I loved her.  I still love her.  Yet I only married her because God told me to.  And after she left me, I only bought her back again because God told me to.

Our marriage has been a mixture of highs and lows.  The highs have been wonderful, but short-lived.  The lows have been devastating times of betrayal and abandonment.

Words cannot describe how at times she has torn my heart to shreds and then brutally encouraged others to dance on the pieces.  Over time, each time, I have recovered – but then it happens all over again.

My life seemed quite pleasant and well organised until one night the word of God came to me, and from then on everything was turned upside down.  True, I didn't have a wife, but Solomon makes it plain in his proverbs that if you can't find the right wife, you are better off without one.

But God's command that night was the most shocking instruction that I have ever heard of, and...

Well, I really need to set the scene more clearly so that you can understand how it all happened – and just how close to impossible obedience was.

Before that night, I had never heard from God directly.  I believed in God and did my best to obey his commands and the laws he had given, but I had never personally heard his voice.

Hearing the voice of God for the first time would have been shock enough, but it was what God said that made the event so deeply distressing and left me in an agony of doubt.

"Marry a prostitute and have children of prostitution," said God, "because the land commits great prostitution by forsaking Yahweh."

As an unmarried but chaste and faithful servant of God, this instruction was simply impossible to accept.  God's law told us about purity and holiness, and I had coveted these characteristics all my life.  Were not prostitutes to be executed under God's law?  If a new wife was found not to be a virgin, had not God himself commanded that she be stoned?[1]

It was impossible.  Something must be wrong.  The voice I had heard in my head must be creeping insanity.  Maybe I had misunderstood somehow, or maybe I had missed a few words: "Whatever you do, don't..."  But nothing that I thought of could explain the dilemma in which I now found myself.

I wouldn't do it.  I couldn't do it.  God would never expect me to do it – in fact, it would be sin if I obeyed!

I don't know if you can put yourself in my position at all – I suppose you really can't – but just imagine how you would feel if God told you to go and do something you knew was completely against his rules.  That's how I felt.

"Marry a prostitute" – I just couldn't.  No matter how often I write it, it doesn't begin to compare with the number of times the sentences went through my head: "I won't!  I can't – it's wrong!"

I decided to sleep on it, but then I spent the rest of that night praying for understanding.  The next day, I fasted.  I meditated and tried to find excuses.

After a few days, I spoke to my father and mother about it, and they were horrified.  They agreed with me and with each other that it was completely out of the question.  God would not, could not, want me to do such a thing.  I must have got something about God’s message wrong.  I was getting all the support I could want – except for God's.  He had spoken, and I knew it.  I couldn't really have any doubts that the command was from God, however repulsive, revolting, disgusting, offensive, vile, abominable, appalling, foul and nauseatingly stomach-turning it was.

Then I thought that maybe if I waited, God would see how objectionable it was to me and let me off.  So I waited, but nothing happened....

And so it went on.  I delayed, I argued, I got support from my friends and family.  I did everything I could think of to avoid the entire unspeakable business.  But the words of God just sat in my mind and smouldered.

In the end, I gave in and decided to do what I was told, but it was indescribably hard.

But where was I to start with such a task?  I began by deciding that if God wanted me to do this, he would make it work.  Somehow.  It was an important decision, and without it, I don't think I could have kept going.

Then I thought to myself, "I don't know any prostitutes, so how do I find one to marry?" Suddenly, it occurred to me that there was that girl, Gomer, the daughter of Diblaim, who used to live down the street.  I had never quite known what had happened to her, but there had been a time when no-one respectable had ever spoken to her, and then she had gone and I had not seen her since.

It didn't take many enquiries to find out that she could be the very person I was looking for.  I still cringed at the idea, but since I had decided to go ahead, I followed up the information I had found.  Gomer now lived in a house near one of the gates in the north of the city – close enough to the gate for visiting men to find her, but far enough from the temple to avoid temple officers or others who might want to enforce the law if they saw her.

