VOM
The Voice of Melchizedek
Copyright © 2025 by Shawn Duval.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly articles.
Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Tree of Life Version (TLV) and the New King James Version (NKJV) and the King James Version KJV.
Hebrew transliterations and interpretive commentary are the author’s own.
Edited and designed by TBD
Cover design by TBD
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN: TBD
First Edition — 2025
For permissions, inquiries, or speaking engagements:
📧 Shawn@voiceofmelechizedek.com
4. INTRO
16. GENESIS 14 - The Battle Before the Blessing
CH 1: The Frequency of Pride
CH 2: The Rift of Rebellion - The Tsunami of Division
CH 3: War Womb—The Cradle Giants Crave
CH 4: The Tide of Redemption — Abram’s Wave of Restoration
CH 5: The Voice of Melchizedek
55. PSALM 110 - The Lampstand of Revelation
CH 6: The Seven Verses as Seven Lamps — Introducing The Menorah Pattern.
CH 7: Sit at My Right Hand” — the enthronement formula and its prophetic tension.
CH 8: Melchizedek Remembered — priesthood, kingship, and eternal order.
CH 9: The Chiastic Shape of Psalm 110 — center stem revelation
CH 10: From Shadow to Substance — Psalm 110 bridges Genesis 14 and the Gospels.
83. MATTHEW 22: Round II — Kingdom Kombat
CH 11: The Wedding Feast — “Covenant Invitation: Heaven’s RSVP”
CH 12: The Coin Trap — “Render Unto Caesar: The Currency of Allegiance”
CH 13: The Seven Husbands — “Resurrection Riddle: The Bride With No Groom”
CH 14: The Greatest Commandment — “Shema Reloaded: Love God, Love People”
CH 15: David Calls Him Lord — “The Final Round: Lord of Lords”
119. THE UNBROKEN PATTERN: From Abram to Messiah
CH 16: The Menorah Pattern of Scripture — tracing seven-fold revelation across time.
CH 17: The King and the Priest — how Melchizedek’s order manifests in Messiah.
CH 18: The Language of Covenant Light — “Word,” “Voice,” and “Right Hand” motifs.
CH 19: Chiastic Harmony — the inverted reflection of divine patterns.
153. BONUS STUDY: The Synoptic Mirrors
CH 20: The Mark 12 Perspective — subtle shifts emphasizing servant authority.
CH 21: The Luke 20 Perspective — prophetic escalation and judgment imagery
CH 22: The Wicked Vinedressers and the Widow’s Mite — corruption verses purity.
CH 23: Beware of the Scribes — the after party, after Lord, Lord
198. EPILOGUE – The Voice Still Speaks
For over four millennia, the Voice of Melchizedek has whispered through the passages of Scripture, hiding a mystery that has eluded scholars and baffled believers alike.
Who is this King of Righteousness?
He appears suddenly with no genealogy, no birthplace, no obituary.
No mother. No father. No beginning. No end.
He steps out from eternity in three places in Scripture: Genesis, Psalms and Hebrews… and then vanishes.
Only three biblical books dare to speak His name and perhaps two more shadows elude to him in Zechariah 6:13 and Psalm 76:2 that hint at His echo.
It’s as if Heaven itself sealed His story with sanctified secrecy.
But hidden beneath the surface, there’s a pattern, a concealed language of Ruach HaKodesh waiting to be decoded. Even the Scriptures proclaim in Proverbs 25:2 It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, But the glory of kings is to search out a matter. The bible gives us literary keys and ciphers and chiasms with in the text that can be used to support, or find, or reveal an eternal truth not readily seen from surface level reading.
Using the interpretive keys I learned from The Creation Gospel Series by Dr. Hollisa Alewine , what she calls “words in the hood”, combined with thematic connections, we begin to unlock the puzzle of eternity's hidden secrets.
What emerges is not just theology, it’s transformation.
These insights will deepen your relationship with the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and forever change how you read the Word of Adonai.
So lean in.
Listen closely.
And incline your ears to hear.
Once you heart receives it… it will unlock the treasures of heaven spoken from The Voice of Melchizedek.
Long before Sinai thundered, before the tablets were carved by the finger of God, before Israel had a name, there was a priest. He steps into Scripture like a shadow out of eternity, says a single blessing, then disappears.
