Sermon: God's Noble Cedar (Ezekiel 17:22-24)

June 17, 2024

A sermon I gave at the opening service of the Friends of Wycliffe Hall Summer School 2024. The readings were Ezekiel 17:22-24 & Mark 4:26-34.

About two or three weeks ago, I came across a phrase that was entirely new to me: the “millennial pause.” If you don’t know what it is, let me enlighten you! The two youngest generations of those who’ve reached adulthood are Millenials and Gen Zers. Both are digital natives: they grew up with the internet, cellphones and social media, to some degree. The “millennial pause” describes how when it comes to creating content to put on Instagram or whatever, someone from the older of the two generations—a Millenial—will often pause at the start of their video. Why do they do this? Because older technology took a few seconds to engage when you pressed record. You couldn’t start talking right away otherwise it might not make it onto the video. Gen Zers, on the other hand, laugh at Millenials because they know that the tech today is much quicker to engage when you hit that red button. They also know that if you want someone to watch your video on Instagram or TikTok, you mustn’t waste a second.   

                  

With time, things change. Technology advances. New generations grow up. Culture shifts. And those who were once “in the know” start to join those that went before them and cease being relevant in the way they once were. Whether whether it’s small things or large, the only thing guaranteed in life is that the world around us will change.

So it’s a really good thing to be able to gather and pray and learn this week and spend time reflecting on the God we worship and what it means to proclaim the gospel “afresh in each generation.” The task in every century, every decade of the church’s life, has involved grappling with the reality of a world that is not quite the same as the one we were born into. One in which technology changes, but also one in which people are facing different challenges, different opportunities, and are often asking questions about life and meaning from a different vantage point, a different lens. How do we share we the good news of God in Christ to today’s world? A world where AI is not the stuff of sci-fi but of today? A world that holds so much beauty and life and opportunity for goodness but also a world of conflict, confusion and fear?

Regardless of which generation we’re in, what decade of life, or what changes are taking place before us, the God we proclaim afresh—the God revealed in Jesus Christ remains the same. Both our readings today speak to this God, using the image of a sizeable tree that God will bring about. A tree that despite where it came from—whether a mustard seed in Mark or tender twig in Ezekiel—will grow up to bear fruit and provide protection and safety for the birds of the air. 


And today, I want us to spend a little time, considering this image and proclamation of God’s goodness and how He works through the lens of Ezekiel 17. 


For these verses from the Old Testament describe a remarkable vision of hope. Read on its own, we can certainly see its optimism. This positive expectation that God is good and brings about good things. Look at what God is going to do! Look at the tree He will grow! Look at his power to bring life! But I want to suggest it’s a lot more than that as well. For this vision of hope is for those for whom such a life seems impossible.


God’s words in Ezekiel 17 are a message for a people who have had their lives upended and homes destroyed, a people who have been taken into captivity in Babylon. A people who’ve seen their young, 18 year old, king- Johiachin- taken as a prisoner of war to a foreign city. A people who’ve had their God-given place of worship, sacrifice and renewal of God’s promises and covenant, torn down and left in ruins. These are words for God’s people of Judah, facing the hopelessness of exile.

God here is basically saying:

  • “Yes, you have been taken into captivity, but I will bring you back.” In v.22 God declares he will uproot and set out the sprig. He will plant a tender one on the mountain top. In v.24, it is God who can bring low and dry up or raise up and cause to flourish. “One day, you will again be part of a vast tree that provides life and nourishment and safety. Yes, you’re under a foreign empire who is far more powerful than you are. Yes, the life that you knew has been shattered. But it’s not forever. I will do it.”
  • “Yes, your king has been taken by the Babylonians, but I will bring one of his descendants to the throne.” That’s what it means when God says He will take a tender twig from the topmost branch and plant it on the high mountain. Much earlier in the chapter, in verse 4, this branch seemed hopelessly stuck in a foreign city under foreign rule. But God will be faithful to his promise. He’ll not forget his chosen king, Jehoiachin.
  • “Yes, it looks likes everyone but you has power right now. Yes, it looks like the Babylonians—and their gods—have won, but I am not done yet. One day, my work will be done and all the trees of the field will see it.” Yes, right now, Babylon looks to be vastly more powerful. Yes, it looks like God is anywhere but present. But God is the God who brings low the high tree, and dries up the green one. One day, all will see it to be so.

