Ezekiel 17:22-24 God Planted A Tree
This is what the Lord God says: “I myself will take part of the tip of the cedar and plant it. From the topmost of its shoots I will pluck off a tender sprig, and I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. On the high mountain of Israel I will plant it. It will produce branches, bear fruit, and become a magnificent cedar. Flying birds of every kind will live under it. In the shelter of its branches they will nest. Then all the trees in the countryside will know that I, the Lord, bring down the high tree and raise up the low tree, that I make the green tree dry up, and I make the dried-up tree blossom. I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will carry it out.”
In the middle of the Sahara desert there used to stand a small, gnarled acacia tree, the last remnant of what had once been a vast forest. But all the other trees have been gone for the past 300 years or so, making this the loneliest tree in the world. Not another tree within 250 miles of it. A well was dug next to it, to tap into the deep water that its roots must have found to survive, and it became a revered landmark for the local tribes. Superstitions developed around that lonely tree, no one dared touch it or use its branches for firewood or let their camels nibble on its leaves. As long as that tree survived in such an inhospitable place, they believed their tribe would survive. It gave them hope, right up to the day a truck driver ran into it fifty years ago. The only tree within hundreds of miles, and he hit it. Now there’s a statue of a tree in memory of what once was there. No leaves on it, no green, no life, but maybe there’s still hope in this remnant of a remnant of a forest that once was.
The Jews felt the same way about another tree that gave them hope to survive as a people. It’s not the tree Ezekiel mentions in his parable today; it’s in the parable before this parable. He said, “Once there was a tree, a cedar of Lebanon, tall, stately. Along came a powerful eagle. It broke a sprig off the very top of the tree. It carried it to a distant city and planted it in the streets where merchants and traders walked. Then the eagle went back and planted another tree in its own land, in good, rich soil, by a flowing stream. But instead of a tall cedar, it just grew into a scraggly shrub that stayed close to the ground. Its branches grew toward the eagle that planted it, but its roots sent out a hidden tendril toward another eagle.”
Then Ezekiel said, “Finish the story. Tell me how it’s going to end. Do you think there’s any chance it’s going to have a happy ending?” No, they knew what that story was really about, even if it’s not immediately obvious to us. This was a story about their world, their lives, and what was happening in Israel. The eagle was King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. He had came and carried off the tip of the cedar, the last king of David’s royal line, and took many of the people of Judah into exile, including Ezekiel. Then he planted a new king in Jerusalem, a weak fellow who promised loyalty to Babylon, King Zedekiah. But Zedekiah secretly tried making an alliance with Egypt to fight Babylon. Is that story going to have a happy ending?
Very soon after this, as Ezekiel predicts, Nebuchadnezzar returned to Jerusalem, got rid of Zedekiah, and destroyed the God’s holy Temple. Ezekiel had been one of the first, original exiles taken to Babylon. He told the Jews there to settle down; they were going to be there a while. He urged them to submit to Babylon, to accept this as God’s doing. But there were other, false prophets who kept telling the people what they wanted to hear and giving them false hope. They pointed to King Zedekiah as their hope and their strength. As long as that tree stands and we have a king sitting on the throne in Jerusalem we must never give up hope. As long as that tree survives we will survive as a people.
Ezekiel told them, “That’s not a tree, it’s a scraggly shrub that can easily be ripped out by the roots.” Pinning your hopes on weak, foolish political leaders, well, I wouldn’t even call that hope. Hope ought to have some substance to it, some confidence, some reason to think if you can hold on to it, it’s going to come true.
But just as Ezekiel finished crushing their hopes in their nation’s leaders, he told them another parable. No eagles in this one. Earthly kings and rulers don’t have any part in it. God himself says “I will take a shoot from the top of a cedar, and plant it on the peak of a lofty mountain. High above the timberline where no trees are found, this tree will grow straight and tall, and it will be a landmark for all the nations of the earth, a refuge for all who are drawn to it. And all the other trees will know that it’s the Lord who brings down the tall tree, dries up the green tree, but raises up the lowly and brings the dead, dry tree back to life.”
Ezekiel never explains this parable. He doesn’t have to. Again the people understood, or they should have, if they’d been listening closely to God’s prophets. The cedar was still the house of King David, as in the previous story, but not because of his earthly throne. A hundred years earlier, the prophet Isaiah had foretold that the promised Savior would come from David’s line, “A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.” And Jeremiah, Ezekiel’s fellow-prophet who was left behind to weep in Jerusalem while Ezekiel was carried off to Babylon—Jeremiah used the same imagery, “The days are coming,” declares the Lord, “when I will raise up to David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. This is the name by which he will be called: The Lord Our Righteousness.”
