Ezekiel 8

I gave a talk on Ezekiel 8 the other day. It didn't come out at all like I had thought: I had a lot of trouble expressing what I was thinking. So I thought I'd give it another try here.

The book of Ezekiel starts with Ezekiel standing on the banks of the Chebar, in Babylon. There he sees a vision of the glory of the Lord. He sees what looks like a man made of burning brass on a throne, with four "living creatures" under the throne, and four "wheels within wheels" with the living creatures. He describes this vision in some detail in the first two chapters. Ezekiel sees this same vision three more times, or four times in total. He sees it again seven days later "in the valley" in chapter 3, then in Jerusalem in chapters 8--11. Finally, he sees the same vision in chapter 43.

These four appearances of the glory of the Lord form a simple outline of the book. Each appearance of this vision is followed by specific messages. We might think of these as "sections" of the book:

1. chapters 1--3:31 Following the vision on the banks of the Chebar (vv. 1:1--3:15), the Lord speaks to Ezekiel and gives him the rules of the watchman (vv. 3:16--3:21). That is, He tells Ezekiel his duty as a prophet. This section closes at v. 3:21, after essentially only one message from God.
2. chapters 3:22--7 The second section begins with the Lord revealing Himself "in the valley" (vv. 3:22--3:27). Ezekiel notes (v. 23) that this is the same vision he saw on the banks of the Chebar. Ezekiel's vision is followed by messages specifically for Jerusalem and her inhabitants (ch. 4--7). The key verse in this section is v. 5:5, "this is Jerusalem". All the messages God gives Ezekiel in this section are about Jerusalem and the surrounding area.
3. chapters 8--39 The third section begins with the same vision Ezekiel saw "in the valley" (v. 8:4) and "by the river Chebar" (v. 10:20). The Lord takes Ezekiel "in the visions of God" to Jerusalem (v. 8:3). I assume this means he wasn't looking at the literal Jerusalem, but a spiritual vision of it. The vision that begins in v. 8:2 continues through chapter 11. Following the vision in ch. 8--11, the Lord gives Ezekiel several messages. Unlike the previous section, these messages address not only Jerusalem, but the captives in Babylon, and the nations as well. This section is the largest in the book.
4. chapters 40--48 The fourth and final section is millenial: it starts with the Millenial temple and describes the nation and its worship under the Son (cf. Psalm 2). Ezekiel sees a vision "like the vision that I saw by the river Chebar" (v. 43:3). It's in this section that he sees the glory of God return from the mountains in the east back into the Temple.

There is a clear moral symmetry between the vision in ch. 11 and that in ch. 43. In chapter 11, he sees the glory of the Lord leave them Temple and head east into the mountains. In chapter 43 he sees it come back from the mountains through the east gate and into the Temple.

Ezekiel is characterized by conversations between the Lord and his prophet. Unlike Isaiah (largely composed of the messages the Lord has for His people) or even Jeremiah, Ezekiel is mainly the Lord telling Ezekiel what to tell the people. It doesn't really record that he actually passed the messages on. It's not a book about the prophet speaking to the people, it's a book about the Lord speaking to the prophet.

The characteristic title of Ezekiel is "son of man". He's one of two men called that in the Old Testament: the other is Daniel. This gives us a hint of where we'd look to see Christ in this book. Isaiah and Daniel describe the One who is coming: Ezekiel doesn't. In Ezekiel, the prophet himself stands in the place of the coming Son of Man. In type, Ezekiel is a book where the Father talks to the Son.

This brings us to chapter 8. Chapter 8 comes a little more than a year after the vision in Chebar (cf. v. 1:1--2; v. 8:1). Ezekiel is brought by the Lord into Jerusalem "in the visions of God" (v. 8:3). The story starts outside the Temple, by the gate (vv. 8:3--6). There is an image in the gate of the Temple, which Ezekiel describes as "the image of jealousy" (v. 8:3). Next the Lord has him dig a hole through the Temple wall, and he finds a chamber full of men burning incense to idols (vv. 8:7--13). Then the Lord brings him into the court of the temple, where women are wailing for Tammuz (vv. 8:14--15). Finally, the Lord takes him into the inner court, where 25 men are worshipping the sun, with their backs to the altar (vv. 8:16--18).

