This Week's Devo

   When God Says “I Do” Series

Week 3: When What We Chase Can’t Keep Us

There comes a moment when drift becomes personal.

Not abstract.
Not theological.
But painfully human.

Because before Gomer is a symbol of Israel’s unfaithfulness, she is a woman with a heart that longs to be filled.

A Woman Looking for Relief

Scripture doesn’t tell us everything about Gomer—but it tells us enough.

It tells us she leaves.
It tells us she chases other lovers.

And it tells us she believes, at least for a time, that what she is running toward will give her what she is missing.

That’s important.

Gomer doesn’t wake up one morning deciding to destroy her life. She doesn’t leave Hosea with the goal of betrayal. She leaves because something in her believes there is more to be found elsewhere—more security, more affirmation, more relief from the ache she carries.

Her pursuit is wrong.
But her longing is familiar.

The Promise That Almost Works

Hosea 2 gives us insight into her thinking:

“I will go after my lovers,
who give me my bread and my water,
my wool and my flax,
my oil and my drink.”

These lovers offer tangible things. Immediate things. Things she can feel and see. And for a time, it works. Needs are met. The emptiness quiets. The decision feels justified.

That’s the danger.

False loves often deliver just enough to convince us we were right to chase them.

Gomer isn’t reckless—she’s convinced.
Convinced that this time will be different.
Convinced that what she’s reaching for will finally hold.

Until it doesn’t.

When God Refuses to Let the Lie Continue

Here’s where the story becomes surprisingly tender.

I often joke that when my husband and I were first married, if I wanted him to go along with an idea, he needed to think it was his idea. It’s silly—but it’s also deeply human. We all do this in one way or another. A good idea, a solid truth, can be placed right in front of us, and if we’re not ready for it—or if it didn’t originate with us—we resist it.

Maybe it’s pride.
Maybe it’s fear.
Maybe we simply aren’t ready for the healing that truth will bring.

God knows this about us.

And He knows that sometimes, the most loving thing He can do is not force the truth on us—but allow us to arrive at it ourselves.

That’s what He does with Gomer.

God says He will “hedge up her way with thorns.” He blocks the path. He removes the ease. He allows the chase to become uncomfortable.

Not because He delights in her pain—but because He refuses to let the lie keep convincing her.

God does not immediately expose her false loves. He lets them reveal themselves. He allows Gomer to experience the slow unraveling of promises that cannot keep her—until the truth becomes undeniable to her.

Only then is she ready to turn.

The Emptiness That Leads to Clarity

Scripture tells us:

“She will chase her lovers, but not overtake them…
Then she will say, ‘I will go and return to my first husband.’”

That line matters.

This isn’t repentance born from fear.
It’s awakening born from disappointment.

Gomer doesn’t return because she is cornered. She returns because she finally sees clearly. The lovers she trusted cannot give her what she was searching for. The promises she defended have failed her.

And only now—when the realization is her own—is she ready to act on the truth that had been there all along.

A Gentle Place to See Yourself

This is where the story meets us.

What truth has God patiently set before you that you weren’t ready to receive yet?
What good thing did you resist because you weren’t prepared for the healing it would require?
What might God be allowing to unravel—not to punish you, but to help you see clearly?

If something you chased has fallen apart, it may not mean you’ve failed.
It may mean you’re finally ready.

Next week, we’ll see what happens when God doesn’t wait at a distance—but steps back into the story Himself. When love doesn’t simply allow us to return—but goes after us again.

For now, rest here:

When God says “I do,” He loves us enough to let the lie fall apart—so the truth can finally take root.