Written by R.C. Sproul |
Friday, August 26, 2022
So what is required for us to be conformed to the image of Christ is not simply some small adjustments or behavioral modifications, but nothing less than renovation from the inside. We need to be regenerated, to be made over again, to be quickened by the power of the Spirit. The only way in which a person can escape this radical situation is by the Holy Spirit’s changing the core, the heart. However, even that change does not instantly vanquish sin. The complete elimination of sin awaits our glorification in heaven.

The doctrine of total depravity reflects the Reformed viewpoint of original sin. That term—original sin—is often misunderstood in the popular arena. Some people assume that the term original sin must refer to the first sin—the original transgression that we’ve all copied in many different ways in our own lives, that is, the first sin of Adam and Eve. But that’s not what original sin has referred to historically in the church. Rather, the doctrine of original sin defines the consequences to the human race because of that first sin.
Virtually every church historically that has a creed or a confession has agreed that something very serious happened to the human race as a result of the first sin—that first sin resulted in original sin. That is, as a result of the sin of Adam and Eve, the entire human race fell, and our nature as human beings since the fall has been influenced by the power of evil. As David declared in the Old Testament, “Oh, God, I was born in sin, and in sin did my mother conceive me” (Ps. 51:5). He was not saying that it was sinful for his mother to have borne children; neither was he saying that he had done something evil by being born. Rather, he was acknowledging the human condition of fallenness—that condition that was part of the experience of his parents, a condition that he himself brought into this world. Therefore, original sin has to do with the fallen nature of mankind. The idea is that we are not sinners because we sin, but that we sin because we are sinners.
In the Reformed tradition, total depravity does not mean utter depravity.
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If Hosea and Gomer teach us anything about marriage, though, it’s that the love of God shines brightest through us when marriage is hardest. Can you bear to believe that? Happy, flourishing marriages may sing the gospel in big, bright major chords, but the minor chords of difficult and devoted marriages are often all the more arresting. Their beauty is haunting for being so much harder to explain.

If there was a wedding, it had to be one of the most awkward ones in history.
Plenty of marriages begin blissfully and then crash into misery years in (maybe even months), but this was different. This marriage wasn’t destined for disaster; it was a tragedy before the dress touched the aisle. The whole town knew what kind of girl she was. Many of the men knew firsthand. As the groom said his vows, “I take you for better or worse . . .” the idea of worse, even at the altar, seemed like some dreadful understatement. And the idea of better, like some naive fantasy.
As he stood there, he knew exactly what he was getting into. He knew tears were waiting to be shed. He knew how many long nights he might sleep alone, wondering where she could be, whether she was safe, what man might be holding her in his arms. He knew the excruciating conversations he might have to have with their children. He knew — and yet he married her anyway. He took her to be his. Why?
The Lord said to Hosea, “Go, take to yourself a wife of whoredom and have children of whoredom, for the land commits great whoredom by forsaking the Lord.” So he went and took Gomer, the daughter of Diblaim. (Hosea 1:2–3)
Bitter Paradox
We don’t know whether Hosea and Gomer had a typical Hebrew ceremony, but their marriage would have received lots of attention. It was meant to. As the two became one, God was seizing the wandering eyes of his unfaithful people.
When God told Hosea to take this loose woman as his lawfully wedded wife, he was making a statement — a loud and offensive statement. “Why her, Lord?” Hosea might have rightly asked. “Because the land commits great whoredom by forsaking the Lord.” Their love toward me has grown cold and complacent, they take my grain and wine and protection for granted, and they’ve crawled into bed, again and again, with the gods of this world. Not just whoredom, but great whoredom. They worship passionately at the altars of carnal pleasure, of plenty, of comfort, of pride, and then dare to come home and offer me whatever little they have left.
And God had warned them. But they would not listen, so he painted them a picture instead — a dark, shameful, and painful picture. He planned a wedding no one would want to attend. He held up a mirror and made them want to look away. He sent Hosea to love and cherish Gomer, “a wife of whoredom.” A bride who could not be trusted. A bitter paradox.
The Kind of Whore He Loved
What made Gomer such a whore? We’re not told much, but we meet her through the adultery of God’s people.
Wayward Israel shows us that Gomer was the kind of woman who says, “I will go after my lovers, who give me my bread and my water, my wool and my flax, my oil and my drink” (Hosea 2:5). In other words, I’m not getting what I want at home, so I’ll look for a man who will give me what I want. She was the kind of woman who took what her husband provided and used it to attract and please other men (Hosea 2:8; see James 4:3). She was the kind of woman who gave other men credit for all her husband had done for her (Hosea 2:12). She was the kind of woman unworthy of a good man.
And yet he loved her. Hosea chose her, sought her, bought her, and loved her. “So I bought her for fifteen shekels of silver and a homer and a lethech of barley. And I said to her, ‘You must dwell as mine for many days. You shall not play the whore, or belong to another man; so will I also be to you’” (Hosea 3:2–3). Can you hear the sermon God had prepared?
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In this portion of 2 Kings there is a slave girl who upon hearing that the commander of the army suffered from leprosy told him of a prophet of the LORD in Israel, a man by the name of Elisha. Her simple faith and willingness to share the good news with a man of his stature cannot go unnoticed. The world would say that she should show spite to this man who had caused her repression, yet her first impulse is to gently help her captor with the problems he had. 

It’s interesting how many times gentile military leaders are used to give an example to the grace and mercy of God, which brings me to one of my favorite stories in the Bible, the healing of Naaman the Syrian General. So many “oppressors” are granted a place in Jehovah’s providential care, which makes Naaman’s entrance into the story of salvation all the more amazing. In this portion of 2 Kings there is a slave girl who upon hearing that the commander of the army suffered from leprosy told him of a prophet of the LORD in Israel, a man by the name of Elisha. Her simple faith and willingness to share the good news with a man of his stature cannot go unnoticed. The world would say that she should show spite to this man who had caused her repression, yet her first impulse is to gently help her captor with the problems he had. This act of affection for a neighbor should be instructive to us, especially when we live in and time and place that thinks returning evil for evil is the name of the game in seeking “justice”.
In some ways she has a lot in common with the words of the woman at the well in John 4 when she goes and tells her friends about this man who told her everything she had ever done, the testimony of the women who report the resurrection to the disciples, and Rhoda’s work in Acts 12:13. Each in their own way are conduits to God’s grace by their willingness to speak in love. Much of the Lord’s purposes in His creation are accomplished through avenues we least expect.
There are so many elements to the girl’s testimony to Naaman that are worth looking at that it could fill a whole volume (indeed it has). There us, as noted, a seemingly random interaction (though we know there is no such thing in God’s providence) between a servant and a man of place. There is should be no sense where this lamentable action, the enslaving of those grabbed in war, could be a scene of God’s gracious love, yet it seems like it is especially in these types of situations where the LORD particularly enjoys expressing His goodness and mercy. Similarly with the gentile woman whom Christ speaks to in Matthew 15, the Centurion in Mark 15, and the other Roman soldier in Luke 7, and of course the care of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 there are many instances where the very folks that the people of God are found to be disliking shame them in their faith and trust in the promises of Jehovah, even if at the time they are not the focus of it.
But back to Naaman for a second. It’s not just the 1 Peter 3:15 work of the slave girl that is worth highlighting in the passage.
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