Hosea. (part 4)

“help me…please…” the words trailed off as he dropped the phone.  For a long time he’d waited for this moment, rehearsing what he would say, trying to figure out what he would do.  His heart and mind raced in a thousand different directions.  Outside, the rain that patted against the window furiously could not compare to the storm that raged in his mind.

He bolted past the kids’ rooms, wondering if he should wake them and take them with him, but he didn’t want them to see her… not like this.  He knew the gas station that she had told him she was at.  He knew the kind of “work” that she’d done there in the past, and that it wasn’t just a random street corner.  Grabbing an umbrella and jacket from the coat rack, he stumbled outside and into his car.

The thunder boomed as he sped towards the gas station.  The conversation that he had rehearsed a thousand times in lonely rooms and joyless dreams now seemed a muddled mess, and he found himself overcome with the strange sensation of being caught between furious anger and bitterness and a fiery blazing care and concern for this woman of his … “his?”  Did he really just think those words?  Yes… though she’d been in the arms of other men, it was clear that she had always been his, fully, no matter what actions she committed, and no matter what vindictive responses he had given.  She was his.

His car pulled up in the pouring rain to the parking lot of the gas station, and there she was, a silhouette hunched over in the light of a single lamp whose light glistened off the soaked concrete.

Out of the car emerged another silhouette in the light of the street lamp: that of a broken-hearted man about to face a moment of everlasting redemption or never ending rejection once again.  The face of a woman appeared underneath a waterlogged hood peered upward filled with a look of dread and shame that was altogether new to him.  He approached her as the thunder clapped once more, moved the umbrella over her, and stretched out his hand.

And that’s where the story ends.  The curtain comes down.  The lights come up.  People begin filing out of the movie theater.  What?  That’s it?!  What happened to the guy?  To the girl?  Did they get back together?  Most people walk out… frustrated at the lack of closure and dismiss it as a waste of ten bucks. But then there are a few people with whom the question lingers… the deeper meaning… the emotions evoked … the story ends without a resolution.

…which either means that its a bad story, or that its a story that’s not over yet…

This is how it ends in the Bible…

This is the story of the man, Hosea, who God told to marry a prostitute and love her in spite of her unfaithfulness.

This is the story of the God, who did it to show his people the agony and the deep pain that He feels when his people ‘prostitute’ themselves out to other gods.

It ends with a broken-hearted God stretching out His loving arms once more to an unfaithful people.

It ends with a God, hands stretched out on a cross, reaching for the people that He calls His own, forgiving the men that crucified Him.

And the surprising part of all, is that its not just a story,

…its our story.

The ending remains yet to be written…

All we get is two silhouettes in the rain… a broken-hearted man stretching out His hand to His unfaithful wife…

Will it be a story of redemption?  Or will it be a story of rejection?

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