Category Archives: Hosea

Hosea 12-13: Chasing the Wind: 74/365

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This has got to be one of my all-time favourite metaphors, “to chase the wind”. Such a phrase adeptly captures the folly of such an unattainable endeavour. It is almost like when you watch a cat chasing a laser-pointer dot. “Yes” you say knowingly to yourself, “to dot does exert a force on your life, but you cannot catch it”. So too the wind ruffles hair and steals newspapers but it is aloof. Even if you could catch it, what would you do with it.

I think this metaphor is so much more beautiful than just describing something as intangible. For example:

Ephraim chases the wind and pursues the east wind

is exploring Ephraim’s attempts to gain power from geo-political alliances. To see the might of fellow nations as little more than the wind is sobering, it challenges our perspective on abstract concepts that, without God’s rebuke, we would have considered extremely tangible.

Indeed, we are reminded here to affix our gaze on the tangible. Not to focus on idols as:

they will be like the morning mist, like the early dew that vanishes, like chaff blown from a threshing floor, or like smoke from a window.

I don’t want to be temporal and so easily discarded. I want to work on projects that last.

Interesting, reflecting post-sickness, I can see how so many formerly tangible priorities can wisp away like smoke. My career used to be pretty valuable to me. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a corporate ladder climber or anything like that. But I did take a reasonable amount of pride for my achievements at a pretty prestigious school – I was happy that I was doing well in that environment.

Now, having been off work for almost 9 months sick, it is amazing how little those achievements mean to me. My involvement in iPad implementation trials or particular lesson plans that I can’t even recall, the sun has come out and evaporated those dewy blades of grass.

What remains? The relationships. I still value my relationships with the staff and students, yet relationships too often get forgotten in the haste of our world.

So too, I am sure, the actions of our world will wisp away like smokey tendrils. What will remain will be our relationships. Of paramount importance, our relationship with God.

To stop chasing the wind and start appreciating the solid earth… that’s a timely reminder.

Hosea 11: Fatherly Forgiveness: 74/365

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There is a label that I think we disassociate from, and disempower too quickly: God as Father.

This intimate name holds all manners of associations such as filial responsibility; headship; love; guidance; and, belonging. However, reflecting back on how we discuss God as Father the concept always seems to be framed in the present tense.

For example, the most common analogy that I have heard in sermons of God’s fatherly access is generally described in the following manner. Imagine a hypothetical of the President of the United Stated – important guy. He is so important and busy that to meet with him requires numerous security checks, secretary appointments, and the like. Just think of the West Wing to get an idea of how much one person can micro-manage their day. Consequently other important people like CEO’s or philanthropists must wait for a meeting and discuss issues in formal terms. Yet the daughter of POTUS can just run into the White House, sit on his lap, and talk to her dad.

Thus, if we apply the concept of Father to God, the analogy infers that we have the same no-holds-barred access to him and the opportunity for informal discussion with an abundantly powerful person. Now this is a cute picture, it does highlight how approachable God has made himself to us, but it doesn’t sit perfectly right with me. It seems like this analogy is heavily weighted towards showing the human perspective only. We see the depiction through the girls eyes.

Yet, with fatherhood, there is a history. Their relationship is deeper than that moment. It has last their entire lives and the Father does much more for his daughter than just listen to him and withhold rebukes for her bursting in on his office so. What this analogy misses out on, Hosea 11 thrives in. Here we see what the legacy of a filial relationship means, both to us and to God.

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son… It was I who taught Ephraim to walk, taking them in My arms, but they never knew that I healed them.

Herein is a touching description of God’s care for Israel in its infancy. These passages emanate an almost nostalgic tone: the literary equivalent to the movie scene where the parents sit down and lead through old polaroids of family photos whilst sipping coffee and listening to ‘Memories’. The next few memories that God reflects on show the intimacy between He and his son:

I led them with human cords, with ropes of love. To them I was like one who eases the yoke from their jaws; I bent down to give them food.

In my minds eye I get the picture of ‘toddler-Israel’. A chubby, ruddy nosed infant who is fully reliant on God, even for its food. If this were a movie, the scene would follow immediately after teen-Israel – all grown up, gangly and rebellious – slamming the door on God and promising not to come back, “My people are bent on turning from Me”. God is furious and hurt at first, but in his rage has come across the photos and begins to remember the relationship over the betrayal. It is in this moment that he realises:

How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I surrender you, Israel? How can I make you like Amdah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? I have had a change of heart.

