Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

They had already done it. Dispensed with the covenant. Discarded the rules. Although they had yet to see them carved in stone, the people of Israel had thrown the commandments aside like yesterday’s news. The covenant they had been so eager to make after their grand exit from Egypt and narrow escape across the Red Sea lay broken at their feet, along with its inherent implications. While Moses was up on the mountain getting a crash course in laws and rules and ramifications, the people down below were busy violating the very commandments he would soon be reciting. (Exodus 19:2-8)

The length of his alleged vacation chafed. He’d been gone a long time, who knows what. They’d been stuck in the same place. Camped out. Waiting. Day after day of the same routines. Day after day of manna. Day after day of nothing new, nothing changing, nothing exciting. It didn’t seem fair that Moses would get to go on a trip up a mountain to talk with God, but they had to stay put in dullsville. They couldn’t go anywhere. Literally. Moses was the map. He was gone. And he’d left strict instructions, “Don’t cross the line. Don’t go up the mountain. Don’t even touch the edge of the mountain. Death awaits the one who disobeys.” (Exodus 19:9-25)

As Moses disappeared into the thick cloud of God’s presence, the people waited in expectation. Surely he’d be back for dinner bearing news of their next course of action, a new travel direction, a different menu option. He wasn’t. Moses didn’t show up again that day. Or the next day. Or the next week. Indeed, several weeks passed and Moses had yet to return. The people were growing restless. Tired. Bored. Weary of the monotonous waiting, the people took a flying leap off the deep end, cannon-balling straight into defection.  

Impatient with the waiting and certain Moses was never coming back, the people began to make choices. Poor choices. Choices certain to taint their relationship with the God they had vowed to serve, the One with whom they had happily, willingly entered a covenant. They were done with all that. They wanted a tangible god. A visible god. A god that required no covenant or command. They’d do whatever it took to erect it. Sacrifice anything to have it. No price was too steep. They would have their way even if it took every gold ring and earring in the congregation to make it so. 

Whatever made Aaron concur remains a mystery. One would think, as their last line of defense against the crazed workings of the evil one, Aaron would have planted his feet on God’s ground and remained immovable. Turns out he was quite lily-livered without Moses by his side. Perhaps he was jealous of Moses’ extended mountain stay. Maybe he was irritated that the upper conference hadn’t included him. Perhaps he was infuriated that he’d been left to run herd on a bunch of former slaves tasting freedom for the first time. Or maybe Aaron was simply exhausted. Whatever the case, he quickly capitulated to the fierce demands of the fickle people. Gathering the collection of golden jewelry, he melted it enough to meld it together. Then, using a graving tool, he formed the mass of gold into the form of a calf. 

The people couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Their new god was everything they wanted. Blind. Deaf. Mute. It couldn’t see or hear their sin. It couldn’t issue commands. Yet they could still blame it for any inconveniences along the way. Immediately they began to exalt the statue. Stripping the glory from the God to whom it rightfully belonged, they proclaimed this new god, created by their own hands, as the one who had gloriously brought them out of Egypt. Aaron built an altar before it. Scheduled a feast. Directed burnt offerings and peace offerings to their new god. The people celebrated with eating, drinking, games and dancing. And the omnipotent God of the universe, their Deliverer, who sees every action, knows every thought, reads every intent of the human heart, stopped mid-sentence, consumed with anger at the travesty unfolding near the foot of Mount Sinai. (Exodus 32:1-10; Psalm 44:21; Jeremiah 17:10; Psalm 139:2)

As their unholy sacrifices smoldered before an unworthy statue of gold, the God to whom vengeance belongs vowed to act. This defection would cost them. The covenant, now in tatters at their feet, would never be renewed. The people would never be God’s chosen, they had opted out of being His peculiar treasure. They clearly wanted nothing to do with Him, They had wastefully thrown away His mercy, trampled His grace, traded His magnanimous offer of love for a god they could manipulate and control. And it would cost them. His presence among them. His power before them. His blessings over them.   

History records few individuals owning the steel spine that must surely have been encased in Moses’ back. Knowing the power and greatness of God Almighty, feeling the pain and anger radiating from His presence, Moses still stood and spoke on behalf of the unworthy people below. Invoking the covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob that he knew God would never break, he pleaded for their lives. And God relented. (Exodus 32:7-14)

Racing down the mountain at break-neck speed, Moses’ feet screeched to a halt as his eyes took in the blasphemous scene unfolding before him. Rage burned in his veins. Hurling the precious tablets inscribed by the finger of God to the ground, he stalked through the cavorting crowd. Little by little, the people became aware of his presence. The music silenced. The dancing stopped. Plates of food were set aside. The celebrations ended. Moses was back and their actions had left them in no position to rejoice. Their lips were full of broken promises. Their hands were filthy from sullied sacrifices. (Exodus 32:15-20)

Surprisingly, I take no umbrage with the people’s impatience at Moses’ lengthy absence. We would have felt the same way. Wondered where he was. Worried he wasn’t coming back. Wrestled with how to survive and thrive if we were left without a leader. We would have made alternate plans. Designated a backup leader. Maybe even found a backup for the backup. Things happen in the wilderness, you know. It’s best to be prepared. Impatience and boredom would have pushed us to our breaking point. Complaints would have crossed our lips. Yet, for all the human normalcy of that impatience and irritation, I find their course of action unconscionable. 

