A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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Alright, here we are—Ezekiel chapter 48, the final chapter. We made it! And wow, what a journey this book has been, huh? From wild visions of wheels within wheels, to dark warnings of judgment, to the stunning promises of restoration and hope... and now, it all kind of wraps up with a big, bold vision of how things could look in this new restored land. And it’s not a small thing. No, Ezekiel doesn’t close out with just a little encouragement—he ends with structure, order, and a vision for a new kind of society. It's like God's blueprint for a redeemed Israel.
Let’s dive into this chapter and try to walk through what Ezekiel saw, and what that might mean for us today.
So, right off the bat, Ezekiel starts listing out land allotments. I know, for modern readers, this might feel like one of those dry, skim-through-it type of passages. But don't do that. There's something important here. There’s intention. There’s reordering. And there’s hope.
Each of the twelve tribes of Israel is getting a portion of the land, lined up from north to south. Seven tribes get land to the north of the sacred district (Dan, Asher, Naphtali, Manasseh, Ephraim, Reuben, Judah), and five get land to the south (Benjamin, Simeon, Issachar, Zebulun, Gad).
And this distribution? It’s equal. That’s already a statement right there.
You see, back in the Book of Joshua, land division had a different feel. There was conquest. There were tribal negotiations, there were complaints, sometimes even disputes. But here? In this vision Ezekiel lays out, there’s balance. There’s no infighting or arguing about who got the better lot of land. God Himself is the one laying this out. He’s the one giving order.
Also, don’t miss that the Levites don’t get a tribal inheritance. That’s consistent with what we see in other parts of Scripture. Their portion is the Lord Himself. But they do get land in the center—right near the temple. Their life, their purpose, is all centered around worship.
So think of it this way: the land is being reset. Rebooted. God is literally redrawing the map.
And when He does, there’s no tribal favoritism. No one’s scheming for a better slice. No politics. It’s justice. It’s unity. It’s Shalom—peace as God defines it.
Okay, so here’s where things get really detailed.
Smack dab in the middle of all the tribal allotments is this sacred district, almost like a spiritual bullseye. It’s the holy portion, and it's a unique space. This area includes land for the Levites, land for the priests (descendants of Zadok), the sanctuary itself, and also land for the city and the prince.
Let’s talk about that sanctuary section first.
The priests’ land is right next to the temple, which again highlights their special role. The Levites are close by too, a little farther out but still near the center. This centrality speaks volumes. In this new vision of the land, worship isn't some occasional event or a once-a-week gathering. It’s central to life. Like, literally and spiritually.
And then there’s this space for “the prince.” He’s not a king. Not a tyrant. Just a “prince.” Remember earlier in the book when we saw what happens when leaders misuse power? (Yup, Ezekiel didn’t hold back.) This new prince is different. He’s there to serve. To protect. To be near the temple—not to control it, but to honor it.
This vision is turning the old order on its head. No more kings who act like gods. Instead, a prince who walks humbly before the God.
And the city land? It’s practical. There’s space for workers, for living, for agriculture. This isn’t a disembodied spiritual vision. It’s real. Tangible. God’s kingdom is meant to work—for people, for families, for generations.
It’s a balance of holiness and humanity. Of sacred space and daily life, all meshed together under God’s reign.
Now, the last part of this chapter (and really, of the whole book) is about the city itself. It’s got twelve gates, each named after one of the tribes of Israel.
And this? This is massive.
Let’s pause and just imagine this city. Picture twelve gates—three on each side, and each bearing the name of a tribe. Every tribe is represented. No one is left out.
It’s unity. It’s belonging.
And don’t forget the symmetry of it. Three gates on the north, three on the east, three on the south, three on the west. It’s balanced. Structured. Orderly.
You know what this reminds me of? Revelation 21. The New Jerusalem. That city also has twelve gates named after the tribes. Coincidence? I doubt it. Ezekiel and Revelation are singing a similar song here. They’re talking about the same kind of hope.
God isn’t just promising individual salvation. He’s talking about a community. A restored, renewed, healed people living together under His presence.
“And the name of the city from that time on shall be, The Lord is There.” (Ezekiel 48:35)
That’s it. That’s how Ezekiel ends. And honestly? What a way to go out.
The city has a name. And it’s not Jerusalem. It’s not Zion. It’s not "New Israel" or "Templetown."
