Today God tells Jerusalem her own biography as a love story turned tragedy: an abandoned newborn, rescued, raised, and married, I spread the corner of my garment over you, you became mine, who then sold the love for applause from strangers.

Ezekiel 16 is not comfortable reading. It is what betrayal feels like from God's side. Let it recalibrate how loved you are.

Live. One word to a newborn left in a field, spoken twice, and everything Jerusalem ever had flowed from it. The tragedy of Ezekiel 16 is not that God's love failed but that it succeeded so thoroughly the beloved forgot the field. Blessing, unremembered, curdles into entitlement.

Hebrews holds the antidote in present tense: He always lives to intercede, able to save completely those who keep coming. Your rescue was not a transaction filed years ago. It is a relationship currently staffed. Remember your field today, and the garment spread over you, and stay home.