Bible Verses About Idolatry

The woodworker extends a measuring line; he marks it out with a stylus; he shapes it with chisels and outlines it with a compass. He fashions it in the likeness of man, like man in all his glory, that it may dwell in a shrine.

He cuts down cedars or retrieves a cypress or oak. He lets it grow strong among the trees of the forest. He plants a laurel, and the rain makes it grow.

It serves as fuel for man. He takes some of it to warm himself, and he kindles a fire and bakes his bread; he even fashions it into a god and worships it; he makes an idol and bows down to it.

He burns half of it in the fire, and he roasts meat on that half. He eats the roast and is satisfied. Indeed, he warms himself and says, “Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”

From the rest he makes a god, his graven image. He bows down to it and worships; he prays to it and says, “Save me, for you are my god.”

They do not comprehend or discern, for He has shut their eyes so they cannot see and closed their minds so they cannot understand.

And no one considers in his heart, no one has the knowledge or insight to say, “I burned half of it in the fire, and I baked bread on its coals; I roasted meat and I ate. Shall I make something detestable with the rest of it? Shall I bow down to a block of wood?”

He feeds on ashes. His deluded heart has led him astray, and he cannot deliver himself or say, “Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?”

Bel crouches; Nebo cowers. Their idols weigh down beasts and cattle. The images you carry are burdensome, a load to the weary animal.

The gods cower; they crouch together, unable to relieve the burden; but they themselves go into captivity.

They pour out their bags of gold and weigh out silver on scales; they hire a goldsmith to fashion it into a god, so they can bow down and worship.

They lift it to their shoulder and carry it along; they set it in its place, and there it stands, not budging from that spot. They cry out to it, but it does not answer; it saves no one from his troubles.

So take your stand with your spells and with your many sorceries, with which you have wearied yourself from your youth. Perhaps you will succeed; perhaps you will inspire terror!

You are wearied by your many counselors; let them come forward now and save you— your astrologers who observe the stars, who monthly predict your fate.

Surely they are like stubble; the fire will burn them up. They cannot deliver themselves from the power of the flame. There will be no coals to warm them or fire to sit beside.

This is what they are to you— those with whom you have labored and traded from youth— each one strays in his own direction; not one of them can save you.

“But come here, you sons of a sorceress, you offspring of adulterers and prostitutes!

Whom are you mocking? At whom do you snarl and stick out your tongue? Are you not children of transgression, offspring of deceit,

who burn with lust among the oaks, under every luxuriant tree, who slaughter your children in the valleys, under the clefts of the rocks?

Your portion is among the smooth stones of the valley; indeed, they are your lot. Even to them you have poured out a drink offering and offered a grain offering. Should I relent because of these?

On a high and lofty hill you have made your bed, and there you went up to offer sacrifices.

Behind the door and doorpost you have set up your memorial. Forsaking Me, you uncovered your bed; you climbed up and opened it wide. And you have made a pact with those whose bed you have loved; you have gazed upon their nakedness.

You went to Molech with oil and multiplied your perfumes. You have sent your envoys a great distance; you have descended even to Sheol itself.

You are wearied by your many journeys, but you did not say, “There is no hope!” You found renewal of your strength; therefore you did not grow weak.

Whom have you dreaded and feared, so that you lied and failed to remember Me or take this to heart? Is it not because I have long been silent that you do not fear Me?