God’s fatherly love for us means more than momentary access, it also reflects the deep ongoing relationship that he has shared with us forever. Consequently, despite his hurt and pain at our rejection and rebellion, he still wants to fight for our relationship. He still desires nothing more than to restore our family bonds – irrespective of the cost to him.

It is sobering to realise that when I call God Father, I am calling on the very same bond that I so often spurn when I turn my own way. Yet, based on his values and qualities alone, God chooses to listen and still acknowledge our filial proximity.

Further, in a curious contrast to the parenting trap that so many of us fall into nowadays, God doesn’t intend to let me walk all over him to ‘keep the peace’. No his love is deeper than to merely acquiesce my wrong desires.

They will follow the Lord; He will roar like a lion. When he roars his children will come trembling from the west.

God still will be the boss. It is his call that leads his children. It is his power that they will respect. Further it is his provision that they will shelter in:

Then I will settle them in their homes. This is the Lord’s declaration.

It is pretty awe-inspiring stuff when you consider the emotional journey that is bundled into a label so simple as ‘Father’. Further it is all the more sobering when ‘Father’ is extended beyond the present tense and our eyes are opened to God’s ongoing care, guidance and protection. He is an impressively patient guy, which is a good thing. I am a pretty rebellious one and can do with all the patience I get.

Hosea 10: Compacted Soil: 72/365

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It is amazing what you can find on the internet, should you take the time to look. Having just been struck by the following lines in Hosea:

Ephraim is a well trained calf that loves to thresh, but I will place a yolk on her fine neck. I will harness Ephraim; Judah will plow; Jacob will do the final plowing. Sow righteousness for yourselves and reap faithful love; break up your unplowed ground. It is time to seek the Lord until he comes and sends righteousness on you like the rain.

I was curious and decided to spend a little bit of time exploring compacted soil and how one goes about aerating it. Through this process I found a forum dedicated to raising, and looking after, your family milk cow! Pretty cool stuff.

More pertinently, I also discovered the difficulties involved in rejuvenating soil that has been compacted and leeches of its nutrients. This is an apt metaphor, it sounds a lot like me. The soil originally had a purpose but, often slowly and through lack of careful attention, it grows neglected like

poisonous weeds in the furrows of a field.

There are machines that help to aerate fields but they struggle when you start to get deep. From my fifteen minutes of research, it sounds like the best way to aerate fields is to plant hardy grass that develops deep roots systems and clovers that reintroduce nitrogen to the soil. The problem is, should the dirt be really barren, the grass wont grow. Not without constant care, nurturing and attention.

How much does this sound like our spiritual battles? How appropriate is the concept of dirt that has been compacted and consequently hardened into a flatbed where nothing can take root? This sounds so much like me and my world it isn’t funny.

I remember, when I used to work in North Sydney and live about a 20 minute walk away, encountering wave after wave of charities attempting to dredge donations. You know the type, they hire the perky travelers who through lack of shame and humorous accents wave and jump until they have your attention. SNAP! The trap is set. You’re in for the 3 minute spiel…

Well, when I first started in North Sydney I didn’t mind it too much. In fact, if the charity was operating in an area I was interested in I’d often stop to pick their brains on the latest developments in the UNHCR or the like. Over time though, after having to dodge an average of three potential best-friends-if-you-donate types each time I left the office, I started to receive these guys more cooly. By the end of one year living within walking distance, I had had enough. I wasn’t even polite when they approached me anymore. I didn’t want a bar of it, I just wanted to get my sandwich without being accosted, my heart was hardened.

So too I’m sure my spirit is reacting in the same way. Each disappointment or trial, each tribulation compacts the soil of my soul into an evermore dense mass.

Interesting, this passage points to two remedies. First, to toil on the land (metaphorically speaking). There are instructions to “break up unplowed ground” in preparation for the rain. This is important to remember as, whilst God can do everything on his own, he chooses to involve us actively in the process. Consequently I need to prepare the landscape of my heart. I need to reflect, and consider, and rebuke the rough edges of my psyche to ensure my soul is as receptive to God’s word as it can be. Notably, this involves hard work. It isn’t going to come of its own accord.

For me, this often means putting aside the disappointment of my illness and frustration with my current lot. It means reminding myself of God’s abundant provision so I don’t get distracted by my temporary drought.

