October 27-31
[M] Ezekiel 16-18; John 6
[T] Ezekiel 19-21; Psalm 84; John 7
[W] Ezekiel 22-24; Psalm 134; John 8
[T] Ezekiel 25-27; Psalm 85; John 9
[F] Ezekiel 28-30; John 10
Dwell Plan Day 216-220 | CSB | Digital PDF | Printable PDF
Notes from Jon & Chris
Monday
Ezekiel 16 | This chapter tells the story of God’s choosing His people by using a romance metaphor, but it’s anything but romantic. In a graphic and almost gruesome description of a child dumped on the ground in childbirth, God tells the story of first meeting and choosing His people. There’s nothing sentimental about it: you were kicking in your blood. He chose life for His people at that moment, and He made them flourish. The romantic feeling part starts at this point, as God’s people are described as a woman of great beauty, pampered by the God who chose them. Adorned, decked out in jewels and fine clothes, God took care to make His people gorgeous to Himself. It’s like the story from Pretty Woman or My Fair Lady, where the love and care of one person transforms the other person into something beautiful and new. But in this story, the romance turns completely sour, and the girl runs off with any loser who will have her, giving her intimacy away like an addict chasing the next high. And it just gets uglier and uglier. This image of God as a jilted lover, a devoted husband who has been cheated on, brings the true Personhood of God into vivid emotional life.
This God is telling us just how personally He takes sin and rebellion. He’s telling us the personal lens He uses to understand our disobedience. He’s a passionate and jealous lover. All of this sin is just cheating and betrayal of the most vile kind. When God tells the story of how betrayed He feels with such visceral force, it’s meant to wake us up. We’re supposed to be alarmed. We’re to awaken to the nature of our sin and the depth of our offences before our God.
And in the end, at the very last line of the chapter, we still have the ardent lover that our God always proves to be. He will atone for His faithless bride. He will be the husband who takes His adulterous wife back and pays for her sin with His own blood. Praise Him!
Ezekiel 17:1–24 | Ezekiel tells a story about two mighty eagles and a small vine. The first eagle swoops down to the mountains of Lebanon, taking the top of a cedar tree and planting it in fertile soil by abundant waters. It grows into a low-spreading vine, sending out its roots toward the eagle that planted it. But soon another great eagle appears, and the vine turns its branches toward this second eagle, hoping to gain strength and flourish under its wings. Yet, because of this divided loyalty, the vine will be uprooted and left to wither in the dry east wind.
The meaning of the parable becomes clear when you dive into the historical context. The first eagle represents Babylon and its king, Nebuchadnezzar, who carried away the royal family of Judah and planted what was left of the nation under King Zedekiah. God allowed this arrangement as a form of discipline and mercy—a chance for Judah to live humbly under Babylon’s rule. But Zedekiah broke his oath and turned toward Egypt for help, violating the covenant he had sworn in God’s name. What looked like political strategy was actually spiritual rebellion. The Lord saw through it all and declared that this treachery would bring destruction, not deliverance.
For the original hearers, this message was a sobering warning: God’s people must not seek rescue through worldly power but through repentance and trust in Him. Yet the story ends with hope. God promises to take a tender sprig from the top of the cedar and plant it on a high mountain, where it will grow into a tree that gives shelter to all creatures. This is one of those Old Testament arrows that points forward to Christ, the true King from David’s line. Where human kings failed through pride and distrust, Jesus reigns in perfect humility and faithfulness—and under His branches, all nations find life and rest.
John 6:1–15 | The feeding of the five thousand is one of the clearest demonstrations that the Gospels are rooted in real history, not religious legend. This miracle was witnessed by an enormous crowd (five thousand men, plus women and children, perhaps twenty thousand people in all.) And it wasn’t performed in a private home or secret gathering, but on a hillside where thousands saw Jesus take five loaves and two fish and multiply them until everyone ate their fill. That’s why all four Gospels record it. When Mark wrote his account only a few decades after the event, there were still hundreds, perhaps thousands, alive who had been there. If this story were fabricated, it would have been easy to disprove. Yet no such correction ever appears, because those who saw it knew it had truly happened.
