
The
book of Hosea has such a judgmental tone, doesn’t it? His oracle this morning seems to be no
exception. We bear witness to God taking
stock of all that Israel has done against God.
The people of Israel have forsaken God, have sought after false gods and
worshipped them. They have sacrificed to
the Baals, and offered incense to idols.
To use a metaphor faithful to Hosea, they have whored themselves
out. Israel has become a people so far
removed from God, and God is pronouncing judgment upon them.
But
before the judgment, God begins the oracle in a strange, unexpected place. This isn’t an oracle of judgment spoken by a
vengeful, wrathful, angry deity, nostrils fuming from the injustice. Rather, God begins from the place of a
wounded parent. A parent with a broken
heart. And God, in this oracle, is both
Father and Mother. As Father, God has taken Israel to his cheek, has kissed him
as a proud father kisses a beloved son.
To Israel, God is also a Mother, a Mother who has nursed Israel at her
bosom, fed him and given him strength.
God is the one who raised Israel up, taught him how to stand, how to
walk, the proud parent who helped Israel’s legs to learn what it means to have
strength and to move about. God raised this people up, this community of God’s
son’s and daughters. And how has this community of God’s children repaid
God? By leaving, by straying, by seeking
after false gods, crafting false idols, and chasing after things other than the
radical love of God. So God says, “The sword will rage in your cities, and will
consume your priests, and I will raise you up no more.”
But
then there is this shift, where God seemingly decides against God’s own self
that, saying “I won’t ignore the cries of my children.” Even though God has been wounded, even though
God has been spurned, even though God has been faithful in the midst of
Israel’s faithlessness, God says, “I had a moment where I wanted to cut you off
but I simply couldn’t.” Listen to God’s internal dialogue: “How can I give you
up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like cities that have been destroyed? My heart recoils within me; my compassion
grows warm and tender. I will not
execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no
mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.” Like a
compassionate Father and Mother, chasing their child who has fallen into the
dirt, fallen and bruised himself, fallen and broken something, fallen and is
bloodied and battered from his own disobedience, God takes that child, lifts
the child out of the dirt, binds up his wounds, cleans him off, and takes him
home in God’s arms to rest peacefully in God’s lap.
Friends,
when I read this oracle, it’s hard for me question whether or not God loves the
world. In spite of all that we see with
our eyes, things done by human hands to us or by us, here we have a testament
of God’s unfailing love. No matter how
far we stray, no matter how far we walk away from the relationship. No matter
what we do to break the heart of God, God’s love flows from that broken heart,
seeks us out when we have fallen into the dirt, grime, and brokenness of our
disobedience, and lifts us up. As a good Father lifts his child to his cheek to
shower her with kisses, God is showering us with kisses of pride, compassion,
and grace. Like a good Mother, God lifts
us to her bosom to feed us, to strengthen us for the journey. This, my friends,
is why I believe in God’s love and its power to overcome anything.
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