A farmer and his wife drive down the road in their wagon. The horses trudge along, hooves kicking up dust. The farmer leans over his knees, holding the reins.

His wife looks at him across the large gap between them on the seat, as they sit at either end of the bench. “You know,” she says, “when we first got married forty years ago, you used to sit right beside me.”

“I’m not the one who moved,” says the farmer, his eyes on the horses.

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I’ve heard this illustration used in church – many times – as a warning about maintaining your relationship with God so it doesn’t disintegrate into nothing because you’re not putting in any effort.

And it’s horrible???

Does this uninvolved husband sound like the God who loves people so much he came to earth as one of them and died to save them from the problems they brought on themselves? Who calls his followers his friends? Whose will for people is that they be joyful and at peace (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18; Philippians 4:4-7)?

If someone who follows such a God is neglecting their end of the relationship, is he going to sit there and let it happen? Wouldn’t he be sliding across that wagon bench, trying to get their attention back?

What if we tried something a little more like this:

When the farmer marries, the whole town talks about it. Everyone knows the woman has already been through a whole string of lovers. Everyone expects she’ll do it again. The farmer knows, too. But he marries her and he loves her with all he has. And for a while, she loves him and she’s happy.

Of course the day comes when she leaves him. While the whole town says, “We told you so,” the farmer frantically packs bags and rushes out in search of his wife. She’s nowhere to be found. It doesn’t stop him looking whenever he can, and even when he really can’t spare the time.

A rumor comes that she’s been spotted, in a town miles and miles away. He drops everything and jumps in his wagon. He finds his wife long deserted by the man she left with, and maybe several others. She’s so deep in debt she’s in jail, and without hesitation the farmer spends years and years of savings to pay it all off and set her free.

He lifts his wife into the wagon. He wraps her worn and weary body in a quilt. With the reins held loosely in one hand – they’re trusty horses, they’ll stay on the road – he puts a comforting arm tight around his wife, bending his head to murmur love and safety into her ear. Slowly tension drains out of her as she remembers why, out of all the men, this is the one she chose to marry, until she is asleep on the farmer’s solid shoulder.

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Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love? Even in ways no more dramatic than neglect? Sure. Humans are fallible and fickle.

But God is always right behind, chasing after you.

Story loosely based on Hosea, where God shows us the kind of lover he is.

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