That is Israel’s true hope. That is the world’s only hope. For those living in exile, any exile, any oppression, people who are distressed about the way things are going in the world, if they look to earthly kings and leaders for solutions and answers, they’re going to find that that hope is no hope at all. Their savior one day is the source of their problems the next. But the Branch from David’s royal stem, the tree planted on a mountaintop, that is our hope.
You know, we could look at this whole story from the political angle, the worldly angle. That’s what the Jews focused on and were all concerned about, their situation in exile, strangers in a strange land with foreigners ruling them, separated from their loved ones, their homes and possessions taken away from them. The fears and uncertainties about what was happening in the world, the dread that they might never go home again; their anxieties about the political situation, I think, go far beyond anything we have to worry about these days, from a worldly perspective. It’s understandable that they wanted to know how things were going to turn out, if there was someone or something they could count on to turn things around and give them a brighter future.
The news from the prophets wasn’t very encouraging in that regard. Isaiah and Jeremiah both told the people, “Seventy years this exile is going to last. Seventy years before things will finally get back to normal and you can go home again. Get used to it. For the rest of your lives, this is normal.” The only good news was that God is still in control. But that’s very good news. God is still your God. It was in this context that Jeremiah wrote, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” The situation was still troubling, their lives were still painful and sad, but God was with them.
From the worldly angle, today, that’s good to know, that God is in control of everything from the most powerful of world governments to the smallest details of our daily life. And because of that we can rejoice even in times of trouble, and we can have peace, comfort and hope no matter what’s happening around us. This might be just the lesson we wanted to hear today. Not the part about it taking seventy years to get back to normal, but the fact that it will get back to normal. This, too, shall pass. Even exile, even feeling like strangers and outcasts in our own land. It won’t always be this way.
“Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men who can not save,” the psalmist wrote. Don’t count on the government or worldly messiahs, on big ambitious plans and programs for the economy, the pandemic, the state of the world, the nation, and our community, to find solutions to all our problems. Don’t rely on them to be wise and infallible, or even dependable to keep their promises, or trustworthy to always be looking out for your good. But know that there is one who is wise and dependable and always looking out for your good. He has plans to prosper you and give you a future and hope. And know that among his people, who may be sinners and not completely dependable or perfectly wise themselves all the time, you can find the fruits of faith, and know there will be others who are there for you when you need it.
But it’s really from the spiritual angle that the good news truly shines. There on the mountain top, the tree still stands. It’s our Savior and the eternal kingdom he has established. Jesus used the same imagery in his own parable today, birds nesting in the mustard tree’s branches; the tree grows and provides shade and fruit, strength and life. I don’t think mustard’s a fruit, but you get the idea; the tree provides all good things we need. But we’re not concerned with the fruit today, but the tree, the growing Church of Christ on earth.
It’s an eternal kingdom, one established by Christ on the day a tree was planted on a hill called Mount Calvary, where a wooden cross was firmly planted in the ground. And the tree that bore the bitter fruit of death for our Savior became a Tree of Life, bringing life for all the world. The tree still stands. The cross stands before our eyes as a landmark of hope. My sin, my death, are no more. My Savior has won salvation.
And I am now a member of his kingdom. This parable is about the tree, the whole Christian Church on earth, and about its many limbs and branches, congregations and gatherings around the Word, and about its twigs. I’m a twig on a branch on a limb of that tree, one small green leaf. Psalm one describes anyone who meditates on God’s Word as a tree planted by streams of water, yielding fruit reliably every season, whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. We may not realize or appreciate just how much we gain and grow and prosper and bear fruit every time we take the time to gather again around the living water of the Word. It’s our life, our wisdom, our connection to the Vine. I may be just a twig or a small leaf in Christ’s parable, but I am there, in the tree of life.
I could also be one of the birds in Christ’s parable who have built their nest, made a home among its branches. I’m safe here, and my God has given me a home much more permanent than any simple nest of twigs. I’ve got protection here, shelter and rest from all my troubles. I know that all my light and momentary troubles are just preparing me for glory. I know that the poor little nest I have here is just a tent before I move into the mansions of heaven. And that the God who is in control of this world, and of my life, will keep me in his love throughout my life.
“Then all the trees in the countryside will know that I, the Lord, bring down the high tree and raise up the low tree, that I make the green tree dry up, and I make the dried-up tree blossom.” God’s ways are not our ways. God’s plans are surprising, shocking, but wonderful. “I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will carry it out.” Amen.
