The sermon urges us to embrace God’s Word even when it challenges us, reminding us true faith means letting God, not ourselves, define truth.
Some words woo us with comfort; others confront us with change. When the Lord speaks, His words carry weight that wakes us up. We sense His sentences brushing the dust off our Bibles and the haze off our hearts. Sometimes the pages feel prickly, passages puzzle us, and precepts press against our preferences. Have you ever opened Scripture and thought, This feels unfamiliar, even foreign? You are in good company. The God who loves us is the God who leads us, and His leading often comes through a Word that stretches us.
Tim Keller once said, “If your god never disagrees with you, you might just be worshiping an idealized version of yourself.” That simple sentence isn’t a scold; it’s a rescue flare. The living God still speaks, and His voice shapes sons and daughters. He is not silent. He is a Father who knows how to steady our steps and teach our hearts, and He does this through His Word.
Imagine sitting at the kitchen table early in the morning, the mug warm in your hands, the house quiet, the Scriptures open. A sentence settles on your soul, not harsh, yet holy. It doesn’t echo your preferences. It nudges your choices, challenges your calendar, corrects your course. In those moments, the Lord isn’t pushing you away; He is pulling you near. He invites you to let Him define what is wise, what is good, what is true. He doesn’t shout from the sidelines. He walks into the center of our decisions and says, Trust Me here.
Hosea preached into a season when people delighted in God’s blessings yet drifted from God’s Book. They had altars and activity, festivals and familiarity with religion, and still the Lord said their hearts treated His law like a stranger at the door. We know that feeling. We like the parts of Scripture that sing comfort over us; we slow down when Scripture starts to shape us. And yet, that is the kindness of God—to give us a Word that doesn’t simply soothe, but saves; a Word that doesn’t flatter, but forms; a Word that doesn’t echo us, and instead enlists us in His holy ways. When we face the unfamiliar Word, we find a faithful Father. When we take Him seriously, we rise into the life we were made to live.
Today, with humble hearts, we will face the unfamiliar Word. We will remember that obedience to God’s law is not optional for God’s people. And we will ask the Spirit to help us learn God’s Word so that our righteousness is real before Him, not rehearsed before others. This isn’t a heavy hand; it’s a healing hand. The same Lord who names our drift supplies our return. He lays His Word before us and says, Here is life. Will we receive it?
Scripture Reading: Hosea 8:12 (ESV): “Were I to write for him my laws by the ten thousands, they would be regarded as a strange thing.”
Opening Prayer: Father, we come with open Bibles and open hearts. Where Your Word feels unfamiliar, make our hearts familiar with Your voice. Where we have treated Your commands like a stranger, welcome Your truth into our deepest places. Teach us to trust You when Your Word confronts our comforts. Tune our ears to Your wisdom, soften our wills to Your way, and steady our steps in obedience. Holy Spirit, illuminate the Scriptures so that we see Jesus clearly, embrace Your correction gladly, and walk in righteousness joyfully. In the name of Jesus, our Savior and our Shepherd, amen.
Sometimes the Bible feels odd to us. We read a line and feel a gap. The tone sounds different. The call seems sharp. That sense can unsettle us.
That feeling does not need to scare us. It can serve us. It tells us we have more to learn. It nudges us to slow down. It invites us to listen with care.
When Scripture feels unfamiliar, we often rush past it. We look for an easier page. We skim. We move on. But life grows when we stay with it.
Staying looks like small steps. Read the sentence again. Pray a short prayer. Ask simple questions. What is God saying about Himself here. What is He saying about people. What step is in reach today.
This is how trust grows. This is how love grows. We sit under the text. We let it teach us. We take one clear step.
Hosea’s words give a window into our hearts. The Lord speaks of His laws as many and clear. The people still treat them as odd. The line shows a deep problem. It also shows patient care from God.
In the verse, God says He would write His laws by the ten thousands. That is a picture of fullness. Think of a library, shelf after shelf, all from the Lord. He is not hiding. He is not brief or vague. He gives more than enough light.
The point is simple. God speaks in ways we can receive. He has spoken over long years. Through Moses. Through priests and prophets. Through songs and stories. Through warnings and promises. The volume is high. The record is rich. There is clarity and kindness in this.
