The Morning Fog Religion Text: Hosea 6:4-6
Introduction: The Great Evaporation
We live in an age of religious sentimentality. Modern evangelicalism, in many quarters, has become a master of the grand gesture that means nothing. We are experts in the dramatic decision, the emotional appeal, the tearful prayer, and the raised hand, all of which can vanish as quickly as the morning fog on a summer day. We have cultivated a form of Christianity that is a mile wide and an inch deep. It is a faith that is sincere in the moment, but has no root, no staying power. It is, in the words of the prophet Hosea, a morning cloud.
The people of Israel in Hosea’s day were in a cycle of sin, judgment, and what we might call performative repentance. In the first three verses of this chapter, they say all the right things. "Come, let us return to the LORD; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up." It sounds good. It sounds pious. It is the kind of language that would get a hearty "amen" in many of our churches. They have the vocabulary of revival down pat. They know the script.
But God is not impressed. He is not moved by the sound of repentance, but by the substance of it. He looks right through their eloquent prayers and sees a heart that has not fundamentally changed. Their desire for God is fleeting, ephemeral, and ultimately self-serving. They want the benefits of God's healing without the deep, costly work of true heart-change. They want to be bound up, but they do not want to be bound to Him in covenant faithfulness. And so, God responds not with the warm embrace they expect, but with a lament of divine frustration. He asks a question that should stop all of us in our tracks: "What shall I do with you?"
This passage is a divine diagnosis of a spiritual disease that is rampant in our own time: the disease of superficiality. It is a warning against a religion of mere emotion, a faith that is all flash and no fire. God is after something more substantial, something more durable than a morning cloud or the early dew. He is after a steadfast love, a covenant loyalty, that mirrors His own.
The Text
What shall I do with you, O Ephraim? What shall I do with you, O Judah? For your lovingkindness is like a morning cloud And like the dew which goes away early. Therefore I have hewn them in pieces by the prophets; I have killed them by the words of My mouth; And the judgments on you are like the light that goes forth. For I delight in lovingkindness rather than sacrifice, And in the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.
(Hosea 6:4-6 LSB)
A Fleeting Affection (v. 4)
God begins with a heart-rending question, a question of divine exasperation.
"What shall I do with you, O Ephraim? What shall I do with you, O Judah? For your lovingkindness is like a morning cloud And like the dew which goes away early." (Hosea 6:4)
God addresses both the northern kingdom (Ephraim) and the southern kingdom (Judah). This is not a localized problem; the entire covenant people are afflicted with this spiritual fickleness. The question "What shall I do with you?" reveals the tension in the heart of God. He is a covenant-keeping God bound by His own promises to Abraham, but He is dealing with a people whose covenant-keeping is utterly unreliable. He is a father whose children are constantly professing their love for Him, and then forgetting Him by lunchtime.
The diagnosis is precise. "Your lovingkindness is like a morning cloud." The word for "lovingkindness" here is the great Hebrew covenant term, hesed. This is not just a feeling of affection. Hesed is covenant loyalty, steadfast love, faithfulness that is rooted in a sworn commitment. It is the glue of the covenant relationship. And God says that their hesed, their covenant faithfulness, is like a morning cloud. In that arid climate, a morning cloud might look promising. It might suggest the possibility of rain, of relief, of life. But then the sun comes up, and the cloud simply burns off. It evaporates. It was a visual promise with no substance. The same is said of the dew. It appears in the cool of the morning, making everything sparkle with moisture. But as soon as the day's heat arrives, it is gone without a trace.
This is a devastating critique. Their repentance, their return to God, their piety, it is all for show. It is atmospheric. It is sincere in the moment, the way a child is sincere when he promises never to disobey again five minutes after being disciplined. But it lacks weight, substance, and endurance. It is a religion of feeling, not a religion of faithfulness. This is the kind of religion that is very easy to manufacture. You can get people to feel a certain way for an hour on a Sunday morning. You can stir their emotions with music and a moving story. But what happens when the sun comes up on Monday morning? What happens when the heat of trial or the mundane routine of the work week sets in? Does that feeling evaporate? God is saying that their commitment does. Their hesed cannot withstand the slightest heat.
The Ax of the Word (v. 5)
Because their repentance is flimsy, God's response must be severe. He cannot treat this spiritual disease with gentle remedies.
"Therefore I have hewn them in pieces by the prophets; I have killed them by the words of My mouth; And the judgments on you are like the light that goes forth." (Hosea 6:5 LSB)
Here we see the raw power and violent efficacy of the Word of God. God does not send armies in this verse; He sends prophets. And what do the prophets wield? "The words of My mouth." Notice the imagery: "I have hewn them in pieces." This is the language of a woodsman with an ax, chopping a log into firewood. "I have killed them." This is not hyperbole; it is a statement about the spiritual reality of God's Word. The Word of God is not a collection of gentle suggestions or inspirational thoughts. It is a sword (Heb. 4:12). It is a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces (Jer. 23:29). And here, it is an ax and an executioner's blade.