Why take their anger at Moses out on God? Why purposely walk away from the God who has delivered and rescued and provided for them? Why flagrantly construct gods that aren’t God and offer sacrifices meant for God alone to empty idols? Whether or not they read the words inscribed on those stone tablets before Moses splintered them into pieces, it takes no mental gymnastics whatsoever to know that offering sacrifices to a god made by human hands would never be the proper course of action. They weren’t being ignorant or obtuse. They purposely, willfully traded their God for a god.  (Exodus 20:3-6; 22:20)

 Apparently, humanity never changes. We are still engaging in the very activity that tripped up the ancient Israelites so long ago. Instead of focusing on Who we are and where we are going, we’ve gotten bored in the interim waiting space and started casting a wandering eye at all the pretty things around us. We’ve become envious of what others have. We’ve started longing for status and fortune and fame. In less time than we thought possible, those longings and desires have become all-consuming and we find ourselves making sacrifices on the altar of a god that was never meant to be our God. We rise up early and stay up late working and for what? A shot at the corner office, a gold nameplate, a designer wardrobe? We wear ourselves out at the gym. Why? To be the perfect size, the right muscle tone, the most attractive? We spend thousands of dollars on beauty products and treatments, herbal cleanses and health spas in a desperate effort to stop the effects of aging, hold off the march of time, and give ourselves longer to attain the earthly goals we hold so dear. We sacrifice our children, our families, our friends, ourselves on the altar of gods who aren’t God. We are no different than the ancient people we judge so harshly for worshiping a golden calf. 

In the final utterings of Ecclesiastes, the learned preacher writes this profound conclusion. “Here’s the deal. When everything is said and done, fear God only. Obey God only. Follow God only. This is your entire life’s duty. Why? Because every thought, action, word, and secret will be weighed and measured by God, the Just Judge of all the earth.” He wasn’t wrong. The message the preacher spoke was the same truth God proclaimed to His people in Exodus. And the message hasn’t changed. There can be no gods before God. There can be no sacrifices made on the altars of earthly, worldly things. You can only serve one master. So you have to choose. Now. Today. God or god. Eternal or earthly. Desirable sacrifices of a broken spirit and contrite heart humbly laid before the God to whom we will all give an account. Or sullied sacrifices offered to a nameless, powerless, useless god that isn’t God at all. The choice is yours. Choose wisely, no matter how frustrated you are with the limitations and waiting of your current circumstances. Choose wisely, intentionally contemplating the spiritual outcome of each option. Choose wisely, for you are choosing your eternity. (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14; Exodus 20:3-4; Psalm 51:17; Deuteronomy 17:2-3; Matthew 6:24; Joshua 24:15; I John 2:15-17; Romans 14:11-13)

The relative peace and prosperity brought about through political stability had certainly changed things. Not necessarily for the better. While it was wonderful to live without constant upheavals, the people had become complacent. Serving the God with whom they had promised to remain in covenant had become rote. They observed the feasts and assemblies. They offered burnt offerings, grain offerings and peace offerings. They played their religious music and sang their songs, but no matter how pious they appeared to onlookers, their hearts weren’t where they needed to be. They’d lost connection with God. They had broken their part of the everlasting covenant. (Amos 5:21-23)

It hadn’t happened all in one day. The evil one is more cunning than that. It likely happened a bit at a time. Perhaps it began subconsciously. Maybe he posed a nagging list of questions and suggestions similar to the one he presented to Eve in the Garden of Eden. Did God really intend for them to follow all those requirements when their land was peaceful and prosperous? Was God simply trying to keep them from having fun? Would a loving God make earthly opulence attainable, yet require them to abstain? What purpose could He possibly have for holding them back from the lifestyle wealth could give them? God surely didn’t mean all those statutes and requirements to be enforced when they were clearly living under His blessing. (Genesis 3:1-5)

And so it began. A little editing of the law here. A bit of boundary-pushing there. A half-truth. An outright lie. A blatant refusal to adhere to God’s statutes. A quick edit of the commandments. When immediate retribution failed to materialize, they became more flagrant in their disregard for the very guidelines that had rescued and preserved their people for centuries. Wealth, status, and extravagance became their gods. Their lust for hedonistic lifestyles sent them barreling past all the commands to look after the poor and, instead, saw them selling the poor into slavery so they could fund their opulent desires. They weren’t interested in listening to true prophets anymore, commanding them not to prophesy. They didn’t want to hear from God. They had no desire to change. So far down the selfish, wilful path of least resistance were they, it would take something horrendous to turn them around. (Amos 2:4, 6-8, 12; Deuteronomy 15:7-11; Leviticus 19:9-10, 15, 25:35; Exodus 21:16; Proverbs 22:22-23)

Something came. Many things, actually. Nothing phased them. Famine didn’t turn their heads. Drought didn’t stop them short. Blight, mildew, and locust infestations didn’t force them to rethink their stance. Pestilence and war had no effect. Even through the death of their young men they remained unmoved. Blinded by their affinity for wealthy accouterments, they chose not to return to God. Sacrificing justice and righteousness on the altar of self-gratification, lust and pride. It comes as no surprise then, that once the plagues had passed and not one soul turned back to God, He would instruct the herdsman Amos to sound the alarm through the terrifying words, “Prepare to meet your God!” His wrath. His judgment. Their consequences. (Amos 4)  

