This Week's Devo

When God Says “I Do” Knowing the Cost

The Father’s Letter

The groom stands in a small, sun-drenched room just off the sanctuary, adjusting his tie in the mirror. In a few moments, he will step forward into the most hopeful moment of his life.

On the table beside him rests an envelope.

He recognizes the elegant, slightly shaky handwriting immediately. It belongs to his future father-in-law. Expecting a simple blessing, he opens it.

My son,

I have watched you love my daughter with a devotion that humbles me. I see the way you look at her—as if she is the only light in the room. And as her father, my heart is both grateful and broken, because I know what you do not yet see.

I have held her through the consequences of a thousand small departures. I have watched the patterns of her heart—the way she reaches for anything but the truth when life becomes heavy, and the way she wanders toward shadows when the light feels too exposing.

She does not intend to hurt you. She is standing at those doors right now believing she will be faithful. But I know her history. I know the tendencies of her heart.

This covenant will be broken.

There will be betrayal.

There will be moments when you are not enough for her, and she will go looking for satisfaction in places that can never truly fill her.

I am not telling you this to make you run. I am telling you this because if you step onto that altar, you are not only choosing her beauty—you are choosing the cost of loving her when she cannot love you back.

You deserve to know the cost before you say “I do.”

The groom lowers the letter, his hands trembling. The first notes of the processional drift through the walls. The future he imagined has not disappeared—but it has been revealed for what it truly is.

The doors to the sanctuary are still open.

He does not move toward the exit.

Instead, he walks toward the altar.

When the vows are spoken, he looks into her unaware eyes and answers—not with illusion, but with full understanding, a heart already grieving and yet entirely resolved.

“I do.”

The Reality: The Father Who Knew

It almost feels wrong to call that a love story, doesn’t it? It’s heavy. It’s costly. It lacks the fairy-tale shimmer we usually expect from a wedding day. You might even find yourself wondering why any groom would stay—or why any father would speak such truth on a day meant for celebration.

But if we look closer, we realize this is not just a story.

It is our story.

It is the story of the God of the universe who said “I do” to you by creating you and choosing to love you—knowing every failure you would face and every sin you would choose over Him.

Sometimes the love of God is so deep, so counterintuitive, that we struggle to grasp it on our own. So God gave us a living picture—a true story—to help us understand the depth of His commitment. The story of a woman named Gomer, found in the book of Hosea.

“Go and marry a prostitute…” (Hosea 1:2)

Like the groom in our story, the prophet Hosea did not enter his marriage under the illusion of perfection. God spoke plainly from the beginning, instructing Hosea to marry Gomer precisely because she would be unfaithful.

This was not a mistake. It was a message.

Through Hosea’s obedience, God revealed His own heart—a heart willing to enter covenant knowing it would be broken, a heart prepared to be wounded by the very people He loved.

Long before the cross, God looked at the patterns of our hearts. He saw our tendency toward spiritual adultery—the way we turn to success, approval, comfort, or control when life becomes difficult. He knew our hearts would still be prone to wander, even after mercy was poured out.

And still, He chose us.

The Father did not send Jesus because He was hopeful we would finally get it right. He sent Jesus because He knew we wouldn’t—and He loved us anyway.

This is where the groom’s story meets the reality of the Gospel. Just as that groom held a letter detailing the heartbreak to come, God the Father held the full knowledge of our future failures.

And He signed the covenant anyway.

He saw the cost. He felt the weight of the cross. He did not coerce us into submission but chose instead to pursue us—to romance us back into relationship through unfailing love.

We often live as though our failures might finally surprise God, as if one more misstep could cause Him to reconsider. But the letter was already read before the foundations of the world. The cost was already known.

And He still said, “I do.”

He chose you not because of your potential for perfection, but because of His capacity for forgiveness.

When you finally realize that you are fully known—patterns, betrayals, and all—and still fully chosen, you can stop running. You can stop striving to be worthy and begin resting in the love of a God who has never, not once, given up on you.

So today, let me ask you gently:

What would it look like to stop hiding from a love that already knows?
Where are you still trying to earn a covenant that has already been signed?

Next week, we’ll talk about how hearts begin to drift—not through rebellion, but through quiet distraction. 

For now, rest here.

The Father knew the cost.
And He said “I do” anyway.