His name burns like a spark in the pages of Genesis 14, then vanishes… until the Psalmist, a thousand years later, whispers it again: “You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” And then, like an echo rolling through time, it resurfaces in the book of Hebrews, where heaven itself seems to open its courtrooms and declare: this, this is the blueprint of the eternal priesthood.
Who is he?
Some say he was a man, Shem the son of Noah, an ancient king, shrouded in righteousness. Others claim he was an angel, a celestial emissary of the Most High. And still others whisper that Melchizedek was more than man, more than angel… that he was the pre-incarnate Messiah Himself, appearing long before Bethlehem ever saw a manger.
But why would the Spirit of God hide his identity behind a veil of silence? Why mention him at all, just to leave us guessing? Unless, of course, his story was never meant to be an ending… but a beginning. A key. A code. A prophetic pattern.
When Abram returned from battle, bloodied, victorious, and the stench of war carried by the winds of Shinar, the heavens seemed to pause—as if creation itself waited to see what kind of man would emerge from the smoke of the kings. The ground was littered with the spoils of the nations, yet Abram's eyes were fixed on the joy that was set before him. Not gold. Not fame. Not power. No. Off, in the distance, Abram saw Melchizedek King of Righteousness, Priest of the Most High God who was there to meet him. No introduction. No explanation. Just bread and wine. The symbols of covenant. The foreshadow of redemption. As if heaven itself broke through the veil for a single moment as Abram's heart quickened. He knew of these emblems. Long before Sinai, before Egypt, before Moses etched into stone the feast of Unleavened bread or wrote about the cup of deliverance. The rhythm of the moedim (aka the Feasts of Adonai) was written in the stars . Yeshua, speaking about Abraham, said to the Pharisees:
"Your father Abraham rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad.”
The sages say every silence in Scripture speaks. And in the silence around Melchizedek, there is thunder. Every missing detail becomes an arrow pointing upward. Every question opens a door. He has no recorded beginning because his priesthood points to One with no beginning. He has no end because His order is eternal.
Psalm 110 was David’s revelation. Hebrews 7 was heaven’s confirmation. But Genesis 14, that was the first spark, buried like a secret waiting for the appointed time. A pattern encrypted in the scrolls. A name encoded in prophecy.
If the Torah is a tapestry, Melchizedek is the golden thread woven through it all, connecting Abram’s faith, David’s throne, and Messiah’s priesthood.
He stands between two covenants, bridging heaven and earth, law and grace, sword and altar. He blesses Abram, and by extension, blesses the nations yet unborn. And in that blessing, a seed is sown—the seed of a kingdom that will one day be ruled by the true King of Righteousness.
So who is Melchizedek? He is the question that leads to the Answer. The shadow that outlines the Light. The silence that prepares you to hear The Voice of Melchizedek. A voice that still echoes from eternity, calling those who have ears to hear.
Because the story isn’t about who he was…
It’s about what his appearance reveals.
A mystery hidden for millennia, waiting for the one who will search it out.
The ripples of Melchizedek’s presence have not ceased. They stretch across thousands of years, woven into the very DNA of redemption history. To study him is to stand before a veil between the visible and the eternal… and to realize that behind the veil, there’s a voice calling your name.
Every verse that mentions Melchizedek feels like a clue, an ancient breadcrumb leading you through the labyrinth of Scripture. You can’t read his story casually; it has to be decoded. Each word in Genesis 14 is deliberate. Each silence, prophetic. Each phrase, a portal to a enigma buried beneath the surface. And the more you dig, the more you realize, Melchizedek is not an isolated figure. He is a cipher, a riddle in human form, a living parable of Messiah’s priesthood.
Think about it: he brings bread and wine, the same elements Yeshua would later lift in Jerusalem as symbols of a new covenant. He blesses Abram “of the Most High God,” using language that had not yet been spoken by Israel. Abram gave, not because he had to, but because his heart recognized holiness standing before him. The spoils of war suddenly felt weightless in the presence of One who carried the peace of heaven. This was not tribute from the conquered—it was thanksgiving from the redeemed.
No command was given. No decree required it. Yet Abram, the friend of God, reached for what was most precious in his hands and laid it down. It was an act of worship, pure and unrestrained. An act not born from obligation, but from realization. Reminiscent of what would come when the children of Israel brought free will offerings for the building of the tabernacle
With a heart of generosity and a soul full of joy, Abram gave to the King of Peace. His gift was more than gold—it was gratitude poured out. The joy of the giver became the fragrance of worship, a foreshadow of every feast and offering yet to come.