The words have a chilling tone to them. Ominous. Threatening. The God they are going to meet is mighty. His power is above every power. It is unfathomable, incomprehensible. Rising mountains. Blowing wind. Twinkling stars. Flowing waters. Day. Night. It is all in the power of His voice, the strength of His hand. He can kill and make alive with just the barest of thoughts, yet in steadfast love and abundant mercy, the great God of the universe who holds all power in the palm of His hand, who owes them nothing but wants to give them everything, offers to stay His hand. He required just one simple act on their part. Seek the Lord. (Amos 4:13-5:15)

It was such a small thing to ask. Return to the Lord. Seek good. Hate evil. Re-establish justice. There was nothing new there. Nothing they hadn’t heard before. Nothing God’s laws and directives hadn’t previously established. What God required of them had not changed. Love justice. Be filled with righteousness. Unfortunately, they were no longer interested. So drawn aside by their own lusts were they, that the call to repentance, to righteousness, was left unheeded. They would go on hypocritically performing their religious rituals, having a form of godliness void of any true spirituality, deceiving no one but themselves. When the days of bitter mourning and destruction came, as they sat bemoaning the loss of their extravagant lifestyles, there would be no one to blame but themselves. They silenced the prophets. Kicked Amos out of Judah. Chose not to hear. Opted out of listening. They effectively chose significant punishment over spiritual prosperity, leaving us to wonder about the choice. (Amos 3:2:11-12; 5:14-24; 6:12-14)

Why didn’t they just choose to return to the old paths? How hard could it be? They already know what to do. Why not just do it? Why not allow the rolling waters of true justice to flow through their nation, clearing out the things hindering their relationship with God and making way for the torrential, overflowing stream of righteousness to cleanse their hearts and lives? What was the holdup? Freeing justice and cleansing righteousness was the cry of God’s heart over them. He deeply, desperately wanted them to lay aside their dedication to rote religious habits. Their belief that keeping the offerings and assemblies and music flowing would be enough to preserve their souls was an abject fallacy. He wanted the waters of righteousness to roll over them in a never-ending stream, cleansing their hearts and making them truly spiritual through unequivocal dedication to God alone. I can’t help but believe He wants the same for you and me. (Amos 5:24)

The deal is this. You can go to church every Sunday, teach a class, preach a sermon, sing with the praise team, beat a drum or shake a tambourine, but if, when you leave that place, your life exhibits nothing of true godliness, you are wasting your time. God is not impressed or fooled by your ability to keep specific religious rituals, speak church lingo, or participate in special services. God wants to see Himself, His Word, His laws reflected in the dealings of your everyday life. He doesn’t want you to simply say you are His child. He wants you to live like it. (Matthew 3:8; Mark 12:31; I John 3:17; Proverbs 27:19; Ephesians 4:22)

God wants you to apply His justice to your life. He wants you to scrutinize and evaluate every nuance of your heart, every word on your lips, every thought in your mind. He wants you to measure each one by the law of His justice, carefully determining if there is something, anything that keeps you from living exactly as He requires. He wants your church attendance, your good works, your adherence to His laws to be more than just an act put on to enhance your religious appearance. God wants you to allow the rolling waters of his justice to cleanse your heart, push aside every obstruction, impediment, and hindrance, allowing you to live completely awash in the overflowing stream of His righteousness. And he wants your life to show it. (James 2:14-26; Hebrews 12:1; II Corinthians 13:5-7; Psalm 19:14)

There’s a little stream that flows through two of our pastures. For several months of the year, we pay it little attention as it babbles on its way to a waterfall down the mountain. Except in spring. In the spring we keep our eye on the creek. It floods every year. Some years modestly. Some years immensely. This year, as I read the words of God spoken through Amos, my mind immediately went to that creek. Although our pastures have ponds in them right now due to the overflow, in a month or so warmer temperatures will dry up the excess and the creek will recede. I have no concerns it will dry up, though. It never does. In even the hottest temperatures and driest conditions, the creek keeps flowing, fed by water rolling down from mountain stores. 

I hope the same can be said for us. I hope we stay under the rolling water of God’s justice and allow it to cleanse us from every impurity. I hope our lives reflect the ever-flowing stream of righteousness that follows in the wake of that cleansing. I hope we never move from that place to dry up and become nothing more than an oozing mud hole or dried-out creek bed of our own attempts at righteousness. We couldn’t survive that way. We weren’t meant to. Our needy souls require water. The same thing the people of Amos’ day needed. Rolling waters and rising streams that cleanse and dedicate our hearts to God alone. (Psalm 42:1-2; II Corinthians 5:21; Matthew 7:19-23; Psalm 119:131)