This matters deeply for our faith. Christianity stands or falls on the claim that God really acted in history—that Jesus truly lived, taught, died, and rose again. The Gospel writers were not composing myths to inspire, but testimonies to declare what they had seen and heard. The feeding of the five thousand reminds us that the same Jesus who provided bread for the crowds is the one who provides life for the world. You can trust what you read in Scripture, because it bears the weight of eyewitness truth and divine authority. Our faith isn’t a leap into the dark—it’s confidence in the God who stepped into history and proved His power and compassion in ways no one could deny. He actually fed the 5,000. He actually died. He actually rose again, and he is actually still working in our churches and in our world.
John 6:37–40, 44 | “All that the Father gives me will come to me” | Jesus’ words pull back the curtain on the mystery of salvation. He teaches that everyone the Father has given to the Son will surely come—and that none of them will ever be cast out. No one can come to Jesus unless the Father draws them, and those drawn are raised up on the last day. These verses are not about human initiative or religious performance, but divine grace from start to finish. The Father gives, the Son receives, and the Spirit draws. Salvation is not a possibility we create, but a certainty secured by God’s will. The same sovereign hand that spoke creation into existence now calls dead hearts to life through Christ.
Paul echoes this same truth in Romans 9, where he insists that God’s mercy does not depend on human desire or effort, but on His gracious choice. “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy,” the Lord declares. This doctrine of divine election humbles us—it silences our boasting and magnifies the glory of God’s grace. Yet it also comforts us deeply: the God who began our salvation will finish it. Our perseverance rests not in our grip on Him but in His eternal grip on us. If you belong to Christ, it is because the Father gave you to Him before the foundation of the world, and nothing can ever separate you from His love. Rest, then, in this unshakable truth: your salvation does not depend on your strength but on the steadfast grace of the God who called you, redeemed you, and will one day raise you up in glory.
Tuesday
Ezekiel 20:33–38 | In this passage, God declares that He will reign over His people with a mighty hand and outstretched arm, not only to judge, but to restore. He will bring His scattered people into the wilderness again, as He did after the exodus, to confront their rebellion and purge their unfaithfulness. Yet even in this severe language, grace glimmers through: God’s discipline is never to destroy His people, but to refine them. Through judgment, He brings them to repentance; through exile, He draws them back to Himself. This is the rhythm of Ezekiel’s message and the rhythm of the gospel—God’s love is so committed that He will not let His people remain enslaved to sin. In Christ, this purifying work is fulfilled once and for all; He bears the judgment we deserved so that we might be brought into the covenant of grace, cleansed and restored to the heart of the Father.
Psalm 84:1–2 | These verses overflow with desire for God’s presence, a longing that feels natural when our hearts are alive to Him. But what about when they’re not? There are seasons when our souls feel dull, our prayers lifeless, and worship feels more like duty than delight. Psalm 84 invites us not to fake emotion, but to ask for renewal. When we don’t long for God as we should, we can pray, “Lord, help me want You again.” The same Spirit who once awakened our hearts can stir them afresh. Don’t despair when the fire burns low; take that longing—or lack of it—honestly to God. He loves to meet cold hearts and warm them by His grace until they sing again.
Wednesday
Ezekiel 23 | This is the closest the Bible gets to pornographic images, and Ezekiel doesn’t hesitate to get awkward and graphic. No surprise there, that’s the tone, images, and language of Ezekiel. But first, right out the gate, what does it mean for a holy and pure God to use such horrific sexual images? These are shocking crossculturally, and the translators are keeping it G rated, which it isn’t in the Hebrew. I think it can only mean this: this is the only way the message can get through to these folks. Which means several things. First, we remember that it’s loving for God to even tell us of His judgments, and it was merciful for Him to warn those original hearers. That’s what a concerned person does, they warn people they care about. The shock tactics are meant to be loving, to reach past the cultural and religious veneers that we have and get to the heart. It also tells us these folks were immersed in these kinds of images, they’re the only images that make sense to a perverse people. It’s an insight into that time and the way those folks thought, what their society was like. Sexual imagery permeated the Baal and Asherah cults around Israel, which all worshiped fertility gods. Sex and temple worship were sometimes the same thing. It was a sex saturated culture, and we have our parallels to it. It was super gross, and so the prophet gets super gross. But this leads into another wonder. It’s amazing how far our God will stoop to reach folks with His mercy. What a humble and loving God.
