"FROM DRY BONES TO LIVING HOPE"

Ezekiel 37:1-14; John 11: (1)35-45                 03/22/2026

Israel was divided into two kingdoms after King Solomon’s reign: the Northern Kingdom of Israel and the Southern Kingdom of Judah. The Northern Kingdom fell to Assyria in 722 BC, and foreign peoples were brought into the land, mixing cultures and religious practices. The Southern Kingdom struggled for many years, and finally, in 586 BC, Jerusalem and the temple were destroyed, and the people were exiled to Babylon. Israel as a nation seemed to vanish, and its people were left to live in despair in a foreign land.

Into this hopeless situation, God called the prophet Ezekiel.

In today’s Old Testament lesson, God leads Ezekiel into a vision—a valley filled with dry bones. We are invited to sit beside the prophet and witness what God can do in the most lifeless and desolate place.

Ezekiel had been a priest in Jerusalem. He saw his homeland fall to the Babylonians, one of the most powerful and ruthless empires of that time. He lost not only his country and temple but also his beloved wife, whom Scripture calls “the delight of his eyes.” His personal grief mirrored the national tragedy. Everything seemed lost. There was no hope for Israel, and none for Ezekiel.

But then God speaks—not words of judgment this time, but words of hope.

God brings Ezekiel to the valley of dry bones. These bones had lain exposed for a long time—bleached, scattered, lifeless. They represent the condition of Israel: utterly defeated, cut off, without hope. God asks Ezekiel, “Mortal, can these bones live?” And Ezekiel wisely responds, “O Lord God, you know.”

God then commands Ezekiel to prophesy—to speak God’s word into this lifeless place. As Ezekiel speaks, something astonishing happens. There is a rattling sound. Bones come together, sinews form, flesh appears, and skin covers them. Yet they are still not alive—there is no breath in them.

Then God commands Ezekiel to call upon the breath—the רוח (Ruach), the Spirit, the wind, the very breath of life. As Ezekiel prophesies again, the breath enters the bodies, and they live. What was once a valley of death becomes a vast multitude of living beings.

This vision reveals a profound truth: God brings life where there is death, hope where there is despair, and restoration where all seems lost.

And this brings us to the Gospel reading from John 11:35–45.

In this passage, we encounter Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus. Standing before the grief of Mary and Martha, and the sorrow of the community, we read the shortest verse in Scripture: “Jesus wept.” Our Lord does not stand distant from human suffering. He enters into it. He shares our grief. He weeps with those who mourn.

Then, deeply moved, Jesus comes to the tomb and says, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of Lazarus said, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Despite hesitation and fear, the stone is removed. Jesus prays and then cries out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” And the man who had died comes out, still wrapped in burial cloths. Jesus then says, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Here, just as in Ezekiel’s vision, we see the power of God to bring life out of death. The same God who breathed life into dry bones now, in Christ, calls the dead to rise. The tomb is no longer the end. Death does not have the final word. What does this mean for us?

We, too, experience valleys of dry bones. These valleys may come through the loss of a loved one, the breakdown of relationships, the loss of purpose, or deep personal struggles. There are times when we feel lifeless, cut off, and without hope.

But the message of Ezekiel and the witness of Jesus both proclaim the same truth: God meets us in those valleys. God does not abandon us in our dryness or despair. Instead, God speaks life into us. Yet something is asked of us.

Like Ezekiel, we are called to trust God’s word even when life seems impossible. Like those standing at Lazarus’s tomb, we are called to participate—to remove the stones that block life, to believe even when we do not fully understand.

We are also called to surrender. To admit that we cannot bring life by our own power. To open ourselves to the Spirit—the Ruach—that breathes new life into us.

So we pray, as Ezekiel prayed: “Come from the four winds, O Spirit, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.”

And we listen for the voice of Christ calling our name, just as he called Lazarus. “Lazarus, Come out.” Come out of despair. Come out of fear. Come out of whatever binds you. (Put your name in place of Lazarus.)

And when we do, Christ says to the community, “Unbind them, and let them go.” We are not only recipients of new life—we are also called to help others experience freedom and restoration.

As we journey through this Fifth Sunday in Lent, we stand between the valley and the empty tomb, between sorrow and resurrection. We are reminded that God is still at work, even now, breathing life into what seems dead.

May we trust in that life-giving Spirit. May we hear the voice of Christ calling us forth.
And may we rise, renewed, restored, and ready to live in the fullness of God’s grace.

May it be so for you and for me. Amen.