The promised outcome made the list seem daunting. Enormous knots of nerves formed in the stomach of every adult as they ticked each box, doubling back to ensure its completion. Tenuously balanced on their adherence and obedience were life and death, deliverance and captivity. So they meticulously set about following instructions. On the tenth day of the month, choose a perfect, blemishless, male lamb, one year old. Keep it until twilight on the fourteenth day. Slaughter the animal. Gather your family into your home, making certain no one leaves until morning. Using a branch of hyssop, wipe the still warm blood of the lamb above and beside the door frame of your house. Roast the flesh. Gather at the table prepared to walk out the door. Fully dressed–belt, sandals, staff. Eat the roasted lamb with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Eat quickly. You need to be ready. Deliverance is coming. Their desperate hearts hoped it was true. (Exodus 11-12)

Ugly uncertainty lurked in the recesses of their minds. Their hopes had been dashed before. For years they had cried out to God, begging for deliverance from their afflictions and sufferings. They’d been crying out for a rescue for decades. When Pharaoh’s daughter pulled Moses from the water and chose to raise him as their own, they thought surely this was the long-awaited answer to their anguished pleas. It wasn’t. Fleeing to Midian after murdering an Egyptian, their hope of escape fizzled and died. Their cries to Heaven intensified. And God heard their groans. Looking down from Heaven God saw His people. Abused. Afflicted. Tormented. Tired. Surviving but not thriving. And God was stirred to action. (Exodus 1-2)

Appearing undercover as a burning bush, God spoke to Moses in the wilderness. The message wasn’t met with rave reviews. Moses had excuses. He wasn’t on Pharaoh’s guestlist. He wasn’t eloquent. Frankly, he simply wasn’t inclined. But God is persuasive. He didn’t need someone with a fluid tongue of beautiful speech. He would provide the words when the moment warranted them. He wanted someone who would faithfully, willingly obey. He wanted Moses. (Exodus 3)

Surely the people’s hearts soared with hope upon hearing that deliverance was coming. Deep discouragement turned to reverent worship. Dark mourning to radiant joy. God had heard their cries! He had seen their blood and sweat and tears! He understood the physical and emotional toll the current situation was taking on them! He felt their helplessness and despair! He was moved by their groaning! He cared about their circumstances and had a plan to rescue and restore His people. God was fixing to move! 

They thought it would happen immediately. Humming quietly to themselves, mothers excitedly began sifting through household items, clothing, and food stuff, determining what could be used before leaving, what should be taken, what must be left behind. Men began using spare time to repair carts and assess flocks, preparing for travel. In their excitement at receiving the promise of deliverance, they assumed God would send Moses in with force and they would be miraculously released from their captivity at the first attempt. It was not to be. (Exodus 4)

As Moses and Aaron came away from that first ill-fated meeting with Pharaoh, their expectations took a beating. In spite of God’s promises, no one was going anywhere. Not today. Not any day if Pharaoh could help it. His wrath poured out on them in intensified work requirements. They struggled to collect enough raw materials to meet the demanded number of bricks. The foremen endured the sting of the whip as demands exceeded their abilities. The people suffered as Pharaoh’s rage refused them mercy and necessary help to meet the added criteria. With every rebuke, every beating, every added requirement, hope wavered. Grew dim. Yet still it lived. God had promised and God is faithful. (Exodus 5-6)

Every time Moses and Aaron made the trek to speak with Pharaoh, they watched in anticipation, desperately hoping this would be the time Pharaoh would relent. It never was. The water turned to blood before his eyes. Pharaoh refused. Frogs and gnats and flies infested the land. Still he resisted. Egyptian livestock died of the plague. Pharaoh would not relent. Painful boils afflicted their skin. Hail decimated the remaining livestock and the already budding flax and ears of barley. Pharaoh wavered. For a moment it seemed he would change his mind. He didn’t. They were still stuck. Locusts came and devastated any remaining crops, ate the foliage off the trees, made general pests of themselves all across the land of Egypt. Darkness, thick and black and suffocating, covered the face of the land. Still Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let God’s people go. (Exodus 7-10)

As their hope began to shrivel, their faith started to shrink, their hearts became overwhelmed with the idea of having to stay put and endure more treacherous treatment, Moses came with this new message. A checklist, really. He said this was it. The final moment. They needed to prepare. The final, devastating plague was coming. A horrifying event that would release them from their torment. Their moment of deliverance was dawning. God had heard their cries. He saw their suffering. He knew their dire need. And, even if it hadn’t happened the way they thought it should, even if it had taken longer than they wanted, even if the whole series of escapades seemed ridiculous to them, God was working out his purpose. He was delivering them, not on their timetable, but on His. Why? So the entire earth would know He was the omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe and nothing was too difficult for Him. (Exodus 11-12:28)

Surely some wondered if it would be real this time. Would Pharaoh really let them go? Would he let them walk out of Egypt with their livestock and wives and little ones? Beside the sprig of hope, a seed of doubt must surely have tried to take root. They had watched Pharaoh stare down affliction, infestation, and devastation with hardly a raised brow. His heart was clearly made of stone. He didn’t care for his own people, let alone a group of slaves. This game of cat and mouse was clearly all about power for him. After every horror, he simply took a deep breath, flexed his muscles, and foiled their plan of escape again. How would this time be any different? 

