Audio Transcript

If you are reading the Bible with us this year, this weekend we read Ezekiel 24–28. There we meet a stunning text, one that leads to this question from a listener named Matthew: “Pastor John, thank you for this podcast and for your faithful model of ministry over the years. As a young preacher, there’s a text in the Old Testament that stops me in my tracks and makes me pause in my Bible reading every time, and it’s the account of the death of Ezekiel’s beloved wife in Ezekiel 24:15–18. There are things in this text that do not relate, or that seem too specific to translate broadly. He’s a prophet. I am not. He was called to not weep over his wife. That’s for him specifically, for some reason.

“But verse 18 hits me hard every time: ‘So I spoke to the people in the morning, and at evening my wife died.’ I am married to a woman I dearly love. And there’s something about the faithfulness of Ezekiel’s ministry enduring, even though he has been told to expect great personal loss. There’s something compelling about his impending loss and yet his willingness to press on in the ministry. What of this story transfers to our ministries today?”

I think the short answer to Matthew’s question is that God’s pattern for ministry, both in the Old and New Testaments, is that the suffering and the losses of his servants are an essential part of God’s judging and saving work among his people. The death of Ezekiel’s wife, I think, is in the same category as the afflictions that the apostle Paul endured for the good of the churches. Paul gives the principle in 2 Corinthians 1:6 when he says, “If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation.” So, the affliction of the apostles is designed by God for the comfort and salvation of his people.

That’s true in the Old Testament, I think, among the prophets. It’s true in the New Testament. I think it’s true today. A wounded pastor is a good shepherd. Or 2 Corinthians 4:12: “So death is at work in us, but life in you,” Paul says. That’s the pattern. So, God ordained that the death of Ezekiel’s wife, the delight of his eyes, and the incredible requirement that he not weep, would be a sign to Israel of the destruction of the temple, the delight of their eyes, and their own departure in captivity without any genuine tears of repentance.

God’s Perplexing Ways with Ezekiel

Here’s Ezekiel 24:15–18:

The word of the Lord came to me: “Son of man, behold, I am about to take the delight of your eyes away from you at a stroke; yet you shall not mourn or weep, nor shall your tears run down.” . . . So I spoke to the people in the morning, and at evening my wife died. And on the next morning I did as I was commanded.

Then Ezekiel gives them the meaning of this sign. He says,

Thus says the Lord God: Behold, I will profane my sanctuary, the pride of your power, the delight of your eyes, and the yearning of your soul, and your sons and your daughters whom you left behind shall fall by the sword. And you shall do as I have done; you shall not cover your lips. . . . You shall not mourn or weep, but you shall rot away in your iniquities and groan to one another. (Ezekiel 24:21–23)

In his question, Matthew said, “I am married to a woman I dearly love. And there’s something about the faithfulness of Ezekiel’s ministry enduring, even though he has been told to expect great personal loss. There’s something compelling about his impending loss and yet his willingness to press on in the ministry.” My response to Matthew is this: that’s exactly what I felt when I read this years ago and tried to get inside Ezekiel’s mind and his wife’s mind as they lived those last few hours together — because he gave him some warning, like twelve hours.

How Poetic Efforts Strengthen Faith

I think it can be very strengthening to our faith to imagine this situation in such a way that God does something extraordinary to help Ezekiel and his wife endure this loss. I don’t think he just abandons Ezekiel. We don’t know what he did, but I’ve tried to get inside their head and imagine what could be — not what was, but what could have been.

“The suffering and losses of God’s servants are an essential part of his judging and saving work among his people.”

Last week, I read part of a poem that I wrote about Job. Well, I did the same thing with Ezekiel and his wife. There is something compelling to me about the suffering shared between a husband and a wife, especially when it costs both of them dearly. So, I let my imagination go into Ezekiel’s and his wife’s minds and try to figure out what enabled them to hold back their tears, as God commanded them to do.

So, let me invite our listeners now to come with me into this imaginary situation that I wrote in the poem years ago, and let this possible scenario stabilize you for your own prospect of loss in life or in ministry. Here’s an excerpt from the Ezekiel’s wife poem:

Ezekiel sat stunned and cold.
The word that he had just been told
Converted every large complaint
He ever made into a faint
Concern. No pain would be absurd,
He thought, if this one word
Of God could be withdrawn tonight,
“I would engage in any fight
For your great name, and be a fool
For you, bear any ridicule
In Babylon. If you would spare
Me this, I’ll serve you anywhere.”

Again the voice of God was clear:
“I know that she is far more dear
To you than life, and yet tonight
I strike and take your heart’s delight:
Your wife — at sundown she will die.
And hear my word: You shall not cry.
No tears run down, nor sigh aloud,
No sack, no ash, no mourner’s shroud.
You are a sign for Israel:
Soon messengers will come and tell
Them that Jerusalem is burned,
And everything for which they yearned
Is gone — the apple of their eye;
Nor shall they be allowed to cry,
But only groan beneath the rod.
And know that I the Lord am God!”

Beyond the River Chebar rose
The yellow sun. The cock crows,
Ezekiel makes his silent way
Toward home and ponders what to say
To his dear wife, and if he can.
“A prophet’s not an easy man
To live with, Zeke,” she used to say,
And then she’d smile, “But anyway
Much ease can make a woman weak.”
(Nobody else would call him Zeke,
He thought.) Perhaps the pain of all
These years was not just bitter gall.
Perhaps she’s been prepared to hear
This final word and not to fear.

He ate his figs and barley cake
In silence. “Mara, can you take
A walk with me? This morning’s word
Has been the hardest that I’ve heard.”
They walked in silence for an hour,
And then he gathered all his power
And said, “The God of Abraham,
The God who calls himself I AM,
Demands that you must die tonight.”
But Mara’s eyes remained as bright
As ever in her life. “I know,”
She said, “Last night he came to show
Me in a dream.” And then she took
Ezekiel’s hands and said, “The Book,
Remember where we used to read
How God would someday come and lead
Us in the path of endless joy,
And how at last he would destroy
Our blinding sin and let us see
His face in all its majesty?
O dearest Zeke, last night I saw
Another world without a flaw
Beyond what we could ever know,
And I could scarcely wait to go . . .
Oh, not that I could ever love
You less, but I have seen above
That everything you’ve preached is true.
Weep not, great seer, for me nor you;
I am the proof of all you’ve said;
Tomorrow I will not be dead,
Nor you, and it will not be long
Till you have joined the endless song.
Press on, Ezekiel, rejoice
With heart and soul and mighty voice.
Make music to the coming King,
Come walk with me and we will sing.”