And heaven received it.
But here’s where the mystery deepens: Melchizedek’s story becomes the blueprint for the Messiah’s priesthood. When David penned Psalm 110, he wasn’t just writing poetry, he was recording a manifestation. “You are a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek.” That one line ties together Genesis, Psalms, and Hebrews in a single prophetic thread. It’s the divine hyperlink that connects Abram’s altar, David’s throne, and Yeshua’s execution stake.
The writer of Hebrews calls it an order, not a person, not a tribe, but a "d'vrah (דִּבְרָה). The Order of Melchizedek is the priesthood that precedes Levi, supersedes Sinai, and extends into eternity. It is a kingdom without corruption, a covenant without expiration, a calling without genealogy.
Linguistically, davarti דִּבְרָתִי derives from "davar" meaning "word." Like the Word that spoke creation into being. The Word that stepped into flesh (and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us). The Word that said "let there light" and there was light. John didn't invent it, no, he revealed it. "In the beginning was the Word..."
Now, before we step deeper into the illumination of this eternal priesthood, we must first establish the rules of engagement. Here are five biblical hermeneutical principles that will guide us in our journey through this biblical expedition.
1. The Law of First Mention, Progressive Mention, Complete Mention
A. Law of First Mention Definition:
The Law of First Mention teaches that the first time a concept, word, or symbol appears in Scripture sets the foundational pattern for its meaning throughout the rest of the Bible.
Example:
The first time “blood” is mentioned (Genesis 4:10 — “the voice of your brother’s blood cries out”) establishes blood as symbolic of life, innocence, and justice crying out for redemption. Every later mention of blood — Passover, covenant, cross — builds on this first pattern.
Voice of Melchizedek application:
The first mention of a priest in Genesis 14 (Melchizedek) establishes the divine prototype: priesthood based not on genealogy, but on righteousness and peace.
B. Progressive Mention
Definition:
The Progressive Mention principle reveals how God unfolds a truth through multiple stages across Scripture — each mention adds depth, detail, and prophetic insight to the original revelation.
Example:
The theme of the Lamb:
Genesis 22 — a lamb is provided
Exodus 12 — a lamb is slain
Isaiah 53 — a lamb is silent
John 1 — the Lamb is identified
Revelation 5 — the Lamb is enthroned
Each mention layers new revelation onto the foundation set by the first.
Voice of Melchizedek application:
Melchizedek → Levitical priests → Messiah as eternal High Priest — the pattern expands from shadow to substance, from symbol to fulfillment.
C. Complete Mention
Definition:
The Complete Mention principle gathers all references to a subject throughout Scripture to reveal the full, panoramic understanding of that truth — nothing missing, nothing taken out of context.
Example:
To understand faith, you’d trace it from Abel (Hebrews 11:4) through Abraham (Romans 4) to Yeshua, the “author and finisher of faith” (Hebrews 12:2). The complete mention gives the whole story arc of the concept.
Voice of Melchizedek application:
When you collect every mention of priesthood — from Melchizedek to Aaron to Yeshua — you see the full transformation from earthly order to heavenly order.
2. Thematic Connection
Definition:
A thematic connection is when two or more parts of the Bible share the same theme, symbol, or pattern — showing that God is telling one big, connected story.
In simple terms, If two passages “sound alike,” they’re meant to be studied together.
Example:
In Genesis 14, Melchizedek brings out bread and wine to bless Abram.
In Matthew 26, Yeshua breaks bread and shares wine with His disciples.
Different time periods — same theme: covenant and priesthood.
That’s a thematic connection — the Bible repeating the same melody in different verses so you can hear God’s pattern more clearly.
3. Chiastic Structure
Definition:
A chiastic structure is a mirror pattern in Scripture where ideas repeat in reverse order:
like A B C B′ A′ — with the main point in the center. It’s how the Bible hides the spotlight in plain sight.
Example:
Yeshua’s words in Mark 2:27 “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." See the flip? (Sabbath – man – man – Sabbath).
That’s a chiasm — the center reveals the heart of the message.
In short: A chiasm is a biblical mirror — the truth shines brightest in the middle.
