GOMER

It's been a blast teaching through the Book of Hosea on Sunday mornings after so much trepidation on my part, mostly knowing I felt called to preach on it but not knowing exactly why. What was the word for Epic? I hadn't a clue at the time. If you missed any of the messages, you can catch the series on our website.

From the feedback I've received along the way, the realization that 1) grace precedes sin and 2) that God is for us - even when our own experience living in a broken world betrays that reality - seems to have struck a chord with many. Too often in the evangelical world we are taught that the starting point of the gospel is "We are terrible sinners incapable of any good, deserving wrath and punishment." Our only conclusion, "O what a wretched wiener am I!" (worm theology it's been called), so "How could God possibly love me?"

Certainly we are sinners and incapable of faithfulness except by the grace of God. But the gospel doesn't start with "I'm a sinner." It begins with "I am chosen and loved." It starts with "God loves me and has prepared many good things for me to do and experience in this world." Sin is what messes things up, sin is what gets in the way of me relating with God and others so the good prepared for me can be realized. This is precisely the truth revealed in Hosea. It's God's way of making his love known. (Later in the NT, Jesus uses the Prodigal Son story to do the same thing.) The initiation starts from God's side (Hosea) to Gomer (that would be Israel/us), and what God initiates is love, what God gives is himself: "Go, marry..." is Hosea's instruction. God loves, cares, and believes in us. He wants relationship with us. He sees his people as his bride.

It is nearly unbearable to watch as Gomer goes wayward and Israel goes haywire in sin. But it serves to remind us that we all have a bit of Gomer is us, that every church, no matter how faithful, has its own Gomer story. But because we are first loved, that grace precedes repentance, we can rest assured that no matter how far gone we go, God never withholds relationship. It is precisely his love and kindness in the midst of sin that allows us to look honestly at our own unfaitfulness, knowing there is not a finger wagging back at us in shameful indignation, but a kind of hopefulness for us. With the God of Hosea, conviction of sin acts as a kind of mercy, a kind of gracious warning bell signaling that we have wandered needlessly away and are being called by name (wooed, for you romantics) to return to our first love.

That's why the book of Hosea is ultimately a story of redemption: "Go, show your love to your wife again..." A story less about Gomer and more about Hosea's bewildering commitment. More about God's unbelievable affection than about us getting anything right necessarily. That's why the first movement of the spiritual life is not to serve or worship or join a bible study, but to be found, to be loved. And learning to live out of that deep core of acceptance and affirmation is the only way to walk with God and offer a gift of love in return. A gift of grateful response and connection. The gift of us. Which is what God desires most of all.

To close our series, I plan to read from Frederick Buechner's beautifully earthy and moving reflection on "Gomer" from Peculiar Treasures, a piece which poignantly speaks to the depth of Hosea's love for Gomer, and God's love for us:

GOMER by Frederick Buechner
From Peculiar Treasures

She was always good company – a little heavy with the lipstick maybe, a little less than choosy about men and booze, a little loud, but great on a party and always good for a laugh. Then the prophet Hosea came along wearing a sandwich board that read “The End is at Hand” on one side and “Watch Out” on the other.

The first time he asked her to marry him, she thought he was kidding. The second time she knew he was serious but thought he was crazy. The third time she said yes. He wasn’t exactly a swinger, but he had a kind face, and he was generous, and he wasn’t all that crazier than everybody else. Besides, any fool could see he loved her.

Give or take a little, she even loved him back for a while, and they had three children whom Hosea named with queer names like Not-pitied-for-God-will-no-longer-pity-Israel-now-that-it’s-gone-to-the-dogs so that every time the roll was called at school, Hosea would be scoring a prophetic bullseye in absentia. But everybody could see the marriage wasn’t going to last, and it didn’t.

While Hosea was off hitting the sawdust trail, Gomer took to hitting as may night spots as she could squeeze into a night, and any resemblance between her next batch of children and Hosea was purely coincidental. It almost killed him, of course. Every time he raised a hand to her, he burst into tears. Every time she raised one to him, he was the one who ended up apologizing.

He tried locking her out of the house a few times when she wasn’t in by five in the morning, but he always opened the door when she finally showed up and helped get her to bed if she couldn’t see straight enough to get there herself. Then one day she didn’t show up at all.

He swore that this time he was through with her for keeps, but of course he wasn’t. When he finally found her, she was lying passed out in a highly specialized establishment located above an adult bookstore, and he had to pay the management plenty to let her out of her contract. She’d lost her front teeth and picked up some scars you had to see to believe, but Hosea had her back again and that seemed to be all that mattered.

He changed his sandwich board to read “God is love” on one side and “There’s no end to it” on the other, and when he stood on the street corner belting out

How can I give you up, O Ephraim!
How can I hand you over, O Israel!
For I am God and not man,
The Holy One in your midst (Hosea 11:8-9)

nobody can say how many converts he made, but one thing that’s for sure is that, including Gomer’s, there was seldom a dry eye in the house. (Hosea 1-3, 11)