Commentary - Hosea 12:9-11

Bird's-eye view

In this section of Hosea's prophecy, the Lord confronts Israel's deep-seated apostasy by reminding them of their foundational history with Him. The previous verses have detailed Ephraim's deceit and lies, their chasing after the wind in foreign alliances. Now, God Himself steps in to reassert His identity and His claims upon them. He is the God of the Exodus, the one who established them. The central issue is a covenant lawsuit. Israel has forgotten who their God is, and consequently, they have forgotten who they are. God's response is a mixture of judgment and a strange, severe mercy. The judgment will be a forced reenactment of their origins, a return to a primitive dependency. He will strip away their settled comforts, which have become props for their idolatry, and make them wanderers again. This is not arbitrary; it is a radical dismantling of their proud self-sufficiency. God also reminds them that their rebellion is without excuse. He has not been silent. He has spoken consistently through His prophets, using every rhetorical device available, from direct speech to visions and parables. Their ignorance is willful. The chapter concludes by zeroing in on two specific centers of their corrupt worship, Gilead and Gilgal, showing that their sin is not a general malaise but a specific, localized, and utterly vain rebellion. Their altars, meant for worship, are nothing more than rubble in a field.

Outline

Clause-by-Clause Commentary

v. 9 But I have been Yahweh your God since the land of Egypt; I will make you settle in tents again, As in the days of the appointed festival.

The verse opens with a sharp, emphatic "But I." Israel has been chasing after other lovers, other gods, other political saviors. They have defined themselves by their own schemes. God cuts right through this nonsense. He reminds them of who He is, and He does so by pointing back to the bedrock of their history as a people: "I have been Yahweh your God since the land of Egypt." This is not just a historical footnote. This is the foundation of the covenant. Their very existence as a nation is a supernatural act of God. He did not find them as a great people and attach Himself to them; He found them as slaves and made them a people for Himself. Their entire identity is wrapped up in His saving action. To forget this is to forget everything that matters. This is the constant refrain of the Old Testament prophets. When Israel goes astray, God always brings them back to the Exodus. It is the gospel in seed form. They were in bondage, and He brought them out by His mighty hand.

Because He is this God, He has the right to discipline His people. And the discipline He prescribes is a fascinating and terrible mercy. "I will make you settle in tents again." Their settled life in the Promised Land, with its houses and cities and fields, had become a snare. They had taken God's good gifts and made them idols. They trusted in their prosperity, not in the God who gave it. So, God's solution is to hit the reset button. He is going to send them back to the wilderness, metaphorically speaking. He will strip away their settled securities and make them live as sojourners once more. This is a picture of exile. The Assyrians are coming, and they will be driven from their land, their houses destroyed. They will be nomads again. But notice the strange twist: "As in the days of the appointed festival." This refers to the Feast of Tabernacles, or Booths. This was a joyous festival where Israel was commanded to live in temporary shelters for a week to remember their time in the wilderness and God's faithful provision. It was a celebration. So what God is saying here is profoundly ironic. He is going to turn their reality into a grim parody of their greatest festival. The feast was a joyful remembrance of hardship now past. The coming judgment will be the harsh reality of that hardship, come again. It is a judgment designed to make them remember. It is a severe grace, a deconstruction that is intended, ultimately, for reconstruction.

v. 10 And I have spoken to the prophets, And I made visions abound, And by the hand of the prophets I gave parables.

