God says He will establish His covenant with them, and they shall know that He is the Lord, that they may remember and be ashamed and never open their mouths again, "when I atone for you for all that you have done" (a paraphrase of Ezekiel 16:62–63).

The result of God's new covenant with Israel is that (1) He will forgive all their sins, and (2) they will know that He is the Lord. This is the same new covenant Jeremiah wrote about: God would put His law within them and write it on their hearts; He would be their God, and they would be His people; no longer would each teach his neighbor to know the Lord, "for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest"; and He would forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more (a paraphrase of Jeremiah 31:33–34).

Jesus Christ is the mediator of this New Covenant (cf. Hebrews 12:24). It was inaugurated by His blood (cf. Luke 22:20), and we are its beneficiaries through faith in Him.

Friends, the Old Covenant (the Mosaic Law) was weak because no one could keep it. Under it, no one could be justified before God (cf. Romans 3:20). So the New Covenant was necessary for any to be saved. While the benefits of the Old Covenant depended on human faithfulness to keep its terms, the New Covenant depends not on human effort but solely on God's faithfulness. The Old Covenant demonstrated human failure and sinfulness. The New Covenant revealed God's righteousness, grace, and power to save.

Friends, we are the beneficiaries of God's New Covenant promises. We have received them on the basis of grace, not our righteousness. We have entered into these benefits through the gift of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. As a result, we have a new motivation for living: to praise Him, to please Him, and to enjoy Him above all else forever.

Stop and reflect today on everything you have done, are doing, or plan to do. Is He the reason for it? Is He at the center of it? Is He glorified in it? Is He your chief delight in it?

AI-Expanded Reflection

Ezekiel 16 is one of the longest and most painful chapters in the prophets — an extended allegory of Jerusalem as an abandoned infant whom God rescued, raised, clothed, and married, but who became unfaithful. Its language is deliberately shocking, meant to convey the depth of Israel's betrayal. That makes its ending all the more astonishing. After sixty verses of indictment, God says, "I will remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth…" (16:60). The final word is not rejection but atonement.

The phrase "never open your mouth again because of your shame" (16:63) describes a response to grace that is the opposite of pride. When God forgives completely, the forgiven person has no defense left to make and no boast to offer — only silent, humbled gratitude. Paul expresses the same idea: justification by grace means that "every mouth may be stopped" (Romans 3:19) and "boasting... is excluded" (3:27). The comment's closing questions — whether God is the reason, center, glory, and delight of all we do — are the natural fruit of that silence: lives that answer grace with worship.

Behold, this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had arrogance, abundant food and careless ease, but she did not help the poor and needy. Thus they were haughty and committed abominations before Me. Therefore I removed them when I saw it (Ezekiel 16:49–50).

Consider the prophet's assessment of the sin of Sodom. It was not simply that they committed unbridled homosexual acts. They were arrogant in their prosperity and ease, flaunting their wealth with no consideration for the poor and needy among them. It was with such an attitude that they "committed abominations," of which the homosexual acts were certainly a part.

Friends, Ezekiel's assessment of Sodom should cause us to take warning. Rather than simply dismissing the sinfulness of Sodom as something so far removed from our own situation, we should consider the conditions that led to it. I think we will find that we are not only susceptible to the same outcome but very near to it.

They became very prosperous and enjoyed the luxury of "abundant food" and a life of "careless ease". Without the presence of hardship and suffering and need, they became arrogant in their self-sufficiency. When they felt that they had no needs, what was there to keep them from taking everything they wanted? So they even broke the boundaries of moral restraint and allowed themselves to be carried away into deeper sin, even the very abominations for which they would come to be known.

Friends, are we in America much removed from this path of depravity? This is not simply an Old Testament phenomenon. When we get more prosperous and our lives get easier, moral complacency can set in. When our lives are not busy with laboring, giving, and serving, then we may find ourselves seeking diversions in self-gratification. Rather than producing goods for the benefit of all, we find ourselves increasingly concerned only with our own consumption. Our once charitable disposition turns into narcissism. And over time, as we become more and more enamored and conditioned to fulfill our own needs and wants, honoring God, serving others, and giving to the needy become increasingly awkward and difficult.

