The Book of Hosea: Love That Will Not Let Go

Introduction

Today’s Passage: An Overview of the Whole Book

You are about to walk through one of the most tender and most painful books in all the Bible, and it begins not with a sermon but with a marriage. Hosea son of Beeri was a prophet in the northern kingdom of Israel, the ten tribes that had broken away from the house of David long before, and he spoke in the last decades before that kingdom was swept off the map. It was a time that looked, on the surface, prosperous and secure, and underneath it was rotten through with idolatry, and the great empire of Assyria was already gathering on the horizon to carry the people away. Into that settled, adulterous prosperity God gave Hosea a command unlike any He had given a prophet before: to go and marry a woman named Gomer, who would prove unfaithful to him, and to love her still. That broken marriage became the living parable of the whole book, a picture acted out in a real man’s real grief, for as Gomer wandered from Hosea, so Israel had wandered from the LORD, chasing other gods the way an unfaithful wife chases other lovers. And yet the book will not end where our sin would end it. Its deepest note is not the LORD’s wounded anger but His wounded love, a love that says, even over a people who deserve to be given up, “How could I give you up, O Ephraim?” and that promises at the last to heal what our unfaithfulness has ruined.

As you read, hold this: Through a prophet married to an unfaithful wife, the LORD lays bare a people who kept chasing other gods and reveals a covenant love that will not, in the end, let them go.

The name and what it means

The prophet’s name in Hebrew is הוֹשֵׁעַ (hoshea), pronounced ho-SHAY-ah (Strong’s H1954). It comes from a root that means to save, to rescue, to deliver, and so his name means something like “salvation” or “he saves.” It is the same root that stands behind the name of Joshua, and behind the name of Jesus, which is simply “the LORD saves.” There is a quiet wonder in that. The man sent to announce that a whole nation had earned its ruin was himself named Salvation, and the whole book strains forward toward a rescue his own generation would not live to see. Hosea preached to a people whose one hope, in the end, was not in their armies or their altars or their alliances, but in the God who saves, the God whose very heart this book was written to reveal.

The world of the book

Hosea prophesied to the northern kingdom, which the book most often calls Israel, or by the name of its largest tribe, Ephraim. He served across a long stretch of years, through the reigns of several kings of Judah to the south and into the days of Jeroboam and the kings who came after him in the north, right up to the edge of the catastrophe. These were the last decades of the northern kingdom, and they were decades of spiritual adultery on a national scale. The people had not, for the most part, abandoned the name of the LORD outright. They had done something subtler and just as deadly: they had mixed His worship with the worship of Baal, the fertility gods of the surrounding nations, crediting their grain and wine and wool to idols of wood and stone. They swore by the LORD on the Sabbath and courted other gods the rest of the week, and Hosea names that for exactly what it is, a covenant marriage betrayed.

Against that betrayal the LORD brings His case, and the shape of the case is a courtroom and a broken home at once. There is genuine judgment here, sober and unflinching, for a holy God will not wink at sin, and in the year 722 before Christ the Assyrians did come and carry the northern kingdom into an exile from which it never returned. But judgment is never the whole of Hosea, and it is never God’s last word. The same book that exposes the wound holds out the healing, and the prophet whose marriage was broken becomes the picture of a God whose love outlasts the unfaithfulness of His people. It was Hosea, above all the prophets, whom the LORD used to say that He desires not the mere motions of religion but the heart itself: mercy, and the knowledge of God.

The shape of the book

The one thread to carry

If you carry one thing through all fourteen chapters, carry this: our unfaithfulness is real, and it is grievous, and it is not stronger than the love of God. Hosea holds the two truths together and lets neither soften the other. The LORD will not pretend His people are faithful when they are not, and He will not, in the end, let them go. The heart of what He asks is not a heap of sacrifices but a returning heart that truly knows Him.

Hosea 6:6 (BSB) — “For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

That knowledge, and that mercy, run all the way back to the beginning of the LORD’s dealings with His people, to the love of a Father for a child He carried out of slavery. Long after Hosea, the Gospel of Matthew would look back and see that this same word reached forward to the coming of God’s true Son, who was called out of Egypt in His turn.

Hosea 11:1 (BSB) — “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called My son.”

And the book leaves us where the whole of Scripture is heading, at an open door and a healed wound, with a God who freely loves a people who could never earn it. This is the love that would come at last in the flesh and buy back an unfaithful people at the price of His own blood, the love Hosea’s strange, costly marriage was always pointing toward.

Hosea 14:4 (BSB) — “I will heal their apostasy; I will freely love them, for My anger has turned away from them.”

So read this book of a broken marriage knowing where it leads. The people who deserved to be given up were not given up, the wandering were called home, and the God whose name Hosea bore, the God who saves, would one day save His people to the uttermost. Learn the Word, follow the love that will not let go, and give thanks.