Dried Up Bones

 

Stars.

Campfire of a burning bush and the smell of s’more.

The belly of a fish with undigested bits floating in the swallowed sea water.

 

Creation is a main character throughout scripture.  How has creation played an important role this week for you?  Where did you walk by a field of purple and notice God’s creativity (thank you poet and prophet Alice Walker for that beautiful insight).  Where did you sense the warmth of God’s love like the rays of the sun?  Where have you felt saturated by God’s power like a soaking rainstorm?  Where do you feel afraid of the lions of other’s words where they hide thousands of knives inside with a smile on their face?

 

All this leads us to Ezekiel standing in a valley of dry bones.  Here Creation isn’t wondrous or beautiful.  Ezekiel didn’t take out his iPhone and post a picture of himself there.  Ezekiel didn’t start singing, “For the beauty of the earth, for the splendor of the skies.”  Ezekiel was looking for the first Uber ride to come by and get out of there. 

 

Creation reflects to us our destruction and devastation.  When we over farm a land, the soil cries out in protest.  When we try to grow crops in climates that don’t cooperate, draining nearby water sources, Creation groans.  When we demand more and more, kicking the can down the road on climate change, we find ourselves in the valley of dry bones. 

Perhaps your bones feel weary and worn down.  Perhaps you wonder, like Ezekiel, what difference you can make.  I wonder if Ezekiel stood there, starting at his sermon to the bones feeling foolish.  I wonder if he tried to preach about the power of life, and it was all just a little half-hearted.  As someone who speaks in front of people each week, I can tell you that energy is a two-way street.  There are days when I have stood in Ezekiel’s sandals wondering if what I am saying is making any difference.  And there have been moments when my bones, soul, life have dried up.  There are seasons when the weather pattern in my soul is going through a drought.

 

Where are there dry bones within you?  Spiritually?  Emotionally?  Physically?  Relationally?  You are not an isolated individual on an island population of one.  You are a conglomeration and collection of countless different people and places.  There is an entire library within you of other voices.  You are a Bible worth of books.  Some of those stories are hope filled like Abraham beneath the stars.  Some of the stories are life-changing, like Moses before a burning bush.  Some of the stories are icky and sticky and stinketh like Jonah.  Some of your stories tell of bones, trying to do something you are not sure will make a difference.

 

May God, whose breath is within you right now, inspire and infuse your words and life and actions this day.  And my God’s love, hope, peace, and presence guide you.  Amen.