This is what the Lord God says: “I myself will take part of the tip of the cedar and plant it. From the topmost of its shoots I will pluck off a tender sprig, and I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. On the high mountain of Israel I will plant it. It will produce branches, bear fruit, and become a magnificent cedar. Flying birds of every kind will live under it. In the shelter of its branches they will nest. Then all the trees in the countryside will know that I, the Lord, bring down the high tree and raise up the low tree, that I make the green tree dry up, and I make the dried-up tree blossom. I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will carry it out.”
In the middle of the Sahara desert there used to stand a small, gnarled acacia tree, the last remnant of what had once been a vast forest. But all the other trees have been gone for the past 300 years or so, making this the loneliest tree in the world. Not another tree within 250 miles of it. A well was dug next to it, to tap into the deep water that its roots must have found to survive, and it became a revered landmark for the local tribes. Superstitions developed around that lonely tree, no one dared touch it or use its branches for firewood or let their camels nibble on its leaves. As long as that tree survived in such an inhospitable place, they believed their tribe would survive. It gave them hope, right up to the day a truck driver ran into it fifty years ago. The only tree within hundreds of miles, and he hit it. Now there’s a statue of a tree in memory of what once was there. No leaves on it, no green, no life, but maybe there’s still hope in this remnant of a remnant of a forest that once was.
The Jews felt the same way about another tree that gave them hope to survive as a people. It’s not the tree Ezekiel mentions in his parable today; it’s in the parable before this parable. He said, “Once there was a tree, a cedar of Lebanon, tall, stately. Along came a powerful eagle. It broke a sprig off the very top of the tree. It carried it to a distant city and planted it in the streets where merchants and traders walked. Then the eagle went back and planted another tree in its own land, in good, rich soil, by a flowing stream. But instead of a tall cedar, it just grew into a scraggly shrub that stayed close to the ground. Its branches grew toward the eagle that planted it, but its roots sent out a hidden tendril toward another eagle.”
Then Ezekiel said, “Finish the story. Tell me how it’s going to end. Do you think there’s any chance it’s going to have a happy ending?” No, they knew what that story was really about, even if it’s not immediately obvious to us. This was a story about their world, their lives, and what was happening in Israel. The eagle was King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. He had came and carried off the tip of the cedar, the last king of David’s royal line, and took many of the people of Judah into exile, including Ezekiel. Then he planted a new king in Jerusalem, a weak fellow who promised loyalty to Babylon, King Zedekiah. But Zedekiah secretly tried making an alliance with Egypt to fight Babylon. Is that story going to have a happy ending?
Very soon after this, as Ezekiel predicts, Nebuchadnezzar returned to Jerusalem, got rid of Zedekiah, and destroyed the God’s holy Temple. Ezekiel had been one of the first, original exiles taken to Babylon. He told the Jews there to settle down; they were going to be there a while. He urged them to submit to Babylon, to accept this as God’s doing. But there were other, false prophets who kept telling the people what they wanted to hear and giving them false hope. They pointed to King Zedekiah as their hope and their strength. As long as that tree stands and we have a king sitting on the throne in Jerusalem we must never give up hope. As long as that tree survives we will survive as a people.
Ezekiel told them, “That’s not a tree, it’s a scraggly shrub that can easily be ripped out by the roots.” Pinning your hopes on weak, foolish political leaders, well, I wouldn’t even call that hope. Hope ought to have some substance to it, some confidence, some reason to think if you can hold on to it, it’s going to come true.
But just as Ezekiel finished crushing their hopes in their nation’s leaders, he told them another parable. No eagles in this one. Earthly kings and rulers don’t have any part in it. God himself says “I will take a shoot from the top of a cedar, and plant it on the peak of a lofty mountain. High above the timberline where no trees are found, this tree will grow straight and tall, and it will be a landmark for all the nations of the earth, a refuge for all who are drawn to it. And all the other trees will know that it’s the Lord who brings down the tall tree, dries up the green tree, but raises up the lowly and brings the dead, dry tree back to life.”
Ezekiel never explains this parable. He doesn’t have to. Again the people understood, or they should have, if they’d been listening closely to God’s prophets. The cedar was still the house of King David, as in the previous story, but not because of his earthly throne. A hundred years earlier, the prophet Isaiah had foretold that the promised Savior would come from David’s line, “A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.” And Jeremiah, Ezekiel’s fellow-prophet who was left behind to weep in Jerusalem while Ezekiel was carried off to Babylon—Jeremiah used the same imagery, “The days are coming,” declares the Lord, “when I will raise up to David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. This is the name by which he will be called: The Lord Our Righteousness.”
