Dry Bones: Ezekiel 37
This past Sunday at Providence, we stepped into one of the most powerful visions in all of Scripture: the valley of dry bones in Ezekiel 37. And what we discovered wasn’t just an ancient image of Israel’s restoration—it was a word for all of us who know what it’s like to feel empty, stuck, or forgotten.
Pastor Dave began by naming something that doesn’t often get talked about in church: the quiet seasons of spiritual dryness. Not rebellion. Not crisis. Just… hollow. You’re still faithful. Still showing up. Still praying. But the fire feels gone. And in those seasons, it’s tempting to believe something must be wrong with you—or that God has left the scene.
But the valley in Ezekiel 37 tells us a different story. God leads Ezekiel—not away from the dry bones—but into them. He walks him through the ruin. And then asks a question that echoes into our own deserts: “Can these bones live?”
This isn’t a question meant to test Ezekiel’s optimism. It’s a question that invites surrender. Ezekiel doesn’t pretend to know. He doesn’t manufacture false hope. He simply answers, “Sovereign Lord, you alone know.” It’s the response of someone who trusts God more than he trusts his own vision. Who believes that even in the valley, even in the silence, God can still speak.
And that’s exactly what God does. He commands Ezekiel to prophesy—to speak life where there is none, to declare resurrection while still surrounded by bones. And as he speaks, the bones come together. Bodies form. But still—no breath. Pastor Dave reminded us: we can have form without life. We can build churches, launch programs, maintain structure—and still miss the Spirit.
So God speaks again: “Prophesy to the breath… say to the Spirit, Come.”
Because what we need is not just order. We need the breath of God. And when the Spirit comes, everything changes. The bones don’t just rattle—they rise. They don’t just breathe—they stand. And not as scattered survivors, but as a vast army. Because God’s goal is not just revival—it’s readiness. Not just comfort—but calling.
This isn’t a story about getting a second wind. It’s about being re-commissioned. God doesn’t restore us so we can sit. He raises us so we can go. So we can carry His presence into other valleys. So we can be the ones who say to the world’s dry bones, “Hear the Word of the Lord.”
And then God makes a promise: “I will open your graves. I will put my Spirit in you. And you will live.” Not “if you try harder.” Not “if you’re good enough.” Just: I will. Because the heart of the gospel is not that God repairs what’s broken—it’s that He raises what’s dead. And that isn’t speculation we as Christians have—it is a promise. And that promise finds its ultimate fulfillment in Christ—the One who entered the grave and rose again, so we could live in the power of His Spirit.
So Pastor Dave left us with this question:
Where are your dry bones?
What have you buried and called finished?
Where have you settled for silence?
Because God is still the God who breathes.
Still the God who raises.
Still the God who sends.