Having followed all the instructions of Moses, the Israelites gathered in their homes and waited. Newborn babies held in their arms. Young children asleep on their knees. Parents huddled in silence, waiting for the next instruction, the next guidance, the direction to move. As midnight struck, so did the hand of God. Within minutes, the wailing cries of bereaved Egyptians rang out across the land. There was no mistaking the sounds of mourning as mothers clutched lifeless children to their breasts. Fathers bent in agony over the beds of unbreathing sons. From the palace to the dungeon, death swept the nation. Except in Goshen. Except in the houses of Israel. Except in the places the blood had been applied. And in the aftermath of the midnight atrocity, Pharaoh finally relented. He let God’s people go. 

Everyone in Egypt did. In a “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” moment, the Egyptians gladly ushered the Israelites out of Egypt. Immediately. No one tried to keep back one ox, one lamb, one goat, one person. Indeed, their hearts were filled with generosity. They happily gave the soon-to-be travelers gold and silver jewelry and clothing for their journey. Because when God promises deliverance, a rescue, a rout, His strong hand and outstretched arm comes through exponentially. Too bad the Israelites didn’t really learn to trust Him. (Exodus 12:29-42)

It wouldn’t be long before the people who had been gloriously rescued would once again become the people who doubted God’s ability to care for them. They would whine and moan over water and food. They would grow weary in the desert waiting for Moses to reappear and build themselves an idol. They would frustrate and anger both God and Moses regularly. I’d like to say I wonder why. Why did they act like spoiled brats when they knew from past experience that, even if they didn’t understand His plan or see His hand, God was always working on their behalf? As the question falls from my lips, a voice inside my head responds, “Why do you?” (Exodus 14:10-12, 15:22-26, 16-17, 32) 

Good question. Knowing all we do about the miraculous power, the sovereign knowledge, the impeccable timing of God, why do we act like the wilderness wandering Israelites? Why do we throw tantrums every time God doesn’t immediately zap down the answer we want? Why do we assume we know the best timing and methods for every issue in our lives? Why do we immediately think God isn’t doing His job simply because we can’t see Him moving, preparing the way, setting the stage for our own rescue? Why do we think every missed date on our human calendar is a failed promise of God? 

It isn’t. God never misses an appointment. He never breaks a promise. If He said He is bringing deliverance, you can absolutely rest in His word. I don’t know what you are struggling through today. I don’t know what answer to prayer you’ve been waiting on for the last few months or years. I don’t pretend to fully understand the dark valley your soul has been traversing the last few weeks. But I do know this. God sees you. He sees your situation, your fears, your tears, your burdens. Your cries have come up to His ears. Your groans of pain and frustration. Your sighs of anxiety and concern. Your prayers for help, a rescue, a respite have not gone unheard. So hold on. Keep the faith. Trust His word. God is fixing to deliver you. Just as He promised. (Job 5:19-27; Psalm 34:19; Psalm 56:8; I Peter 3:12; Mark 11:22; Isaiah 40:31; Lamentations 3:25-26)

It was meant to be an unforgettable birthday party. We had spent weeks planning. Combing the internet for ideas. Selecting activities. Choosing menu options. Narrowing down the guest list. We’d been meticulous. The children would move from painting pumpkins to playing pumpkin bowling and finally taking turns pummeling a pumpkin shaped pinata. There would be cake, candles and singing. And, most enticing of all to a mom trying to keep her house from destruction, it could all be done outdoors! Except it couldn’t.

As I was happily visiting the local farmer’s market, buying dozens of pumpkins in various sizes, baking a cake and enlisting my neighbor’s help in making Pozole, a hurricane was just as busily churning up the coast. It wasn’t a surprise. We knew it was coming. The weather forecasters had been keeping us informed since the storm was first spotted far out in the ocean. We’d been keeping a frustrated eye on the reports, hoping, praying, the bands of rain and gusts of wind that came our way would hold off long enough to keep our party in motion. 

Sadly, the party date dawned sans sunshine. Instead, rain was falling. The wind was picking up. The long-awaited, carefully planned festivities had to be moved indoors. The pinata was hung from the garage ceiling. Pumpkin bowling was set up below it. A table for pumpkin painting and drying was erected beside the dining table. Decorations were hung. The cake was prepared. All was in readiness. 

The guests came. At least some of them. Others canceled as their parents were hesitant to venture out in inclement weather. We partied anyway. Pumpkins were painted and bowled. Cake was eaten. The children had a fabulous time. Even when it began to rain in earnest. Even when the wind became ferocious. Even when the power went out about forty-five minutes before parents were supposed to reclaim their children. As the weather worsened, as trees fell and flooding caused road closures, I anxiously wondered if I’d have to hold an impromptu sleepover for stranded children. I didn’t. Thank God! All the parents made it back. Even the ones whose 30-minute drive home ended up taking two hours. When everyone was gone, the party evidence cleared, the car safely back in the shelter of my garage, we sat in complete safety and read Bible stories by candlelight. As the wind howled and the rain pounded, I found myself incredibly grateful that our house sat on the top of a rise, that the builders had religiously followed every code and requirement, that we didn’t have anything loose lying about the yard or porches to blow over and crash into windows or cars. We were safe because the builders responsibly erected our home on a firm foundation, following every rule and regulation available. 

