When God Packs His Bags: The Deliberate Departure Text: Ezekiel 10:18-19
Introduction: The Weight of Glory
There are certain moments in history that are so heavy, so dense with meaning, that everything that comes after is defined by them. The fall of Rome was one. The nailing of the theses at Wittenberg was another. But what Ezekiel sees here, in the Spirit, is a moment that outweighs them all. This is not the fall of a city; it is the departure of the God who makes cities possible. This is not a reformation of worship; it is the removal of the one who is to be worshipped. What we are witnessing is the solemn, deliberate, and terrifying departure of the glory of God from His own house. The name of Solomon's temple was not "First Jerusalem Community Church." It was the house of Yahweh. It was the place where heaven and earth met. And now, God is leaving.
We moderns have a very sentimental, domesticated view of the glory of God. We think of it as a warm feeling in a worship service, or a particularly beautiful sunset. But in the Scriptures, the glory of God is a terrifying thing. It is weighty, substantial, and dangerous to sinners. It is a consuming fire. When this glory filled the tabernacle, Moses could not enter. When it filled Solomon's temple, the priests could not stand to minister. And when Israel treated this holy presence as a good luck charm, as a mascot they could parade out on weekends while they spent the week whoring after other gods, they made a fatal miscalculation. They forgot that the presence of a holy God in the midst of a profane people is not a blessing, but a curse. It is a judgment waiting to happen.
Ezekiel has been given a guided tour of the abominations taking place in this very temple. He has seen the elders of Israel burning incense to idols in secret chambers, women weeping for Tammuz, and men with their backs to the altar of God, worshipping the sun. They had turned the house of God into a pantheon of pagan filth. And so, God brings a covenant lawsuit against His people. He is the offended party, the jilted husband. And the verdict has been rendered. The sentence is exile. But before the Babylonians arrive to tear down the stones, God Himself must first abandon the house. The physical destruction of Jerusalem is simply the outward manifestation of this prior, more terrible, spiritual reality. Ichabod, "the glory has departed," is written over the lintel before the first battering ram ever touches the wall.
What we see in these two verses is not a hasty retreat. This is not God throwing up His hands in frustration and storming out. Every movement is measured, deliberate, and freighted with awful significance. This is the slow, majestic, and heartbreaking departure of a king from his rebellious province. And it is a warning to every generation that presumes upon the grace of God.
The Text
Then the glory of Yahweh departed from the threshold of the house and stood over the cherubim. When the cherubim departed, they lifted their wings and rose up from the earth in my sight with the wheels beside them; and they stood still at the entrance of the east gate of the house of Yahweh, and the glory of the God of Israel hovered over them.
(Ezekiel 10:18-19 LSB)
The Glory in Motion (v. 18)
We begin with the first step of this solemn procession in verse 18:
"Then the glory of Yahweh departed from the threshold of the house and stood over the cherubim." (Ezekiel 10:18)
Notice the stages. In the previous chapter, the glory moved from the Holy of Holies, from its place above the mercy seat, to the threshold of the temple (Ezekiel 9:3). It was a move from the heart of the house to the doorway. It was God pausing, as it were, with His hand on the doorknob. This was a lingering. God does not depart from His people eagerly. As Hosea would later say, "How can I give you up, O Ephraim?" But their relentless idolatry had made His departure necessary. A holy God cannot dwell with persistent, unrepentant sin.
Now, the glory moves again. It departs "from the threshold of the house." It has crossed the line. It is now outside. This is a picture of utter abandonment. The house is now just a house. It is no longer the dwelling place of the Most High; it is an empty shell, a building full of idols and memories, about to be filled with fire and blood. All its rituals are now hollow. The sacrifices are just the butchering of animals. The prayers are empty air. Without the presence of God, the temple is nothing but a large, ornate mausoleum.
And where does the glory go? It "stood over the cherubim." These cherubim are the very same living creatures Ezekiel saw in his first vision by the river Chebar. They are God's throne-chariot. They are the guardians of His holiness, the agents of His sovereign mobility. The glory of God is not static; it is not tied to a particular building or location. He is the sovereign Lord of all creation, and He will not be put in a box by idolaters. The cherubim represent the government of God, His active rule over the affairs of men. By moving to stand over them, God is mounting His chariot of judgment. He is preparing to ride out against His own city.
This is a direct refutation of the cheap theology that had infected Jerusalem. The people had a superstitious belief that as long as the temple stood, they were safe. "The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord are these," they chanted (Jeremiah 7:4). They treated the physical building as an idol, a guarantee of divine protection, regardless of their covenant infidelity. But God is here to tell them, in no uncertain terms, that He is not the temple's prisoner. He is its Lord, and He is leaving.
