Surely you have heard, “You can’t go home again.” Thomas Wolfe wrote a novel with that title. Have you ever tried to go home? On some of my trips, I have tried. I went back to Amarillo, the town of my birth. My mom gave me the address of the home where my parents lived when I was born. I went back and looked at the small gray house with the chain-link fence, and tried to remember. It seemed familiar. Later I traveled to Rolla, Missouri, and found Stephendale Court. The house was smaller than I remembered. Or maybe I had grown larger. In Germany, I found the apartments where we lived, and the church. Something inside me wants to go home.
Going back to Jacob, God had a history with his people. Jacob grappled with his brother in the womb, and with God beside the river Jabbok. But something called him back to Bethel, the house of God where he talked with the Lord and came to know him by name. Israel had a holy heritage. But they had left it all behind. They had no desire to go home again. Then, Hosea told them they had to return to God. They didn’t need to go back to the geographic locations where Jacob lived and wrestled with God and prayed. They needed to get back to God. How could they do it? By maintaining love and justice and waiting for God always.
Once upon a time, Israel lived in tents. But then they built nice homes and forgot about God. God offered to put them back in tents. They heard God well in temporary dwellings. Perhaps the walls were thinner. Israel’s danger is ours. We can love the things God gives us so much that we forget about God. It is possible to come home to God, but it will cost us our silly self-reliance. Paul told the Corinthian Christians that Jesus died for all so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him. Our instincts are right: it is time to head home to God. Like prodigals let us return to our Father. He wants us to find him. Come home.
