A ruin, ruin, ruin I will make it. This also shall not be, until he comes, the one to whom judgment belongs, and I will give it to him.
Ezekiel repeats himself here on purpose. "A ruin, ruin, ruin" — three times, like a hammer coming down on the same nail. It's the sound of something being said so the listener can't pretend they misheard it. The city, the throne, the whole rigged system of power built on other people's backs — all of it was coming down, and no amount of reassurance was going to soften that.
But buried inside the demolition is a strange promise: this won't stay ruined forever. It waits for someone — the one "to whom judgment belongs" — and when he comes, what was torn down gets handed to him instead. The wrecking isn't the end of the story. It's clearing space for someone else's reign, a fairer one.
Maybe that's worth sitting with if you've ever watched something corrupt finally collapse and wondered if collapse is all there is. This verse says no — collapse can be the setup for a different kind of order, not just an empty lot.
If you've ever hoped that a broken system might one day answer to something better, this verse is worth a closer look.
A short video on this is coming soon — for now, read on.