It’s “Yahweh Shammah” — The Lord is There.
God is present. That’s the defining feature of this whole vision.
Not the walls, not the tribes, not the temple itself. What makes this place holy, beautiful, and worth longing for… is God’s presence. That’s the dream. That’s the promise. That’s the goal.
Alright, so we’ve walked through the chapter. Let’s pull back a bit and ask, “What’s the big picture here?” Because let’s be real—most of us aren’t out here trying to draw maps of tribal allotments or build physical temples. So what can Ezekiel 48 say to us today?
You might've noticed just how detailed these allotments are. Down to measurements, borders, and names.
God isn’t vague about restoration. He’s not like, “Okay, I forgive you, now go do your thing.” Nah. He’s got a plan. When God rebuilds, it’s intentional. Every tribe matters. Every detail counts.
That can speak to us personally too. Maybe your life feels scattered or broken or out of sync. This chapter is a reminder: God knows how to put it all back together. Nothing is random. Restoration might be slow, but it’s on purpose.
Peace isn’t just the absence of war. In Ezekiel’s vision, it’s the presence of fairness. Balance. Each tribe gets a fair share. The sacred areas are protected. Leaders lead rightly.
Imagine that applied today—in our communities, our churches, our families. God's vision of peace isn't just singing songs and holding hands. It’s structural. It’s rooted in justice.
The temple is right in the center of the land. Worship isn’t a side activity. It’s not just a weekend thing. It’s the core of life.
In a culture that often says, “fit God into your schedule,” Ezekiel 48 challenges us: What if God is the schedule? What if everything else flows around Him?
Twelve gates. Twelve tribes. No one excluded.
We live in a world where people feel left out, marginalized, overlooked. But in God’s city? There’s a gate with your name on it. There’s a space for you.
This is especially powerful for those who feel like they’ve blown it, like they’ve missed their chance. Ezekiel’s audience had messed up bad. Idolatry, injustice, rebellion—they had it all. But God still draws them a map of belonging.
That’s grace, y’all.
Let’s not lose this. The name of the city is The Lord is There.
If we chase religion, or structure, or community without the presence of God, we’re missing it. The temple can be there. The tribes can be ordered. The gates can be gold. But without Him, it’s just... empty.
What Ezekiel longs for, what God promises, is His presence. That’s what transforms a piece of land into home. That’s what turns judgment into joy. That’s what makes us whole.
Since this is the last chapter, maybe it's worth taking a quick glance back over the whole book and seeing how far we’ve come.
Ezekiel starts in exile. A prophet among captives. He sees visions that are confusing and overwhelming. He delivers messages of doom and destruction. And honestly? It’s rough going.
But then… there’s a shift. In the second half of the book, restoration enters the picture. Hope begins to breathe. Dry bones come alive. The glory returns. The temple is rebuilt. And the city gets a new name.
The arc of Ezekiel is a journey from judgment to presence. From exile to belonging.
From “Ichabod” (the glory has departed) to “Yahweh Shammah” (the Lord is there).
And that’s the story of Scripture too, isn’t it?
It starts in a garden, where God walked with people. And then sin comes in. Separation happens. Exile begins. But the whole story—the Law, the prophets, the Gospels, the letters, all of it—is about God coming back.
He comes in the tabernacle. In the temple. In the person of Jesus. Through the Spirit. And finally—in full glory—in the city where He is there forever.
Maybe you're reading this and wondering, “Okay, but what do I do with Ezekiel 48?” Here’s the thing:
You don’t have to memorize the land allotments. But you can reflect on the kind of community God dreams of. One where everyone has a place. Where worship is central. Where justice is real. Where God’s presence defines everything.
Ask yourself:
Am I building my life around God's presence?
Am I contributing to a community that reflects this kind of justice and peace?
Do I believe there's a place for me in God's plan?
Because Ezekiel 48 isn’t just about ancient geography. It’s a whisper of what God is preparing. A new city. A new people. A new reality where He is near.
And the crazy, wonderful thing is—because of Jesus—we don’t have to wait for it.
We can taste it now. In our hearts, our homes, our churches, our communities. It starts wherever He is.
And one day? We’ll see the city with twelve gates. We’ll hear its name. And we’ll know—it was always about Him.
Yahweh Shammah. The Lord is There.
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