Commentary - Hosea 11:5-7

Bird's-eye view

In this section of Hosea, the Lord lays out the grim and logical consequences of Israel's covenant infidelity. Having detailed His tender, fatherly care for them in the preceding verses, calling them out of Egypt and teaching them to walk, the prophet now pivots to the language of the courtroom and the battlefield. The issue is stark: Israel has refused to return. This is not a momentary lapse but a settled disposition, a stiff-necked rebellion. Consequently, the judgment that falls is not arbitrary but is, in a profound sense, the very thing they have chosen, just in a form they did not expect. They looked to Egypt and Assyria for political salvation, so God gives them Assyria as their king. They relied on their own counsels, so God gives them a sword that devours them according to their counsels. Their hearts are bent on backsliding, so God leaves them hung up in that state, unanswered and unexalted. This is a terrifying portrait of how divine judgment works; it often consists of God giving a rebellious people exactly what they have been asking for, good and hard.

The passage is a covenant lawsuit in miniature. The charge is read: "they refused to return to Me." The sentence is pronounced: exile and the sword. The underlying spiritual condition is diagnosed: a people "hung up on turning from Me." This is not just a historical account of the Northern Kingdom's fall; it is a permanent lesson on the nature of sin and judgment. Sin is a refusal to return, and judgment is the reaping of that refusal. It is a warning against all forms of political and spiritual idolatry, where we seek deliverance from anyone or anything other than the God who first called us to Himself.

Outline

Context In Hosea

Hosea 11 opens with one of the most tender descriptions of God's love for Israel in all of Scripture. God speaks as a father, recounting how He called Israel, His son, out of Egypt, taught him to walk, and led him with "cords of kindness" and "bands of love" (Hos. 11:1-4). This poignant recollection of God's grace serves as the backdrop for the jarring shift in tone we find in verses 5-7. The contrast is deliberate and powerful. The severity of the coming judgment is magnified by the depth of the love that has been spurned. Israel's sin is not the breaking of abstract rules; it is the betrayal of a deeply personal, paternal relationship. These verses, therefore, function as the covenant curse that is logically necessitated by Israel's breaking of the covenant bond. They are the bitter fruit of a rebellion against such a loving Father. The passage immediately precedes another dramatic turn in verses 8-9, where God's compassion recoils at the thought of complete destruction, promising that His ultimate purpose is not annihilation but holy correction.

Key Issues

The Logic of the Curse

When God brings judgment, it is never capricious. There is a deep and abiding logic to it, a terrible symmetry. God's judgments are not just punishments for sin; they are often the sin itself, brought to its full and ugly fruition. When a man decides he wants to be his own god, the ultimate judgment is for the true God to say, "Alright, have at it," and let him be crushed under the weight of his own ridiculous godhood. This is what we see happening to Israel. They have been flirting with foreign powers, playing footsie with Egypt and Assyria, trying to secure their future through shrewd geopolitical maneuvering instead of simple covenant faithfulness.

Their sin was a refusal to depend on God, and so their punishment is to be handed over to the very thing they depended on instead. They refused to have Yahweh as their king, so God says, "Fine. You want a king? I'll give you a king. Assyria will be your king." And Assyria was not a king who would lead them with cords of kindness. This is the principle of being given over. God judges a rebellious people by giving them over to the full consequences of their own stated desires. It is a fearful thing when God stops restraining a sinner and simply lets the logic of his sin run its course.

Verse by Verse Commentary

5 They will not return to the land of Egypt; But Assyria, he will be their king Because they refused to return to Me.

The verse begins with a sharp, ironic negation. Israel, in her distress, had often looked back to Egypt. It was a symbol of both their original bondage and a potential, though forbidden, military ally (Deut. 17:16). They were tempted to run back to the familiar slave quarters. But God says, no, you will not get the bondage you were nostalgic for. You are going to get a new bondage, a far worse one. You will not return to Egypt, but you will go into exile. And your new master, your new pharaoh, will be Assyria. God is sovereign over the political map. He raises up empires and He casts them down. Here, He takes the arrogant, pagan empire of Assyria and makes it an instrument of His holy purpose. Assyria, full of its own wicked ambitions, becomes nothing more than the axe in God's hand to discipline His rebellious son (Is. 10:5). And the reason for this is stated plainly: Because they refused to return to Me. Their horizontal problem, the Assyrian threat, was the direct result of their vertical problem, their refusal to repent. All of history turns on this axis: return to God and live, or refuse and be handed over to a king of your own choosing.