Here, God preempts any excuse Israel might offer. They cannot say, "We didn't know." They cannot claim ignorance. God's indictment in verse 9 is followed by the evidence for His case in verse 10. "And I have spoken." He has not been a distant, silent deity. From the very beginning, He has communicated His will. He spoke through Moses, and He has continued to speak through a long line of prophets. His word has not been scarce. In fact, He says He "made visions abound." The problem was not a lack of revelation, but a hardness of heart. God has been prodigal with His warnings and His invitations. He has exhausted the means of communication. He has not just given them dry legal statutes. He has given them visions, pictures of the future, glimpses into the spiritual realities behind their political turmoil. He has condescended to their weakness. And not only that, but "by the hand of the prophets I gave parables." He has used similitudes, analogies, stories. He has done everything possible to make His truth accessible. Think of Hosea's own marriage to Gomer. God did not just tell Israel they were spiritual adulterers; He made His prophet live out a heart-wrenching parable of that adultery. This is the character of our God. He is a communicating God. He speaks, and He speaks clearly and creatively. Therefore, Israel's sin is not a tragic mistake made in the dark. It is a high-handed rebellion committed in the broad daylight of divine revelation. They have stopped their ears and closed their eyes, and their guilt is total.

v. 11 Is there wickedness in Gilead? Surely they are worthless. In Gilgal they sacrifice bulls; Yes, their altars are like the stone heaps Beside the furrows of the field.

The Lord now moves from the general principle of their sin to specific examples. He puts two places in the dock: Gilead and Gilgal. The question "Is there wickedness in Gilead?" is rhetorical, and the answer is a resounding yes. Gilead, a region east of the Jordan, was known for its violence and idolatry. Hosea has already called it "a city of wrongdoers, tracked with bloody footprints" (Hosea 6:8). The verdict is stark: "Surely they are worthless." The Hebrew word here is for vanity, emptiness, a puff of smoke. All their religious activity, all their political maneuvering, it all amounts to nothing. It is utterly vain.

Then he turns to Gilgal. This is a place freighted with historical significance. It was the first place Israel camped after crossing the Jordan. It was where the memorial stones were set up, where the reproach of Egypt was "rolled away," where they celebrated the first Passover in the land. It was a place of beginnings, a place of covenant renewal. And now, what has it become? A center for idolatry. "In Gilgal they sacrifice bulls." This is not the worship of Yahweh. This is syncretistic, paganized worship. They are going through the motions of sacrifice, but their hearts are far from God, and their worship is corrupt. The result is that their altars, the very center of their religious life, have become meaningless. God sees them as nothing more than "stone heaps beside the furrows of the field." This is a brilliant, earthy image. When a farmer clears his field for planting, he gathers up the unwanted rocks and piles them on the edge. They are an obstruction, a nuisance, something to be cleared away. That is what Israel's altars have become in the sight of God. Their fervent religious activity is, to Him, just a pile of useless rocks. It is a picture of complete religious vanity. They think they are building something for God, but they are just making rubble.

Application

The principles here are perennial. First, we must constantly be brought back to the gospel, to our own "Exodus." Our identity is not in our accomplishments, our stability, or our religious performance. Our identity is in the fact that God in Christ brought us out of the land of slavery to sin. When we forget that, we are adrift, and like Israel, we will begin to trust in the flimsy tents of our own making. Our security is not in what we have built, but in the God who has saved.

Second, this passage is a solemn warning against the deadening familiarity of grace. God has spoken to us far more clearly than He ever spoke to Israel. We have the prophets, and we have the Son. We have the completed Word of God. We have no excuse for spiritual deafness. We must not mistake the abundance of Bibles and sermons and books for genuine hearing. It is possible to be surrounded by the means of grace and yet have a heart that is far from God. We must ask ourselves if we are truly listening, or if we are just going through the motions.

Finally, we must examine our own Gileads and Gilgals. Where are the places in our lives, in our churches, where we are engaged in fervent but worthless activity? Where have our altars become mere stone heaps? We can be very busy with religious programs, with activism, with all sorts of things that look spiritual, but if they are not grounded in a true heart-worship of the Triune God according to His Word, they are vanity. This passage calls us to a radical repentance, to tear down our useless altars and return to the God who first called us out of Egypt. He is a God of judgment, yes, but His judgments are always a severe mercy, designed to strip us of our idols and drive us back to Him, the only one who is not worthless.