God Promised to Never Stop Loving You
How to Use This Devotional
Over the next five days, you’re going to walk through the radical, shocking, grace-drenched love of God seen through the story of Hosea and Gomer. This devotional will guide you to:
Read through Scripture (one portion each day).
Reflect through teaching and real-life application.
Respond with journaling prompts and a guided prayer.
Before each day, read through the Scripture slowly—even if it’s familiar. Let it speak. Let it sit. God has something specific to show you. Ready?
Day 1: When Love Doesn’t Make Sense
Scripture Reading: Hosea 1:2–3 (NIV)
“When the Lord began to speak through Hosea, the Lord said to him, ‘Go, marry a promiscuous woman and have children with her, for like an adulterous wife this land is guilty of unfaithfulness to the Lord.’ So he married Gomer daughter of Diblaim, and she conceived and bore him a son.”
Devotional Thought:
Let’s be honest. What God asks Hosea to do here? It doesn’t make sense.
“Go marry someone who’s going to cheat on you.”
No explanation. No conditions. Just go.
And Hosea goes.
He marries Gomer. A woman whose reputation already screamed instability. A woman who would walk away. A woman who would break his heart.
Why would God ask that? Because sometimes God doesn’t preach a sermon—He lives it through someone’s story.
Hosea’s pain wasn’t punishment. It was prophecy.
He became a walking sermon—a visual of how God loves a people who constantly walk away. A people like us.
Let’s get personal:
We are Gomer.
Every one of us has walked away from God’s best, chased lesser loves, and trusted in things that never loved us back. Yet God, in His relentless grace, keeps pursuing.
He didn’t wait for us to come home.
He came looking for us—just like Hosea.
And what’s even more stunning? Hosea doesn’t protest.
He obeys. Not because Gomer deserves it. But because God asked him to show what unearned, uncomfortable, unconditional love looks like.
That’s the kind of love that found you.
If you've ever wondered, “How could God love someone like me?” —
this story is your answer.
His love doesn’t make sense.
But it doesn’t stop either.
Journal Prompt:
Where in your life do you feel the most unlovable right now?
What does it feel like to hear that God loves you right there—in that place?
Now take a moment and finish this sentence in your journal:
“God, I never imagined You could love me even when ______, but today I’m starting to believe You do.”
Let that truth hit your heart, not just your head.
Prayer:
Father,
I don’t understand why You would love someone like me.
I’ve run, I’ve wandered, I’ve failed—and yet You still come after me.
Thank You for the kind of love that doesn’t make sense,
for love that isn’t based on my performance but Your promise.
Help me to receive it. To believe it. To stop trying to earn what You’ve already given.
Soften my heart, and let this be the week I truly begin to feel Your love again.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Day 2: When the Names Hurt
Scripture Reading: Hosea 1:4–9 (NIV)
”Then the Lord said to Hosea, “Call him Jezreel…” Gomer conceived again and gave birth to a daughter. Then the Lord said to Hosea, “Call her Lo-Ruhamah (which means ‘not loved’)…”After she had weaned Lo-Ruhamah, Gomer had another son. Then the Lord said, “Call him Lo-Ammi (which means ‘not my people’)…”
Reflection:
It’s one thing to read about sin. It’s another thing to name it.
In Hosea’s story, God gives the couple three children. But these aren’t just kids. They’re living billboards. Their names are messages from heaven—and none of them are soft.
The first is Jezreel, a place known for violent bloodshed. The name means “God scatters.”
The second is Lo-Ruhamah, which translates to “Not Loved.”
The third is Lo-Ammi, meaning “Not My People.”
Imagine what it felt like to name your daughter “Not Loved.”
To call out across a field, “Dinner time, Not My People!”
Every time their names were spoken, it was a reminder of just how far Israel had wandered from God’s heart.
God wasn’t being cruel. He was being clear.
Sometimes the most loving thing God can do is to let us feel the full weight of our choices. Not because He’s walking away—but because we are.
And God wants us to know what that feels like. He wants us to see the rupture. To name the gap.
But—and this is important—naming the gap is not the same as closing the door.
God didn’t name those children to end the relationship. He named them so His people would finally see what was real.
What they had traded. What they were risking. What they were losing.
This isn’t just about ancient Israel.
It’s about us.
Where have you wandered and stopped noticing?
Where have you lived as if God’s presence didn’t matter… and assumed the blessing would still stay?
Where have you taken grace for granted?
We don’t name our kids Lo-Ammi, but we carry our own labels.
We walk around thinking things like:
“Not good enough.”
“Too far gone.”
“Used up.”
“Disqualified.”
“Unworthy.”
And those names aren’t coming from God.
They’re coming from shame.
From past decisions. From the voice of the enemy.
