Taylor Mertins

Hosea’s life becomes the parable of his preaching.

Gomer, Hosea’s wife, mother of his three oddly named children, whom he loves and cherishes, is not faithful to him. Her adultery is not something hidden away, it’s a known element among the whole community. And so Hosea does as the law commands, he sends her away.

The prophet Hosea thus meditates on what it’s like to lose a partner, to have a promise broken. He begins to enter into God’s own pain and suffering and anguish.

Hosea is what we call a minor prophet, but his book is major among the minors. Its the longest, the most detailed, and the most vivid.

He speaks of bitterness, anguish, and even wrath. Not just God’s, but his own!

But then, wonder of wonders, the humiliated husband, the pathetic prophet, goes out in search of the lost love of his life. And he goes not to bring retribution, but instead he brings redemption.

He finds Gomer among the last, least, lost, little, and dead, he saves her from destitution, brings her back to his own home (in violation of the law by the way), and recommits to the marriage.

The one who names his children for the community to bear witness, now bears witness himself to the power of God’s grace. Hosea’s home becomes a place of grace.

Like any good gossip it spreads fast, and the message is there for everyone to see: God’s love is invincible and unconquerable. God’s faithfulness to God’s people is stronger than unfaithfulness. God’s grace goes after and redeems the beloved.

Hosea, on behalf of God, says, “I will woo her, I will find the her in the wilderness and bring her comfort.” The her in question is both Gomer and Israel. It's a parabolic prophetic proclamation.

It’s not too late to change your mind

It’s not too late for the truth this time

It’s not too late to fall on your knees

It’s not to late for apologies

It’s not too late to come clean

To face all the fallout that there might be

And it’s not too late to understand

Grace is more than a concept to believe in

It’s something more real than your beating heart

And it runs to the depths of where you are

It follows you there retracing your steps

Whispering over and over again

That it’s not too late, it’s not too late, it’s not too late.

- Andy Gullahorn

When healing comes, its usually quiet and unexpected and surprising. Sometimes it requires a crack in the sidewalk before the root of healing can take hold. But when it does, it is the difference that makes all the difference in the world.

Elijah climbs the mountain on a hope and a prayer, looking for a theophany. He comes looking for fire, wind, smoke, and earthquake, a decisive declaration of the divine. But he discovers the truth is a cave. Elijah is met by God in the silence.

Elijah delivers more fireworks than all of the other prophets put together, but maybe God speaks in silence to Elijah because Elijah needs to know, needs to learn, that God’s always speaking and always with him.

Even when God seems silent.

Perhaps that’s the reminder for us today as well...

One day, in the city of David, shadows darken as a cross is raised. Upon which is nailed the last king to come from the line of David. What does God do with us sinners gathering at the foot of the cross? What does God do with us Davids who take and break and sin and suffer?

My sin, oh the bliss, of this glorious thought, my sin not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more; praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

The cross is a sign of truth. It is a sign of our sin, our shortcomings, our situation. And the cross sets us free. But not before shaking us to the core, not before confronting us with the truth.

There’s only once church that matters, and it’s not a church that’s wealthy, or powerful, or prestigious, or bursting at the seems, or filled with acclaim.

The only church that matters is a church that looks like Jesus.

Jesus, the tiny vulnerable baby who is totally dependent on others.

Jesus, the young child ready to challenge the status quo of those who have lingered too long in the temples of yesterday.

Jesus, the faithful one who spurns the temptations of the devil in the desert days of life.

Jesus, the story teller re-narrating the reality of existence.

Jesus, the embracer of the last, least, lost, little, and dead.

Jesus, the friend who stays with those who abandon him even to the very end.

Jesus, the forgiver of those who do not know what they are doing.

Jesus, the resurrected, who returns, reconciles, and receives everyone.

The Spirit is poured out among us, working in and through us, giving us everything we need to look like Jesus.

Idolatry is real and it is more destructive than anything we can imagine.

Idolatry is believing that social media is actually social when it fact is is constantly tearing us apart.

Idolatry is believing the number at the bottom of our bank statements is indicative of our true worth and value in the world.

Idolatry is believing that if our kids get on the right team, or the right score on a test, or into the right college everything will finally be forever perfect.

Idolatry is believing that the names on our bumper stickers are more important and determinate than our relationship with people who happen to have a different name on their bumper sticker.

Idolatry is believing we can know everything we ever need to know about another person by what type of music they listen to.

And God says, “I am tearing down your idols, I’m busting them up into a million tiny little pieces. Nothing can ever get between us.”

Faith in the Lord is a crazy thing. Keep at it long enough, keep singing these songs and praying these prayers, and all the sudden the idols don’t wield the power they once held over us.

Faith is the antidote to idolatry.

Faith, the faith gifted to us by and through the church, will keep us from putting all of our hope and effort in things that just aren’t up to the task.

Faith teaches us to cherish and build and rejoice in small things.

Faith, which is just another word for trust, tastes like raspberries and cream, it sounds like Bach’s cello suite No.1 in G major, it looks like the stars stretched across the night sky, it smells like freshly baked chocolate brownies, it feels like someone holding our hand when we don’t have anything else to hold onto.

Saint Augustine said, “You are the Body of Christ. In you and through you the work of incarnation must go forward. You are to be taken. You are to be blessed, broken, and distributed, that you may be the means of grace and vehicles of eternal love.”

In other words, we come together to be blessed in order that we become blessings to others.

Hear the Good News: The mercy of God is going to catch you. It might happen in a backyard summer celebration. It could happen in church on a Sunday. Or it might happen when you spin a record with some friends. But the mercy of God is coming, and there’s nothing you can do about it...

The world rings with praise only because the whole of creation is in on it!

Praise the Lord! The sun and moon, the sea, fire and snow, speckled frogs and spotted dogs, wrens and thrushes, old men with walkers and little babies who do little more than drool and sleep. The world joins up in the praise parade not with words, but with being. The snow whirls, the fires roar, the frogs croak, the cows moo, the birds sing, the old men sigh, and the little babies burp.

In short, we learn to praise God not by paying compliments, but by paying attention.

Have you ever watched a forest dance in the wind? Or listened to the symphony of a thunderstorm? Or sat in the silence and sound of a church service? Or experienced the fog lifting while you’re on the back of a motorcycle on your way to the zoo?

We can praise when all is well and when all is hell because, as Frederick Buechner puts it, “What’s lost is nothing to what’s found, and all the death that ever was, set next to life, would scarcely fill a cup.”