4. Prophetic Typology
Prophetic typology is when a person, event, or object in Scripture serves as a living preview of something greater that God will fulfill later. It’s history written with divine intention—where the actions of the past echo forward into the future. Just as Isaac carrying the wood foreshadowed Yeshua carrying the cross, or Melchizedek’s bread and wine pointed to the Last Supper, each type is a prophetic shadow that reveals the pattern of God’s redemptive plan.
5. The Rule of Witnesses
“Now, with these interpretive keys in hand, we turn the lock of Psalm 110, the gateway through which the Voice of Melchizedek resounds.”
No doctrine stands alone. Truth is established by two or three witnesses (Deut. 19:15). Genesis, Psalms, and Hebrews form that tri-fold cord of three witnesses that testify to the secret of Melchizedek’s eternal priesthood.
So as we begin, remember: we are not chasing speculation—we are following inspiration. Each rule is a compass. Each passage, a map. Each word, a clue in the divine code.
Because Melchizedek was not written to satisfy curiosity.
He was written to awaken destiny.
His voice still echoes through the scrolls, through the covenant, through the very blood of the Messiah. It is calling you to step beyond religion and into manifestation.
This is not just a study. It’s an unveiling.
And the mystery of Melchizedek… is only beginning.
At the heart of this biblical adventure stands Psalm 110. The master key to ancient passage, sealed within the pages of time. Its hidden secrets has patiently awaited for the son's and daughters of the Most High to awaken to its eternal truths so that they can be clothed in garments of praise. The key to understanding this short, seven verse passage, is revealed in Revelation 1:12
Then I turned to see the voice that spoke with me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands, 13 and in the midst of the seven lampstands One like the Son of Man,
In the radiance of the glorious golden menorah, the apostle John saw the Son of Man with flames like fire, hair like wool and His countenance like the strength of the sun, and His name is called the Word of God . That Word which is described as a lamp to our feet and a light to our path . Flames from each of the seven lamps are now shedding light and piercing the darkness. What was concealed by the wicked lamp, now rejoices in the light of the righteous. In the radiance of the menorah's golden glow, the unseen becomes visible. The menorah is not just a vessel of light but a pattern of radiance, a living design where eternity touches time. The fullness of His Spirit blazes in perfect harmony, emanating from the seven Spirits of Adonai that Isaiah 11:2 proclaims.
Do you hear it? The Voice that once thundered from Sinai still resonates — the Davar, the eternal Word that vibrates through the ages, declaring the end from the beginning and calling the unseen into being . Hold on to your seat... because this is no ordinary light. This is the frequency of creation itself, the divine resonance that spoke, “Let there be light,” and never ceased. Every flame becomes a vibration. Every shimmer, a syllable of sanctified speech. The menorah burns not only with light, but with the language of heaven, a cymatic blueprint of the Word made visible.
What the eye sees as flame, the Spirit knows as sound. What the Temple displayed in gold, heaven expressed in harmonic order. The menorah pulses with holy mathematics and each branch tuned to a frequency of glory.
From the center burns the Spirit of the Lord, the source of all vibration, the Voice from which creation tunes its praise.
Wisdom hums toward Reverence, Understanding vibrates toward Knowledge, Counsel surges toward Might. The seven harmonics moving as one, the sound of holiness awakens His praise.
This is not simply illumination, it’s divine resonance, the sound-wave of holiness moving through creation. When the Voice speaks, light takes form. When the Word resounds, matter aligns. That’s the hidden architecture of glory: the Voice shaping the visible through invisible vibration.
From its central stem flows the frequency of the throne, and from every branch, a harmonic response, an echo of order against the chaos. It’s the same tone that thundered over the waters in Psalm 29. The same sound John heard in Revelation 1: “His voice was like the sound of many waters.” The menorah, then, is the tuning fork of heaven — calibrated to the frequency of the King.
And when that frequency touches your spirit, something awakens. Chaos settles. Darkness dissolves. You don’t just hear the Voice, you resonate with it. Because in the end, light and sound are one in Him and both are calling you home to the rhythm of His glory.
John writes, “I turned to see the Voice that spoke with me…” (Revelation 1:12).
Not a sound — a Voice. Not an echo — a Presence. He didn’t say, I heard the Voice, but I turned to see it. Because this Voice wasn’t carried by air; it was carried by light.
When John beheld the seven golden lampstands, he saw what Moses once built, what David once sang, what Isaiah once prophesied, the eternal menorah, the pattern of radiance manifested in its fullness. The same frequencies that hummed in the sanctuary now thundered through eternity, embodied in One whose eyes blazed like fire.
