I myself taught Israel how to walk,
leading him along by the hand...
I led Israel along
with my ropes of kindness and love.
I lifted the yoke from his neck,
and I myself stooped to feed him (3a-4 NLT)
Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk;
I took them up by their arms…
I led them with cords of kindness,
with the bands of love,
and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws,
and I bent down to them and fed them. (ESV)
Have you ever taught anyone how to walk?
I hope you won’t check out if the answer’s no or you’re not a parent.
The other night I talked with my ladies about the best part of being a parent. We listed many things: partnering with God in shaping someone’s life and character; those little moments when you can get a glimpse of who they are becoming and wonder at the joy; getting a small taste of the way God feels about us.
But the one that’s had me pondering is this: the strength of love for our children…that will never be reciprocated in the same way by them. The intensity with which we love our children is different than the way they are capable of loving us back. It’s just the nature of the relationship. Even as they grow into adulthood, mutual affection may occur, but they are not going to love us with the kind of hovering-proud-heart-wrenching love we have had for them since birth.
And that’s okay.
Have you ever pondered that we will never love God back the way He fiercely loves us? We’re not capable of it. And, interestingly, that’s the nature of the relationship. He’s the Creator and we are His creation. His poiema. Just like a work of art isn’t capable of loving its creator back, we as His masterpieces aren’t capable of loving Him back with the same intensity and care He has for us.
And I’m pretty sure that’s okay, too.
My friend who is immersed in foster care/adoption expounded on this thought. With her little girl, all of the above is true, yet with an added level. She and her family are living out the gospel with this sweet one. She is not their biological child. They are willingly choosing to graft her into their family.
We, too, are grafted in. We would have no rights in the Family of God had He not adopted us.
My friend has found the weight of the male reference in Ephesians especially poignant as they open their family. When Paul talks about being adopted as sons, he meant sons. Only sons had full inheritance under Roman law. And whereas natural sons under this law could be disowned, once someone was adopted, the bonds could never be broken.
Just as we who have trusted Christ have been adopted out of the kingdom of darkness into the Kingdom of Light, so we have complete access to all the riches of this Kingdom. Through His divine power, we have everything we need for life and godliness.
And He never can and never will disown us.
That’s good news.
“Oh, how can I give you up, Israel?
How can I let you go?
My heart is torn within me,
and my compassion overflows. (vs 8 NLT)
Israel, I can’t let you go.
I can’t give you up.
How could I possibly destroy you…
I just can’t do it.
My feelings for you
are much too strong. (CEV)
How can I give you up, Israel?
How can I abandon you?
My heart will not let me do it!
My love for you is too strong. (GNT)
I love the parent and adoption analogies above. But if the Book of Hosea is about anything, it’s about the passion and intimacy of marriage.
And I just love that the God of the Universe is a Romantic.
If the male gender gets to have the adoption reference, I think we ladies can glory in how the Church is referred to as Christ’s Bride. He’s such a perfect Husband. And just as Hosea goes after Gomer each time she is unfaithful, He comes running after us. Every time.
It’s interesting I’m finishing this on Good Friday. The day we celebrate how He embraced the cross.
There was nothing more He could do to prove His love for us, was there? He couldn’t give us up or ultimately destroy us. His love for us is too strong.
And how we thank You Your compassion for us overflows.
“And I will bring them home again,”
says the Lord. (11b)