Friends, I see this happening in my own life. I see this happening among my friends and fellow believers. I certainly see this happening in the world at large. Therefore, if we are aware of this, what should we do?

Let us first acknowledge and then repent of our growing narcissism. Even if it is only with baby steps, let us learn again how to serve and to give and to prioritize God's will and calling. Let us bear witness to the world that our lives are not about us but about Him, who lives in us:

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20).

AI-Expanded Reflection

Ezekiel’s use of Sodom is deliberately unsettling. Jerusalem is accustomed to thinking of Sodom as an obvious example of extreme wickedness. In Ezekiel 16, however, the prophet makes Sodom a sister whose comparison exposes Jerusalem’s own guilt. The chapter’s force is lost when readers use it mainly to identify a distant group as worse than themselves. The author’s willingness to turn the accusation toward his own habits follows the direction of Ezekiel’s rhetoric: familiarity with God’s gifts can deepen responsibility rather than provide immunity.

Ezekiel 16:49 identifies pride, plenty, comfortable security, and failure to strengthen the poor and needy. The last point is active in its implication: people with resources could have supported their neighbors and did not. This is more than a prohibition against personally stealing from the poor. It asks what a prosperous society makes possible for vulnerable people, and whether its abundance is used to sustain only the already comfortable. The problem is not that food or rest are inherently corrupting; it is that receiving them can foster the illusion of independence and remove suffering neighbors from view.

The wider biblical account of Sodom should be read without collapsing its different emphases. Genesis 19 depicts attempted sexual violence against visitors; Ezekiel emphasizes proud neglect and speaks of abominations without reducing the city’s guilt to a single act. Jude 7 adds a warning concerning sexual immorality. These passages should not be used to identify every member of a modern group with the aggressors in Genesis 19. They do reveal that exploitation, contempt, appetite, and indifference can reinforce one another. The original’s central challenge is strongest when readers allow Scripture to name their own forms of that pattern.

There is also a theological surprise later in Ezekiel 16. God’s final word is not Jerusalem congratulating herself on superior conduct. He promises to remember his covenant, and remembrance will produce humbled acknowledgment rather than boasting (Ezekiel 16:59–63). The response to exposure is therefore neither denial nor a frantic attempt to earn a better identity. It is repentance before the God whose faithfulness makes a new future possible.

Galatians 2:20 gives the Christian form of this reorientation. Paul speaks in the context of justification and union with Christ, not simply improved self-discipline. The self that must secure its status has been judged in Christ; the life that follows is received through faith in the Son who loved and gave himself. Generosity becomes an expression of that received love. It is neither a fee for acceptance nor a public display of superiority over supposedly less generous neighbors.

A useful examination is concrete: whose need do my routines make invisible, and which resources could be redirected without neglecting genuine responsibilities? Time, hospitality, attention, advocacy, and money all belong in the answer. The author’s “baby steps” matter because entrenched patterns are often changed through repeatable practices. Regularly learning a neighbor’s actual needs, making provision in the household budget, and serving without demanding gratitude train abundance toward gratitude rather than entitlement.

At every street corner you built your lofty shrines and degraded your beauty, spreading your legs with increasing promiscuity to anyone who passed by. You engaged in prostitution with the Egyptians, your neighbors with large genitals, and aroused my anger with your increasing promiscuity. (Ezekiel 16:25, 26 NIV)

Shocking! Although such graphic language is not unusual in contemporary ads and movies, at least in biblical lingo and certainly in Ezekiel's day, it would have been quite shocking. Safe to say, I've never heard a message preached on Ezekiel 16, and I imagine most children's Bibles would either skip or seriously whitewash the language here.