Each lampstand was a frequency of His glory, and Yeshua stood in the midst of them — the center stem of divine light, the Son of Man who is also the Son of God. Every flame, every shimmer, every wave of sound converged upon Him. The menorah was no longer furniture; it was a living being of light and Word, the radiant geometry of the Davar made flesh.
Psalm 110 had already whispered of this moment:
“The Lord said to my Lord, Sit at My right hand until I make Your enemies a footstool for Your feet.”
The psalm wasn’t only a royal decree it was an eternal command. The Father’s Voice sending forth the Son with the vibration of kingship, priesthood, and eternal order. And now, in Revelation, that same Word stands embodied before John — clothed in the wavelength of glory. His voice isn’t random noise; it’s the sound of alignment. It’s what matter heard at creation and what every redeemed soul will hear again at restoration.
This is why the seven lampstands matter. They are not only symbols of churches — they are amplifiers of His Spirit, resonating with the same sevenfold light Isaiah saw, the same radiant Spirit that hovered over the waters in Genesis, the same harmonics that will fill the earth with glory when the King returns.
John didn’t just witness light, he stood inside the song of the sanctuary.
The menorah became a symphony. The Voice became visible. The Word became waveform. And the glory became geometry. The full spectrum of holiness unveiled in the face of Yeshua.
When Psalm 110 speaks of His enemies becoming His footstool, it’s the resonance of dominion, dissonance dissolving before perfect harmony. The King of Glory tuning creation back to its original frequency, until every power, every darkness, every lie is silenced under His feet.
So the call still resounds:
“Turn to see the Voice.”
Not merely to hear, but to behold, the Word that speaks in flame, that sings in color, that reigns in light.
For the menorah burns still, and the Voice still calls. And those who tune their hearts to His frequency will find themselves standing, like John, in the midst of the lampstands, enveloped in the radiance of the Holy One.
CHAPTER 1
The Frequency of Pride
“At the time when Amraphel was king of Shinar, Arioch king of Ellasar, Chedorlaomer king of Elam, and Tidal king of Goyim…” Genesis 14:1 NKJV
Genesis 14 opens like a scroll sealed with nine ancient names, nine ancient kings, nine ancient kingdoms. Obscure, and often skipped over by the casual reader, but Scripture never wastes ink. Every syllable is a cipher. Every name, a narrative in disguise. Behind this roll call of kings hides a revelation of kingdoms. Earthly and spiritual, ancient and eternal. The scroll opens with four kings, rulers from lands far to the east, from places like Babylon and Persia. These were powerful empires that ruled over others, enforcing their will, their religion, their way of life through strength.
The first name whispered is Amraphel (אַמְרָפֶל), “the sayer of darkness.” The rabbis linked him to Hammurabi , but his name tells the deeper story. Amar (אָמַר to speak) and afel (אָפֵל darkness). The fall of speech. The corruption of words. In the land of Shinar (שִׁנְעָר), “the country of two rivers,” the birthplace of Babylon, language itself was once divided and confused. Here we see not just a man, but a manifestation of the spirit of deception that darkens revelation. The war begins with corrupted speech just like it did in the garden, when the serpent used deceptive words to deceive Eve.
"Then steps in Arioch (אַרְיוֹךְ), “lion-like,” ruler of Ellasar (אֶלָּסָר), “where God is chastener.” His roar is loud, but his bite is weak. All shock, no awe. Rule without reverence. Dominion without humility. “He carries the sound of a king, but drops the call of the throne.” Ellasar is a land disciplined by God, yet ruled by pride."
Next, Chedorlaomer (כְּדָרְלָעֹמֶר), meaning “handful of sheaves,” king of Elam (עֵילָם), “eternity.” The enslaver of harvests, the one who binds what was meant to be offered freely. His very name echoes the Hebrew ʿāmar (עָמַר Strong's H6014), “to bind or make merchandise of.” The prophet’s language for exploitation unmasks the selling of souls, the tyranny of trade, the sheaf in the wrong hands. The same root used in Deuteronomy when it warns (and I paraphrase), “you shall not make merchandise of her. ” A warning against turning covenant relationship into commodity.