Ezekiel 24 | This text marks one of the darkest moments in the prophet’s ministry and in Israel’s history. On the very day that Babylon laid siege to Jerusalem, God gave Ezekiel a parable about a boiling pot filled with choice pieces of meat. The pot represented Jerusalem, once God’s chosen city, now corroded by sin and violence. No cleansing would suffice; judgment had to come. That same day, God told Ezekiel that his beloved wife—the delight of his eyes—would die suddenly, and that he must not publicly mourn. The loss of his wife and the fall of Jerusalem are two sides of the same coin: both are precious things taken away as a sign that sin’s cost is devastating and real.
Historically, these events exposed the collapse of Israel’s false security. The people believed Jerusalem, like a strong iron pot, could not be broken. But when the city fell, their illusions shattered. Ezekiel’s personal tragedy was meant to mirror the nation’s: the loss of what they loved most would confront them with the seriousness of their rebellion. God was not being cruel; He was unveiling truth. Their covenant unfaithfulness had corroded their very souls, and the only path forward was through the purifying fire of judgment.
Yet even here, a deeper typology emerges. The God who commanded Ezekiel not to mourn is Himself a God who knows loss. In Christ, God experienced the grief of giving up His own Son for the salvation of His people. What Ezekiel endured symbolically, the Father endured fully—so that His people might be restored. As Hebrews tells us, “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.” Jesus entered our pain, bore our judgment, and turned even death into a doorway of hope. Ezekiel’s sorrow pointed forward to the cross where divine love faced its greatest loss so that sinners might receive eternal life.
Psalm 134:1 | The word “bless” in Hebrew comes from the word for “knee.” The etymology is guessed to be about the posture that you take when you are being blessed, and the word is quite clearly about a superior being kind to an inferior. That’s the word used here. So how does that fly theologically? How can we “bless” God in any sense? This is amazing language.
Often we’ll read a verse like this and just supply the meaning “praise” for the word “bless” and that certainly is a part of its meaning. But I still get stuck on that “bless” idea implying the impossible: if I am so far below God in every way, how is it conceivable that I could bless Him? But this little poem supplies the beginning of the answer, because in verse 3 he asks for God to bless the very ones he’s been telling to bless God in verse 1 and 2. What’s going on here?
We learn later in Scripture that all things are “of Him, and through Him, and to Him.” Our ability to bless anyone is a result of the blessing of God in our lives to begin with, and the first fruits of that blessing is our desire and ability to now bless Him! It’s circular, but it’s a circle as big as God, so the whole universe fits inside of it. In this, and in our relationship with God, we see a corollary of this truth experienced in heaven. That is, an implicit expanding eternal feedback loop of wonder. The more blessed I am by God, the more and more I am a blessing to Him, and so an eternity of discovery becomes an experience of neverending joy. Blessing cubed? Praise Him!
John 7:53-8:11 | Here is the ESV Study Bible note explaining what's going on with this passage:
There is considerable doubt that this story is part of John’s original Gospel, for it is absent from all of the oldest manuscripts. But there is nothing in it unworthy of sound doctrine. It seems best to view the story as something that probably happened during Jesus’ ministry but that was not originally part of what John wrote in his Gospel. Therefore it should not be considered as part of Scripture and should not be used as the basis for building any point of doctrine unless confirmed in Scripture.
John 8:12 | When Jesus declares Himself the light of the world, He’s not introducing a new idea but revealing the fullness of what John had already said: “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men” (John 1:3–4). The same Word who created light in the beginning now steps into a dark world to bring spiritual sight and life to all who believe. In creation, light separated day from night; in redemption, Jesus separates truth from deception, hope from despair, life from death. Following Him means no longer stumbling through shadows, but living in the radiance of His presence. Every heart that turns to Christ is experiencing the same miracle that began at Genesis 1—God saying again, “Let there be light.”
Thursday
Psalm 85:9 | The heartbeat of redemption has always been God’s presence with His people. Salvation is not merely escape from judgment or a ticket to heaven; it is the restoration of fellowship with the living God. Psalm 85 captures this beautifully: salvation is “near,” not just in concept but in relationship, because God Himself draws near. The end of the story is not us achieving something, but Him dwelling among us. From Eden to the tabernacle, from Christ’s incarnation to the indwelling Spirit, and finally to the new creation where “the dwelling place of God is with man,” everything moves toward this one goal. Every blessing, every act of grace, every glimpse of glory—these are all foretastes of that final reality. Anything else we pursue, even good things, are side quests compared to this: God Himself with His people forever.
