Author: Christine Wyrtzen

The word of the Lord came to Hosea and said, “Go, take for yourself a wife of harlotry, and have children of harlotry, for the land commits flagrant harlotry, forsaking the Lord”. Hosea 1:2

During Hosea’s childhood, he witnessed things children should never see. The nation of Israel worshiped pagan deities of the Canaanites. Rampant within their religious festivals were perverted sexual practices, mythology and magic, and alcoholism. It was a dark and dangerous world for innocence to grow.

God is faithful to call out prophets in the worst of times. Like a Charlie Kirk.  He perceives those who have a heart bent toward Him and who have gift for the exposition of truth in culture-current ways. Hosea was chosen, and just as other prophets before him were asked to do difficult things, Hosea was told by God to marry a woman who would eventually prove unfaithful to him. She would become a prostitute. God was going to use this story as a metaphor, a window into God’s own anguish over a faithless people. He would speak with the authority of one who knew betrayal firsthand, pleading with Israel to come home to the love they had forsaken.

Hosea’s marriage became a sermon written in flesh and blood. He lived in a glass house, his pain exposed before a watching world. Yet his sacrifice of privacy became the canvas on which God painted His relentless grace. The message was unmistakable: even when we wander, God does not simply let us go. He pursues. He disciplines. He woos. He never stops pointing us back to the path of return.

Charlie Kirk’s life, in its own way, has been a modern-day parable. He and Erika have lived before the watching eyes of a nation, their private lives laid bare. The cost has been immense, but their openness has become the stage for God’s greater story. Through Charlie, the Gospel has been declared to a culture teetering on the cliff of godlessness. And though Charlie’s voice has now been silenced, his impact thunders on. God is not finished—He is raising up an army of truth-tellers, men and women unashamed to snatch souls from the fire. Revival is not a distant hope; it is within reach.

Do you grieve for someone you love who is resisting God’s embrace? Take heart—there is always a prophet for our times.

I will be Your mouthpiece; willing to say hard things for the reconciliation of lost people. Amen.

The Lord is my portion; I promise to keep your words.  Psalm 119:57

How many times have I described the Lord as ‘all I had left’ – after something of great value was taken away?   “I lost everything and God was all I had.”  Really?  It’s as if the real things of value were removed, leaving me with some stray object, God. The truth is that I have God plus whatever else I enjoy.  God is my portion.  Housing, food, relationships, employment are all extras.

I have been in a position when employment was removed and our family lived not knowing where our next meal would come from.  Did I believe at the time that the Lord was my portion?  I don’t think my heart was alive enough to Him to internalize that.  However, our family prayed for provision and God was faithful.

I have been in a position to lose precious relationships, in death and in life.  Did I experience God as my portion?  Thankfully, yes.  Some of the losses were so staggering that I don’t think I would have survived mentally and emotionally if God had not strengthened my soul and been my companion.

For anyone to really say, “All I need is God” and mean it, it must be tested in the wilderness of need.  I don’t wish that on anyone nor am I sadistic enough to crave any more wilderness lessons for myself.  However, should they come (and they probably will), each of us has the opportunity to press in to the One who satisfies our soul.

The psalmist who wrote Psalm 119 is full of promises.  His heart pours itself out like a young person in love, making vows for life.  One thing is clear though, he is not starry eyed and inexperienced.  He has suffered.  His proclamations of love are intense because the pain was intense.  His love language is made up of spiritual grit, a grit carved out of faith that was built in hard times.  So is mine if, when tested, I trust and don’t curse.

You are my portion, God.  I promise to keep your words for the days I have left on this earth.  Amen

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8

One of my orchestral arrangers from the past recently sent me the original score to a song I recorded on my third album. It’s called Living Water. (See the lyrics at the end.)  I cried with joy when he sent it to me because I no longer have the original track. I now have the challenge, and joy, of reproducing it on my equipment at home, on my flutes, piano, and sampled synthesized sounds. I will be able to play the instrumental parts right off his score. And, as importantly, I can lower the key a half step so that I can sing it more easily.  Aging voices get lower. Have you noticed?

But let’s say that I had the original track. With today’s technology, I could send it away to a production studio and ask them to lower it a half step. Would there be a difference between what they would do electronically and what I will do by playing it live in the right key? Yes. Artificially lowering the key messes with the harmonics of the original key. It will sound flat and lifeless. To have it sound beautiful, it must be original. The harmonic ring to an A on a piano can not be duplicated on a digital keyboard!

