Privilege is No Protection: The Useless Vine Text: Ezekiel 15:1-8
Introduction: The Folly of Presumption
We live in an age that is drunk on the idea of entitlement. Modern man believes that because he is a man, he is owed certain things: comfort, affirmation, prosperity, and a life free from divine inconvenience. This attitude, like a spiritual rot, has crept into the Church. We have multitudes of professing Christians who believe that their baptism, their church membership, or their regular attendance is a kind of fire insurance policy. They believe that their formal association with the people of God grants them an automatic and irrevocable immunity from the judgment of God. They are in the covenant, they say, and so they are safe.
This is a damnable lie, and it is as old as the hills. It was the central delusion of the inhabitants of Jerusalem in Ezekiel’s day. They were God’s chosen people. They had the Temple, the priesthood, and the covenants. They were the vine that God Himself had planted. And so, as the Babylonian armies gathered on the horizon, they plugged their ears, puffed out their chests, and trusted in their pedigree. They mistook privilege for piety. They assumed that God’s past faithfulness to their fathers was a guarantee of His future indulgence of their sin.
Into this smug and self-satisfied atmosphere, the word of Yahweh comes to Ezekiel like a bucket of ice water. God is not sentimental. He does not grade on a curve. And He will not be mocked. The parable of the vine in Ezekiel 15 is a short, sharp, and devastating polemic against all forms of religious presumption. It is a divine argument, laid out with terrifying logic, that demonstrates a simple and brutal truth: a fruitless vine is not just a disappointment; it is useless. And a useless vine is fit for only one thing, and that is the fire.
This is a hard word, but it is a necessary one. We must understand that covenant membership is not a plush armchair; it is a solemn responsibility. God’s grace is not a license to sin; it is the power to be holy. And if we, like Jerusalem, take the immense privilege of being called by His name and produce nothing but the wild, bitter grapes of rebellion, we should not be surprised when the Owner of the vineyard comes with a pruning hook in one hand and a torch in the other.
The Text
Then the word of Yahweh came to me, saying, “Son of man, how is the wood of the vine better than any wood of a branch which is among the trees of the forest? Can wood be taken from it to make anything, or can men take a peg from it on which to hang any vessel? If it has been put into the fire for fuel, and the fire has consumed both of its ends, and its middle part has been charred, is it then useful for anything? Behold, while it is intact, it is not made into anything. How much less, when the fire has consumed it and it is charred, can it still be made into anything! Therefore, thus says Lord Yahweh, ‘As the wood of the vine among the trees of the forest, which I have given to the fire for fuel, so have I given up the inhabitants of Jerusalem; and I will give My face to be against them. Though they have come out of the fire, yet the fire will consume them. Then you will know that I am Yahweh, when I set My face against them. Thus I will give over the land to desolation because they have acted unfaithfully,’ ” declares Lord Yahweh.
(Ezekiel 15:1-8 LSB)
The Logic of Uselessness (v. 1-5)
God begins with a series of rhetorical questions, designed to corner His audience and force them to admit an uncomfortable truth.
"Son of man, how is the wood of the vine better than any wood of a branch which is among the trees of the forest? Can wood be taken from it to make anything, or can men take a peg from it on which to hang any vessel?" (Ezekiel 15:2-3)
The image of Israel as a vine was a common and cherished one. In Psalm 80, Asaph sings of how God brought a vine out of Egypt, cleared the ground for it, and planted it. In Isaiah 5, God plants a choice vine in a fertile hill, expecting good grapes, but it yields only wild ones. Jesus Himself will later take up this imagery, declaring, "I am the true vine" (John 15:1). So when God speaks of a vine, every Israelite ear perks up. This is about us, they think. This is about our special status.
But God immediately subverts their expectations. He doesn't ask about the fruit. He asks about the wood. He says, "Take this vine branch and compare it to a branch from a mighty oak or a cedar of Lebanon. What is it good for?" The answer is, nothing. Vine wood is soft, gnarled, and thin. You can't build a house with it. You can't carve a tool from it. You can't even make a simple peg to hang a pot on the wall. Its entire purpose, its entire reason for existence, is to bear fruit. If it fails in that one, singular task, it is utterly worthless. It is inferior to every other tree in the forest.
This is a direct assault on Israel's national pride. They thought their "Israel-ness," their vine-ness, was inherently valuable. God says it is not. Your value is not in your identity as a vine, but in your function as a vine. Your covenant status is not for your own glory; it is for the purpose of bearing fruit to the glory of the Vinedresser. If you do not fulfill that purpose, your status counts for nothing. In fact, it makes your failure all the more pathetic.
Then God pushes the logic further. He introduces the element of judgment.