But God gave these words to Ezekiel for the very shock factor that we need to understand how terribly Israel had sinned. From the metaphor of an abandoned child, who is graciously saved from death, to a deeply loved wife, who squanders her husband's wealth to prostitute herself with the nations (Assyria, Babylon, Egypt), to a daughter, whose sinful sisters (Samaria, Sodom) are more righteous than she is, Ezekiel depicts the history of Israel's deep depravity and God's unusual grace.

In preparation to lead a Bible Study tomorrow on Ezekiel, I am reading an insightful application-oriented commentary by Iain Duguid. I like the three applications he brings on this chapter. I'll share a bit of it here:

(1) Presenting sin's true ugliness. He critiques contemporary sermons as being "G" ("General Audiences") rated for the most part because there is nothing in them to offend anyone, young or old, seeker or convert alike. Most pastors, he says, are only eager to present people with "a delightful, thought-provoking hour." Yet, the presence of Ezekiel 16 in the pages of Scripture urges us, at least in some situations, to pull off the kid gloves and present sin in its full ugliness. Sin is ugly, offensive, and depraved, and people need to hear that side of the Christian message too.

(2) The ugliness of the cross. Continuing on the theme of sin's ugliness, Duguid asks, 'How else do you explain the obscenity of the cross?' An innocent man -- only truly innocent man who ever lived -- is convicted in a rigged trial, abused by his guards until he can scarcely walk, yet forced to carry his own cross on a back that has been flayed raw. Nails are forced through the living flesh of his hands and feet, and he is jerked upright to hang until, too tired to lift himself one more time, he suffocates. What good God could permit such a death? What loving God could permit his own beloved Son to undergo such agony? What awful thing could be so bad that only such an atonement could pay for it? The answer is sin. In the cross, we see sin revealed in its starkest, most abominable ugliness. There, if we sweep away for a second the prettification with which we sentimentalize that terrible moment, we see God's "R" rated answer to my sin.

(3) Remembering in our lives. Duguid draws out the theme of remembrance from Ezekiel 16, for Israel failed to remember where she came from and what God did for her. He writes that the realization of the price of restoration should stir in our hearts remembrance and shame (Ezekiel 16:63). We should remember what we once were - and be ashamed. Perhaps, like the Corinthians, we were ourselves once sexually immoral or idolaters or prostitutes or homosexual offenders or thieves or greedy or drunkards or slanderers or swindlers (1 Corinthians 6:9–11). Perhaps we were none of the above and proud of it, as the Jerusalemites prided themselves on not being like the Sodomites and Samaritans (Ezekiel 16:56), and the Pharisee prided himself on being better than the tax collector (Luke 18:11). Perhaps we were convinced, like the rich young ruler, that we had fulfilled our obligation to our neighbors perfectly from our youth (Luke 18:21). Whatever our own estimation of our righteousness or lack of it, the Bible tells us that all are alike in this matter. Every mouth is silenced before God, for "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). We were all, good and bad alike, by nature objects of God's wrath (Ephesians 2:3). This, he writes, we must remember. He cites Calvin:

If we desire, therefore, our sins to be blotted out before God, and to be buried in the depths of the sea... we must recall them often and constantly to our remembrance: for when they are kept before our eyes we then flee seriously to God for mercy, and are properly prepared by humility and fear.

He also cites John Newton, who instructed that the following be written as his epitaph:

John Newton, Clerk, once an infidel and libertine, a servant of slaves in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned and appointed to preach the faith he had long labored to destroy.

Friends, let us therefore remember the depth of our sinfulness from which we were delivered by God's grace. If we have a proper view of things, we would recognize that there is no goodness within ourselves to which we can appeal, no obedience that can form the basis for confidence in the presence of the Lord. Our hope is only in the Lord.

Likewise, Israel could look back to the days of her youth, when she was naked, bare and left for dead, but God chose her to live, not on the basis of anything in herself but simply his own sovereign will. If He chose her once, could He not do so again? If he covenanted with her once, may he not do so once again, and this time forever? Were it not for the Lord's own words it would be too much to hope for. Second chances like that simply don't happen in real life. Lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Yet, that is precisely what the Lord affirms.