How does this work? The prophets came and spoke God's word, and that word pronounced judgment. It declared the covenant curses that were coming upon them for their unfaithfulness. And because God's Word is performative, because it creates the reality it describes, the pronouncement of the sentence was the beginning of the execution. When the prophet spoke, the nation was being spiritually dismembered. Their false hopes were being chopped away. Their self-righteousness was being killed. The Word of God exposes, convicts, and slays our pretensions.
This is why true biblical preaching is so often offensive to the modern mind. We want to be encouraged and affirmed. But God's Word comes to kill us. It comes to kill the old man, to hew down our pride, to put to death our flimsy, sentimental religion so that true faith, true hesed, can be raised up in its place. If your religion has never been assaulted by the Word of God, if you have never felt the sharp edge of the law cutting away at your self-justification, then it is very likely you have a morning cloud religion.
And these judgments are not hidden or obscure. They are "like the light that goes forth." When the sun rises, its light is undeniable. It exposes everything. In the same way, God's judgments through His Word are clear, righteous, and inescapable. No one will be able to say they did not know. The light of God's truth shines on their fleeting affections and reveals them for what they are.
The Heart of the Matter (v. 6)
Finally, God gets to the root of the issue. He explains the fundamental principle that they have failed to grasp. This is one of the key verses in the entire Old Testament, quoted twice by the Lord Jesus Himself.
"For I delight in lovingkindness rather than sacrifice, And in the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings." (Hosea 6:6 LSB)
This is the central point of the whole conflict. The people of Israel were likely still going through the motions of the sacrificial system. The temple services probably continued. They were bringing their burnt offerings and sacrifices, thinking that these external rituals could paper over their internal rebellion. They were using religion as a substitute for righteousness. They believed that as long as they performed the correct ceremonies, God would be placated.
But God demolishes this entire framework. He says He delights in hesed, that covenant loyalty, that steadfast love, rather than sacrifice. He desires the "knowledge of God" rather than burnt offerings. This is not to say that the sacrifices, which God Himself had commanded, were worthless. They were essential as types and shadows pointing to the ultimate sacrifice of Christ. The problem was not with the sacrifices themselves, but with the heart of the worshipper. They had substituted the symbol for the reality. They were offering dead animals, but they were not offering themselves as living sacrifices (Rom. 12:1).
To have "knowledge of God" is not about passing a theology exam. The Hebrew word for "know" (da'ath) implies a deep, personal, intimate relationship. It is the word used for the intimate union of a husband and wife. God wants a relationship, not just a ritual. He wants loyalty, not just liturgy. When Jesus quoted this verse to the Pharisees, who were meticulously tithing their mint and cumin while neglecting justice and mercy, He was making the exact same point (Matt. 9:13, 12:7). They were the epitome of a people who had mastered the externals of religion while their hearts were far from God. They had the sacrifices, but they had no hesed.
Conclusion: The Unfading Hesed
So what is the solution to our morning cloud religion? If our hesed is so fickle, so prone to evaporation, where can we find a faithfulness that endures? The answer, as always, is found not in our own efforts, but in the person and work of Jesus Christ.
We are Ephraim. We are Judah. Our best resolutions fade. Our most sincere promises are like the dew. We are covenant-breakers, every one of us. The ax of God's Word, the law, falls on us and rightly hews us in pieces. It kills our every attempt at self-salvation. It exposes our religious games for what they are.
But God, in His mercy, did not leave us there. He provided a hesed that is not like a morning cloud. He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, whose entire life was an act of perfect, unwavering, steadfast covenant love to the Father. His love did not evaporate under the heat of temptation in the wilderness. His faithfulness did not vanish in the face of betrayal and abandonment. His loyalty to the Father's will held fast even in the agony of Gethsemane and the horror of the cross.
And on that cross, He became the ultimate sacrifice that our burnt offerings could only dimly foreshadow. But more than that, He offered the one thing God truly desired: a life of perfect hesed and a true knowledge of God. He fulfilled the demand of Hosea 6:6 on our behalf. When we are united to Him by faith, His unfading hesed is counted as ours. His perfect righteousness is credited to our account.
Therefore, the Christian life is not a frantic effort to produce a faithfulness that we do not have. It is about resting in the faithfulness that Christ has already provided. And as we rest in Him, as we come to know God through Him, the Holy Spirit begins to produce in us a genuine hesed that is more than a morning cloud. It is a love for God and for our neighbor that is the fruit of salvation, not the root of it. It is a loyalty that endures, because it is rooted not in our fleeting emotions, but in the finished work of the one whose love is the same yesterday, today, and forever.