Finally, Tidal (תִּדְעָל), “the great son,” king of the nations (גּוֹיִם - goyim). His name bears glory without honor, form with false function, royalty lacking anointing power. A son crowned by men, yet rejected by heaven. His greatness shines, but his lamp is wicked. The king of the peoples, plural — a confederation of nations united by a false covenant. The imitation of divine unity. A false empire in a fallen world. Yet the irony is that Tidal is in covenant with the other nine kings.
These four rise first. The northern coalition. Darkness of word (Amraphel), counterfeit authority (Arioch), bondage of economy (Chedorlaomer), and false unity (Tidal). Together they form the perfect storm: deception, domination, manipulation, and imitation. The four winds of rebellion.
Then comes verse two, the resistance. Five kings from the plain, the cities of sin: Bera (בֶּרַע), “son of evil,” of Sodom (סְדֹם), “burning.” Birsha (בִּרְשַׁע), “with iniquity,” of Gomorrah (עֲמֹרָה), “submersion.” Shinab (שִׁנְאָב), “splendor of the father,” of Admah (אַדְמָה), “red earth.” Shemeber (שֶׁמְאֵבֶר), “lofty name,” of Zeboiim (צְבָאִים), “gazelles.” And the king of Bela (בֶּלַע), “destruction,” of Zoar (צֹעַר), “insignificance.”
They sound impressive, but every title reveals corruption: Evil burning, iniquity drowning, pride rising, vanity running, destruction pretending to matter. Five kings whose names, in and of themselves, synchronize a sermon on sin: from burning to submersion, from pride to annihilation. This is the unveiling of the fivefold reflection of fallen mankind.
Verse three says they joined together “in the Valley of Siddim,” the valley of fields, the Dead Sea basin. Once fertile, now salt and sulfur. The stage of rebellion has been set. A channel that mirrors humanity itself: full of promise, but poisoned by pride.
Now the covenant shifts, loyalty fractures, and defiance rises. “For twelve years they served Chedorlaomer, but in the thirteenth year, they rebelled.”
Twelve is the number of divine government. Thirteen is the number of rebellion. The text isn’t just marking time; it’s mapping theology. When creation resists its Creator, when the governed rise against sacred order, the thirteenth year always comes. The pattern is eternal: covenant → service → rebellion → judgment → restoration.
Hidden beneath the ink is the rhythm of redemption. The thirteenth year becomes a prophetic code — the hour when mankind says, “We will not serve.” It’s the same spirit that built Babel, that crucified the King, that still whispers in nations and hearts today.
But watch what happens next. The rebellion of the plains will gather the righteousness of heaven. Because before the blessing comes the battle. Before the priest of peace steps out with bread and wine, the kings of the earth must first unsheathe their swords. The war of Genesis 14 isn’t just about territory — it’s about testimony.
The pattern begins to move, like thunder hidden in the text.
The account set in motion at creation now pulses again, tracing its design through time.
Here and now, for the first time in Scripture, the word king (melek מֶלֶךְ) makes its debut.
Two thousand years of human history. From Eden to the flood, from Babel to Abram, not once is the word spoken.
Until now.
And when it appears, it does not come quietly, foreshadowing the words of Yeshua: “The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.”
Nine kings emerge at once. Nine thrones rise from the dust.
It is as if the earth births rebellion before heaven restores the righteous.
Before the wastelands anointed it's kings, a cherub fell from HaShamayim
In the courts of heaven, there stood one adorned with nine precious stones reflecting the glory of Elohim—until his reflection became his obsession. His beauty birthed distortion; his harmony turned to hatred.
Nine gems glittered as his covering: sardius, topaz, diamond, beryl, onyx, jasper, sapphire, turquoise, emerald . Nine (not twelve). Three were missing. We know there is twelve, because the Cohen HaGadol wears a breastplate of twelve precious stones, each with a name of a tribe of Israel engraved on it.
Those missing stones, quite possibly reveal the key to understanding the rise of rebellion. It is the witness that was written in the stars on the fourth day of creation. Thus the covenant rhythm was broken.
Pride became the first rebellion, and the heavens shook. What he lost in worship he seeks in war. The sound that once carried praise now stirs nations. Thus the frequency of pride descends.
The pattern did not vanish with his fall—it rumbled from heavens throne.
The same nine stones that once shimmered in heaven’s light now cast their refractions, through the prisms of these precious gems corrupted by ego and conceit, manifesting it's toxic radiance in the nine earthly kings.
