call me Gomer

My sister and brother-in-law introduced me to singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson when they lived in Nashville. I thoroughly enjoy his music, more so because the lyrics are genuine, profound, and, sometimes, uncomfortable. My favorite song of his is called "Hosea" as it recalls God's call for Hosea to marry an adulterous prostitute named Gomer. It was originally my favorite because it reminded me of where I was before Christ reached out to save me. However, I am convinced now, more than ever, it is my favorite because it tells MY ongoing story. You can call me Gomer.

Every time I lay in the bed beside you, Hosea, Hosea, I hear the sound of the streets of the city. My belly growls like a hungry wolf and I let it prowl till my belly’s full. Hosea, my heart is a stone.

Please believe me when I say I’m sorry, Hosea, Hosea, you lovable, gullible man. I tell you that my love is true till it fades away like a morning dew. Hosea, leave me alone.

Here I am in the Valley of Trouble. Just look at the bed that I've made: badlands as far as I can see. There’s no one here but me, Hosea.

This epitomizes my relationship with Christ. He is the faithful husband, and I am the adulterous prostitute. As He pours His love into me, I am wondering the "streets of the city" looking for something more tangible, but less satisfying. When I come back, my actions show grief, but that grief fades next morning. He still receives me only to watch me fall away over and over again. Hosea says it like this (and pardon the language, but God's Word is not shy), "For a spirit of whoredom has led them astray, and they have left their God to play the whore" (4:12). Recently I left my God in a spirit of whoredom searching for the gods of perfection, acceptance, and relevance. My classroom is not at all what I intended it to be. I fail over and over again, and I grow anxious over how I appear to the rest of the school. I neglect my identity as a child of God and co-heir with Christ. Instead I get wrapped up in my desires to be a perfectionist who has the adoration of those around him. Now, as this god of mine has proven to be nothing more than a pile of rubbish, I am lost. Even the things that were in check, are in an out-of-control tailspin. While I know running back into the arms of my Father is what I need, I continue to whore myself around to other unsatisfying things. This is where the song reminds me of my Father:

I stumbled and fell in the road on the way home, Hosea, Hosea. I lay in the brick street like a stray dog. You came to me like a silver moon with the saddest smile I ever knew. Hosea carried me home again. Home again.

You called me out to the Valley of Trouble just to look at the mess that I've made, a barren place where nothing can grow. One look and my stone heart crumbled--it was a valley as green as jade. I swear it was the color of hope. You turned a stone into a rose, Hosea.

My Father, the faithful husband, goes in pursuit of me even while I am in the act of adultery! When He finds me half-dead and spent on worthless gods, He carries me back to Himself. He has every right to leave me in the street after all I have done to Him. Thankfully, His grace, mercy, and love overcome my unfaithfulness.

I would love to say I am at the point, where my heart is made new, and I declare my faithfulness to Him alone. In all honesty, I have just been carried home, and shown the realities of my corrupt heart. I understand my actions were not the root of the problem; my heart is. My heart has grown callous and stone-like despite of God's grace. He is beginning the process of turning it back into flesh, which is painfully hard. I have to let go of the gods I have been carrying for most of my life, because there is no room for them with Him. My eyes are opened, and the Spirit is now leading. I haven't revealed the end of the song yet, because I am not there. It offers me to hope of what will happen and the strength to persevere through the pain and hardship.

I sang and I danced like I did as a young girl, Hosea, Hosea. I am a slave and a harlot no more. You washed me clean like a summer rain and you set me free with that ball and chain. Hosea, I threw away the key. I’ll never leave.