The Weight of Wet Ink

On September 2, 1945, aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, representatives from Japan and the Allied powers gathered around a simple mess table draped in green cloth. General Douglas MacArthur stood before the assembly and spoke plainly: the terms had been set. Now came the moment of binding.

Foreign Minister Mamoru Shigemitsu removed his top hat, sat down, and signed the instrument of surrender. His hand trembled. Every officer present understood that this was no mere paperwork — this document would reorganize the lives of millions. The signatures were witnessed. The terms were read aloud so no one could later claim ignorance. Both sides heard the words, and both sides affixed their names.

What strikes me about that scene is the gravity everyone felt. No one shuffled their feet or checked their watch. They knew a covenant was being sealed — one that would cost something from everyone who signed it.

In Exodus 24, Moses reads the Book of the Covenant aloud, and the people respond together: "Everything the Lord has said we will do; we will obey." Then Moses takes the blood of the sacrifice and sprinkles it on the people, saying, "This is the blood of the covenant that the Lord has made with you."

God wasn't asking for a casual handshake. He was binding Himself to His people — and them to Him — in blood. The Almighty wanted a relationship so serious, so costly, that it could never be mistaken for something cheap. Every covenant God makes, He means to keep.