Ezekiel 37:1-14
Introduction
“Mortal, can these bones live?”
God has taken the prophet Ezekiel down into the middle of a valley and shown Ezekiel a field of dry bones that is lifeless, barren, and dead. We can imagine it is a startling sight. Which is when God asks this startling question— “Mortal, can these bones live?”— a question intended to get Ezekiel thinking about something he hasn’t thought about in a while, and might just have forgotten.
And you have to love Ezekiel’s response. “O Lord…you know.”
It’s a response just like the man who was asked by Jesus a couple weeks back, “Do you want to be made well?” It’s a response to God’s question but it’s not an answer.
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The scene painted in our text for today is of what is happening, and has happened, to the nation of Israel who has fallen into exile. The Babylonians have scorched the earth, sacked Jerusalem, and kidnapped the best and brightest from among the nation of Israel. The land is lifeless. Dry. No breath. A nation given life at Mount Sinai now lay dead in a valley.
From the moment the Israelites first stood on the edge of the Jordan River, they’d been warned of the results of living without focus on God in the Promised Land. But they forgot these warnings. And consequently, they forgot God.
And because they forgot God, they have crafted cheap replicas. Because they forgot God, they ignored God’s call to extend justice to all. Because they forgot God, their worship became hollow lip service. Because they forgot God, they found out what life without God really is. Dry. Lifeless. Barren. Dead.
And though this text is about the nation of Israel, it is, sooner or later, about each one of us…and even our church. We settle in and settle down. We accept where we are—even if it’s not where we would want to be— then assimilate and acquiesce. And then we forget. We forget what we intended to do and be. We forget what God called us to be and do. We forget what God can do?
“Mortal, can these bones live?”
Move 1
It’s not uncommon to hear Christians today speak in terms the ancient Hebrews might have used: I feel spiritually dried up. I haven’t heard anything from God in years. My prayers feel as though they never leave the room. I believe in God but it would be nice if God showed up for me just this once.
These situations feel hopeless, lifeless, barren, dead perhaps. No God and no end in sight.
But Ezekiel, and this vivid story, shows us something beyond just a picture of dry, lifelessness, barrenness, and death. Ezekiel shows us that even when it appears all has been lost, all has been taken away, all appears to be gone forever, God is still able to breathe new life in. Though cries of the heart come from people who feel spiritually dead, God is able, and God will do what we have forgotten God can do.
Because here’s a deeper truth we need to grasp… A healthy view of God and the Christian life has room for feelings of lifelessness, barrenness, and death. There is room for such because real change comes through brutal honesty and vulnerability before God—where we tell God this is what I feel like…I am dry bones God.
The Psalms and Lamentations model as much, and great saints before us have endured dim nights of the soul where they have stood before God and said such.
God shows Ezekiel the total death and despair of God’s chosen people because being recreated comes first through embracing our spiritual despair—recognizing what we have lost, what has been taken away, what appears to be gone, what once was but is no longer, what we have forgotten.
And what all that is… what we have forgotten… is the breath of God we ourselves have actually walked away from.
What we then have to come to terms with is that we cannot receive new breath on our own. It has to be given. And it has to be received.
God offers God’s breath when God asks…“Mortal, can these bones live?”
Move 2
Israel was in exile in Babylon. The people were convinced they would never get to return to their homeland. They had completely lost hope because they have forgotten what God can do.
Enter the story of the dry bones: which was a vision to Ezekiel reassuring him, that despite the fact their hope had died, God would still give life to God’s people.
But the way God gets to the point isn’t direct. It’s almost a trick question, isn’t it? “Do you think these bones can live?” asks God.
I mean, who looks at a skeleton and sees life? Who looks at dry barrenness and says, “Yep, this is the place where new life will definitely spring forth!”
So it’s not surprising that Ezekiel doesn’t actually answer the question, and instead says, “Only you can answer that.”
The thing is, even if Ezekiel meant to dodge God’s strange question, that answer— “You know, God”— has forced Ezekiel to open himself up to whatever is God’s answer.
Because here is the thing… Ezekiel doesn’t believe the bones can live again—because he has forgotten. He has forgotten what God can do. And yet here is God still about to use him as an instrument of divine purpose, even though Ezekiel has forgotten. He doesn’t know how God will achieve this, but God is able to use him nevertheless.
And why? How? After all, Ezekiel doesn’t believe the bones can live. Ezekiel has forgotten what God can do. But though he may not believe… though he may have forgotten… what Ezekiel does have is a willing and open heart.
See what’s going on here?