The first thing we notice in this sequence is the transitions between the visions. After the first three visions, the Lord asks Ezekiel if he sees what he people are doing, and He says Ezekiel will see something even worse (vv. 8:6, 13, 15). So we understand that these visions are actually a progression. It's not just that there are four different idolatrous practices going on, but each is worse than the one before. We also notice that the trend is inward from the Temple gate toward the sanctuary.

I'm not sure what the "image of jealousy" is (v. 3), but it seems to be an idol. That is, there was an idol in the entrance to the Temple. If we remember our Sunday School lessons, we recall that at least two kings of Judah set up idols in the Temple itself: Ahaz built an altar modelled after the idolatrous altar he saw in Damascus, and put it into the Temple, moving the brazen altar out of the way to make room for it (2 Kings 16:10--16). Manasseh also set up his idols in the Temple (2 Kings 21:1--9). No doubt there are others: these two spring to mind.

There's an enormous difference between going to bow down to an idol in its temple, and bringing the idol into the house of God. But that's exactly what these two kings did.

There are four steps from the "image of jealousy" in the gate to the sun-worshippers inside the Temple:

• the image of jealousy
• burning incense in the room of idols
• wailing for Tammuz
• worshipping the sun

These four steps form a sort of progression: inward into the Temple, as we mentioned earlier; but also a progression of the heart. First, there is an image in the gate (v. 3). No one is worshipping the image: it's just there. We might think of this as passive idolatry. Second, we have active worship on the part of Jaazaniah and the seventy elders of Israel (v. 7). Then we have emotional idolatry, the women wailing for Tammuz (v. 14). Finally, we have complete obeisance in the twenty-five men bowing with their backs to the altar (v. 16).

It's interesting there are four steps here. They remind us of the four downward steps in Romans 1:21--32 and those in Proverbs 30:11--14.

But the main point is the progression not only towards to the center of the Temple, but in the hearts of the idolaters. And we notice again that this is all in the Temple: in the center of the worship God Himself established. We might remember the last verse of 1 John: "Children, keep yourselves from idols" (1 John 5:21). There is a danger--- a very real danger--- of dabbling in idolatry, especially in the house of God. God doesn't have an house anymore, "The God who has made the world and all things which are in it, *he*, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands" (Acts 17:24). But the Scripture tells us that God has chosen the Church as "a habitation of God in the Spirit" (Ephesians 2:22). So there is a parallel, isn't there? The Israelites brought idolatry into God's habitation, and it offended Him. We ought not do the same. We need to be careful that we aren't dabbling in idolatry.

There's another thread in this story: it's the thread of God looking for a man He can confide in. The whole book of Ezekiel is characterized by the idea the God is baring His heart to the prophet, but it's particularly brought out here in chapter 8. At every step, the Lord asks Ezekiel, "Do you see what they're doing?" There's a sense where God is looking for someone to take His side against His people.

It's significant that the prophet who is so intimate with God's heart should be the prophet most particularly called "son of man". Really, God has found exactly one Man to whom He could completely pour out His heart. The Son of Man walked on this earth, and He saw exactly what grieved God. And there were conversations between the Father and the Son about it, although we only read one explicitly (John 17) and catch other small glimpses (John 5, etc.). The Lord Jesus, while eternally God, was here as the Man that God was looking for. He was the Man that God could take completely into His confidence.

And it's a sobering thought that He was the one Man who actually understood exactly how evil this world is. I will never know just how bad my sin is, because I'll never be required to pay its price. The Lord Jesus knows exactly how bad my sin is, because He suffered for it.

Can we imagine what it must have been like for the Eternal Son of the Eternal Father to walk down here in this wicked world? The Pharisees said, "This man receives sinners and eats with them" (Luke 15:2), which indicates just how seared their consciences were. Yes, this Man did eat with sinners: and had He eaten with the Pharisees, He wouldn't have been in any better company. He was the Son of God, He had come down from Heaven. To imagine there's any significant difference between different degrees of fallen men in comparison with Him is sheer foolishness.

