In the world of biblical theology, few voices have offered as careful a reconsideration of the covenantal structure of Scripture as Dr. Paul Martin Henebury. Known to many as “Dr. Reluctant,” Henebury has emerged as a gracious but formidable critic of both classical Covenant Theology and the more rigid forms of Dispensationalism. His concept of “Biblical Covenantalism” offers an intriguing third way—one that attempts to let the covenants speak in their own voice without forcing them through the lenses of Reformed dogmatics or prophecy charts.
One of his most striking contributions is his outright rejection of the traditional framework that divides redemptive history into a Covenant of Works and a Covenant of Grace. This dual schema, central to much of Reformed theology since the 17th century, assumes a tight, systematic logic: Adam is under a legal probation (works), which, once broken, gives way to God’s plan of redemptive grace through Christ. Henebury, in contrast, contends that this is not how the Bible presents God’s covenants. He insists that no such overarching dichotomy exists in Scripture and that each covenant must be understood in its own historical and theological context.
In doing so, Henebury opens the door to something that many modern theologians resist: the possibility that God’s covenants cannot be reduced to a single grace-versus-law binary. But here is where we must gently push further—because what’s still missing in Henebury’s proposal is the category of Edom.
Why Edom Matters
Edom is not simply a nation among nations. Edom is Israel’s twin. And in the biblical imagination, Edom comes to symbolize a particular kind of covenantal distortion—not ignorance, but betrayal; not distance, but rivalry. From the womb of Rebekah to the oracles of Obadiah, Edom stands as a theological counter-narrative: one who knows the covenantal language, who shares in the inheritance lineage, yet rejects the calling that comes with it.
Whereas Reformed theology collapses everything into grace and works, and Dispensational theology too often separates Israel and the Church into rigid categories, Torat Edom—the “law of Edom”—calls us to see how covenantal distortion can emerge within the story, not just outside it. Edom mimics the covenant but subverts its purpose. He preserves form while rejecting heart. And that is far more dangerous than paganism.
Henebury’s Strengths—and the Missing Element
Dr. Henebury’s two-volume The Words of the Covenant is an achievement of patient biblical exegesis. His refusal to impose the Reformed foedus operum/foedus gratiae onto Scripture is a needed corrective, freeing us from centuries of theological scaffolding that often obscured the text. His respect for the plain sense of the biblical covenants, his insistence on continuity with Israel, and his suspicion of overly rigid systems are all marks of a theologian committed to Scripture first.
But while he has done much to clarify the structure of the covenants, he has not yet fully asked: What happens when these structures are hijacked? What if the deeper danger isn’t a false system imposed from the outside—but a brotherly rival who uses the language of covenant while rejecting its substance?
Torat Edom: The Rival Covenant
Torat Edom is not a new theological system—it is a lens for seeing what has gone wrong. It asks: What becomes of the covenant when it is taken up without obedience? What happens when God’s name is invoked in the service of power, violence, or abstraction? What if the deepest crisis in biblical theology is not grace vs. law, but brother vs. brother?
By removing the artificial scaffolding of the Covenant of Works and Grace, Henebury has made room for this conversation. He has cleared the theological deck, so to speak. But now the harder work begins: we must name the rival. Edom is not merely a nation judged by the prophets—it is the ever-present temptation of those near the covenant to turn it into an inheritance without transformation.
Conclusion: Toward a Theology That Remembers Edom
Dr. Henebury’s boldness in rejecting the Covenant of Works and Grace is a gift to the church. His careful articulation of the biblical covenants has helped many navigate between the distortions of Reformed over-systematization and Dispensational rigidity. But the path forward now requires us to do more than chart the covenants—we must discern the rival within them.
Edom must be remembered. Not simply as history, but as theology. Not merely as judgment, but as a warning. In this way, Torat Edom becomes a prophetic key—not to replace Henebury’s insights, but to fulfill them. It is the necessary next step for any theology that seeks to be both biblical and covenantal—and truly awake to the God who calls us to be more than heirs.
