Can These Bones Live?
The Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel 37 is one of the most vivid prophetic visions in the Bible.
It begins:
The hand of the LORD was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones. And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley, and behold, they were very dry. And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord GOD, you know.”
The whole event unfolds from there in well-known features: the sea of bones, symbolizing God’s spiritually dead and physically scattered people; the life-giving Word of God bringing their bones back together and covering them with flesh and blood; the Spirit returning breath to their lungs like the creation of Adam in the Garden. Such an epic passage. (If you’re unfamiliar with Ezekiel 37 or it’s been a while, please go read it again and then come back.)
I’m not going to attempt to do justice to that masterpiece. Here, during this Advent season, I simply want to meditate together for a few minutes on God’s question to Ezekiel and Ezekiel’s response, which precipitate the whole marvel: Son of man, can these bones live? O Lord GOD, you know. In and around this little question and answer, we experience with Ezekiel fear, despair, and faith.
Son of man, can these bones live?
O Lord GOD, you know.
We experience Ezekiel’s fear.
You can feel Ezekiel’s gloomy mood as this vision from the Spirit dawns on him—this is a hopeless scene, not the aftermath of a great battle, but the ancient ruins of one. How many are the bones of the slain? “Very many.” But were they recently killed? Any possible survivors? “And behold, they were very dry.” What is Ezekiel’s personal point of view as he surveys this grim scene? Did the Spirit show him in a mental flash or offer him a flyover at a comfortable distance? No, he was dropped right in the middle of the desolation and led around among the death and the dust for an up-close look. Ezekiel must have been ill at ease. I mean, he must have been Gimli traveling the Paths of the Dead uneasy.
Has God ever led you into a place like that? Where everywhere you look is bleak and every step you try to take makes things worse?
We feel Ezekiel’s despair.
Ezekiel was scared and anxious, I have no doubt. But Ezekiel’s deeper struggle was despair. God reveals this by how he asks his question and by Ezekiel’s answer. “Son of man, can these bones live?” In Daniel 7, the title “son of man” is an impressive title for the Messiah, the glorious figure who will inherit global dominion from the Ancient of Days. That’s probably why Jesus uses this title for himself in the Gospels even more than the title Son of God. But in most of the Old Testament, “son of man” means something far more mundane: a human being, just another guy. A son of Adam who will die and return to dust like all the others. So when God calls Ezekiel “son of man,” he’s identifying him with the slain in the valley. “Can these bones live? What do you say, Ezekiel—you who are destined to add your own to the pile?”
The second way God reveals Ezekiel’s struggle with despair is by teasing out Ezekiel’s non-answer. “And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord GOD, you know.” This is the same thing John said in the book of Revelation when he witnessed the numberless international multitude standing before the heavenly throne praising God and the Lamb. “Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?” I said to him, “Sir, you know.” (Revelation 7:13–14). The point of the expression “You know” in these passages is to admit personal ignorance: “I know that you know—and I admit that I don’t have a clue.”
Don’t we struggle with despair, too? We finally realize that the only thing we know is that we don’t know. Or we’ve taken so many wrong steps wandering aimlessly in the valley that we want to lie down among the bones. At the beginning of his vision, Ezekiel didn’t see much to offer him hope.
We share Ezekiel’s faith.
But Ezekiel’s fear and despair aren’t where the vision stops, are they? There’s more going on in Ezekiel’s response to God than meets the eye. For one thing, his admission of personal ignorance is also an invitation for explanation: “You know—and I don’t—so I’m ready to listen.” Ezekiel anticipates that God wants to show him more than Ezekiel’s own ignorance and impotence to do anything about the dry bones. God not only wants to ask Ezekiel the question; he wants to show him the answer. In the midst of the fear and despair, Ezekiel has faith. My favorite detail is in Ezekiel’s response to being called “son of man”: he addresses God as “Lord GOD,” also translated “Sovereign LORD.” I love that. Ezekiel owns the lowly title God gives him and in return he uses a kingly, powerful title for God. “Lord GOD” is a common title for God in the Prophets, and Ezekiel in particular likes to use it. In fact, he’s already used it several times in situations where God is about to accomplish his purposes through sending out his all-powerful Word:
“For I am the LORD; I will speak the word that I will speak, and it will be performed. It will no longer be delayed, but in your days, O rebellious house, I will speak the word and perform it,” declares the Lord GOD. (Ezekiel 12:25)
Therefore say to them, “Thus says the Lord GOD: None of my words will be delayed any longer, but the word that I speak will be performed,” declares the Lord GOD. (Ezekiel 12:28)
Those previous times God had promised to send out his Word to bring judgment against his wayward people. This time, he has asked Ezekiel if such wayward people can possibly be given new life. Ezekiel knows what God’s character is like: righteous, yes, but also rich and ready in showing mercy. Sovereign, absolutely—but also the LORD, the one who in free grace chose his people and remains faithful to them for his own name’s sake. The one who loves to use his power to save.
After all—and despite appearances—isn’t a valley of bones exactly the kind of apparently hopeless place that God loves to show up and cause to flourish? If it’s the sick soul that needs a doctor rather than the healthy, according to Jesus (Mark 2:17), how much more the dry and dusty?
Ezekiel waited in fearful yet hopeful expectation for God’s answer, just as we do in Advent. And like Ezekiel in what would become the Valley of the Living Army of God, we will not be disappointed.
