Ezekiel Chapters 33-37
I love being human. It’s messy, of course. It often doesn’t make sense. I have more questions than answers. Humans get tired and grumpy and stinky. We make mistakes. Lots of them. So many that I often think of mistakes as dark pigment for a painter. They provide contrast, shading, shadows, darkness to offset the light. I often loathe mistakes, especially my own. In darker moments I have even hated my mistakes and maybe even hated myself for making them. But they are an inescapable part of being human. Without them we couldn’t learn. Mistakes are a constant reminder that we frail humans are tragically imperfect. And yet, even still, even when all I see in my myopic vision is dark pigment splattered on the canvas, I love being human. God made me a human being. He didn’t make me a star or a unicorn or a wombat. He made me human, and He did that on purpose. Humans are not mistakes. Ever. God makes humans. God does not make mistakes. He creates each human life unique and every single person you ever meet reveals the artistry of God.
Reading Ezekiel feels at times like God is painting only in ebony hues. Everything is darkness and shadow. I can’t distinguish shapes. I peer into the text for meaning and the flickering light of my candle cannot pierce the inky midnight and I get lost. God pulls no punches in this book. He reveals the depravity of Israel in scandalous clarity. He uses imagery that shocks and grieves me because I see in those dark brushstrokes my own capacity for evil and my mind turns backward in time to my mistakes and even my outright sin and if I am not careful the voice of the Serpent slithers into my heart and tries once again to whisper the Father of all lies: God doesn’t love you.
Israel must have heard that lie as they were brought in successive waves of exile to Babylon. Judgement had come. Ezekiel was a prophet who painted with a lot of black. He had a job: A Watchman, “so you will hear a message from My mouth and give them a warning from Me” (33:7). The warnings had become a verdict and a sentencing. Jerusalem had endured the siege of Nebuchadnezzar and in January of 585 the defeated and desolate refugees from the City of God limped into exile and simply told Ezekiel, “The city has fallen.” The Lord reminds Ezekiel that he had done his job, they heard his words, God’s Words, “but they do not do them…and now they will know that a prophet is among them.”(33:33). Ezekiel told them the future, begged them to repent, pleaded with them to turn from their idolatry and sin and be spared, but their own stubborn, stiff-necked hearts wasted what little energy remained by justifying themselves as the sword of judgement flashed in the noonday sun, exposing all their darkness.
The Lord then turns the focus to the shepherds, the leaders of Israel, who had made themselves fat while their people starved. They did not treat the sick. They did not bind up the broken or bring back the sheep, scattered and vulnerable in the wilderness, into the safety of the fold. They did not seek out the lost. They left these wounded and vulnerable sheep to the wolves. God rebukes them and steps into their failure. “Behold, I Myself will search for My sheep and seek them out” (34:11). He will bring them, gather them, feed them, lead them. He will bring back the scattered and bind up the broken. He will lead them beside quiet waters. He will restore their souls. Why? Because God is a Good Shepherd.
Remember that the Bible is a coherent whole. The only contradictions are in our inability to see rightly. When Jesus tells them in John 10 (right after He has told them that He is I AM, that He is the Son of Man) that He is the Good Shepherd, He is not making a random reference. He is telling the Jews who had read Ezekiel, I am the LORD GOD. That is why the Jews tried to kill Him. It wasn’t because He was kind. It was because He claimed to be the God who told Ezekiel what to say. He claimed to be the Good Shepherd because He is the Good Shepherd. All who reject Him are, like those in Ezekiel’s day, lost and broken sheep kicking at the Shepherd who comes to bring them home. Quick reminder: when Jesus comes to pick you up, don’t fight Him.
It is here in Ezekiel that God moves His brush to the luminous hues and begins to paint light onto the canvas. Their Sheperd would come. Their King would reign over them and would bring them a covenant of peace. But it would not be for their sake alone that He would act. “I will vindicate (clear of blame, prove morally right) My great name” God will, before all the nations of the world, clear His name. God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Remember He changed Jacob’s name – to Israel – he who wrestles with God? And Israel had tarnished the resplendent Name of God. So, God would cleanse them from all their dirt and grime, He would make them outwardly clean. But that left them filthy, cups that had been cleaned only on the outside. How would God solve that problem? “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you…I will put My Spirit within you.” God, as He always does, solves the problem with Himself. What humans cannot do, God does. He does it for His glory. He also does it for our good. And oh, man, anyone who has ever experienced the Spirit renewing your heart knows that it is good. Good. Good. But God doesn’t stop there.
He brings Ezekiel to a valley. The text doesn’t say this, but I like to think that it’s the same river valley that the Lord brought him to in chapter 1 where He showed him His glory. But this valley isn’t full of glory. It’s full of bones. Human bones. Lots of them. And they are bleached by the sun, relics of life, all that remains of humans once the warmth fades and the breath of life passes and the very flesh is gone. They are as dead as humans can get. And God asks a question, “Can these bones live?” It’s the perfect question. It screams hope. It shouts life. It begs us to keep reading. Ezekiel, who I cannot wait to meet one fine day in glory, wisely says, “Oh, Lord, GOD, You know” Oh, Adonai Yahweh, You know! Oh Lord and Creator, Oh Eternal God, Oh Author of Life, You know. I don’t know. You do. It is the perfect response t0 the perfect question.
And then God tells His prophet to speak, “Hear the word of the Lord”. The Lord says He will cause breath, the Hebrew word ruach, to enter these bones. Ruach is translated spirit, Spirit, breath, wind – it’s all the same word. Context (as it always does) determines meaning. And here in this story we hear the echoes of Genesis 1 as the ruach (Spirit) hovered over the void to bring life into being, so the ruach (breath) brings life into bones. Prophesy to the bones. Ezekiel obeys. Bones clack and clatter, tibias connect to femurs and pelvis to vertebrate, ribs stack in order, collarbones and scapula float into place, the skulls roll face up in a macabre spectacle as tendons and ligaments form out of thin air and skin covers the crimson muscle. What was sun bleached bone is now human bodies covering the valley. Incredible, but incomplete.
Then the Lord commands Ezekiel to prophesy to the breath, the ruach. First to the bones. Now to the breath. And the ruach of God comes from every direction to blow on the valley of corpses. When the breath of God blows on dead things they come alive. And if you’re heart does not leap when you read Ezekiel 37 you may need to check for a pulse.
Interpretating this passage is not easy. When does this happen? To whom does this apply? Is this just the house of Israel? Isreal is in the land today, sort of, but they certainly don’t as a nation “know that I am the LORD”. They do not, as a nation, walk in His statues, the desolate land has not yet become like the garden of Eden (36:35). God’s sanctuary and His dwelling place are not currently in Jerusalem – just go there – it’s a hot mess. But we see what is called an “already, not yet” fulfillment of this prophecy.
Some Jews have received their messiah. That is a miracle. Many gentiles have been brought out of darkness and into the marvelous light of the gospel of the glory of Christ. That’s a miracle. And God is not finished. He does not make mistakes. He does not forget or get confused. When He paints the picture of history for us in Ezekiel, His hand does not falter as He paints our obsidian depravity against the dawn washed radiance of redemption. God can turn a valley of bones into an army of saints. He does it by His Word and by His Spirit. He is doing it still. He’s doing it as you read this.
Whatever in your life lies in the valley of death, bring it to the Lord. Maybe it is a person’s faith, a struggling marriage, a stalled career, or the faint, flickering hope in your own heart. Whatever seems dead or lifeless, speak His Word over it. Pray in the Spirit. Trust the Lord. He can breathe life into dry bones. He loves you. He alone can raise the dead to stand and walk. So bring it to Him and watch Him work.