Over the last few years, I have learned a lot about the immorality that can go on right under the noses of righteous people, even when mostly faithful kings like Uzziah are in power.  It has shown me that God was quite right in his comment about the land forsaking him.

How does one get to know a whore?  I wasn't willing to pay her or to become promiscuous myself. So how could I get to know her?  I couldn't really just knock on her door and ask her to marry me.

Further inquiries revealed that she lived in a house with two other women who were also prostitutes.  Next door there was an inn which also provided food and lodgings for visitors to the city.  Apparently this inn had a cosy arrangement with the prostitutes which allowed them to pick up customers from the eating areas as long as the inn received a commission.

That night, I went to the inn for a meal to see if I could meet Gomer.  Thoughts of her had filled my mind and I had been searching my memory for any picture of her, though without success.

As I sat by the wall eating my meal and watching, a woman entered.  At once I recognised Gomer.  She was a small, innocent-looking young woman with raven-black hair and an attractive figure.  Her face was pleasant without being beautiful, and as she looked around the room, our eyes met.  A sort of puzzled recognition lit up her eyes, as if she recognised me but was not sure how.  I did my best to smile, but I don't think I was very successful.  I felt overwhelmed by the idea that I was looking at a woman of a sort whom, in the past, I would never have talked to or even met, but whom I was now thinking of marrying!

Gomer smiled at me and I was surprised how much it hurt.  Why should I care that she had smiled at many other men in the same way, and why should it matter that the smile showed no genuine pleasure in meeting me?  I pushed the feeling away and tried to smile again while patting the seat beside me.  She took the hint, walking across to where I sat and sitting down beside me.

"Gomer, do you remember me?" I asked, feeling foolish.

"I feel as if I do, but when would I have met you before?  Have you... have we..." she left the question hanging and I quickly interjected.

"You lived near us a few years ago – before you moved here," I said.

"Oh, yes," she said cautiously, looking a little embarrassed.  It seemed that she felt awkward mixing a past life of innocence with her current business.

"Are you happy in your work, Gomer?" I asked, finding, unexpectedly, that I cared about her answer.

"Do you know the work I do?" she asked, looking at me challengingly.  I nodded slowly and she continued, looking down at her hands in her lap, "It is work.  I earn more money than I would doing anything else."  She looked up at me and added, "But some of the customers can be difficult."

"Is there anyone who can help you with any problems?"  I asked. She looked so small and defenceless as she sat next to me.

"No, it's all up to me," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.  A strong desire to care for her and protect her came over me, and it was with difficulty that I prevented myself from saying anything about it.

We talked for a while about her work – in very general terms – until a man dressed in fine clothes entered the room.  Gomer noticed him first, and clearly recognised him.  He sat down and glanced dismissively at me before looking familiarly at Gomer.  Jealousy filled me and I compressed my lips, shaking my head in anger.  Trying to control myself, I asked quickly, "Will you eat with me, Gomer?"

She looked a little confused, but agreed, casting an apologetic smile at the richly dressed customer.

It felt like a victory, and I arranged a meal for her as quickly as I could.  While it was being prepared, we talked about the area where we had both lived, and I did all I could to find out about her earlier life.  She answered my questions simply and clearly, although some of her answers were horrific.  As the youngest of six children, her parents had been pre-occupied with her older brothers and sisters and had had no real interest to spare for her.  Used more as a domestic slave than a daughter, she had worked hard for very little food and no love.  She even admitted that the suggestion that she become a prostitute had come from her father.

We talked for a long time, and as we talked I felt my desire to do whatever I could to help and look after her strengthening.  She needed protection, and I wanted to provide it.  I was falling in love.

At some time during the evening, the rich customer gave up and left, but neither of us noticed it.  It was very late when I left.  As I stood up to leave and said my goodbyes, Gomer seemed first surprised and then disappointed.  At the time, I was pleased, thinking only that she was disappointed that I was leaving.  It was not until later that it occurred to me that her disappointment might have been due to a lack of income for the evening.

[...to be continued]

[1] Deuteronomy 22:13-21