6 And the sword will whirl against their cities And will consume their gate bars And devour them because of their counsels.

The judgment is not abstract; it is visceral and violent. The sword will "whirl" or rage against their cities. This is the reality of war, the brutal consequence of their political games. The "gate bars" represent their security, their defenses, their civic strength. All of it will be consumed. The gates of a city were the center of its public life and its military defense. To have them consumed means total defeat and humiliation. And again, the reason is given, and it is crucial. The sword will devour them because of their counsels. They were a people full of bright ideas, clever strategies, and political plans. They had counselors and strategists who told them how to play Egypt off against Assyria. They trusted in their own wisdom, their own shrewdness. And God says that the very source of their supposed strength will be the cause of their ruin. Their own plans will be the bait that springs the trap. God confounds the wisdom of the wise by letting them follow it all the way to its logical, destructive end.

7 So My people are hung up on turning from Me. Though they call them to the One on high, None at all exalts Him.

This verse is a profound diagnosis of Israel's spiritual sickness. The phrase "hung up on" or "bent on" describes a settled disposition. This is not an accidental stumble; it is their default setting. Their hearts are inclined, predisposed, and determined to turn away from God. It is the spiritual equivalent of a warped piece of wood that will not lie flat. This is the doctrine of total depravity in miniature. The natural man is bent on backsliding. And the second half of the verse shows the fruit of this condition. There is a call to repentance. "They call them to the One on high." This refers to the prophets, like Hosea himself, who are faithfully preaching and pleading with the people to look up, to return to the transcendent God. But the response is nothing. None at all exalts Him. The call goes out, but there is no uptake. The will is so bent on turning away that it is incapable of turning back. The preaching of the prophets, which should have led to their salvation, instead serves only to highlight their hardness of heart and thus seal their condemnation. It is a grim picture of a people who are so committed to their rebellion that even the offer of grace is met with a stony, indifferent silence.

Application

The principles laid out in this passage are as relevant to the church in the twenty-first century as they were to Israel in the eighth century B.C. We must first recognize the deep irony of God's judgments. When we as a people, or as individuals, refuse to be ruled by Christ, we do not become autonomous. We simply get a new ruler, and that new ruler is always a tyrant. If we will not have Christ as our king, we will get Assyria. If we reject the light yoke of the gospel, we will find ourselves under the heavy yoke of a political strongman, or a debased cultural ideology, or a soul-crushing addiction. There is no neutral ground. You will have a king. The only question is which one.

Second, we must be wary of our own "counsels." The modern church is awash in clever strategies for growth, relevance, and influence. We have our consultants, our metrics, our five-year plans. And while planning is not inherently sinful, it becomes a snare the moment we begin to trust our counsels more than we trust the plain word of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. If our security rests in our strategic savvy, God may well judge us by letting our strategies blow up in our faces, so that we learn to trust not in the arm of flesh, but in the Lord Almighty.

Finally, we must take seriously the diagnosis of our own hearts. We, like Israel, are "bent on turning" from God. Our natural inclination is to wander. This is why we must be a people committed to constant repentance. We must hear the call of the prophets, the call of Scripture, to return to the One on high, and we must fight against our natural inertia. And we must recognize that we cannot do this in our own strength. The only reason we are not in the same place as apostate Israel is because God, in His mercy, has not only called us to return, but has also given us new hearts that are, by grace, now bent toward Him. Our only hope is to cling to Christ, the true Israel who never turned away, and whose perfect faithfulness is counted as ours.