Ezekiel chapters 1-4
Laundry is a constant reminder that we live in a fallen world.
For those of us who are fortunate enough to own the magical machines called washing machines, the process is relatively easy. I call the washing machine The Clothes Washer because we call the other machine that washes dirty things we make every day The Dish Washer. I read once in a book that consistency is important and since washer and dryer are vague about their purpose, I find this nomenclature keep children from putting plates into the clothes washer. When I tell a kid to take the clothes out of the clothes washer and put them into the clothes dryer, they know exactly what I mean. No one has ever tried to put pants into the dishwasher because it has its purpose right there in its name. Well, I should say I’ve never found any pants in our dishwasher. Someone has tried to wash clothes in the dish washer. People are crazy sometimes. But even with our magical clothes washing machine and magical clothes drying machine, no one has yet invented a Clothes Folder and Putter Upper Machine. Yet. And this is where we run into trouble.
We have a piece of furniture in our living room designed for lovely humans to sit and rest and relax and talk about deep and important things. We call it a Couch. It’s comfortable. I can nap on it. We can sit on it and play Monopoly as a family. Many of my favorite people in all the world have sat on that couch. I read my Bible and journal I even kneel in prayer with my face to the couch – it’s a very holy piece of furniture, set apart for special use. I am sitting on it right now. But the couch has an interloper, an iniquitous presence that thwarts its holy purpose: laundry, washed and dried by magical machines. It is a constant reminder that the work is never done, that the task is always in front of us, and that no matter how much laundry we wash, we are always wearing dirty laundry. The cycle never ends. Now I can hear you thinking, “You need a better system”, or, “Just put the laundry away”, or, “Why are you a slob?”, and you’re not wrong. But the truth is we all have something that reminds us we are just human and, at best, redeemed humans who have been saved by Jesus but still have quite a bit of work to do.
Ezekiel has less laundry than we do, but he certainly saw lots of piles of things that reminded him that everything is not ok. Like literal piles of dung. That he had to use to cook Ezekial bread. Which they don’t seem to add to the marketing. Ezekiel had it rough.
He opens his book with an incredibly specific date: July 31, 593 BC. It’s stunning that he would be so precise, especially because what he sees next is nearly impossible to describe. God gives Ezekiel a vision of Divine Glory and the poor man is forced to use human words to describe, “the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the LORD.” He responds by falling flat on his face on the banks of the Chebar river. Then the Lord tells him to stand up on his feet so that God can speak to him. As if He’s saying, “I know you have seen my glory, but we have work to do. Fold the laundry. Put it away.” But Ezekiel doesn’t stand up on his own. He remains flat on his face until something amazing happens:
“As He spoke to me the Spirit entered me and set me on my feet; and I heard Him speaking to me.” 2:2
And again in 3:12, “The Spirit lifted me up”, and in 3:14, “So the Spirit lifted me up”, and again in 3:24, “The Spirit then entered me and made me stand on my feet”
God does not tell Ezekiel to try harder and do better. He doesn’t say, “Get over it! Pull yourself together, man! Pull yourself up by your bootstraps! Overcome! Be better!” He doesn’t tell Ezekiel to manifest his best life or create a better system. God shows Ezekiel His inexpressible glory and as he lays face down in the dirt, God calls him up and fills him full with The Holy Spirit to get Ezekiel where God wants him to be.
We often approach God’s calling like we do laundry. We assume what we need is just to get to work. And yes – we do need to get to work. We do need to fold the laundry. We do need to put it away. But before we can do what God calls us to do, God must move. God must work. God must do something in us. God calls Ezekiel to an impossible task: Speak God’s Word to His rebellious, stubborn, obstinate people. They will not listen. Still, he must speak, and if he refuses, God will hold him liable. But God does not leave Ezekiel powerless. He fills him with the very strength he lacks to do the very work in front of him.
You are not an exiled Jewish priest receiving mind-blowing visions and proclaiming woe and lament to God’s hard-hearted people in Babylon. But I bet you have a pile of laundry to fold. I bet you have a life to order. And you may even have some people God wants you to speak to. People who are stiff-necked and stubborn, people who intimidate you, who make you afraid. People who are lost in exile and can’t find their way home.
I bet you need help to do that.
What if we asked God to fill us with the Holy Spirit so we could fold the laundry? What if we asked Him to fill us with power so we could put the dishes away or rake leaves or get to work on time? What if we asked God to fill us with His power so we could speak the words of life to someone lost in the darkness of their sin, blinded by the enemy to the light of the glory of the gospel of Jesus? What if we simply lived according to His power which mightily works within us – even in all the ordinary things?
I think good things would happen.
I think we could hang shirts and mop floors and change diapers and call clients and send emails and file taxes and speak life, all to the glory God. We could speak of that indescribable glory, rainbow radiant in the storm dark sky, shining hope to every broken soul buried under a pile of laundry, people all at once overwhelmed and weary, stiff-necked and stubborn, rebellious and afraid. Even if you are face down in the dirt, you can ask God for help. The greatest prayers are often spoken straight into the dust. Let’s ask Him to move and see what God will do. We might just see His glory in a sock drawer.
