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It’s 6:15 in the morning. Terry’s alarm clock is screaming its high-pitched, pulsating sounds across the room. Terry, barely opening his eyes, checks his clock. That’s it, 6:15. Terry would like to sleep another half hour, but he knows he has a busy day ahead of him. He tears himself out of bed and lunges across the room to turn off the alarm. What day is it? It’s Tuesday. And today? Today is the day Terry has been “unliving” his life for for the past two years. His stomach turns over and begins to churn. Terry heads back for bed but at the last moment he yanks himself up and makes a beeline for the shower. Today is the day his marriage will be dissolved. Who is Terry? Where is Terry? Terry is one of the thousands of men, and women too because there is Annie, soon to be Terry’s ex-wife, who every day fight the battle of knots in the stomach and keep a knife handy to scrape themselves off the floor now and again. A relationship cherished and celebrated has died. Where is God when a marriage dies? Could it be he turned his back on these two on whom once he lavished such wonder, amazement, laughter, radiant faces, and, most of all, the ecstasy of true oneness? Terry and Annie had a large church wedding. For a while they worshiped together every Sunday. When the children came, they brought them to be baptized. And later to Sunday school. But then began the long, slow descent from what was once so beautiful and joyful. Does God sometimes turn his back and leave us to our own misery? Yes, he does. God does abandon his people sometimes. At least, there is precedent for it in our text from the prophecy of Hosea. God’s decision to abandon his people on this occasion came out of his overwhelming perplexity with them. They had become so faithless, so wayward, that there was no way he could get their attention. So it was that God had Hosea deliver the word that he was going to withdraw from his people until they suffered enough without him and came looking for him. But how do you find your way back when you don’t even know where you are lost? That was Terry’s dilemma. It had been over two-and-a-half years since he had been in church. God seemed so far away now that he wasn’t even in the picture. God care about him? Huh, fat chance! If God really did care, he would have never let him suffer like he had. Hosea echoes the words that God had said to his faithless people, “I will abandon my people until… they come looking for me. Perhaps in their suffering they will try to find me.” Where do you start when you’re really lost? Perhaps with a map. Now, for a moment, think of what a map does. It helps you get from where you are to where you are going. But what if you don’t know where you are? You need somone who knows the way to be your navigator. There is a point at which, when you are lost and far from home -- that place which feels safe and where love wraps its arms around you -- that the pain gets so great you cry out, “0 God, help me.” That’s what happened to the people of Israel and Judah. They were hurting and they once again needed a place where they would feel safe and be loved for who they were. So they cried out for God. It was Tuesday night. Terry sat alone in his apartment. There had been many bad nights, but this was worst of all. Now he was really alone. He began to have all the bad thoughts again… perhaps life really wasn’t worth living anymore. The doorbell rang. It was his sister Sherri. She reached out her arms and held Terry with a long and warm embrace. “I know it’s the pits,” she said, “I’ve been where you are tonight. Now I’ve come to help you start the trip back like Sally did for me. Let’s go out and eat. It’s on me.” God answered his wayward peple. He heard their prayers of repentance. And like a loving parent, he said something like this, “Oh, what am Ito do with you? You are trying so hard to please me, but your love disappears like the morning mist. It’s here one moment and gone the next. Now listen to me. What I need is your steadfast love, not sweet sounding prayers. What I want most is your deep and faithful repentance, not your lovely liturgical ‘burnt offerings.’ ” The next Sunday Terry sat beside Sherri in the second pew. It felt so good to Terry to have a sister who cared enough to help make this morning bearable. “I hope you can find here the peace I’ve found,” Sherri whispered, “God really does want you back. Welcome home!” In another place in the Old Testament, God says through the prophet Jeremiah, “I will make a new covenant with my people… and I will write it on their hearts…” That’s the secret! It’s not where we are that counts; it’s whose we are that makes all the difference. We do have a map to help us find home. It’s written inside us -- on our hearts. When you are hurt and displaced, remember whose you are… who to call for… and where you will find your map. Then you can find your way home, too. Amen.