The word of the LORD came to Ezekiel, and on this occasion the message was to be delivered as a parable, because the people of Jerusalem had become hardened and unresponsive to direct confrontation over their sins. A parable draws the listener in, engages the conscience, and exposes the heart before pride can defend itself. It invites the hearer to judge the story—and in doing so, to judge themselves.
God uses parables throughout Scripture to confront hardened hearts that have grown cold towards Him. God confronted David with a parable of a stolen lamb, leading David to condemn his own sin (2 Samuel 12). Similarly, through Isaiah, God used the image of a fruitless vineyard to reveal Israel’s failure (Isaiah 5). Jesus also taught in parables to reveal truth to those willing to listen. In each case, the parable reached where plain rebuke would have been resisted.
The word of the LORD came to me: “Son of man, set forth an allegory and tell it to the Israelites as a parable.
Ezekiel 17:1-2 (NIV)
Ezekiel’s parable of the two eagles is not presented as a political riddle for the audience to unravel, since God Himself provides its interpretation. Rather, the parable functions as a mirror, confronting the people with their own failure. Through it, God exposes their misplaced trust and divided loyalty, compelling them to acknowledge their state that they had long ignored.
The Great Eagle From Babylon
A great eagle with powerful wings, long feathers and full plumage of varied colors came to Lebanon. Taking hold of the top of a cedar, he broke off its topmost shoot and carried it away to a land of merchants, where he planted it in a city of traders.
“‘He took one of the seedlings of the land and put it in fertile soil. He planted it like a willow by abundant water, and it sprouted and became a low, spreading vine. Its branches turned toward him, but its roots remained under it. So it became a vine and produced branches and put out leafy boughs.
Ezekiel 17:3-6 (NIV)
Who is the great eagle who carried away the top most shoot of the cedar?
The great eagle represents Nebuchadnezzar, the powerful ruler of Babylon. His powerful wings, long feathers and full plumage emphasise his military strength and wide-reaching authority. Lebanon points to Jerusalem, renowned for its cedars, symbolising the royal house of Judah. The top of the cedar that is broken off refers to Jehoiachin, the rightful king. Nebuchadnezzar removed him from Jerusalem and carried him to Babylon along with other nobles. Babylon is described as a land of merchants and a city of traders, highlighting Babylon’s wealth, influence, and global reach.
The seedling of the land represents Zedekiah, a member of the royal family whom Nebuchadnezzar installed as a puppet king. He was given seemingly favourable conditions to rule as Babylon allowed Judah to continue as a kingdom, provided Zedekiah remained loyal. The vine becoming low and spreading shows that Judah was intentionally kept weak—no longer a towering cedar, but a dependent state. Its branches turning toward him indicate political submission to Babylon and while it put out leafy boughs the vine produced no fruit.
Turning to an Old Foe
But there was another great eagle with powerful wings and full plumage. The vine now sent out its roots toward him from the plot where it was planted and stretched out its branches to him for water.
Ezekiel 17:7 (NIV)
Who is the second great eagle toward whom the vine turns for support?
The other great eagle represents an Egyptian pharaoh who was a rival power to Babylon. Portrayed as strong and impressive, this eagle does not plant or sustain the vine yet it still draws the wine toward itself. This movement of the vine forms the core of the accusation, as it sends out its roots and stretches out its branches calling out Zedekiah’s turn towards an old foe for military support.
But the king rebelled against him by sending his envoys to Egypt to get horses and a large army. Will he succeed? Will he who does such things escape? Will he break the treaty and yet escape?
Ezekiel 17:15 (NIV)
Why does the king of Judah turn to an old foe for support?
Under pressure from Babylon, Zedekiah looks for immediate relief rather than long-term faithfulness. Egypt appears familiar, powerful, and politically convenient, even though history had repeatedly shown it to be unreliable and hostile. In moments of crisis, visible strength often feels safer than trusting God’s unseen purposes. When obedience feels costly, the heart is tempted to fall back on familiar supports, even if they once enslaved or betrayed us. The king’s appeal to an old enemy shows how easily trust shifts from God to forces that seemingly offer security.
Loyalty to the World
When we face challenges in our lives, who do we turn to for support?
We often seek quick relief rather than understanding God’s purpose. We do not want support that sustains us through obedience; we want relief that removes discomfort. In Scripture, Egypt and Babylon represent powers that stand in opposition to God. They symbolise the world’s systems—strength, security, and self-reliance—that tempt God’s people away from trusting the LORD. Though these powers oppose Him, God uses them as instruments of judgement, revealing that even hostile forces remain under His authority.
In prophetic language, references to nations such as Egypt and Babylon often function as more than historical or political markers. They are repeatedly used as symbolic representations of hostile spiritual powers—forces that oppose God’s purposes and seek to draw His people away from trust and obedience. When Israel turned to these nations for support, it revealed a deeper spiritual failure: a shift of trust from God to the forces that stood against Him.
When pressure comes in our lives, the temptation is to seek help from sources that appear strong and reliable but ultimately oppose God’s purposes. What looks like practical support may in fact be a subtle demand for misplaced loyalty, drawing hearts away from dependence on the LORD alone.
I will repay him for despising my oath and breaking my covenant.
Ezekiel 17:19 (NIV)
The core issue was not that Judah broke loyalty with Babylon, but that Judah never learned to obey God or depend on Him in the first place. Zedekiah’s sin lay in seeking security through the superpowers of the world—first Babylon and then Egypt—rather than trusting the LORD. His rule was shaped by political calculation instead of submission to God’s will.
A Tree on The Mountain Heights of Israel
I myself will take a shoot from the very top of a cedar and plant it; I will break off a tender sprig from its topmost shoots and plant it on a high and lofty mountain.
Ezekiel 17:22 (NIV)
God reuses the imagery of the cedar and the shoot, but now turns it toward hope and restoration. Where earthly kings failed and political alliances collapsed, God declares that He Himself will act. He will take a tender shoot from the top of the cedar and plant it on the heights of Israel, pointing beyond the immediate historical setting to a future ruler from David’s line. A Messianic king who will revive what has been cut down. Planted on a high and lofty mountain, the cedar grows strong and fruitful, becoming a place of shelter where birds of every kind can rest. The image speaks of a renewed kingdom, secure, life-giving, and expansive.
Why do we, even today, misunderstand the purpose of the promised Messiah as dethroning governments instead of giving us life?
We misunderstand the purpose of the promised Messiah because we concentrate on what is seen and struggle to focus on what is unseen, preferring what is tangible over what belongs to heaven. What we identify as wrong, we expect God to remove—governments, systems, and powers that do not align with His purpose. Like Judah, we continue to think in political and worldly categories. We expect salvation to come through visible power, regime change, or the collapse of opposing forces. We look for a Messiah who will remove external threats, while God’s purpose is to address the deeper problem within us.
The promise of the Messiah was never primarily about overthrowing governments, but about restoring life where it had been cut down. God’s concern was not who sat on earthly thrones, but how mankind might be brought back under His rule. By focusing on power and control, we miss that the Messiah came to establish a kingdom that gives life, shelter, and renewal, not one built by force. This misunderstanding persists because trusting in visible authority feels safer than surrendering to inner transformation. A Messiah who dethrones rulers allows us to remain unchanged; a Messiah who gives life calls us to repentance, dependence, and obedience. Like Judah, we struggle to accept that God’s greatest work is not the removal of our enemies, but the renewal of our hearts.
The Jordan Valley 
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