achievement. But the love that transforms us is not something we make happen. It is a gift that we receive, something that flows through us as we allow ourselves to be open to it. When we are in true love, we recognize that we are not in control, but we are part of a divine flow. Love, in its deepest and truest form, is not something we can generate on our own. It is something that is done to us by the Divine, and in receiving it, we become conduits of that love in the world.
The old covenant, with its dualistic thinking of reward and punishment, stands in stark contrast to the new covenant of grace and love. “We would rather stand outside of love than receive a love of which we believe we are not worthy—or have not earned or cannot figure out.” [1] (Luke 5:39) The old way offers us certainty, a clear sense of where we stand, even if it is outside the realm of love. But this certainty is a trap, one that keeps us in a cycle of fear and self-justification. The new covenant, however, invites us into mystery—into the unknown, into love that we cannot fully comprehend. To step into this love requires a surrender of control, a willingness to embrace something far greater than ourselves. It challenges us to let go of the dualistic mindset of deserving and punishment, to step into a relationship with God that is founded solely on grace.
As we move deeper into the experience of divine love, we are called to understand that it is not just a matter of receiving love but of participating in it. “Our whole life, for Paul, is ‘in Christ,’ a life of full divine participation with and in the other.” [1] (Romans 8:1–2) Spiritual growth is not about striving for perfection or accumulating achievements; it’s about surrendering ourselves to the flow of divine love and letting that love transform us. This is not a passive experience—it’s an active participation in something far greater than ourselves. It is stepping into the reality of divine presence, trusting that love will carry us, even when we don’t fully understand where it is leading us. In this participation, we are continually shaped, renewed, and transformed, not by our own efforts, but by the grace of God working within us.
And yet, this transformation is not always immediate. It is a gradual shift, a slow unfolding of love as our primary motivation, especially as we move through life. “Fear is less their motive now, and love is creeping in at all levels, almost unbeknown to themselves.” [1] (1 John 4:18) As we mature spiritually, our motives shift from fear and control to love and trust. We begin to see love not as something to earn, but as something to receive and share freely. This shift can be subtle, happening almost without us noticing. But when we look back, we see the quiet ways in which love has crept into our hearts and minds, undoing the fear and replacing it with a deep trust in God’s goodness. This is the work of grace—an unfolding of love that happens at its own pace, often without us realizing how deeply it has transformed us.
Yet, this love is not easy for many to accept. “Our refusal to allow ourselves to be loved undeservedly and unconditionally will probably forever be the anguish of every prophet and the burden of every mystic or saint.” [1] (Matthew 23:37) Humanity’s deep resistance to unconditional love has been a constant theme in spiritual history. We reject this love because we fear that we are unworthy of it, or because we believe that we must earn it. But as prophets and mystics have long shown, accepting this love is the key to spiritual freedom. The anguish of the prophet is the anguish of knowing that humanity often rejects the very thing that could heal it. The challenge for each of us is to move past our fear of being unworthy and to open ourselves to the reality of being loved, just as we are. It is only in embracing this unconditional love that we can begin to live fully and authentically, both with God and with one another.
[1] Richard Rohr, The Tears of Things