And this too is our hope. By God's decree and through the precious blood of Jesus Christ, we have entered into the everlasting covenant that God promised to His people Israel.

AI-Expanded Reflection

Ezekiel 16's disturbing imagery traces Jerusalem's story through rescue, covenant, gifted beauty, and betrayal. The abandoned infant has no basis for claiming that she created her own life or status. The later misuse of the gifts therefore exposes profound ingratitude: what was received through divine care becomes material for alliances and worship that reject the giver. The chapter confronts a community proud of its identity by reminding it of a history it would rather forget.

The commentary named in the original is by Iain M. Duguid. Its three applications, as reproduced in the contribution, connect the ugliness of sin, the cross, and remembrance. Those connections can be developed without assuming that shock is always the best way to communicate truth. Ezekiel's commission and literary setting give the chapter a particular force. A contemporary teacher remains responsible for the audience, including children and people who have experienced sexual violence, and can explain the text clearly without exploiting its imagery for spectacle.

The metaphor concerns Jerusalem's covenantal conduct; it is not permission to demean women, blame survivors of assault, or portray abuse by a human spouse as righteous punishment. Its sexualized accusations and violence are difficult features that deserve explicit acknowledgment. The analogy between God and a covenant partner must not be transferred without qualification into a rule for human relationships. Christian teaching should hold the text's indictment of betrayal together with the obligation to protect vulnerable people.

The cross reveals the seriousness of sin and the depth of divine love, but its saving significance is not measured by maximizing descriptions of pain. The New Testament emphasizes who suffers, his willing obedience, and what God accomplishes through his death and resurrection. Christ is not merely an innocent victim whose physical agony supplies an emotional lesson. He gives himself to reconcile sinners and defeat the powers that hold them. His suffering should move believers toward gratitude and repentance rather than a fascination with cruelty.

Ezekiel 16:60–63 ends with God's remembrance of the covenant and the promise of atonement. The resulting silence and shame expose the collapse of self-justification before undeserved mercy. For Christian application, that remembrance must be joined to the new identity described in 1 Corinthians 6:11: washed, sanctified, and justified. Recalling past sin should not mean endlessly rehearsing forgiven guilt until hope disappears. The purpose is humility that remembers grace and refuses renewed boasting.

The epitaph attributed to John Newton illustrates that direction by locating the decisive change in mercy received. A truthful testimony can acknowledge serious wrong without allowing it to be the final word about a restored life. Likewise, the proverb about lightning in the original is a figure of speech, not a reliable description of nature; the theological point is that God can restore beyond our expectations.

The chapter's practical question is what we have done with gifts we did not earn. Influence, resources, beauty, and belonging can be used to serve others or reinforce self-importance. Remembering grace means returning those gifts to faithful use, naming harm honestly, and receiving God's restoring mercy as the ground of a changed life rather than a license to forget its cost.

All the trees of the forest will know that I, the LORD, bring down the tall tree and make the low tree grow tall; I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish (a paraphrase of Ezekiel 17:24). God is the one who both gives and takes away. He gives what we need, and withholds what He knows would bring us disaster. That's why we praise Him whether our circumstances look favorable or not — His steadfast love for us is more than sufficient. I rejoice in the Lord, whose sovereignty governs my life just as the entire history of the human race depends on Him.

AI-Expanded Reflection

The specific image this comment draws on — tall trees brought low, dry trees made to flourish — is worth noting for how deliberately it reverses expected outcomes rather than simply describing growth and decline as natural processes. The point isn't that trees naturally rise and fall; it's that God actively intervenes to invert what would otherwise be the expected trajectory, which is a stronger claim than general providence over nature. Applied to the comment's own point about God giving and withholding what we need, that reversal is worth sitting with specifically: the promise isn't that circumstances will follow a predictable, natural course, but that God actively works against the expected direction of things whenever His purposes call for it.