Each gem became a throne, each luster a counterfeit crown. As the cherub’s glory fractured above, kingdoms divided below. What was incomplete in worship became defiant in rule—the reflection of pride seeking form in the dust.
I submit to you—those nine kings and their kingdoms are not random. They are prophetically linked to the nine stones that once covered the anointed cherub. But there are three missing. Three stones. Three additional gems the High Priest wears. Three jewels that Lucifer does not.
And I believe those three hold the key to the greatest mystery of all. The difference between a kingdom in rebellion and a kingdom in covenant. Could it be that those three stones correspond to the three pilgrimage festivals? Pesach. Shavuot. Sukkot. The foot-festivals of Israel.
The holy times when every male was commanded to go up before Adonai in Jerusalem.
Exodus 34 declares it plain: “Three times a year all your males shall GO UP…”
Go up to the mountain. Go up to the Presence. Go up to meet the King.
But there was one—who would not go up. One who said, “I will ascend…” not by invitation, but by ambition. Not through worship, but through rebellion. Listen how Isaiah 14 records his manifesto:
“I will ascend into heaven.”
“I will exalt my throne above the stars of God.”
“I will sit upon the mount of the Moed (congregation)”
— The appointed times.
— The sacred feasts.
— The rhythms that echo through eternity.
“I will ascend above the clouds.”
“I will be like the Most High.”
Do you see it? His war was never just for a throne, it was for the times, the seasons, the Moedim of Elohim. He wanted the calendar. He wanted the rhythm. He wanted the worship. He wanted the adoration.
But those three missing stones, they speak. They are more than jewels. They are the Adi, the bridal adornments of the Bride of Messiah. They represent a love without blemish, a covenant without compromise, a unity that cannot be imitated.
Why? Because you can’t reach the wedding feast of Tabernacles unless you first agree to the marital vows of the Ketubah at Shavuot. And you can’t enter that covenant at Shavuot
unless you’ve been redeemed by the blood of Passover.
Passover is the doorway — the bridal price. Shavuot is the betrothal — the vow. Sukkot is the Marriage of the Lamb — the union.
This — THIS! — is what HaSatan hates. This is what he longs to corrupt. This is what he rises to destroy.
But he can’t. Because the stones he lost are the feasts we keep. The covenant he broke is the covenant we carry. And the rhythm he tried to silence still resounds in the hearts of the redeemed.
Yom Echad—the first day of creation, released more than light; it released order.
Evening and morning, the first day. A rhythm teaching that darkness comes before dawn. Rebellion before salvation.
The nine kings of Genesis 14 could not comprehend the light because it was polluted through the prism. Their unity was fragile, their power profaned.
Why? Because day one held what they did not—the Ruach Elohim, the Spirit of the living God, moving upon the face of the waters.
In like fashion, the nine kings moved upon the dusty, dry, cracked, and sulfur-scarred plains of Shinar, gathering against the dawn to come.
The stage was set for the ancient war: false crowns, fallen giants, and the chosen vessel of God.
And when the dust settled and the kingdoms crumbled, the true and everlasting King stepped forward.
Not to take, but to give.
Not to demand, but to bless.
Genesis 14 is that pattern in motion.
The night of nine kings rising against the dawn.
No army. No conquest. Just bread and wine.
Melchizedek—who is the true King proclaiming the Light of the world.
CHAPTER 2
The Rift of Rebellion
Genesis 14:3 All these joined together in the Valley of Siddim (that is, the Salt Sea). 4 Twelve years they served Chedorlaomer, and in the thirteenth year they rebelled.
In the Valley of Siddim stands a scar where the Salt Sea once breathed. What was once a restless tide, is now a lifeless and dry wasteland. Salt covers the ground like the stars that cover the night. Here, between dust and destiny, nine crowns shimmer in the heat. Two alliances face one another across a basin that used to breathe with water. Once this place was filled with movement, with tides that obeyed their Maker. Now the earth itself rebels, refusing to yield, hard and brittle, cracked and thirsty beneath the sun. What was once a flowing covenant of sea and soil has become a cauldron of kingdoms, boiling with ambition, but dry of anointing.
To the north stand the kings of the empire: Chedorlaomer of Elam, Amraphel of Shinar, Arioch of Ellasar, Tidal king of nations. To the south, the kings of corruption: Bera of Sodom, Birsha of Gomorrah, Shinab of Admah, Shemeber of Zeboiim, and Bela of Zoar. Two federations. Two kingdoms. Two tides pulling thrones apart.