The Sovereign Procession (v. 19)
Verse 19 details the next stage of the departure, a movement filled with sovereign power and ominous purpose.
"When the cherubim departed, they lifted their wings and rose up from the earth in my sight with the wheels beside them; and they stood still at the entrance of the east gate of the house of Yahweh, and the glory of the God of Israel hovered over them." (Ezekiel 10:19)
The movement is majestic and powerful. "They lifted their wings and rose up from the earth." This is not a slinking away in shame. This is a royal departure. The sound of their wings was like the voice of God Almighty (Ezekiel 1:24), a sound of immense power. The wheels beside them, full of eyes, represent God's all-seeing providence. Nothing is escaping His notice. This entire event, from the idolatry within the temple to the coming invasion of the Babylonians, is under His meticulous, sovereign control. He is not reacting to events; He is directing them.
The throne-chariot moves and then pauses again. It "stood still at the entrance of the east gate of the house of Yahweh." Why the east gate? The east gate was the main entrance, the processional gate. It was the gate through which the glory of God had first entered the temple. And now, it is the gate through which He will depart. There is a terrible, symmetrical justice here. The way in is the way out. He is leaving the way He came. This pause is another moment of divine hesitation, another opportunity for repentance that goes unanswered. He is looking back, one last time, at the house that was once His home.
And notice the final description: "the glory of the God of Israel hovered over them." This is the God of the covenant, the "God of Israel," who is now forsaking the apostate part of Israel. He has not ceased to be their God, but He is acting in judgment to purify His people. He is the same God who hovered over the waters at creation, bringing order out of chaos. He is the same God who hovered over His people in the wilderness in a pillar of cloud and fire. But now, that same hovering presence signifies not protection, but impending judgment. The divine protection is being lifted. The hedge is being removed. And when God removes His hand of protection, destruction is sure to follow.
The Gospel of the East Gate
This is a terrifying scene. It is a picture of God's righteous judgment against sin, a picture of what every sinner deserves. When we turn our hearts into temples of idols, when we give our worship and allegiance to created things rather than the Creator, we are inviting God to depart. We are provoking Him to leave us to ourselves, and there is no more terrible fate than that.
But this is not the end of the story. The book of Ezekiel does not end with the departure of the glory. It ends with the promise of its return. In a later vision, Ezekiel sees the glory of God returning to a new and better temple, and how does it return? "Behold, the glory of the God of Israel was coming from the way of the east... and the glory of Yahweh came into the house by the way of the gate facing east" (Ezekiel 43:2, 4). The way out is the way back in.
And this points us directly to the Lord Jesus Christ. Hundreds of years after Ezekiel saw this vision, Jesus of Nazareth came to Jerusalem. He presented Himself as Israel's true King and Messiah. And from which direction did He come? He came from the east, from the Mount of Olives, and entered the city, presenting Himself at the temple (Matthew 21). He was the glory of God in human flesh, entering His house. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father" (John 1:14).
But just like their forefathers, the leaders of Israel rejected Him. They had turned the temple into a den of thieves, a house of merchandise. They loved their traditions and their power more than they loved the God of the temple. And so, Jesus pronounced the same judgment. "Behold, your house is left to you desolate" (Matthew 23:38). He then departed from the temple, for the last time, and went back out the east side, to the Mount of Olives (Matthew 24:3).
From that very mountain, He ascended into heaven. The glory departed once more. But this time, it was not a departure of final judgment, but a departure of enthronement. He ascended to the right hand of the Father, having accomplished our salvation. And the promise is that He will return in the same way He left (Acts 1:11). He will return in glory.
But the story gets even better. Because of Christ's death and resurrection, God no longer dwells in temples made with hands. He has made us, His people, into His temple. "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" (1 Corinthians 3:16). The glory of God has not departed from the world. Through the Holy Spirit, He has taken up residence in the hearts of His people. We are the living stones being built up into a spiritual house (1 Peter 2:5).
This means the warning of Ezekiel still applies to us, not as a nation with a physical building, but as the church and as individual believers. If we fill the temple of our hearts with idols, if we give our ultimate allegiance to money, or sex, or power, or politics, or even our own religious performance, we are provoking the Holy Spirit. We are grieving Him. We are quenching Him. And while a true believer can never lose his salvation, he can certainly lose the joy, the peace, and the sense of God's presence. He can find his spiritual life becoming an empty shell, a hollow ritual, because the glory has, in a very real sense, departed from the threshold. The call, then, is to repent of our idolatries, to tear them down, and to ask the Spirit of God to fill His house once more with His glorious presence. For it is only in His presence that there is fullness of joy.