That is Israel’s true hope. That is the world’s only hope. For those living in exile, any exile, any oppression, people who are distressed about the way things are going in the world, if they look to earthly kings and leaders for solutions and answers, they’re going to find that that hope is no hope at all. Their savior one day is the source of their problems the next. But the Branch from David’s royal stem, the tree planted on a mountaintop, that is our hope.
You know, we could look at this whole story from the political angle, the worldly angle. That’s what the Jews focused on and were all concerned about, their situation in exile, strangers in a strange land with foreigners ruling them, separated from their loved ones, their homes and possessions taken away from them. The fears and uncertainties about what was happening in the world, the dread that they might never go home again; their anxieties about the political situation, I think, go far beyond anything we have to worry about these days, from a worldly perspective. It’s understandable that they wanted to know how things were going to turn out, if there was someone or something they could count on to turn things around and give them a brighter future.
The news from the prophets wasn’t very encouraging in that regard. Isaiah and Jeremiah both told the people, “Seventy years this exile is going to last. Seventy years before things will finally get back to normal and you can go home again. Get used to it. For the rest of your lives, this is normal.” The only good news was that God is still in control. But that’s very good news. God is still your God. It was in this context that Jeremiah wrote, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” The situation was still troubling, their lives were still painful and sad, but God was with them.
From the worldly angle, today, that’s good to know, that God is in control of everything from the most powerful of world governments to the smallest details of our daily life. And because of that we can rejoice even in times of trouble, and we can have peace, comfort and hope no matter what’s happening around us. This might be just the lesson we wanted to hear today. Not the part about it taking seventy years to get back to normal, but the fact that it will get back to normal. This, too, shall pass. Even exile, even feeling like strangers and outcasts in our own land. It won’t always be this way.
“Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men who can not save,” the psalmist wrote. Don’t count on the government or worldly messiahs, on big ambitious plans and programs for the economy, the pandemic, the state of the world, the nation, and our community, to find solutions to all our problems. Don’t rely on them to be wise and infallible, or even dependable to keep their promises, or trustworthy to always be looking out for your good. But know that there is one who is wise and dependable and always looking out for your good. He has plans to prosper you and give you a future and hope. And know that among his people, who may be sinners and not completely dependable or perfectly wise themselves all the time, you can find the fruits of faith, and know there will be others who are there for you when you need it.
But it’s really from the spiritual angle that the good news truly shines. There on the mountain top, the tree still stands. It’s our Savior and the eternal kingdom he has established. Jesus used the same imagery in his own parable today, birds nesting in the mustard tree’s branches; the tree grows and provides shade and fruit, strength and life. I don’t think mustard’s a fruit, but you get the idea; the tree provides all good things we need. But we’re not concerned with the fruit today, but the tree, the growing Church of Christ on earth.
It’s an eternal kingdom, one established by Christ on the day a tree was planted on a hill called Mount Calvary, where a wooden cross was firmly planted in the ground. And the tree that bore the bitter fruit of death for our Savior became a Tree of Life, bringing life for all the world. The tree still stands. The cross stands before our eyes as a landmark of hope. My sin, my death, are no more. My Savior has won salvation.
And I am now a member of his kingdom. This parable is about the tree, the whole Christian Church on earth, and about its many limbs and branches, congregations and gatherings around the Word, and about its twigs. I’m a twig on a branch on a limb of that tree, one small green leaf. Psalm one describes anyone who meditates on God’s Word as a tree planted by streams of water, yielding fruit reliably every season, whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers. We may not realize or appreciate just how much we gain and grow and prosper and bear fruit every time we take the time to gather again around the living water of the Word. It’s our life, our wisdom, our connection to the Vine. I may be just a twig or a small leaf in Christ’s parable, but I am there, in the tree of life.
I could also be one of the birds in Christ’s parable who have built their nest, made a home among its branches. I’m safe here, and my God has given me a home much more permanent than any simple nest of twigs. I’ve got protection here, shelter and rest from all my troubles. I know that all my light and momentary troubles are just preparing me for glory. I know that the poor little nest I have here is just a tent before I move into the mansions of heaven. And that the God who is in control of this world, and of my life, will keep me in his love throughout my life.
“Then all the trees in the countryside will know that I, the Lord, bring down the high tree and raise up the low tree, that I make the green tree dry up, and I make the dried-up tree blossom.” God’s ways are not our ways. God’s plans are surprising, shocking, but wonderful. “I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will carry it out.” Amen.