And once again, we remember the God has found the Man He was looking for. Indeed, He had to provide the Man He was looking for, because there's no other man, woman, or child that is good enough. And now that God has found Him, He's not looking for another. He has found what He wanted, and He is content in Him. We ought to be content in Him too.

Well, that's more or less what I ought to have said the other day. What I actually did was go on long digressions through the histories of Ahaz and Manasseh, as well as a diversion through the identity of Tammuz. It was frankly a bit of a mess. Hopefully I'll be a little more to the point next time.

Imperfect Sacrifices

We've been going through the epistle to the Romans in our Wednesday night Bible readings. We're up to Romans 12 now, and I have to admit it's been very convicting.

Like a lot of Christians, I've gotten caught up from time to time in a sort of Gnosticism: a sort of a sickly pseudo-spiritual affectation that looks down on the physical world. Romans 12 really smashes that sort of thing to bits:

1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the compassions of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your intelligent service. 2 And be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God. (Romans 12:1--2, JND)

What is the very first thing Romans 12 asserts? It's that our "intelligent" service is to present our bodies as living sacrifices.

We ought to consider the context of Romans when we think of this passage. Remember it's Romans 8 that tells us our bodies aren't yet redeemed (v. 8:23). Well, it's not only Romans 8; Philippians 3 is quite clear as well.

20 for *our* commonwealth has its existence in the heavens, from which also we await the Lord Jesus Christ as Saviour, 21 who shall transform our body of humiliation into conformity to his body of glory, according to the working of the power which he has even to subdue all things to himself. (Philippians 3:20--21, JND)

So our bodies are yet unredeemed, even though we're spiritually alive. They'll be redeemed one day: that's the promise of Philippians 3. But right now, we're still in fallen bodies. But the shocking truth of Romans 12 is that God wants us to present these fallen bodies as living sacrifices.

And this truth ought to shock us. I was listening to a preacher once who was talking about this chapter. He made the statement that, "your [reasonable] service" means, "in light of all God has done for you in chapters 1--8, the reasonable thing to do is..." Which makes me think he wasn't really paying attention to the first eleven chapters of the book. The whole point of Romans is that there's absolutely nothing you have to offer God. The first three chapters are all about all the terrible things we've done. Chapters 6--8 are all about how we were so bad that God has to apply the Cross to us to cure us of ourselves. Chapter 7 reminds us that "in me, that is, in my flesh, good does not dwell" (Romans 7:18, JND). Chapter 8 reminds us "the body is dead on account of sin, but the Spirit life on account of righteousness" (Romans 8:10, JND). If you think you have anything reasonable to offer God, then you haven't been paying attention to the first eleven chapters.

But we come to Romans 12 and we find that God does actually want something: He wants our bodies. Our fallen, sinful, unredeemed bodies. He wants the "bodi[es] of humiliation" (Philippians 3:21, JND) that Christ is coming to change.

Now, there is an Old Testament picture of this. Consider Leviticus 22:

A bullock and a sheep that hath a member too long or too short, that mayest thou offer as a voluntary offering; but as a vow it shall not be accepted. (Leviticus 22:23)

We sometimes say the Law forbade offering a blemished animal as an offering. That's not strictly true. It was possible to offer an imperfect animal, but only as a voluntary offering. It couldn't be offered as a sacrifice for sin, or as a trespass offering. It couldn't bear sins. But it could be offered as a "voluntary offering."

I am not accepted with God for the sacrifice of my body. I can't earn a single thing by offering my body as a living sacrifice. I am accepted with God for exactly one reason: the Lord Jesus has died for me. But there is this business about a "voluntary offering," and that brings us to Romans 12.

Another passage in the Old Testament presents the concept of an imperfect offerings: Leviticus 27.

