I am Hosea’s Wife
And I’m sick of running.
I have always been a girl that is led by emotions.
If i’m feeling it… let’s do it.
If I’m not feeling it… i’m not doing it.
If something is sad I am most likely misty eyed.
If I see injustice… I’m raging pissed.
If someone is joyful… my heart is racing.
I’m a feeler.
If it feels good, I like it.
If it feels good, I like it.
If it doesn’t, I don’t.
On that same note I am extremely extreme.
If I like it… I love it.
If I don’t like it… I freaking hate it.
If I’m gonna do it, it’s gonna be 100%.
It can be good
but sometimes it can be horrible.
If I’m feeling loved and valued… my life is complete.
If I am feeling betrayed or not valued…
It sinks down to my bones and I base my identity off of it.
I honestly find myself thinking that since I am this way…
everyone else should be to.
Or even worse… that the Lord himself is based off of extreme emotions.
I find myself believing that he is so sicked out by my gross heart that
He leaves me.
That when I mess up he shakes his head and regrets giving me such a call on my life.
That he is disappointed that his daughter is so careless
So fleshly.
Satan has legit boggled me down with these thoughts in the recent months…
So instead of clinging to the one who I know spoke me into being…
I run.
It’s as if the Lord is my husband
and I am leaving him before he can leave me.
As if at one point we had this strong faithful relationship
but over time
with my lies
and my dissatisfaction..
and cheating heart…
I leave.
He leans against the door with tears in his eyes
as I pack up all my junk
all the mess that He’s already taken from me and forgiven.
He looks at me the way he always does
but lets me go.
He knows i’m gonna do what I want.
He gives me a little while before he comes and gets me.
He finds me selling myself short to the world.
In rags.
Begging for food and shelter.
Malnourished and aching.
Secretly looking up every three seconds hoping He’ll be there.
He appears with a subtle solemn look on his face.
He doesn’t say a word.
His embrace is even tighter and more loving than the last time.
His promises and tender words put me at ease more than they ever have.
His aroma is more satisfying than ever.
His grip on my hand is the definition of protection.
He carries my weak flimsy flesh home.
Nurses me back to health as he repeats his promises over and over again
wiping my tears.
He is so freaking good.
Even when I run for my life.
He chases me.
Even when I lie to cover up my mistakes.
He speaks truth into me.
Even when I find my identity in other people.
He speaks into me my true identity.
Even when I let idols rise up.
He busts them down and shows me He’s all I need.
Even when I spend my money on worthless things.
He has grace on me and changes my desires.
Even when I see needs around me and look the other way.
He provides.
Even when I spit on his grace.
He keeps dumping it out on me.
Even when I look in the mirror and feel like junk…
Even when I look in the mirror and feel like junk…
He speaks how perfect He made me.
Even when I convince myself I have a better plan than he does.
He still loves on me and woos me back to Him.
He keeps pursuing me and pulling me back to his true plan for me.
He is so freaking good.
Always loving.
Always constant.
Always pursuing.
Always full of unexplainable grace.
Just wanting to use my sick little flesh to love on his people
and make His name known.
So here I am Lord.
Yet again.
Yet again.
Sick of doing things on my own.
Sick of running.
Sick of aching.
Just sick.
Here I am.
Use me.
