Jerusalem was the city set on a hill, chosen by God as the capital of the promised land that He had given to the descendants of Abraham. Jerusalem was a stronghold known for its fortifications and seemingly impregnable position, and it became both the political and spiritual center of Israel. Yet over time, the inhabitants of this ancient city grew cold and hardened their hearts to ignore the will of God in their lives. The people began to trust in its walls rather than in their Provider, placing greater importance on their heritage and lineage. In doing so, the city adopted the religious practices of the nations around them, drifting away from God in the process.
Origins: A Canaanite City
The Lord commands Ezekiel to confront Jerusalem for her detestable ways. God reminds the people about the city’s origins, describing Jerusalem as unwanted and neglected at birth. Jerusalem was not a holy city by origin; rather, it was abandoned and despised. Before it became the city of David and the center of Israel’s worship, it was a Canaanite town, inhabited by the Jebusites and shaped by the cultures and practices of the land. There was nothing inherently sacred about the city itself.
Son of man, confront Jerusalem with her detestable practices and say, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says to Jerusalem: Your ancestry and birth were in the land of the Canaanites; your father was an Amorite and your mother a Hittite.
Ezekiel 16:2-3 (NIV)
How did Jerusalem, a city of Canaanite origin, come to bear the title “Holy City”?
The establishment of Solomon’s Temple marked a turning point. Jerusalem became the centre of religious life, and began believing that their rituals made them and that city holy. Yet the Temple did not make the city holy in itself. What set Jerusalem apart was not its past, its people, or its location, but the presence of God. It became holy because God chose to place His name there and dwell among His people. Holiness flowed from God to the city, not from the city to God. When the people forgot this, they began to treat Jerusalem as though its status guaranteed God’s favour, regardless of their conduct. Ezekiel’s rebuke strips away that false security, reminding them that without God’s presence, Jerusalem was no different from the Canaanite city it once was.
How are we limiting God’s holiness to a city or a place of worship?
We limit God’s holiness to a city or a place of worship when we begin to believe that His presence is confined to specific locations, rituals, or structures, rather than recognising that holiness belongs to God Himself and flows wherever He chooses to reveal Himself. This misunderstanding is evident in the life of Jacob. When Jacob encountered God at Bethel, he was overwhelmed and declared, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it” (Genesis 28:16). Jacob assumed God’s presence was tied to a particular place and he even set up a stone pillar to mark the spot.
Similarly, God did not reveal Himself to Moses in Egypt’s temples or in a sacred city, but in the wilderness, through a burning bush. The ground became holy only because God was present there (Exodus 3:5). The holiness was not inherent in the desert; it was marked by God’s presence alone. Even David tried to contain God within a structure when he desired to build the temple for the LORD. God reminded him that He had never dwelt in a house but had moved with His people (2 Samuel 7:6–7).
We limit God’s holiness when we seek Him only on our terms. We assign Him a time, a place, and a setting, and assume our duty is complete. When true fellowship is absent, we feel the emptiness, yet instead of returning to God, we turn to activity and ritual, hoping they will replace what only intimacy with Him can restore. At the heart of this is a failure to understand that we do not love God. When we do not love someone, we do the least possible. We settle for minimal obedience, minimal engagement, and minimal surrender, while convincing ourselves that proximity to a sacred space or participation in religious routines is sufficient.
Trusting In Our Own Faithfulness
Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, “Live!”
Ezekiel 16:6 (NIV)
God reminds them of how He found the Israelites, not righteous or faithful but abandoned and helpless, living as slaves in a foreign land. He spoke life over them and caused them to grow and mature, and at the appointed time, He entered into a covenant with them, calling them His own. Through the imagery of cleansing and clothing the naked woman, God shows how He purified, clothed, and adorned them with care and honour, providing abundance and beauty. Their honour and renown did not come from themselves but entirely from what God graciously bestowed upon them.
But you trusted in your beauty and used your fame to become a prostitute.
Ezekiel 16:15 (NIV)
But the people of Jerusalem misused the honor God had given them, trusting in their own righteousness and turning it into a source of their unfaithfulness. They took the blessings God had provided and devoted them to idols. What was meant to reflect God’s grace became the means of their betrayal and spiritual corruption.
Why do we begin to trust in our own faithfulness and assume that we are righteous in God’s sight?