John 9 | This entire chapter is one complete story and makes one ironic spiritual point: the ones who think they can see and understand the best are often the most spiritually blind. Do you have spiritual perception? Who is the most blind person in this story? What is the nature of spiritual blindness? These are the sorts of questions this story provokes. One part of human spiritual blindness is to speculate about people’s karma. Karma is not a biblical idea, but a Hindu one; but the disciples' question in verse 2 reflects a karmic view of the universe and not a biblical one. Which makes sense of why Jesus quickly corrects them. What’s the immediate irony? The disciples are blind! This chapter is about the opening of their eyes and the blind man’s eyes—and even your eyes if you have faith! What is the world that Jesus sees with His true sight? A world where God His Father is orchestrating and working and preparing good works for Him to do. He lives in a God drenched world of possibilities, where God is presenting opportunities for His glory everywhere. Our responsibility is to perceive and respond to this world through spiritual insight, power, and healing.
Friday
Ezekiel 28:1; 29:3 | In Ezekiel’s oracles against Tyre and Egypt, we see two earthly rulers who embody the same spiritual sickness that began in Eden: the desire to take God’s place. The prince of Tyre boasts, “I am a god, I sit in the seat of the gods,” and Pharaoh claims, “The Nile is mine; I made it for myself.” Beneath their political power and national pride lies the same impulse that infects all humanity: the urge to lift up self and lower the glory of God. Sin is not just the breaking of rules; it’s the dethroning of the Creator in our hearts. Every act of rebellion begins with the assumption that we know better, that we can define truth, beauty, and good on our own terms. The tragedy of Tyre and Pharaoh is the tragedy of the human race: we want to be sovereign, and we cannot bear the thought of anyone ruling over us.
This is why Scripture describes sin not only as disobedience but as cosmic treason. From Genesis 3 onward, every story of human failure echoes this same theme—people exalting themselves to the place of God. Babel tried to reach heaven. Israel’s kings built altars to their own greatness. Even religious hypocrisy in Jesus’ day was pride dressed up as piety. Sin’s root is always this: the dethroning of God in exchange for self-rule. It’s why pride is the deadliest of sins—because it hides rebellion beneath the illusion of control. When we exalt ourselves, everything collapses inward; when we dethrone God, we unravel the very order of creation.
And yet, in the deepest irony of redemption, the cure for our rebellion came through the One who willingly stepped down from His throne. Where Adam and every human king grasped for glory, Christ emptied Himself. The eternal Son did not cling to His divine rights but took on flesh, humbled Himself, and hung from a cross. The rulers of Tyre and Egypt exalted themselves and were brought low; Jesus humbled Himself and was exalted above every name. The way back to life is not through self-elevation, but through surrender to the crucified King—the One who shows us that true glory is found not in taking the throne, but in bowing before it.
John 10:16 | There’s a bit of comedy for all dog owners when anyone else commands their dog. It might work; you may get a paw or a quick sit, but the animal won’t come easily and its obedience is merely a whim. But when the owner calls, everything is different. Sheep are even more like that. They get used to one voice (they’re too stupid to be taught any tricks) and once they know that voice, that’s the only voice they will even acknowledge.
This is what God’s people are like. We recognize Jesus. It’s how evangelism works. It’s really just folks recognizing who Jesus is; realizing it and knowing who Jesus is through real world data, God’s words, and spiritual experience. That’s how we all learn to “recognize” Jesus in different songs, sermons, and media. Folks will often ask how we got the books that are in our Bibles. That collection of books is called our “canon,” an old word for “rule.” In the early church a common set of books were recognized (there’s that word again!) by the universal consent of the early church. How? The early church was not a unified bunch. So how did the church form the canon? How did they ever agree? But I think this verse, where Jesus tells us that we’ll listen to His voice like sheep do their shepherd, is predicting how the official list of the books of the Bible formed. The church never formed the canon. The canon formed the church. The Bible creates who the people of God are—we are a people of the Word. Do you recognize His voice? Can you spot the counterfeit?