9 And if it be a beast whereof men bring an offering unto Jehovah, all that they give of such unto Jehovah shall be holy. 10 They shall not alter it nor change it, a good for a bad, or a bad for a good; and if he at all change beast for beast, then it and the exchange thereof shall be holy. (Leviticus 27: 9--10, JND)

Notice that phrase in v. 10, they can't change "a good for a bad, or a bad for a good." It's not just that they couldn't exchange a worse sheep for a better one, they couldn't offer a better sheep for a worse one.

There's a trap here for us. There's a temptation to look at our bodies and think, "this one isn't good enough." And that's true, in a way. We're waiting for the Son of God to come and change our bodies to be like His. So there's a lot of truth in the idea that the bodies we have aren't worthy of Him. I mean, if they were, the Son of God wouldn't be coming to change them.

But we're in the same position as the Old Testament saints: they weren't allowed to exchange a better sacrifice for a worse one. I'm bound to offer the body I have. I can't wait until the Son of God makes it better. I can't even wait until I drop a few pounds. I need to offer the body I have.

And it surprises us, but we find they are "acceptable to God."

We do well to remember that the Son of God came here as a Man. We are fallen creatures in a fallen world, but God's solution to that isn't that we somehow step out of the physical world. We're not called to some sort of neo-Gnostic super-spiritualism. We're called to honour God in these fallen bodies, in this wicked world.

But that doesn't mean we're allowed to settle down here. We can't forget that the Son of God is coming to get us. And the second verse of Romans 12 tells us that. We can't be conformed to this world: we're called to live here, but we're not called to live for here. Our life is in Heaven (Colossians 3:1--15). Someday we'll appear with Him in glory and the world will see He really is as wonderful as we [ought to] say. Indeed, we recall that "the things that are seen are for a time, but those that are not seen eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18, JND). This isn't home, but we live here. So we do well to remember both sides of the truth: we're called to glorify God in our physical bodies, but we look for the day when we'll see Christ face to face and forget all about this wicked old world.

One of my daughters and I were talking about baptism when she was very young (maybe 6). I was explaining to her that baptism is how we declare that this world is under judgment, and we are take the place of death with respect to it. She said to me: "So what you're saying, Dad, is that we're here on a business trip, not a vacation." That might have been the single best summary of the snare of worldliness I've ever heard. It's not that we don't live here, but we're here on business, not pleasure.

Confidence

This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us, having become a high priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.
--Hebrews 6:19--20 (NASB)

Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.
--Hebrews 10:19--22 (NASB)

I can't see that the apprehension of having the Son of God as our High Priest would be anything other than confidence. I admit that we often come cringing into God's presence, but that's not the affect the truth ought to have on us. If we really grasp the idea that the Son of God has come here to seek and save the lost, has died for us, and has gone back to Heaven to represent us there; then the logical outcome would be for us to approach God confidently.

Not that we approach Him flippantly---confidence and flippancy are not the same thing at all. But if we believe the Word of God, we must conclude that God wants us there.

Protestants seem to err in one direction or the other. More formal churches are so intent to emphasize our worthlessness, that they deprive the believer of confidence in God. Far from being the One who sent His own Son to die for us, God becomes an aloof and cold judge. The operational word in "Woe is me!" is pretty much "me." In the other direction, you have modern "evangelicals" who seem to think God is some sort of supernatural buddy in the sky.

The main idea we need to get is, we are not confident in what we are to God. That is, we do not approach in the confidence that we are precious to God. We are, but that's not the confidence we need to approach Him. We approach God, confident that the Son of God has made a way for us to go in: His flesh has been torn, His blood poured out; and we approach confident that God is pleased with what Christ has done for us.

We're not confident in our ability to get there, or even in our right to be there. We're confident that the Son who invites us is over the house of God. He has taken care of everything, and is welcoming us in.

It's not remarkable that the Son of God would go back to Heaven. He has every right to be there. What's remarkable is that He went back there to represent us. He went back for us, which ought to give us pause.

It's tempting to try and approach God as an equal: or at least to try and approach Him based on what we are. When we have a good day, we are much more confident to approach God than after we've just fallen into sin for the umpteenth time. But that's because we're looking in the wrong place. We're looking at ourselves, and measuring ourselves against what we see God to be.