While centuries apart, this sounds remarkably consistent with the God we know through the event of Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday. A God who rescued us from the impossible exile of our sin and alienation from God. All that burdens, shames and weighs us down. He has made it possible for us to be brought back. A God who brought us back from the exile of death, our risen king and has seated him on high. A God who, to echo Mary’s words in the Magnificat, brings down the proud and lifts up the lowly. A God before whom all powers will one day bow and surrender. 


No matter the challenge of today. No matter the circumstance. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners—captive to the power of sin—Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)


Every day, this is good news in our own lives as followers of Jesus, as we do the work of coming face to face with our shortcomings and failures and being his light in the world. This is a grounding reassurance that we can trust God today, even when we might feel lost and at sea, struggling and fearful and unsure of the way ahead.


Things might seem impossible to us, but it’s never impossible for God.


***


But we are missing a beat if we stop there. Because these three verses of Ezekiel 17 come at the conclusion of a longer message God has for his people. 


Yes, these verses are good news for those who are humble enough to admit they need help. But they are a little more challenging for the proud.


God’s people were in exile. The chosen king, Jehoiachin, had been taken captive. But Babylon had then installed a new king, Zedekiah, in Jerusalem. Only Zedekiah wasn’t willing to accept being under the rule of Babylon. He wanted out. So, he started courting a different power, Egypt. Why? To try and negotiate some kind of agreement whereby he could use Egyptian military power to overthrow Babylon and restore God’s promised land—and secure his throne.


Zedekiah’s problem was that he did not want to accept the experience of suffering and being under a foreign power. He did not want to learn the lessons God was wanting to teach his people. He did not want to undergo the humiliation of realising it was their own sin that had brought them into exile in the first place.


And what’s really telling here, is that earlier in Ezekiel 17:7-8, God uses a parable to describe Zedekiah. In it, the king and the people are like a vine, a vine that has been taken and planted and is reaching out for help from the eagle that is Egypt. Why do they reach out? So that (v.8) “it might produce branches and bear fruit and become a noble vine.” Zedekiah wants those things that God will eventually provide in the tree in v.23. A tree with large branches, bearing fruit. A noble cedar. 


But here’s the thing Zedekiah didn’t get: success would not come from his own solution. It wouldn’t come via Egypt or trying to avoid suffering.


In fact, he will fail, God says, because he tried to escape. Because he was unwilling to be humbled. Unwilling to be teachable, accept suffering, and trust in God. That’s why v.22 has the emphasis on God, himself, being the one to take and plant.


***


The vision of this tree is good news for the humble. But less so for the proud. And I think this is a harder lesson then we often want to admit. Zedekiah’s plan is politically pretty savvy! Yes, Egypt was the power that had originally enslaved the Israelites in the days of Moses, but who wouldn’t want to think creatively in order to be rid of a present enemy? 

My husband and I have been recently watching our way through the TV series Homeland. Its depiction of the CIA is one that lauds this kind of thinking. Political nous. Strategy. Playing for the win. Befriending an enemy in order to overpower or outplay another.


But this is not the way that God’s people are to act. We are not responsible for fulfilling God’s promises. We are not responsible for how He will one day restore and establish his kingdom.


We are responsible for what we do today: whether we’re humble. Whether we’re teachable. Whether we’re willing to trust God’s means and God’s provisions or whether we return to old idols or old enemies to take things into our own hands.


For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?

(Mark 8)


For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 14)


***

The Judean exile did not last forever. Just a few decades later, when another generation had come along, Jehoiachin’s grandson, Zerubbabel, brought the people back into the land following the fall of the Babylon.


And that is the same God we worship today. The same God we proclaim today. He brings back the humble from the exile of their sin, as they follow their risen king. He raises the dead. He brings new life. And one day, every generation will see it. The proud will be brought low. All injustices squared away. All unrighteousness dealt with.


One of the desert fathers, Abba Anthony, is reported to have said this: "Let us not lose heart, and let us not think that what we are doing takes too much time or is too great an undertaking, for the sufferings of the present time do not compare to the glory that is going to be revealed to us. Let us not look at the world and think that we have renounced great things, for even the whole world is very small when compared with all of heaven. If we were lords of all the earth and renounced the whole world, once again that would not compare with the kingdom of heaven."


This is the remarkable hope we share afresh in each generation. Regardless of the challenges of this world, even with seismic changes, our God remains the same. He brings back to life. He redeems. He brings low the proud and raises up the lowly. 


So let us be teachable, let us trust Him, and let us wait with hope for when his glory will be revealed.


