“There Is No God-Forsaken Place”

Ezekiel 37:1-14

For part of one year following my graduation from college I taught high school in Damascus, VA. This was not the happiest time in my life. I hated my job. I was lonely. I had a girlfriend back home. After the semi-urban charms of Virginia Tech and Blacksburg, VA Damascus felt like nowhere’s–ville. For the first time in my life I felt that I had been led to a truly God-forsaken place.

Many years later, on the way to see our daughter Erin in Tennessee, Sandy and I took a side trip through Damascus. It hadn’t changed that much, but I had. That supposedly God-forsaken place turned out to be a quaint little village: a quiet, peaceful, wonderfully old-fashioned place that was probably a good place to live. What a difference thirty years make.

At an ecumenical conference on evangelism several years ago I learned a phrase from one of the presenters, a young Lutheran pastor serving small churches in little towns in Nebraska. Said she, “There is no such thing as a God-forsaken place.” At the time I was serving a group of small churches in little towns in West Virginia. These were wonderful places to be, but after having experienced the bright lights of big cities, I sometimes felt woefully out of place.

Well time went by and my hope of living again in the big city came to fruition when I was called to be your pastor. The excitement wore off pretty fast as I dealt with crowds, traffic, nightly news of murder and mayhem, and some of the rudest and most insane drivers with whom I had the daily pleasure of interacting.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being at Grace. There are advantages to living here: nearby airports, museums, the National Zoo, Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, and tons of history. But sometimes as I fight the traffic and deal one more time with some rude, aggressive, reckless driver, and as I listen to the news reports about the previous night’s crime and violence, I start to think that maybe this is a God-forsaken place, especially when I think about that nearby la-la land we refer to as inside the beltway.

But as best as I can tell there has only been one truly God-forsaken place: Calvary. As Jesus hung dying on the cross he cried out in agony, “My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?” On the cross, in our place, Jesus experienced the total absence of God. The name for such forsakenness is damnation. Damnation is hell. That’s why we say that line in the Apostles Creed: “He descended into hell.”

Damascus, VA is not hell. Those little towns in Nebraska where the wind blows constantly are not hell. Nor is Beverly, WV or the most crime and poverty ridden parts of the DC Metro area. Those and other places are not God-forsaken. Even the most horrible hell hole on this planet is not forsaken by God. Nor are we on the worst days of our lives. It may feel like hell, but it’s not.

The children of Israel exiled in Babylon probably felt as if they were in hell. They felt absolutely forsaken by God. As far as they were concerned God was dead and buried in the ruins of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem. They were cut off from home and felt cut off from God. In their season of extreme spiritual dryness their souls were withering away. They weren’t in hell; they just thought they were.

In the midst of this the saving hand of the Lord transports Ezekiel, as in a vision, to a valley of dry and scattered bones. These bones were dead; they were lifeless. But in obedience to the Lord Ezekiel preached the Word of the Living God to those bones. And suddenly those bones came together as complete skeletons. On them grew flesh and muscle. In them were created organs. They were complete human beings – almost. One thing they yet lacked: life.

But the God of creation, the Lord of the cosmos, sent his Spirit. By that Spirit he breathed life back into those bodies. Once again they were living, breathing human beings. That valley full of dry scattered bones became, by the life-creating power of God, a valley full of living people, brought from death back to life.

And then the Lord said to Ezekiel, according the text as it is found in The Message, “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Listen to what they’re saying, ‘Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone, there’s nothing left of us’.” Then God commanded Ezekiel thusly, “Therefore prophesy. Tell them, ‘God the Master says: I’ll dig up your graves and bring you out alive – O my people! Then I’ll take you straight to the land of Israel. When I dig up graves and bring you out as my people, you’ll realize that I am God. I’ll breathe my life into you and you’ll live’.”

If ever there was a God-forsaken place it was that valley of dead, dry, and scattered bones. There was no life in that place, but by the power of God life was given back to it. The children of Israel felt like a valley of dry and scattered bones. Their hope was gone. There was nothing left for them. Everything they loved had been taken away. Their home was dead to them. Their nation and culture were dead to them. Even their God was dead to them.

Or so they rationally but mistakenly thought. God was not dead. Nor was Israel. Nor were they. God was alive and well and moving in history to take his children home. Their hopes and dreams would be resurrected, as would their nation. They would themselves be resurrected. The dry bones of Israel would live. Neither the gods of Babylon nor death itself would have the final word. The final Word always belongs to God. And this Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

His name is Jesus. He died. He descended into hell. The very Son of God was forsaken by his Father. But then “the third day he rose from the dead…” By the power of God the resurrection that guarantees all resurrections took place. The dead, dry bones of Jesus lived – lived! In the words of our denomination’s “Brief Statement of Faith,” “Jesus was crucified, suffering the depths of human pain and giving his life for the sins of the world. God raised this Jesus from the dead, vindicating his sinless life, breaking the power of sin and evil, delivering us from death to life eternal.”

What does all that mean? It means that, if we are in Christ, one day our dead, dry bones shall live. We may die, but not forever. While we yet breathe we may feel that God has forsaken us, but he hasn’t and he never will. In the deepest, darkest, lowest, most painful times and places of our lives, our God is there. He sends his Spirit to comfort and revive us. By the power of his Spirit he breathes hope into us. And even though we lose whatever struggle in which we are involved, God will still be with us: healing our hurts, nourishing our withered souls, leading us out of the darkness, putting life back into the dry bones of what was nothing more than bare existence. There is no such thing as a God-forsaken place.

I will close with a quote from James A. Wallace, “Lent will move quickly to the three great days of Holy week. Can the bones of a crucified man live? Yes, just as we live in him, with him, through him, and for him. We live now in the power of that same Spirit given by Jesus and poured into our hearts. We are two weeks away from that moment on Easter when [many Christians] renew [their] baptismal promises: Do you believe in the God of life who created all that is? Do you believe in Jesus, the crucified and risen Lord, who died and rose for us that we might have abundant life? Do you believe in the Spirit of God, the divine breath that brings new life wherever it blows? ‘Mortal, can these bones live?’ Yes, lord, most definitely yes.” Amen.