For twelve years they lived beneath an uneasy peace, a drought of loyalty, and a covenant of convenience. But in the thirteenth year fire kissed the dust. Rebellion breathed again. The sand began to shift. Dust rose like a tide, each grain, thirsting for war burning with defiance. It was as if the earth itself remembered the separation of the waters on day two of creation. Heaven above, earth below, and the riptide of pride split the kingdoms as the mayim from the shamayim.
This is the pattern written into creation’s code: what refuses to flow eventually fractures. The nations mirror the valley that holds them. Cracked earth. Broken covenant. Rivers turned to rifts. The same Spirit that hovered over the waters now watches the rebellion of mankind on the battlefield.
Rebellion against what?
Against the Land, against the People, and against the Covenant. The threefold cord of a sacred order.
Sodom’s alliance stood in covenant with Chedorlaomer’s coalition, a bond of an earthly and carnal nature. Just as Israel will one day split — north to Samaria, south to Jerusalem — so this alliance fractured heaven's pattern written into the earth.
For spiritual laws' operates whether man acknowledges it or not. It governs creation, it binds kings, and it measures rebellion. The redeemed walk in harmony with it; the rebellious stumble beneath it.
They served for twelve years, but in the thirteenth, they rebelled. They broke the covenant. They provoked the nations. They rose up and ran into the consequences of regret.
For the moment they defied the covenant of heaven, the covenant of earth turned against them. The soil resisted their steps, and the wind withheld its favor. The very creation they ruled began to test the rulers who defied its King.
The Land, the People, and the Covenant — three witnesses that cannot be silenced.
Two federations. Two kingdoms. Two houses.
For twelve years, they lived beneath a counterfeit covenant, a borrowed peace. But the thirteenth year exposed their hearts. Thirteen is the number of testing, of separation, of decision — but also of love.
In Hebrew, ahava (love) carries the value of thirteen. The same number that marks rebellion also marks redemption. For what man corrupts through defiance, God redeems through love. The thirteenth year was not only the breaking of covenant — it was the revealing of hearts. What they saw as revolt, heaven saw as a test. The same test that will one day be offered again in the courts of Israel when the King is questioned and the covenant confronted.
Twelve speaks of government, order, alignment with heaven.
Thirteen tests that alignment — it divides the false from the true, the loyal from the lost.
The negative current of six joined to the fracture of seven produces rebellion , but when the Spirit breathes through it, thirteen becomes ahava — love that endures the test and triumphs over fear.
This was not merely the rebellion of kings. It was the first civil war of creation — two houses at war over authority, two hearts tested by love and law. A prophetic shadow of what will one day divide, and ultimately redeem, the nation born from Abram’s seed.
For what began in the Valley of the Kings will echo in the Valley of Decision.
And still the pattern speaks: Every rebellion is a test, and every test is an invitation to return.
Its shadow stretches forward to the seventh church, Laodicea — the people who no longer love, who are neither hot nor cold, who test the patience of the One who stands at the door and knocks.
For centuries to come, there would be a vibrational pattern:
Twelve tribes. One nation under heaven.
Yet even they would fracture — north and south, Israel and Judah — a kingdom divided because Israel failed the covenant that tested their faithfulness.
The Scriptures whisper this rhythm in parable and in the flesh.
A woman bleeds for twelve years — a nation hemorrhaging covenant life.
A father pleads for his twelve-year-old daughter — a generation dying while the Healer is on His way.
Both reach for the same answer: restoration.
Israel’s story is the story of those twelve years. Bound to order, yet broken by rebellion. Waiting for the touch that stops the flow, for the Word that raises the dead.
The kings of the earth gather once more. The valley shakes. Armies form in shadow. Psalm 2 becomes dust and iron: “The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord and against His Anointed.”
The same spirit that stirred the nine stirs again at the end of the age. Nations conspire. Kingdoms unite against the covenant. The field of Siddim becomes the field of Armageddon.
Yet through the chaos, a question remains unanswered—one that the true King will later speak in Jerusalem’s courts:
“Whose image is upon it?”
They war for dominion, yet none bear the imprint of the King whose likeness marks all creation.
And so the pattern continues. Darkness before dawn. Rebellion before redemption.
The thirteenth year unfolds, first the darkness of the nine kings and then the light of deliverance, when heaven will speak through one man called Abram.