We spent about 12 hours without power. Others were not so fortunate. Our property suffered little to no damage. Others were far less fortunate. In the following days, as we ventured out to run errands and go to church, we would see that even those outer bands of hurricane force rain and wind could be devastating. Downed trees littered our development. Flooding persisted. Passing a favorite park we frequented, the truth of the power behind the storm was brought sharply into focus. Where just days before a walking path cut through grass and standing trees, huge rocks, limbs and debris now sat. The path was no longer visible. It would be nearly two years before they could rectify the damage and reinstitute the path around the lake. After ten years of living in the south, we’ve weathered many storms with high winds, driving rain, and pounding hail. In every storm, I am eternally grateful that the builder of our home read every rule and regulation and responsibly followed every guideline and code. The ramifications of failure to do so could have been fatal. 

It’s a similar lesson Jesus was trying to teach in His Sermon on the Mount parable regarding houses and storms. In His parable, two men built houses. They were lovely to look at on sunny days when the breeze was light, the sky was clear, and the water remained confined within the banks of the lake. To the untrained eye, they appeared sturdy and safe. The construction seemed similar. Four walls. A few windows. A proper roof. It was what one couldn’t see that made the ultimate difference. 

Although the visible houses looked substantial enough to keep one safe in a storm, things fell apart underneath. Below the surface, where no one could see, the houses had two different foundations. One builder had taken a shortcut. A massive shortcut. He’d skipped the foundation. Entirely. No concrete slab. No framed basement. No fastening to a rock formation. He simply built his house directly on top of the sand. 

There’s no explanation for why one would do this. We can only guess. Perhaps he hadn’t read the carpentry scrolls. Maybe he’d only glanced over the building guidelines. Perhaps he was in a hurry to house his family. Maybe he was just lazy. His logic doesn’t really matter. He made a fatal error. His house wasn’t safe. It had nothing to secure its walls. Nothing to prevent its collapse should a stiff breeze or flash flood come along. Nothing to recommend his building skills. His house had no substance because he’d skipped the instructions. Refused the regulations. Opted out of the safety code requirements. When the storm arose and his house collapsed around him, he had no one to blame but himself. Why? Because he was responsible for everything he’d read, learned, and been told, but refused to do. He wasn’t ignorant of what needed to be done. He simply chose not to do it. 

Not so the other man. He wasn’t interested in a pretty, yet precarious, facade. He didn’t want a building that would fall at the first sign of inclement weather. He wasn’t interested in seeing his efforts collapse with the first puff of wind. He had no intention of watching his walls float away with the spring rains. He was absolutely going to follow every rule, regulation and guideline because he wanted the finished product to stand regardless of how strong the winds, how hard the rain, how fast the floods. He wanted to know his house was safe. 

Working fastidiously, he willingly undertook the backbreaking work of digging down through sand and clay until he reached solid rock. Using that rock as a foundation, he painstakingly affixed his walls to its immovable bulk. As the house took shape, walls went up, windows were placed, doors were cut, he referred back to the building guidelines frequently. He had to if he wanted his house to stand. He had to explicitly follow the regulations and guidelines if he wanted his house to last longer than the next storm. It would be ridiculous not to follow them. They were right in front of him. Easily accessed. Helpfully clear. Obviously important. A guidebook for which there was no substitute. (Matthew 7:24-27; Luke 6:47-49)

Isn’t it interesting how Jesus speaks to people right where they are in words they have no problem understanding? Isn’t it amazing that his parables and lessons are timeless? They are just as applicable in the 21st century as they were in the 1st century. God did not hand down some obscure dispensation understandable only by learned theologians, preachers, priests and Bible teachers. He didn’t give us a list of guidelines that would make us scratch our heads and wonder what He was talking about. No. God gave us a clear Book of regulations and rules that would be discernible to every person who took the time to read them. God gave us the Bible, the guidebook for earthly living and eternal joy. There is no substitute. (Psalm 119:130)

It often seems we have forgotten that fact, so read it again. There is no substitute for personal Bible reading and communion with God. You need to read His words. You need to apply them to your own life. You need to quiet your soul and allow Him to speak to you through the same words He spoke to people centuries ago. His message hasn’t changed. His lessons haven’t deviated. His guidelines haven’t wavered. His parameters haven’t moved. You need to read them. You need to follow them. The strength of your soul depends on them, and you are responsible for every one. (Isaiah 40:8; Numbers 23:19; Psalm 119:89; Romans 2:13)

Sitting in a church I recently visited, the pastor spoke of the “intentionally ignorant”. The people in the Bible who were present when Jesus walked the earth. Those who could clearly see He was more than just a prophet. Those who watched His miracles, listened to His teachings, yet still chose not to follow. Maybe they had excuses. Maybe they feigned confusion. Certainly they chose ignorance. But they were still responsible. For every word they heard, every miracle they witnessed, every sign they saw proving He was Christ. And they were responsible for what they did, or didn’t do, with that information. (John 5:39-40)

So are you. You are responsible for every command, regulation and guideline in that dust-coated Bible on your shelf. You have God’s word. You have His teachings. You can know His requirements. Simply by reading that Book. Your choice not to do so is no excuse. God wants to talk to you. Personally. He wants to give direction and guidance perfectly crafted to your specific needs. He wants to make your heart a spiritual fortress. He wants your life to be firmly, immovably rooted and grounded in Him. He wants you to read the guidebook. More importantly, He wants you to live by it. (Matthew 7:24; Luke 11:28; John 13:17; I Corinthians 3:10-11)