******



Cover photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

By Suse McBay May 29, 2025
****** “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, is credited as popularizing a big change in film production: not having opening credits. Instead of old Westerns and black and white films that began by naming the director, producer, key stars and so on, Lucas began the Star Wars films with the very famous line: “ A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away .” And then came the opening “crawl” that sets up the viewer for the story to come: "It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire..." And so it sets up the story of Luke, Leia and Han Solo. Well, I want to suggest this morning that here in Acts 1 we have the opening words and “crawl” to the Book as a whole. And what sets the scene? Jesus’ ascension. *** In Acts 1, Luke recaps from where his gospel left off in Luke 24, with similar talk of the spread of gospel to the ends of the earth, that his disciples will be his witnesses, and his instruction to wait for the promise of God to come that is His Spirit, as well as, of course, Jesus’ ascent into heaven. But the Acts version has a specific focus: repeatedly mention the watching and looking of the disciples, the taking and lifting up of Jesus and the repeated mention of his destination: heaven. So why this attention in Acts' “opening crawl”? How does this set the scene for the story of the church that is told in Acts and continues today? Well, in contrast to the first victory in the opening of Star Wars, perhaps preparing for more victories to come, the Ascension grounds us in the defining, cosmic-shaping victory of Jesus that began with his resurrection and conlcudes with his exaltation in the spiritual world. Echoing Daniel 7, Jesus is taken up on a cloud, the chariot of the warrior-God, and is now enthroned to rule in heaven. The work of the church is done in light of this all-encompassing victory that has already been won. Christ is already King. But it’s not only that. Often we talk about Jesus’ ascension from a human perspective: his physical departure from earth. Here the disciples see for themselves Jesus’ exaltation and the opening of heaven: they are gripped by it. Through Christ’s entrance into and rule in heaven, he is made more readily available to us on earth. T he work of the church is done by living in a new space that recognises this opening of heaven: consider God’s promised Holy Spirit who comes in Acts 2, how angels appear here and throughout Acts, as well as people being healed, delivered from evil spirits, miracles taking place and people coming to faith . The spiritual realm is breaking in. So, this Thursday of 5th week, with deadlines, looming exams and soon-to-come ordinations: where will we look? Will we stare upwards and wonder where Jesus went? Or will we look outwards, and live in the light of the one who rules the heavens and has opened heaven to us, and for whom we wait to rule the earth as well? ******
By Suse McBay May 13, 2025
*** True Colours I was in a situation a few years ago where someone I trusted and expected to act in a certain way didn’t do so. In fact, they did they did the opposite. It hurt. It hurt because there were consequences that affected me, but it also hurt because I thought I knew the person, that I knew how’d they’d respond to pressure. When the rubber hits the road and things get real. Instead, their true colours emerged, and I was wrong. Who I thought this person was, and who they told me they were, was in reality quite different from who they actually proved themselves to be . The specifics aren’t for posting online, but I’m sure you can relate. Most of us can recall some kind of experience of someone we love, someone whose character we trust, letting us down. Someone who you might have believed in—maybe even defended to other people—choosing to do something that shows they weren’t worthy of that trust. Showing that your assessment of them was, essentially, quite different from the reality of who they are. They lacked integrity. Esther’s Example This term at Wycliffe, my colleague John is teaching his way through the book of Esther for the Bible expositions in chapel. Now the book of Esther famously doesn’t even mention God: so what is its purpose? Well, in part (as my colleague has been discussing), it’s a book about wisdom. Will we learn from the wise in the story: Esther (and Mordecai)? Will learn from the foolish: King Ahasuerus? The wicked: Haman? At the start of the book, Esther is a young, timid woman, who’d been through a lot. She was orphan and had been raised by her uncle. But she shows willingness and some social savviness and does what Mordecai tells her to do. By the end of the book she’s bold and courageous. Yes, she knows how to play the political game, but she does so in order to stand up for her people who are being persecuted by Persian imperial policy. She exposes Haman’s duplicitousness. Esther has a remarkable integrity and commitment to who she is and what she values. She is willing to risk her life to stand up for what is right, even knowing the cost. She has integrity. Her insides match her outsides as her character develops through the book. When We Fail Stephen and I go to a large Anglican church in the centre of Oxford. A couple of weeks ago, we had a visiting preacher (who is also a poet and philosopher) preaching about baptism. In the course of his sermon, he reminded us that who we really are is who we are when no-one is