"If it has been put into the fire for fuel, and the fire has consumed both of its ends, and its middle part has been charred, is it then useful for anything? Behold, while it is intact, it is not made into anything. How much less, when the fire has consumed it and it is charred, can it still be made into anything!" (Ezekiel 15:4-5)
The argument is devastatingly simple. If the vine wood was useless when it was whole and healthy, how much more useless is it after it has been tossed in the fire? The fire here represents God's judgment. The first wave of exiles, which included Ezekiel, was the first lick of the flames. The ends of the branch were already consumed. The final destruction of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar would be the charring of the middle. God is asking, "If you were worthless before my judgment began, what makes you think that my judgment will somehow improve your utility?" Judgment does not make a useless thing useful; it reveals and finalizes its uselessness.
This is a principle we must grasp. God's judgment is not remedial for the impenitent. It is not a divine spanking designed to make rebels into productive citizens. For those who persist in unfaithfulness, the fire of judgment only hardens, chars, and consumes. It renders them permanently and irrevocably useless for any good purpose.
The Divine Application (v. 6-8)
Having established the principle through the parable, God now applies it directly and without mercy to the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
"Therefore, thus says Lord Yahweh, ‘As the wood of the vine among the trees of the forest, which I have given to the fire for fuel, so have I given up the inhabitants of Jerusalem; and I will give My face to be against them." (Ezekiel 15:6-7a)
There is no ambiguity here. God says, "You, Jerusalem, are that useless vine." Just as He gives worthless wood to the fire for fuel, so He has given them up. This is the language of covenant abandonment. To "give them up" is for God to remove His hand of protection and deliver them over to the consequences of their sin (cf. Romans 1:24, 26, 28). And more than that, He will set His face against them. This is the opposite of the Aaronic blessing, where God is asked to make His face shine upon His people (Numbers 6:25). When God's face is set against a people, their doom is sealed. It means His active, holy, and relentless opposition.
The inhabitants of Jerusalem thought they were safe because they had already endured one fire, the first exile. They were the ones left behind, the ones who had "come out of the fire." They saw themselves as the survivors, the righteous remnant. God shatters this illusion.
"Though they have come out of the fire, yet the fire will consume them. Then you will know that I am Yahweh, when I set My face against them." (Ezekiel 15:7b)
Surviving one judgment is no guarantee of escaping the next. In fact, for the unrepentant, it only makes the final conflagration more certain. The first fire was a warning. The second will be for consumption. And notice the purpose of this terrifying judgment: "Then you will know that I am Yahweh." God's judgments are self-revelations. He is teaching His people, and the watching nations, a lesson about His own character. He is teaching them that He is a holy God who takes His covenant seriously. He is not a tribal deity who can be manipulated by rituals and pedigrees. He is Yahweh, the sovereign Lord who demands faithfulness and who will not clear the guilty.
The chapter concludes with the final verdict and the reason for it.
"Thus I will give over the land to desolation because they have acted unfaithfully,’ ” declares Lord Yahweh." (Ezekiel 15:8)
The land will be made a desolation. The promise of the land was central to the covenant, and its desolation is a sign of the covenant's curse being enacted. And why? The reason is stated with stark simplicity: "because they have acted unfaithfully." The Hebrew word signifies treachery, a breach of trust, a violation of a sworn oath. It is the language of covenant betrayal. They were like an adulterous wife who had broken her vows. Their sin was not just a series of individual mistakes; it was a fundamental posture of rebellion against their covenant Lord.
The True Vine and the Fruitful Branch
This is a grim and terrifying passage. And if the story ended here, we would be left with nothing but the smoke of judgment and the ashes of a useless people. But thanks be to God, the story does not end here. This parable of the useless vine points us forward to the one who is the True Vine.
Jesus stood before His disciples and said, "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit" (John 15:1-2). Jesus is everything that Israel was supposed to be but failed to be. He is the faithful Israelite, the fruitful vine who perfectly glorified the Father.
And by grace, through faith, we are grafted into Him. Our standing before God is not based on our pedigree, our performance, or our religious privilege. It is based entirely on our union with Christ. He is the vine; we are the branches. And because we are attached to Him, we have access to the life, the sap, the spiritual nutrients that flow from Him. It is only in Him that we can bear any fruit at all. "Apart from me," Jesus says, "you can do nothing" (John 15:5).
But this brings us back to Ezekiel's warning with renewed force. The New Covenant, like the Old, is a call to fruitfulness. The logic of the vine has not changed. A branch that is truly united to Christ will bear fruit. It is the inevitable evidence of life. And a branch that bears no fruit, a professing Christian whose life is characterized by the same unfaithfulness as Jerusalem, gives evidence that they are not truly connected to the life of the vine. Such branches, Jesus says, are taken away, withered, gathered, and thrown into the fire to be burned (John 15:6).
The warning of Ezekiel 15 rings down through the centuries to us. Do not presume upon the grace of God. Do not mistake your position in the visible church for a saving union with Christ. The question God asks of you is the same question He asked of Jerusalem. What are you good for? Are you bearing the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control? Or are you producing the wild grapes of bitterness, envy, lust, and pride?
The fire is real. The judgment is coming. The only safe place is to be found in Christ, the True Vine. But to be in Him is to abide in Him, to draw life from Him, and to bear fruit for Him. For a branch is only as good as the fruit it bears. And a fruitless branch is good for nothing but the fire.