God's not looking at us, He's looking at the One who died for us, The One inviting us to come in.

Priesthood

For there is one God, and one mediator also between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave Himself as a ransom for all, the testimony given at the proper time.
-- 1 Timothy 2: 5--6 (NSAB)

I've been contemplating the concept of priesthood recently. Part of that is because I've no longer been gathering with "brethren," but have been attending services in a liturgical church. I don't bring that up to rub salt into any wounds or anything, but to be open about it. I wanted to share some scattered thoughts about priesthood.

Like all protestants, I believe (or claim to believe) the "priesthood of all believers." That is, all Christians function as priests. This is honestly interpreted differently by different people: Baptists take "priesthood of all believers" to mean every Christian is responsible for the Scriptures: you need to read and understand the Bible for yourself. "Brethren" take that to mean there ought to be no clergy in the assembly: every Christian is (at least officially) on the same level, anyone in the assembly can preach or pray. Lutherans take it to mean anyone can pray, and you can confess sins directly to God. I suppose all those interpretations are correct, although whether they sum up the concept is debatable. I think there is more involved than that.

As far as I've been able to find, believers are only called priests in 1 Peter (chapter 2) and the Revelation (chapters 1, 5, and 20). Darby groups Hebrews 13:15 as another "priesthood" verse, but the word "priest" is not explicitly used in that passage (Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, Vol. 10, pp.209--212, "Who is a Priest and What is a Priest?"). I am convinced from 1 Peter that all believers are priests: there is no exception clause in 1 Peter that I can find. Hebrews, while not explicitly naming all believers as priests, certainly makes the point rather clearly that we are to function that way: we're called to worship in the Holiest, which is strictly a priestly function.

The first priest mentioned in Scripture is Melchisidec. He appears for just a few verses of Genesis 14, then disappears until Psalm 110. After that, the Scripture is once more silent about him until Hebrews, which he becomes central to the explanation of Christ's present ministry as our High Priest in Heaven. But the narrative of Melchisidec is instructive:

18 And Melchizedek king of Salem brought out bread and wine; now he was a priest of God Most High.

19He blessed him and said,
"Blessed be Abram of God Most High,
Possessor of heaven and earth;
20And blessed be God Most High,
Who has delivered your enemies into your hand."
He gave him a tenth of all.

-- Genesis 14:18--20 (NSAB)

So Melchisidec, the proto-priest, does four things.

1. he provides Abram with physical food (bread and wine),
2. he blesses Abram,
3. he blesses God Most High, and
   
4. he receives a tithe from Abram.
   

It is significant, as Darby points out (see "The Melchisedec Priesthood of Christ", Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, Vol. 2), that Melchisidec never makes an offering for sin. That is, where we tend to see priesthood as primarily one who offers sacrifice for sin, the original priest did not. He was a priest who stood between God and man and blessed them both. Aaron's priesthood consisted largely of sacrificing for sin: Melchisidec's apparently did not.

Christ, according to Hebrews, has acted in fulfilment of Aaron's priesthood, but His priesthood is "after the order of Melchisidec" (see Psalm 110, Hebrews 5:6). That is, His priesthood is of a greater, higher, and more permanent nature than Aaron's. Christ's offering for sin has happened once according to Scripture, "And He is the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature, and upholds all things by the word of His power When He had made purification of sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high," (Hebrews 1:3, NASB), "but He, having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, SAT DOWN AT THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD" (Hebrews 10:12, NASB). There can never be another offering for sin. The very best that can possibly be offered has already been offered: there is nothing else to do, no other offering to make. But Christ's having offered Himself for us does not imply His priestly ministry is over: on the contrary, Hebrews makes a great deal of His acting as our High Priest to bring us to God.