In a world overwhelmed by overbusy schedules and constant multitasking, God wants you to sit down and read His Word. Carefully. Thoughtfully. Prayerfully. He’s asking you to do more than quickly read a Bible story or scan a Psalm so you can tick the box of daily devotions. He’s calling you to lean in. To Him. To His Word. To His ways. He is urging you to read responsibly, because you are accountable for every word in that Book. Not just the pretty parts. Not just the comfortable parts. Not just the easy parts. You are responsible for every God-breathed lesson between its covers. So read the Book. Read. Your. Bible. Don’t substitute personal reading for professional podcasts, radio programming, or television preachers, no matter how good they may be. Read the Book. Yourself. Take time to listen to the words of God as He speaks to you personally through His recorded Word. Because the strength of your soul in the storms of life depends on it, read the Book. Responsibly. (Hebrews 2:1; Proverbs 12:7; Joshua 1:8; Romans 15:4; James 1:22; Acts 17:11; Colossians 3:16; Psalm 119:11)

His wife was missing. Given her personal history, it shouldn’t have been such a shock. It was. He hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t even suspected anything. A handful of years and three children later, Hosea assumed his wife of ill repute had left her previous lifestyle completely behind. Settled in. Felt content. He was wrong. The woman God had told him to pursue and marry had run off to pursue her own desires. The mother of the children God had meticulously planned and named had abandoned her young to seek her own excitement. The person to whom Hosea had vowed lifelong faithfulness had chosen to be unfaithful herself. She’d run away. More accurately, she’d been lured away. By other men. By grander offerings. By the lusts of her own heart. The reason didn’t matter. Facts were facts. And the fact was, Gomer was gone. 

Everyone would say he should have expected as much. It wasn’t as if their’s had been some star-crossed lovers’ match. Marrying her hadn’t even been his idea. It would never have occurred to him to walk down an alley, pick up a prostitute, and rush her to an all-night wedding chapel. So surprised was he when the command came, his poor brain surely had to engage in quite a few mental calisthenics before he could even force his feet to the door. In a move that cemented the quality of Hosea’s relationship with God, he went out and did exactly as he was told. Hosea married a prostitute. (Hosea 1)

His obedience was not without risk. The possibility that one man, a simple prophet, could hold the attention of a woman accustomed to the attentions of many men was nearly laughable. Yet it seemed to work. At least for a time. But Gomer still carried fond memories of her past in the recesses of her heart. She still longed for the freedom of her former lifestyle. She still relished the gifts of many suitors. She had never truly committed her heart to this relationship. And the thrill of the chase, the glitter of gifts, and the lust of her heart were singing a siren song she found impossible to ignore. Abandoning the stability and relationship Hosea offered, Gomer vanished to chase down the loves of her past. 

Hosea surely felt the blow of her rejection to the depths of his soul. How could he not? His act of abject obedience, his gallant rescue all thrown back in his face as though it was worthless. Although by now he thoroughly understood the correlation between his marital relationship and God’s relationship with His people, Hosea must certainly have found little comfort in God’s commiseration. The comparison of his dismally failed marriage to the abysmal deterioration of Israel’s godly devotion brought no healing to his scarred heart and wounded ego. Unlike the loving, forgiving God of Israel, Hosea wasn’t immediately inclined to find a way to woo Gomer back. He wasn’t even certain he wanted her back! Who would? She’d proven her taste lay outside the confines of their marriage. She’d publicly humiliated him by slinking back to her previous proclivities. Her actions highlighted her incredible dearth of desirable traits. What individual in full possession of their mental faculties, possessing even a modicum of self-respect, would purposely go and seek the one who had so violently betrayed their trust?! No one. No one would do that. No one but God. (Romans 5:8; I John 4:19; John 3:17-21; Luke 19:10)

God would do that. Only God in steadfast love and mercy would chase down those who rejected Him and offer them healing and hope and Heaven. It had been the reel historically playing over and over again before their eyes. While Israel chased after the lyrical flutes and lovely promises of false gods, the true God was still busy planning their reunion with Him. He didn’t leave them to their own devices. He didn’t write them off. He didn’t annihilate them all and raise up new, more devoted people for Himself. No. He. Chased. Them. Down. Lured them back with words of love. Spoke words of tenderness and kindness to their sullied souls. Betrothed them to Himself forever in righteousness, faithfulness, justice, and love. And He wanted Hosea to do the same. (Hosea 2:14-20)

Humanly inclined to do so or not, Hosea was divinely instructed to reclaim his wife. Literally. Go buy her back. However she looked. Wherever she’d been. Whatever the price. As his feet trudged the path of obedience, the constantly commenting voice in his head proclaimed the idiocy of his actions. She wasn’t worth it. Not his time. Not his money. Not his pride. Her betrayal cut deep, scarred badly, severing every thread of trust that bound their relationship. No matter how small the closing bid, it would still be more than he should pay to bring back a wayward wife with the capacity to stray again. She wasn’t worth the fifteen shekels of silver or the multiple bushels of barley. Yet still Hosea bid. Knowing all he did about Gomer, realizing her propensity for flight, wearing the still healing wounds of her previous defection, Hosea buys. Gomer. Back. Not to be kept under lock and key so as not to embarrass him further. Not as a nanny to her own children. Not as a household servant. No. Hosea reinstates her to the elevated position of his wife, but this time he sets parameters.

