Can These Bones Live?

It wasn’t the first time he had received a vision from the Lord, and it wouldn’t be the last. Four times Ezekiel experienced what he described as “The hand of the Lord upon me.” It was as if he were there, the vision was completely immersive. Bones everywhere, white in the scorching sun, and dry.

God’s people are in exile. They have no hope of ever being restored. The doom the prophets had warned them of had come to pass because they had not changed their ways. They had not been faithful. They had not been humble. They had continued to believe they were special, chosen, and God would protect them no matter what. They justified their sinful ways: “God’s laws were important when their ancestors were in the wilderness, wandering, but now they just aren’t practical.” Then they were conquered, divided, herded like cattle off of their land. Exiled. Only, they made the best of it. They assimilated. Learned about the pagan gods they worshiped, intermarried. They didn’t pass on their parents’ faith to their children. God’s promise to Abram when he called him to leave Harran at 75 years old had never seemed as slaughtered. Even when they were slaves in Egypt, they were hopeful. They believed God’s promise, “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”

Now, they weren’t even looking to God’s promise for hope. Faith was dead, like a valley of dry bones, God’s people were scattered.

And God asks Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” “O Lord God,” answers Ezekiel, “You know.” I don’t think that Ezekiel is avoiding God’s question or giving a clever answer. Ezekiel sees the reality of the dry bones of Israel. They can’t come back to life on their own. Only God knows whether or not they will live because only God can breathe life back into them.

They never had life on their own. God formed dust and breathed into it the breath of life. God tells Ezekiel, “Prophesy to the breath, “O breath, come and breathe upon these dry, brittle bones, that they may live.”

I cannot imagine that the people were thrilled with Ezekiel when he shared his vision. “We are like the valley of dry bones. We are living on the path to destruction, systems are shutting down, and our destination is the boneyard of death,” he told them. It was not a popular message. For the most part, life was fine. No, they didn’t go to synagogue like their parents had. They had gotten through the worst of the trauma of being exiled and were assimilated to their new surroundings. Some didn’t have it as good as they did, but they were doing ok. They didn’t want to see what Ezekiel saw. They didn’t want to see the ways they were a pile of dry bones. And yet, it is only when we take an honest look at our reality that we are able to hear the question, “Can these bones live?”

I serve on a Community Board for Methodist Hospital here in Germantown. We received the data recently on mortality rates in Shelby and Desoto Counties. The data is shown in charts with the disparity of death rate for each cause of death between African American and Caucasian. I looked at the valley of dry bones and noticed that a black baby born in Shelby County is 2.5 times more likely to die than a white baby. I listened to an interview with Jamar Tisby on fighting racism this week and was astounded that 1 in 17 white males are incarcerated at some point in their lives, and for black males that number is 1 in 3. Nearly 1 in 6 children in the United States live in poverty, meaning for a family of 4 an income of less than $500 a week. 71% of those children are children of color. Looking at the reality of the data, surely we wonder, “Can these bones live?”

Bonnie Blair shared with me this week a Presbyterian Foundation report. Our congregations, moving out of a year of not gathering, are struggling. Across our denomination, there is a noticeable decline in worship attendance, churches are seeing population loss or demographic shifts in their neighborhoods, they are struggling financially to maintain operating costs and support missional budgets, there is a shortage of new leadership to serve as Ruling Elders, and the church’s membership is aging. Across Protestantism in America, 85% of churches are plateaued or declining and estimate are that in the last 20 years, 55,000 churches have closed. Looking at the reality of the data, surely we wonder, “Can these bones live?”

In the passage Liv read this morning, Paul says it this way, “The whole creation groans, every one of us groans, as we wait for redemption. And when we don’t have words, the Spirit prays for us. And God, who searches the heart, knows.”

We have known groaning for over a year now, grumbling about masks, worrying someone we love will get sick and die, missing being together, wanting to hug. 91% of our young people, teenagers and young adults, are experiencing physical and emotional symptoms linked to stress. 1/3 of them have a diagnosed mental illness. The majority, when asked about religion respond “no affiliation.” Looking at the reality, surely we wonder, “Can these bones live?”

Not on their own. We have to get to a point when we know we need God’s Spirit before we will soak it up like water transforming dust. We are living in the midst of dry, dry bones – I could have quoted to you any number of statistics – the pandemic continues to rage in many countries, global supply chains are disrupted resulting in people not having the food and medicines they need to live and economic strain, Israel and Hamas have reached a fragile cease-fire agreement…again…Darfur, Syria, Yemen, about three dozen countries right now are involved in active conflict, the oceans have risen 8 inches in the last 100 years, disproportionately faster in the last 20, the glaciers are melting faster and faster, our average global temperature is rising…the facts are like dry bones sitting in the scorching sun.

We can’t bring them back to life. But, we can stand in the middle of them and turn to God who asks, “Can these bones live?” and answer “You know” and then listen and act.

Speak, speak to those bones, you can’t get up on your own and live. You are laying out in the scorching sun, dried out and dried up, you are dust. Church, God makes things out of dust. God breathes into dust. “I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live…and you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken, and I have done it.”

Speak and acknowledge the bones. Why? What has left this valley full of bones? Why are more black babies dying at Methodist Germantown Hospital than white babies? Why and what can be done? Why are more black men in prison than white men? Why and what can be done? Why are a sixth of our children living in poverty and a third of our youth diagnosed with mental illness? Why and what can be done?

Why are people struggling with isolation while church attendance is dwindling? Why are people sick with anxiety while avoiding controversial topics in conversations? Why is nearly every teenager showing physical and emotional symptoms of stress while having no religious affiliation? Why and what can be done about it?

Coming out of the pandemic, we are dry. Our congregation, while blessed in many ways is still struggling to find new Ruling Elders; we find ourselves with the new ministry of an online campus and we have the challenges of not being together for a year…our relationships have withered, our commitment has waned, our patterns have changed. Why and what can be done about it?

“Can these bones live?” If we acknowledge them, and study why death came to them and ask what can be done about it. Speak God’s Word to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.’

On the Day of Pentecost the believers were all together in one place and suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. They were able to speak the language of every person – people from every nation in the known world – in Jerusalem and share the hope of new life.

Can these bones live? Oh, my friends, these bones can dance!