I've been reading the book of Ezekiel this week. Just reading. Preachers do that sometimes. We just read for reading's sake. No particular purpose or goal in mind. I don't intend to preach on the prophet any time soon. It's just really good reading.
Ezekiel was a priest who became a prophet duringIsrael 's exile in Babylon
You might not recall, however, that Ezekiel is also known for being instructed to eat a scroll on which was written words of lamentations and mourning and woe (2:10). As he ate and digested the bittersweet words, Ezekiel was empowered to speak the truth: thatIsrael had wandered so far away from God that Jerusalem
As I was reading Ezekiel, my attention kept returning to chapter 17. In the opening verses is the metaphor of a tree being cut off at the top, with a seed being planted by the water's edge, sprouting to new life, strong and fertile. Here is what I keep returning to:
The word of the Lord came to me: O mortal, propound a riddle, and speak an allegory to the house ofIsrael
A great eagle, with great wings and long pinions,
rich in plumage of many colors, came toLebanon
He took the top of the cedar, broke off its topmost shoot;
he carried it to a land of trade, set it in a city of merchants.
Then he took a seed from the land, placed it in fertile soil;
a plant by abundant waters, he set it like a willow twig.
It sprouted and became a vine spreading out, but low;
Its branches turned toward him,
its roots remained where it stood.
So it became a vine; it brought forth branches,
put forth foliage.
Now, historical and theological interpretation aside, I am drawn to this passage primarily because of the line its roots remained where it stood. That has been my experience with the old barn in the parking lot.
Like the priest-turned-prophet, who stayed in the nation ofIsrael
I cannot begin to express my soul-felt gratitude for the barn that has become my office. Oh I try. Trust me: I do try to express my thanks. A dozen or more times over I've begun a "thank you" note to those who are responsible for financing this special endeavor that is part of the overall building project. But the words don't get on paper like I want them to. They just don't seem like enough.
I've tried speaking my gratitude, but my words fall all over themselves, like a nervous teenager on a first date. I've been told I'm not bad with words, but how can this be true when I can't locate and speak the words that mirror my heart?
Interestingly, it's been in prayer in the quiet of the day that the Spirit takes hold of my soul and renders me nearly speechless as I try to express gratitude. It's then I remember that God is so often found in that "still small voice"; and the words I desperately want to write and say become woven in and through my sighs, weaving a blanket of humility. Humble thanks. And that, I have learned, is enough. Because truth be told, there are no words.
"It's just wood," somebody told me recently. I know better. Like that seed, taken from the land and planted by the abundant water, that dear old barn was taken from its foundation and planted in our building project. It's not just wood - it's grace. And not just any run-of-the-mill grace (if there really is such a thing). It's God's grace. Every inch of that wormy chestnut was fashioned with care by people who love real wood. As God is the master builder of the Kingdom, so those who worked the barn's wood are God's instruments, skillful builders in their own right, contributing to "growing and building in the love of Christ."
Another thing that pleases me so much about my new office is that any person who wanted to have a part in fashioning such a sacred and special place was given the opportunity. From those who disassembled the barn board by board, cutting firewood for those in need, to those who carried my books and belongings into the finished space - so many hands, so many hearts, created this pastor's beautiful "holy ground" retreat.
Its roots remained where it stood. As a congregation we are rooted in the grace of God, the love of Jesus Christ and the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit. May we all give thanks to God - and to each other - for the ways that we are blessed. And may we "put forth foliage" of blessing in the lives of our community and world.
From one very blessed pastor: thank you.
Ezekiel was a priest who became a prophet during
You might not recall, however, that Ezekiel is also known for being instructed to eat a scroll on which was written words of lamentations and mourning and woe (2:10). As he ate and digested the bittersweet words, Ezekiel was empowered to speak the truth: that
As I was reading Ezekiel, my attention kept returning to chapter 17. In the opening verses is the metaphor of a tree being cut off at the top, with a seed being planted by the water's edge, sprouting to new life, strong and fertile. Here is what I keep returning to:
The word of the Lord came to me: O mortal, propound a riddle, and speak an allegory to the house of
A great eagle, with great wings and long pinions,
rich in plumage of many colors, came to
He took the top of the cedar, broke off its topmost shoot;
he carried it to a land of trade, set it in a city of merchants.
Then he took a seed from the land, placed it in fertile soil;
a plant by abundant waters, he set it like a willow twig.
It sprouted and became a vine spreading out, but low;
Its branches turned toward him,
its roots remained where it stood.
So it became a vine; it brought forth branches,
put forth foliage.
Now, historical and theological interpretation aside, I am drawn to this passage primarily because of the line its roots remained where it stood. That has been my experience with the old barn in the parking lot.
Like the priest-turned-prophet, who stayed in the nation of
I cannot begin to express my soul-felt gratitude for the barn that has become my office. Oh I try. Trust me: I do try to express my thanks. A dozen or more times over I've begun a "thank you" note to those who are responsible for financing this special endeavor that is part of the overall building project. But the words don't get on paper like I want them to. They just don't seem like enough.
I've tried speaking my gratitude, but my words fall all over themselves, like a nervous teenager on a first date. I've been told I'm not bad with words, but how can this be true when I can't locate and speak the words that mirror my heart?
Interestingly, it's been in prayer in the quiet of the day that the Spirit takes hold of my soul and renders me nearly speechless as I try to express gratitude. It's then I remember that God is so often found in that "still small voice"; and the words I desperately want to write and say become woven in and through my sighs, weaving a blanket of humility. Humble thanks. And that, I have learned, is enough. Because truth be told, there are no words.
"It's just wood," somebody told me recently. I know better. Like that seed, taken from the land and planted by the abundant water, that dear old barn was taken from its foundation and planted in our building project. It's not just wood - it's grace. And not just any run-of-the-mill grace (if there really is such a thing). It's God's grace. Every inch of that wormy chestnut was fashioned with care by people who love real wood. As God is the master builder of the Kingdom, so those who worked the barn's wood are God's instruments, skillful builders in their own right, contributing to "growing and building in the love of Christ."
Another thing that pleases me so much about my new office is that any person who wanted to have a part in fashioning such a sacred and special place was given the opportunity. From those who disassembled the barn board by board, cutting firewood for those in need, to those who carried my books and belongings into the finished space - so many hands, so many hearts, created this pastor's beautiful "holy ground" retreat.
Its roots remained where it stood. As a congregation we are rooted in the grace of God, the love of Jesus Christ and the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit. May we all give thanks to God - and to each other - for the ways that we are blessed. And may we "put forth foliage" of blessing in the lives of our community and world.
From one very blessed pastor: thank you.