We believe that we have done something to earn our salvation by being faithful to God. Our efforts, consistency, and religious devotion begin to feel like the basis of our faith. When God’s love and grace are not rightly understood, righteousness is subtly redefined as a reward for good behaviour rather than a gift that God freely gives. Over time, repeated religious practice creates a false sense of security. Outward consistency is mistaken for inward faithfulness. We measure ourselves by our history, our adherence to laws, or by comparing ourselves with others, and this comparison reassures us that we are doing “enough.” In doing so, we shift our focus away from God’s holiness and place it on our own record.
This mindset forgets that righteousness is sustained only by continual dependence on God, not by past encounters or habitual observance. When we assume that our benevolence or obedience has made us deserving, we replace trusting in God’s grace with our own performance. That self-assurance dulls conviction, blinds us to our ongoing need for repentance, and leaves us confident in ourselves rather than humble before God.
The Depths of the Betrayal
God rebukes Israel for the depth of her unfaithfulness, as they had started sacrificing their own sons and daughters—children given by God Himself—to idols. The people repeatedly adopted the practices of surrounding nations, including child sacrifice to gods such as Molek, seen during the time of the judges and under kings like Manasseh, and in places such as the Valley of Ben Hinnom near Jerusalem. They openly pursued idolatry, building shrines everywhere and debasing the very beauty God had given her. Unlike a prostitute who is paid, Jerusalem pursued other gods at her own expense, giving away what belonged to God and preferring strangers over her covenant Lord. Unsatisfied with one alliance, Jerusalem repeatedly turned to the surrounding nations—Egypt, the Philistines, Assyria, and Babylon—seeking security and fulfillment away from God. Yet each pursuit left her empty, never finding the satisfaction they sought elsewhere.
I will sentence you to the punishment of women who commit adultery and who shed blood; I will bring on you the blood vengeance of my wrath and jealous anger
Ezekiel 16:38 (NIV)
God compares Jerusalem with Samaria and Sodom—a comparison that would have shocked Ezekiel’s audience. Jerusalem had not only imitated their ways but exceeded them in corruption, making even those cities appear righteous by contrast. Her pride, disregard for the poor, and moral collapse are laid bare, and she is summoned to bear public shame and the consequences of her deeds. Once secure in her sense of superiority, Jerusalem now stands humiliated among the surrounding nations.
The Path to Restoration
God sets out a path to Jerusalem’s restoration that begins with just judgement but is sustained by His mercy. Though she broke the covenant and failed in her obligations, God does not abandon her. He remembers the covenant made in her youth and promises to establish an everlasting covenant. Even the restoration of Sodom is declared to shatter Jerusalem’s pride and reveal the depth of God’s grace, showing that no condition is beyond His power to redeem.
Restoration comes through humility and remembrance: Jerusalem will recognise her sin, bear her shame, and be silenced in repentance. This renewal is not earned by merit or status, but accomplished through God’s own act of atonement, by which He does for Jerusalem what she could never do for herself, restoring her so that she may truly know that the Lord alone is God.
Then, when I make atonement for you for all you have done, you will remember and be ashamed and never again open your mouth because of your humiliation, declares the Sovereign LORD.
Ezekiel 16:63 (NIV)
In what ways are people today walking the same path as the inhabitants of Jerusalem?
God gave His Son as a path to restoration, but we have made Him into a religion. We celebrate His birth, mourn the day He was crucified (even though it was a good day for us) and roam the streets claiming to proclaim His name, while simply checking off an activity list for our churches. We take part in processions and outward displays, trying to understand the pain and suffering He went through, yet these actions remain meaningless if we do not use Jesus to find our path back to God.
God shows us that even Sodom had hope for restoration, yet we continue to act like the people of Jerusalem, celebrating our own righteousness and our sense of being a special or chosen people. We forget that we are redeemed only by His grace and not by our works. Just as Jerusalem sought Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon for protection and affirmation, we turn to the systems of the world—status, success, wealth, power, approval, and even religion itself—to give us what only God can give.
We trust these alliances more than we trust God, shaping our values, choices, and priorities according to what the world rewards rather than what God requires. We use God’s blessings to secure acceptance in our church or control in our workplaces, instead of returning them to Him in faithfulness. Just like Jerusalem, we do not abandon God outright; we keep His name while giving our hearts elsewhere. In doing so, we repeat the same betrayal—seeking meaning for our lives apart from God and discovering, as Jerusalem did, that the world will never satisfy us and will ultimately leave us exposed and empty.
The Jordan Valley 
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