No longer will Hosea abide Gomer’s straying. She has to come home. Completely. Body and soul. She has to be his and his alone. No chasing other men. No welcoming outside advances. No haring off, pretending to belong to someone else. She must remain faithful to her husband alone. She must commit to building a stronger relationship. She must lean into emotional intimacy with him. She must press in to know Hosea and allow herself to be known by him. Hosea promises to do the same. (Hosea 3)

It seems like such a risky choice for him. Only for him. Gomer knows Hosea will be faithful. He always has been. It wasn’t Hosea who went off chasing other skirts down main streets and alleyways. He didn’t reject his wife or abandon his children. He was still the same stable, upright man who came seeking to rescue her from harlotry in the first place. He was still offering the same things he offered then. Home. Family. Stability. Relationship. Nothing changed in what Hosea offered Gomer. And nothing changes in what God offers us. No matter how far you’ve strayed, how lost you are, how irreversible the effects of your poor choices seem to be, God is still offering you what Hosea offered his runaway bride. Relationship. Because we are all Gomer. (Hosea 3)

Maybe you can’t readily see it. Perhaps you have difficulty placing yourself in Gomer’s sandals. Maybe you simply cannot believe you could possibly be as purposely obtuse, as openly deviant as the people of Israel depicted here. Perhaps you look at your life and see a litany of good things prominently displayed while the less-than-desirable traits that turn you back and draw you aside lay hidden in the dark recesses of your closeted heart. None of this changes the facts. You are Gomer, too. You have selfishly chosen your own way, your own desires, your own will over God’s. You have run from His voice, His chastening, His call. You have followed the alluring things of the world to the detriment of your soul. You have settled for a fleeting fancy over an eternal relationship. Just like the Israelites. Just like Gomer.

Years and babies, a faithful husband and a safe home weren’t enough to keep Gomer from racing back to her old life. Why? Because her heart wasn’t fully committed to Hosea. Lifetimes of watching God work on their behalf, of hearing His commands and seeing His blessings result were not enough to keep the Israelites from turning aside to other gods. Why? Because their hearts weren’t fully committed to God. Years of rigorously adhering to rules and commands and edicts won’t be enough to keep you faithful, either. Why? Because following a litany of rules and regulations does not create a committed, intimate relationship with God alone. Without that relationship, you’ll find yourself right back where you started. Or worse. You might find your soul on the auction block. 

We’ve all been there. Like the straying children of Israel depicted throughout the Old Testament, and exhibited in the account of Gomer, many of us have been rescued from the dregs of our own sin only to leave the safety of our relationship with God and run back into the same degradation. Eventually we find ourselves, bedraggled by the consequences of our own sinful choices, once again stepping up to the auction block. Painfully aware of our declining worth, we refuse to make eye contact with the bidders. Behind our back, our hands are clenched in white-knuckled anxiety that someone, anyone will want us, love us, find a place for us in their lives. Just as we begin to believe the only bidder is the evil one offering a pittance for our immortal soul, a voice resounds from the back of the room. Echoing through the rafters, it names an exorbitant price. A price to be paid in blood. 

In anticipation, our breath painfully caught in our chest, we wait to see if anyone cares to raise the bid. Silence reigns. Finally, the auctioneer raps his gavel and proclaims, “Sold.” Through the silent room, footsteps echo. And under our still downturned face a hand appears, palm upward. A ragged scar mars the center. The spot where blood flowed out and ran in rivulets down His wrists to drip from His elbows in atonement for our sins and indiscretions.  Blood for us. Blood to pay our ransom. Blood that rescued us from the awful merry-go-round of sin and shame. Blood that paid the ultimate price so we could live in personal, intimate relationship with Him. It’s not the only thing we notice there. Above the scar we see the proof. Immutable evidence that it was all for us. Confirmation that we belong to Him. Verification of our standing. For right above the scar, tattooed on His hand, we see our name. Your name. My name. The name of whosoever comes to Jesus Christ in faith, choosing eternal relationship with Him over trivial relations with the world. (John 20:24-29; Isaiah 49:16; John 14:6; John 6:37, 40) 

The Biblical account of Hosea and Gomer ends without telling us exactly what happened. My heart desperately hopes Gomer opted to grasp that second chance with both hands. I hope she buried her past and left it there. I hope their relationship grew and flourished to the point no one even remembered who she’d been or from what she’d come. Why? Because that’s the type of relationship God offers you. No matter where you’ve been, what you’ve done, how far you’ve gone astray, the nail-scarred hand of Jesus is offering you a fresh opportunity to have a personal, intimate, committed relationship with Him. I hope you take it. I hope you cherish it. And when doubts and fears and temptations threaten your soul, I hope you clasp His hand in yours, turn it upward and read your name. Indelibly etched on His palm. Just above the nail scar. (I Kings 8:61; II Timothy 1:12; Song of Solomon 2:10; Zephaniah 3:17)