God chooses the people God chooses, regardless of whether they think they’re equipped for the ministry; regardless of whether they think they know or have forgotten what God can do.
We are once again seeing how God calls and uses unlikely people who have shown themselves quite clearly to be ill suited for God’s divine purpose.
I mentioned several of them last week. And yet there are still others. Moses, who said he wasn’t a good speaker; Jeremiah, who thought he was too young; Mary Magdalene, who was a woman; Saul/Paul, who persecuted Christians; the Disciples who were illiterate fisherman; Elizabeth, who was too old to have a child.
Few believed God could use them for God’s divine purpose. But even at their driest season, even in their most barren time in their life, even though they had forgotten what God could do… they still opened themselves up to God’s call.
And because they did, they themselves, and countless others, could all say, “And still we rise.”
Move 3
This story of the valley of dry bones implores us to ask ourselves…
Do we struggle to believe?
Are we dodging God’s questions to us?
What have we settled for?
What have we acquiesced to?
What have we forgotten?
So that we can say, “And still we rise” we must ask these questions of ourselves and then together we have to ask, “Where do we see dry bones in this congregation?”
Are there areas where we’re doing things the same way we always have?
Are there places where we’ve been focusing so much on material questions that we’ve been neglecting to breath in the divine breath?
Are there places where we’ve been relying on ourselves to answer problems and not making room for God?
We can also ask, “Where do we see dry bones in this community?”
Do our schools need help? Are there immigrant families who need a community to be a part of?
Are people in the community so engaged in commerce and business and busy-ness that they don’t have any space in which to be calm and reflect and just be?
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This scripture teaches us something about our preparedness to be instruments of God’s activity in the world. While we need God’s Spirit, God is also using us (the way God had Ezekiel gather the winds) to breathe life into the dead places.
So what does it mean for us to ask God to breathe life into us? What does it mean for us to share that breath with others?
Conclusion
When we read this text the scene we hear clearly comes into view and we see the lifelessness, barrenness, and death. That’s when God asks that startling question, intended to help Ezekiel begin to remember what he had forgotten.
And Ezekiel’s response is often our response—a dodgey, “O Lord…you know.”
To which God says, “Yeah, I do know. I know what’s going to happen, so let me tell you. I will cause breath to enter these bones, these dry, barren places and as a result they will rise up, they will be transformed into new life that will remind you what you have forgotten.
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Those dry bones that once had breath, once had sinews—ligaments and tendons holding them together and in place, once covered with skin, once alive—will now, because of God, be recreated into something new and alive.
That is the vision God casts for Ezekiel and Israel who were in a tough, dry, lifeless, barren place. That is the vision that reminds us what we have forgotten—that God is able to breathe new life where there is barrenness and death. And we are also reminded, that even if we don’t believe it, if we will just open ourselves even a little bit, God will use us to make it all happen.
Mortal, can these bones live? Can these bones be dead, and yet say, “And still we rise”?
What is our answer? Are we not sure? Have we forgotten? Or do we have a different answer? Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, March 26, 2023, Lent 5
Holy God, have we forgotten? Have we forgotten who you are? Have we forgotten what you can do? Have we forgotten what you have done? Have we forgotten what you promised us? Have we forgotten you never break your promise? Have we forgotten you sent your one, and only son, not to condemn the world, but that the world would be saved through him? Have we forgotten though you call the most unlikely to do what seems to be too hard or too improbable, you always make them capable and successful? Have we forgotten that nothing in this world, not even death, can separate us from your love? Have we forgotten you have equipped all of your children and made them able to fulfill the ministry you have called them to? Have we forgotten what it means to be able to walk with you in each step of our lives? Have we forgotten that whatever dry barren lifeless place we find ourselves, you have, and will again breathe new life, if only we seek you out?
Gracious God we say we want transformation. We say we want to rise up to new life. And this is true without a doubt. But we have forgotten. We have forgotten you were transforming Ezekiel long before your conversation ever happened. You had already been at work moving him from a place of despair where he was only able to respond saying, “You know, God,”; to a place where he could instead say, “Yes Lord, I remember you can.”
Help us remember, that like Ezekiel, long before we ever realize, you are at work, moving us from a place of despair, from a place of forgetting… to a place where we too can say “Yes Lord, we remember that you can.” For it is when we remember what we have forgotten, that we are able to say, “And still we rise.” May you continue this work in us, and may we never forget what you have done, and what you are always doing.
Hear now our prayers as we lift them to you in this time of Holy Silence.
All this we pray in the name of the one who came to show us the way through the dry barren and lifeless valleys of life, Jesus the Christ, who taught us to pray saying, “Our…