The Valley of Dry Bones

The valley was full of them.

Bones on the ground. Everywhere he looked.

Very many. Very dry.

Not freshly fallen. Not recently dead. Ancient. Bleached white. Whatever life had been in them was long gone.

The hand of the LORD was upon him, and he was carried out in the spirit and set down in the middle of it.

And the question came.

Son of man, can these bones live?

Not: will they? Not: I'm going to make them live.

Can they?

It was a question about possibility. About whether Ezekiel was standing in a place where life was still an option.

O Lord GOD, thou knowest. That was all he could say.

Then the command.

Prophesy upon these bones. Say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the word of the LORD.

So he prophesied.

And as he prophesied, there was a noise. A shaking. Bone came to its bone.

Sinews appeared. Flesh came upon them. Skin covered them.

But there was no breath.

Prophesy unto the wind. Say, Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.

And the breath came.

And they stood up on their feet.

An exceeding great army.

This was not just a vision of resurrection.

It was the image of every people, every generation, every nation that had been told they were finished.

The bones had been told the same thing.

And then God spoke.

And finishing became beginning.

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