Second, awaiting God’s rain. I’ve explored this metaphor earlier whilst reading James and it is a good one. I can do all the work in the world, but without God’s rain it is a futile endeavor. This is good for keeping head sizes in the normal range.

It is a good mantra: soft hearts receptive to God’s rain. No doubt it’ll lead to good crops too!

Hosea 9: Strumpet, Harlot, Night-Walker: 71/365

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When I was a late teenage a very good friend of mine had a very curious idea. Inspired by Shakespeare’s creative vocabulary for prostitutes / sexually meandering folk, my friend decided to dedicate the next few months of her life compiling a list of prostitute synonyms. This hobby of hers became a quirk that her friends enjoyed fueling. Often on the train from Hurstville to Allawah we’d throw out synonyms that we’d encountered from the week to see if it’d make her list.

My favourite (what a weird thing to say) was strumpet by virtue of the vitriol you could conjure whilst saying it. Strumpet – what a gloriously aggressive word.

This morning I haven’t learnt a new synonym, but I have collected a powerful image:

You have loved the wages of a prostitute on every grain-threshing floor.

This metaphor really represents to thought-trains colliding in my mind. At the moment I am surveying the carnage and trying to work out what to do next.

Thought Train 1: Sin is serious. It’s wages are death. I do it all the time.

Thought Train 2: Christianity is about having a relationship with God.

The collision? I don’t think I realised just how hurtful my sin was to God. I think I tended to see it like a victimless crime, it is bad and wrong but nobody is getting super-hurt from it? Man I couldn’t be more wrong.

The above verse suggests that each time I sin it is like me cuckolding God like a prostitute. I am spitting on his love and provision. For what? For the temporal wages of a prostitute that I seek – not once – continually on every floor. This is not a flattering depiction of me.

Further, the wages of a prostitute seem so hollow. Temporary acceptance and love, small sums of cash to pay my way. It is nothing in comparison to what God is so willing to provide me in his house.

I feel like, even as I write this, I want to move on because the image is so confronting. Further I can’t help but reflect on all the times I’ve denied my sinful nature and tried to pretend that everything is OK. I can’t imagine the pain of seeing your spouse cheating on you for them to deny it. And go out and do it again, and again, and again.

Worse, I think of all the times I’ve judged others for their sin. In this context it is like God finding me in the unfaithful act only for me to point out another in the opposite corner of the barn. This logic sounds like the beginning of a Jerry Springer episode!

No wonder God is so infuriated. To my great amazement, however, that he can find comprehensive forgiveness in his heart.

Hosea 8: Pottery Smash ’12: 70/365

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A quirk of my wife’s is her love of smashing things.

You wouldn’t pick it. She is normally relatively quiet and reserved. However, beneath that meek exterior revs a fully-fueled and impatient demolition derby. Give her anything destructible, either via smashing or burning and she’ll be as happy as a pig in much.

I recall once, Jo was so excited to smash something that she couldn’t wait for crockery or other easy to clear products. No, she grabbed a glass to break on our outside patio. Man, that took forever to clean up. For weeks we kept on finding fragments of glass. Tiny shards that must’ve come close to being suborbital appeared yards away from the initial point of impact!

Either way, I can understand what God is getting at when he says:

Israel is swallowed up! Now they are among the nations like discarded pottery.

It is an important reminded to stay faithful to God. Before this comment God has describe the vector of Israel:

They have installed Kings, but not through Me. They have appointed leaders, but without My approval. They make silver and gold into idols for themselves for their own destruction… How long will they be incapable of innocence? For this thing is from Israel – a craftsman made it, and it is not God.

The refrain is clear, Israel is acting without God. God’s response is equally unambiguous, this is foolish and costly.

Consequently, as the jug of Israel is no longer holding God’s water but turning to other nations, it is discarded and smashed.

I think this metaphor operates as a powerful reminded, both for our purpose, but also for need of unity within the church. I have probably been taking my church community for granted of late, yet we are collected together into a church and should see ourselves as a collective.

Without each other, without the other parts of the clay bowl, we cannot operate effectively. All those shards that I collected post-Jo’s ‘relaxation therapy’ could no longer operate as a glass. They needed each other and relied on each. So to we in the church.

I think this chapter operates as a powerful reminded of the need to seek God’s council and to operate as a church unit. A series of individuals will end up as nothing more than flying shards.