But sometimes—God lets those names echo so we’ll stop and ask: Is this really who I am?
And the answer… is no.
These names weren’t the end of the story.
They were just the middle.
Because even when God allows distance to speak, He’s already planning the comeback.
Even when we feel “not loved,” His love is on the move.
Even when we hear “not My people,” He’s preparing to say, “You are Mine.”
God will let us taste the consequences of running—but only long enough to make the reunion that much sweeter.
Journal Prompt:
What name have you been answering to lately that didn’t come from God?
Write it down. Be honest.
Now ask yourself: Where did that name come from?
A moment of failure?
A broken relationship?
A lie you believed when you were young?
Now finish this sentence in your journal:
“God, I’ve been living like I’m ______, but today I want to believe that You call me something better.”
Write down what you think God would say to you instead.
Prayer:
God,
It’s easy to live under names You never gave me.
I’ve been letting shame define me, letting failure brand me.
But I’m tired of answering to lies.
Today, I want to hear Your voice again.
Remind me who I really am—not based on what I’ve done, but on who You are.
Thank You for speaking truth, even when it stings.
And thank You that those names—Not Loved, Not My People—are not the end of the story.
Write a new name on my heart.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Day 3: When the Silence Speaks
Scripture Reading: Hosea 2:13–14 (NIV)
“I will punish her for the days she burned incense to the Baals… Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.”
Reflection:
If you were writing the story, this would be the moment when God finally gives up.
Israel had broken their promises.
They had burned incense to fake gods.
They had chased after counterfeit love again and again.
God had every right to say, “I’m done.”
But He doesn’t.
Instead—He whispers something that flips the script:
“I will allure her.”
Not punish, not destroy, not condemn—allure.
That word in Hebrew—pathah—is a word of gentleness.
It’s what you’d use to describe someone wooing their beloved.
It’s what a groom does to win the heart of his bride.
God says, “I’m not going to shout at her—I’m going to whisper in the wilderness.”
And where does He lead her?
Not into comfort.
Not into crowds.
Not into a perfectly planned situation.
He leads her into the wilderness.
Why the wilderness? Because that’s where distractions fall away.
That’s where the noise quiets down.
That’s where God has our full attention.
It’s not punishment—it’s pursuit.
Some of us are walking through what feels like a wilderness season right now.
A season where it’s quiet.
Where the blessings feel thin.
Where the path isn’t clear.
And we’ve assumed, “God must be angry. God must be distant.”
But what if…
what feels like isolation is actually an invitation?
What if this season of silence is God’s way of drawing you closer, not pushing you away?
Sometimes He removes everything else, so we’ll finally hear His voice again.
He’s not ignoring you. He’s whispering.
He’s not punishing you. He’s preparing you.
Because in the wilderness, you rediscover the One who never stopped loving you.
This isn’t just Israel’s story. It’s your story.
And if you’re in the desert right now, here’s the good news:
God does His best work in the wilderness.
It’s where Moses learned to lead.
It’s where Israel learned to trust.
It’s where Jesus overcame temptation.
And it’s where God says to you, “I still want you. I still love you. Let Me speak to you here.”
Journal Prompt
What’s your wilderness right now?
Name it. Describe it. Where do you feel stripped down or isolated?
Now write this sentence in your journal and finish it honestly:
“God, in the silence I’ve been feeling ______, but today I want to listen for Your voice.”
Ask yourself: What is God trying to say in this season that He couldn’t say any other way?
Prayer:
Father,
Thank You for not giving up on me.
Even when I wander, even when I forget, even when I settle for less—You still pursue me.
The silence has felt heavy. The wilderness has been hard.
But today, I choose to believe You are near.
Speak tenderly to my heart.
Teach me to hear Your whisper.
Let this season be less about what I’ve lost and more about what You’re restoring.
I trust that You’re not done with me.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Day 4: When Redemption Walks In
Scripture Reading: Hosea 3:1–2 (NIV)
”The Lord said to me, “Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another man and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods…” So I bought her for fifteen shekels of silver and about a homer and a lethek of barley.”
Reflection:
There are moments in Scripture that leave you speechless. This is one of them.
Gomer didn’t just drift away—she walked away. She went back to old lovers. Old habits. Old cycles of shame. She chose the chains again. She gave herself away—again.
And God tells Hosea, “Go get her.”
Not “Go talk to her.”
Not “Go scold her.”
Not even “Go forgive her.”
But: “Go show your love to her. Buy her back.”
Imagine what that must have felt like for Hosea.
Walking through town.
Searching slave markets.
Asking questions no one wants to ask.
Then he finds her.
Degraded. Devalued. Possibly up for auction.
And he doesn’t just reach out—he pays the price.
Fifteen shekels.
A homer and a lethek of barley.
The equivalent of everything he had on him.