I got thinking about that today as I began to prepare to re-record the song. God made us in His image. We are each originals. We are wondrous and unique. When we try to re-fashion ourselves into someone else, we come across flat. Others can tell that we lack transparency —- the equivalent of musical harmonics. The reason we morph into someone we’re not is usually due to rejection by someone important to us. Feeling flawed and inappropriate, we become an imposter to make ourselves lovable. But others aren’t usually attracted to an inauthentic person. And how lonely is the one who feels they must hide their true self away behind a locked tower.

So today, be you. The original you that God created is breathtaking.

LIVING WATER

‘Oer mountains of man’s debris

There’s water for you and me

Living waters of love that freely flow

These waters refresh the soul

The troubled heart – they console

Let’s to these waters go.

CHORUS

Oh Living Water, where do you flow?

To man’s seas of emptiness, that he might know

That in this world of woe

Living water, here, can flow

There’s love for everyone who comes to Jesus.

For I wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh.  Romans 9:3

This is a hypothetical cry but one made out of great momentary distress.  They were ‘words for the wind’ as Job put it.  Paul knew that it was theologically impossible for Him to make Paul a savior of the Jews.

It wasn’t the first time someone had made a request like that.  Moses did the same thing.  God was angry against His people because, even though He had just delivered them miraculously out of Egypt, they had collected gold throughout the camp and had made a golden calf to worship.  God was going to judge and wipe them out and start a new Jewish nation from Moses’ seed.  He would become a new “Abraham.”  What a promise.  A self-absorbed man might have jumped at the chance.  Moses didn’t.  He pleaded for the lives of his people even if it meant being blotted out of God’s book.

God turned down Moses just as He turned down Paul.  And He will turn me down when I am in such anguish over a loved one that I step in to rescue them.  There is only one Savior, one Deliverer.

 Our prayers of corporate repentance move the heart of God and bring revival and grace to those who don’t deserve it.  When a family bands together to pray for a lost father, or son, God hears and is moved.  But when those same family members rush in to rescue that loved one from the consequences of his choices, that interrupts God’s plan.

Because of my gift of mercy, I have attempted (in my immaturity) to get people out of pain.  If I loved them, I would do anything to see them spared.  I have learned the hard way that I only stood in the way of them coming to the end of themselves.  Pain was their friend, driving them to God and repentance.

God wouldn’t let Moses give his own life for the people.  Jesus did that.  But God did hear Moses’ cry and saved a remnant of the Jews.  He judged the rest; the remnant saw and believed.

God wouldn’t let Paul give his own life for the Jews either.  Jesus did that.  God heard Paul’s prayers and a remnant of Jews came to Christ because of his ministry.

God won’t let me be the savior of my people either.  Jesus is that!  He hears my prayers and moves in the hearts of His chosen ones.  I can be assured that the pain they suffer because of their lifetime of choices will be a saving pain.  God’s arms are ready to embrace them if the heat of His love and correction melts their stubborn rebellion.

Put a check on my gift of mercy, Lord.  Give me the grace of restraint.  Amen

Everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.  Isaiah 43:7

Oftentimes, the meaning of someone’s name holds great spiritual meaning.  It’s something we can grow into.  I believe God often handpicks names, especially if parents were prayerful.  Names so often seem to fit the child.

When Eve gave birth to her second child, he was named Abel. The meaning of his name suited his destiny. ‘Abel’ means ‘breath or vapor.’ As his life story unfolds, his life is brief, just a vapor. He is to be the first martyr for the Christian faith and will be remembered in the great hall of faith chapter in Hebrews.       

In a loving and stable home, a girl named ‘Joy’ will be a bubbly child, full of sunshine. A boy whose name means ‘man of faith’ will grow up to have spiritual grit.  He will go on to overcome daunting challenges. But if the home is a wasteland, filled with pain and destruction, Satan will ensure that the child grows up believing the exact opposite of his name. The girl named ‘Joy’ will be overtaken by depression. The boy whose name means ‘full of faith’ will face affliction that causes him to live in fear.

Can God change our story, our nature, and our name? Consider Naomi. Her name meant ‘pleasant and agreeable,’ and for a while, she probably was. Then her husband uprooted her and their two sons and moved them to Moab. Afterward, Naomi watched all three of them die. Her story took on bitter overtones, so much so that she renamed herself Mara, which means bitter. That wasn’t the end, however. God redeemed her name as well as her story. He used a Moabite woman, from a godless nation, to reanimate her mother-in-law. Ruth made one brave decision after another and, after marrying Boaz, filled both their futures with joyful laughter.

God is a God of new names. He gives a new identity to anyone willing to follow Him to the land of blessing. It’s not an easy journey, as it involves a complete shift in mindset. But great significance will come to those who believe that God will do it for them.

God, You can re-write the plot of anyone’s story at any time.  Anything tragic associated with my name can be transformed into something with holy meaning, filling my heart with joyful singing.  Amen