watching. And that Jesus died for us, knowing exactly what we do when the curtains are closed and no-one can see us. Again, it speaks to integrity—and that Jesus has come to deal with it. If everyone else thinks I’m a model Christian, but at home, by myself, I’m angry, compulsive, critical, selfish or greedy, the latter is a far more honest assessment of who I am and needs some spiritual help. It exposes a lack of integrity: I have an exterior self who looks one way, but an interior self (that I hide away) that looks quite another. What will happen when the pressure is on? That interior self will come out, one way or another. The good news is Jesus went to the Cross, even for that interior self. And with his help I can be forgiven, heal and become whole. That’s in part what baptism symbolises: me dying to all that ugliness and ungodliness. Naming it, owing it and leaving it with Jesus at the Cross, and then rising to a new life that where my insides match my outsides. A person of integrity. Learn from the Wise: Daniel 11-12 But what of the original situation: when others we trusted in and believed in have let us down? I’ve been teaching my way through the book of Daniel and its been fascinating to muse on this topic. Daniel 7-12 describe a series of visionary experiences that give God’s perspective on the political problems and extreme religious oppression that led to the Maccabean revolt in the 160s BC. These were largely due to the decisions of the Antiochus IV who was on the throne of the Hellenistic empire, a Greek of Seleucid descent. You can read about Antiochus IV in 1 and 2 Maccabees, but the snapshot version is that he installed puppet high priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, looted it for money to fuel his military campaigns, outlawed the Torah (including Sabbath observance and circumcision) and, most egregiously, desecrated the Temple with pig sacrifices and an altar to Zeus. These orders resulted in many faithful Jews having to try and keep Torah secretly. When discovered, those who had done so were public shamed and then executed (e.g. 2 Macc 6:10). It was miserable existence (2 Macc 6:9). Antiochus IV’s diabolical political rule was one thing, but the book of Daniel also wrestles with this: what do we do when our religious leaders let us down? When their outsides don’t match their insides? When we discover they are white-washed tombs (Matt 23:27)? The high priest and many other religious establishment figures were swayed by Antiochus IV at the expense of their loyalty to the Lord Most High. Daniel 11 and 12 in particular speak to this situation. Daniel 11:32 says that Antiochus will “seduce with intrigue those who violate the covenant” in contrast to “the people who are loyal to their God.” A few verses later we learn why: “Those who acknowledge him [Antiochus] he shall make more wealthy, and shall appoint them as rulers over many, and shall distribute the land for a price” (v.39). Antiochus used his power and means to get what he wanted, and those who showed more fidelity to him than to the God of Israel, got to share in that wealth themselves. So, what is Daniel’s answer to when the stewards of God’s covenant and teachers of God’s law reveal their true colours? When their words and who they’ve said they are don’t match up with who they have shown themselves to be? When those around us lack integrity, what are we to do? Well, it’s not to keep hanging on and believing in religious leaders who have proven themselves to be corrupted by political power (they are destined for shame and contempt, Dan 12:2). Daniel’s suggestion is to fix our eyes elsewhere instead: “ The wise among the people shall give understanding to many; for some days, however, they shall fall by sword and flame, and suffer captivity and plunder. ” (Daniel 11:33) Look to the wise. Look to those with understanding. Come to understand for yourselves. But this is not an easy answer. For these are the folk that get into trouble. Who perish by the sword. They don’t look like winners. This is perhaps why Daniel’s own response to the visions is one of weakness, fear and trembling. To understand and see reality for what it is can be deeply disturbing. In Daniel, understanding revolves around knowing God is God of all and all kings should have limits to their power. Even when kings like Antiochus IV trample on what is sacred, and transgress into the holy of holies—divine space—God through his angels is contending with powers beyond human ones and will bring all to judgement. But the waiting in the meantime will not be easy or pain-free. That’s why the promise of resurrection is so important in Daniel 12: it’s reassurance for the faithful—for the wise—to keep going. It is they who will be raised and will be like angels: "Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever." (Dan. 12:3) When those we’ve trusted and believed in fail us, God is at work. There may not be easy answers, and sitting with the reality of betrayal is painful, but God is not done yet. Sometimes what is happening is part of a much bigger, cosmic picture and God will intervene. Others’ words and actions may not line up, but ours can. Our insides can match our outsides and our words match our actions. With God’s help we too can become “ people who are loyal to their God ,” those who “ shall stand firm and take action. ” (Dan. 11:32) ****** Cover picture: John Everett Millais, Esther, 1863–65, Oil on canvas, 77.4 x 106 cm, Private Collection

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