He doesn’t just take her back.
He redeems her.
He purchases what already belonged to him.
That’s the gospel.
God doesn’t just forgive you from a distance—He steps into your mess.
He doesn’t just say, “I love you.”
He walks into the middle of your shame and says, “She’s mine. He’s mine. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
We don’t know what Gomer said when Hosea found her.
But can you imagine the moment when she realized he wasn’t there to punish her?
That he didn’t come to shame her?
That he wasn’t there to throw her past in her face—but to bring her home?
That’s what grace feels like.
Jesus didn’t just save us from hell—He saved us from ourselves.
From our guilt.
From our shame.
From believing that we are only as good as our worst moment.
And He didn’t pay with silver or barley.
He paid with blood.
The cross is the receipt.
The resurrection is the proof.
You were bought with a price.
You didn’t deserve it. You couldn’t earn it. And you never have to pay Him back.
You just have to receive it. To let it change you.
Because once you realize the price He paid…
you stop treating grace like it’s cheap.
You stop returning to chains that can’t hold you anymore.
You stop letting shame speak louder than love.
You start walking like someone who’s been bought back.
That’s what happened to Gomer.
And that’s what’s offered to you.
Journal Prompt:
Think back to a time in your life when you felt unworthy of love—when shame or failure defined you.
Now write this sentence and finish it in your own words:
“Jesus, I still can’t believe You would pay that price for me, especially when I was ______.”
What does it change about the way you see yourself, knowing the price has already been paid?
Write down a list of things you’ve been carrying that Jesus already covered—then symbolically cross them out.
Prayer:
Jesus,
You walked into the darkness I created and brought light.
You paid the price I couldn’t pay.
You didn’t wait for me to get it together. You came after me when I was still running.
Thank You for redeeming what I thought was too far gone.
Thank You for seeing value in me when I saw none in myself.
Help me live like someone who’s been bought back—free, forgiven, and fully Yours.
In Your name,
Amen.
Day 5: When You Finally Come Home
Scripture Reading: Hosea 2:23 (NIV)
“I will plant her for myself in the land; I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not my loved one.’ I will say to those called ‘Not my people,’ ‘You are my people’; and they will say, ‘You are my God.’”
Reflection:
God gets the last word.
After all the wandering, all the heartbreak, all the rebellion—this is what God says:
“I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not loved.’”
“I will say to the one I called ‘Not my people,’ ‘You are mine.’”
If you’ve been following this story, you know it hasn’t been easy.
There’s been betrayal.
There’s been distance.
There’s been heartbreak.
But there’s also been pursuit.
There’s been tenderness.
There’s been a price paid.
And now, there’s restoration.
God doesn’t stop at forgiveness. He finishes the story.
He doesn’t just clean Gomer up. He calls her His again.
He doesn’t just redeem His people. He plants them in a new place.
He gives them a name, an identity, a home.
This isn’t a temporary fix. This is a new beginning.
And it’s not just for them—it’s for you.
You might have lived under labels like “Failure,” “Unworthy,” or “Too Far Gone.”
But God says, “You are My child. You are My people. You are loved.”
You may have thought your story ended back when the divorce happened…
or when the addiction took hold…
or when you walked away from everything you once believed.
But God never walked away from you.
He always had this day in mind.
The day where He would say, “Welcome home.”
Notice something powerful in the passage—God doesn’t wait for them to come back first.
He makes the first move.
“I will say… ‘You are My people.’”
Then they respond: “You are my God.”
God’s grace goes first.
And our response follows.
That’s how love works when it’s real.
It moves toward. It reaches out. It calls you by name.
Maybe you’ve struggled to believe that this love really applies to you.
That God wouldn’t just tolerate you, but actually want you.
Today is the day you stop wondering.
Today is the day you realize—you’re not an outsider looking in.
You’re not Gomer standing in chains anymore.
You’re home.
And nothing—nothing—can change that.
God has the final word. And that word is:
Loved.
Mine.
Home.
Journal Prompt:
Take a moment and write down all the things you once believed disqualified you from being truly loved by God.
Then next to each one, write what God says instead:
“Not my people” → “You are Mine”
“Not loved” → “You are deeply loved”
“Too broken” → “Made whole”
“Too far gone” → “Brought near”
Finish by writing this sentence and completing it honestly:
“God, today I stop calling myself ______, and I start calling myself what You call me: ______.”
Let it be your declaration.
Prayer:
God,
Thank You for finishing the story.
Thank You that You didn’t just redeem me—you restored me.
You renamed me. You reclaimed me. You replanted me.
I am not who I was. I am Yours.
Help me live like I belong.
Help me speak to others with the same grace You’ve spoken over me.
May my life be a living testimony that says, “God never stopped loving me—and He won’t stop loving you either.”
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
