“Then address them: ‘This is what God-of-the-Angel-Armies says: Be on the lookout! I’m sending for and bringing Nebuchadnezzar the king of Babylon—my servant, mind you!—and he’ll set up his throne on these very stones that I’ve had buried here and he’ll spread out his canopy over them. He’ll come and absolutely smash Egypt, sending each to his assigned fate: death, exile, slaughter. He’ll burn down the temples of Egypt’s gods. He’ll either burn up the gods or haul them off as booty. Like a shepherd who picks lice from his robes, he’ll pick Egypt clean. And then he’ll walk away without a hand being laid on him. He’ll shatter the sacred obelisks at Egypt’s House of the Sun and make a huge bonfire of the temples of Egypt’s gods.’”
Ezekiel 32:11The Message“‘God, the Master, says: “‘The sword of the king of Babylon is coming against you. I’ll use the swords of champions to lay your pride low, Use the most brutal of nations to knock Egypt off her high horse, to puncture that hot-air pomposity. I’ll destroy all their livestock that graze along the river. Neither human foot nor animal hoof will muddy those waters anymore. I’ll clear their springs and streams, make their rivers flow clean and smooth. Decree of God, the Master. When I turn Egypt back to the wild and strip her clean of all her abundant produce, When I strike dead all who live there, then they’ll realize that I am God.’ See the chapter |
8 Cross References
“God, the Master, says: Look! Out of the north I’m bringing Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon, a king’s king, down on Tyre. He’ll come with chariots and horses and riders—a huge army. He’ll massacre your surrounding villages and lay siege to you. He’ll build siege ramps against your walls. A forest of shields will advance against you! He’ll pummel your walls with his battering rams and shatter your towers with his iron weapons. You’ll be covered with dust from his horde of horses—a thundering herd of war horses pouring through the breaches, pulling chariots. Oh, it will be an earthquake of an army and a city in shock! Horses will stampede through the streets. Your people will be slaughtered and your huge pillars strewn like matchsticks. The invaders will steal and loot—all that wealth, all that stuff! They’ll knock down your fine houses and dump the stone and timber rubble into the sea. And your parties, your famous good-time parties, will be no more. No more songs, no more lutes. I’ll reduce you to an island of bare rock, good for nothing but drying fishnets. You’ll never be rebuilt. I, God, have said so. Decree of God, the Master.
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