Still the people call it strange. That shows how our hearts can drift. When a voice that once sounded warm now sounds odd, it means other voices have taken the main place. Plans, fears, habits, and scores of small loves can crowd out what God says. Then even basic lines feel foreign to us. Even old words feel new in a way that unsettles, because we lost touch with them.
So what do we do. We make God’s speech common in our days again. We put His words in our mouths. We bring them into our prayers. We tie them to errands and meals. We write them on cards and screens. We keep hearing them until they sound like home again. This is slow work, but it is good work.
“Regarded as a strange thing” is a striking phrase. In the old tongue, it points to something foreign. Something outside your circle. The Lord says that is how His people treated His law. Like it came from far away. Like it belonged to someone else.
This line helps us name what happens in us. When God’s commands feel like they do not fit us, we label them as “for others.” We set them in the distance. We think we need a fresh word when we have not received the clear word we already have. Our minds can learn facts and still hold the Scriptures at arm’s length. Our lips can say verses and still file them under “other.”
So we bring the Word near. We use our language for it. We speak it in our house. We say it when we meet with friends. We let it guide our plans and our daily choices. We ask, “What would this verse look like in my next hour.” The more we do this, the less the Bible feels like a visitor and the more it feels like family.
There is also a posture piece here. To call the law “strange” is to put ourselves in the seat of judge. We read and decide if it suits us. The verse calls us to a different seat. We come as learners. We come ready to be taught. We come ready to change.
Notice also the personal way God speaks. “Were I to write for him my laws.” The “I” is strong. The “for him” is close. This is personal care. The Lord is not a distant author. He writes for His people. He writes with purpose. He aims for our good. His law is a gift word. It shows His heart and His way.
This means every command is tied to a relationship. God is not handing down cold rules. He is shaping a people who bear His name. When the people call His law strange, they are pulling away from His care. They are treating family words like outsider words. That breaks trust and blurs identity.
When we see this, we can pray with detail. “Father, You wrote this for me. Help me read it as Yours. Help me receive it as care. Help me live it as a child who trusts.” We can also act with detail. We can take one command and match it to one arena in our week. “Honor your father and mother” can shape a phone call. “Love your neighbor” can shape a greeting at the fence. “Do not covet” can shape how we scroll and shop. The Word becomes close in the very places we live.
Hosea speaks into a time of mixed loyalties. The people kept religious forms, yet their daily trust leaned elsewhere. That is why the law felt off to them. It did not match their hidden lean. The verse puts that split on the table. God says, “I keep speaking in full, and you keep treating it as alien.” It is a sobering mirror.
When we feel this split in ourselves, transparency helps. We can say, “Lord, I like this promise. I resist this command. I prefer this line and ignore that one.” Naming the split breaks the fog. It makes space for honest change. It allows us to confess, to ask for a clean heart, and to step into new patterns that match God’s words.
There is also a community side to this. In Hosea’s day, people reinforced each other’s drift. They normalized a life where God’s lines felt out of place. We can build the other kind of community. We can cheer one another toward the text. We can ask each other, “What has God said that feels hard to you right now.” We can carry each other as we practice hard words together. Over time, the Bible grows familiar again in a circle of friends who want the same thing.
The sheer scale of “ten thousands” also carries a promise for weary people. If God has written so much, there is a word for your present need. There is a word for your fear. There is a word for your home. There is a word for your work. You do not have to invent your way through life. You can receive your way through it. Open the book. Ask for light. Keep going.
Treating the Word as unfamiliar leads to choices that miss God’s best. That was true in Hosea’s time, and it is true now. It shows up in what we trust, how we speak, how we spend, how we treat others. When God’s lines feel foreign, we make our own lines and draw our own maps. The results tire us out. They tangle us.
God gives a simpler path. He keeps placing His words in front of us. He keeps adding light. He keeps calling us by name. When we listen, we start to see the path again. It may ask for change, but it comes with help. The Spirit opens our eyes. The Spirit steadies our feet. The Spirit lifts our hope.
So take Hosea 8:12 into your hands. Read it slowly. Hear God’s care in His many words. Hear the warning in the word “strange.” Let the warning land without shame. Let the care hold you fast. Ask for a soft heart. Set one practice in place that brings Scripture close today. Then another tomorrow.
In time, the Bible will not feel odd in your mouth. It will feel like the speech of your home. It will guide you in the dark. It will clean old places in you. It will feed your love for God. It will shape a steady life.
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