Now, our having a Great High Priest means that we have constant, irrevocable access to God. We are certainly all priests, but that priesthood is practiced under the auspices of the Son of God, who is sitting at God's right hand. He welcomes us to come into Heaven, worshipping God there. We can come in as worshippers because He is there: His sacrifice has dealt with our sins permanently "By this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all" (Hebrews 10:10, NASB). His body was offered for us, His blood is our "new and living way" to come into God's presence. He represents us in Heaven, but the urging of Hebrews is not to be satisfied with that (as it were), but to actually go in there and worship ourselves.

Since we are priests of God, and since our Great High Priest is sitting at God's right hand, we have no need of another priest to stand between us and God. No one else can do a better job than the Son of God who became Man, we don't need anyone else's help to come into God's presence.

If I am brought to God, I do not want a priest: to go to Him for me. If the veil is rent, and I am told by God to enter into the holiest through that new and living way, I do not want another to go there because I cannot — another who could not go either if I cannot.
--J. N. Darby (Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, Vol. 10, pp.209--212, "Who is a Priest and What is a Priest?")

That is, there is no need of a priest to stand between me and God. Or more accurately, there is already a perfect Priest who stands between me and God, and I don't need anyone else.


But having said all that, there is a sense where we act as priests for someone else. That is, we intercede for others. When we ask another Christian to pray for us, we are asking that person to be our priest. Priesthood is not (or ought not to be) limited to what happens in the gathering. It includes what we do throughout the week: in our daily lives, we are to stand before God for one another.

When someone in a "brethren" assembly stands and prays, he is acting as a priest for everyone sitting there. But if that is the sum of his priesthood, he is falling far short. He ought also to be bringing others to the Lord throughout the week, interceding on their behalf. Similarly, when a Baptist prays for her pastor, she is effectively acting as his priest, representing his interests to God. When the Anglican priest asks the congregation to pray for the bishop, he is asking them to be the priests for the bishop: representing the bishop's interests to God.

Again, this priesthood is practiced under the auspices of the Great High Priest in Heaven, but it is priesthood nonetheless.


There is another function of the priest under Levitical law: the priest is to eat the sacrifice on the altar.

Then the LORD spoke to Aaron, "Now behold, I Myself have given you charge of My offerings, even all the holy gifts of the sons of Israel I have given them to you as a portion and to your sons as a perpetual allotment.

"This shall be yours from the most holy gifts reserved from the fire; every offering of theirs, even every grain offering and every sin offering and every guilt offering, which they shall render to Me, shall be most holy for you and for your sons.

"As the most holy gifts you shall eat it; every male shall eat it. It shall be holy to you.

"This also is yours, the offering of their gift, even all the wave offerings of the sons of Israel; I have given them to you and to your sons and daughters with you as a perpetual allotment. Everyone of your household who is clean may eat it.
-- Numbers 18:8--11 (NASB)

It is certainly true that we participate in the sacrifice of Christ by eating the Lord's Supper (1 Corinthians 10:15--18). But there is a sense where eat the sin offering for one another too. That is, when there is sin that has crept into the assembly (not formally, but in the sense that another believer has fallen into sin); part of our acting as priest for that believer is to eat the sin offering. We stand in place of that believer and intercede for him or her with God, but we also eat of the sin offering. That means, we are affected by their sin: we can be dirtied by it, but we can also come into a sense of fellowship with their forgiveness.

We can't offer sacrifices for sins: there is no more sacrifice since Christ has offered "once for all time." But there is still eating from the altar: this is partly to feed us (John 6), but it's also an expression of fellowship, of communion. And that's not only fellowship in a "good" sense, but in a "bad" sense too. There is the common responsibility and care for one another: the responsibility we have to one another as fellow-members of the household of faith.


As I've been contemplating the role of believers as priests, I've been struck that all the priesthood I need comes from the Great High Priest in Heaven: the Son of God is there to represent me and my interests to God. But there is any number of other priests, functioning as His under-priests, who are my priests too. Every Christian who prays for me, who takes my name to God, is acting as my priest. My wife and children pray for me, my family and friends, even people I've never met act as my priests when they get on their knees and pray to God for me after reading my blog. They can't act independently of the High Priest: Eleazar and Ithamar were priests under Aaron. All my priests are priests under Christ. But priests they are, and they take my interests to God.