Ruth 1:16 And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. (KJV)
By now, I’ve told you a lot about heroes, leaders, prophets, patriarchs, matriarchs, and people with big, important jobs doing big, important things. But this story is different. This story is about a little, unimportant family too poor to buy food. They were part of the family of Jacob living in a place called Bethlehem. But because of their poverty, they made the hard decision to move to a foreign land called Moab, hoping to find work, food, and a chance to start again.
But things were about to go from bad to worse. Just months after arriving in a new city, the father became ill and died, leaving his wife to raise the two boys alone in a country she hardly knew with people who didn’t know her. But she was resilient. And she struggled and fought and worked for years and years and years to provide for her two precious boys.
And her boys grew into men, and she rejoiced when they fell in love with girls from the city and got married. And for a moment, she thought she’d done it. Her family’s future was secure. They’d have friends, money, and everything they needed.
But that is not what happened. Because a disease swept through the land and killed both of her newly married boys. And the mother had to bury her sons in a land that was not their homeland, and she was left trying to survive, all by herself, all over again. And that’s really where this story begins.
Because this is a story about a mother. She was a widow named Naomi. She’d lost her money, her home, her husband, and both of her beautiful children. And so there she stands over the graves of her family, with a suitcase in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. She falls to her knees to say one final goodbye before returning to Bethlehem, hoping to find someone there who might take pity on her. Maybe an aunt or uncle, maybe a niece or nephew. Someone to give her food and a place to sleep for the last few years of her life.
She was just starting her journey back home when she heard a voice. “Wait!” It was her daughter-in-law, the widow of Naomi’s oldest son, a woman named Ruth. “Wait for me. I will go with you,” Ruth said.
“No,” said Naomi, “I must return to my people, and you must go back to yours. No one will take care of you in my homeland. I don’t know if they will even take care of me. And if they do, I don’t know if they will have food to give me anyway. But they won’t have food to give you. Because you are a Moabite.”
And Ruth understood exactly what Naomi was saying. But you might not, because I have not told you that story. There once was a time when the family of Jacob was in the wilderness, and they were weak with hunger and thirst. But instead of coming out and helping, the Moabites shut their gates and shouted at the family of Jacob to go away. And the family of Jacob never forgot how they’d been treated. And they told their children stories about how cruel, and mean, and bad the Moabites were.
But Moabite or not, generational feuds aside, Ruth was not going to let her aging mother-in-law travel alone. And so she looked steadily at Naomi and said, “I’m coming with you.” And when Naomi raised her hand to protest, Ruth continued, “Wherever you go, I want to go. Wherever you live, I want to live. Whoever are your people, I want them to be my people. Whoever your God is will also be my God.”
And this made Naomi cry because deep down, she didn’t want to go alone. As impractical as it seemed, she wanted Ruth to stay with her. It was hard to admit this and even harder to accept Ruth’s offer. But it was more than an offer. Ruth insisted. And so Naomi let down her hand and the two women embraced and cried and fell to the earth laughing for joy. Joy, because after all they had lost, after all they had given up, at least they had each other. And they kept laughing until Ruth finally stood up and said, “Hand me that bag, mother,” and they started walking.
The two women walked across rivers and through the wilderness until they arrived back at Bethlehem. And when they arrived, there was no one to welcome them. Naomi was a penniless widow, and Ruth was a Moabite stranger, so the people drew back from them in the streets, diverted their eyes, and tried to avoid contact.
But Naomi walked proudly. She had endured much worse than this. And she was never going to be embarrassed to have Ruth beside her. She was too grateful. And together the women found an affordable room next to a goat pen. There, Naomi lay down to rest while Ruth went to the plowed fields to gather some barley that had been left behind after the harvest. Day after day, she gathered stalks and tied them in bundles, then carried them home to Naomi, who was too old and frail to gather the food herself. It was hard work, but Ruth knew how to work hard.
And there was something about how she worked so desperately, so intently, that caught the eye of the owner of the field, a man named Boaz. He could tell she was someone with a purpose. She didn’t stop to snack or drink water like the rest. She didn’t take breaks in the shade. He’d seen this before. Someone on a mission. They weren’t gathering food for themselves, but for someone else. Children, maybe? An injured husband? Boaz wondered.
“Who is that woman?” he asked his workers.
“That’s Ruth,” they told him, and then they added in a whisper, “She’s a Moabite.”
“How’d she end up here?” Boaz asked.
“She is Naomi’s daughter-in-law. Do you remember Naomi? She was your brother’s wife’s cousin. Ruth is taking care of her.”
Boaz was a little surprised. “A Moabite, really?” he thought. “Taking care of an elderly member of my own family.” That didn’t sound like the Moabites he’d heard of.
“Do you want us to send her away?” his worker asked.
Boaz raised his eyebrows but shook his head. “No, she can stay for as long as she likes. In fact, leave extra barley for her. And give her some water and some extra food when you take a break. I owe her that much. She is taking care of my relative.”
So the workers brought Ruth food and water, and Ruth looked up to see Boaz, who quickly looked away. But for a moment, she saw them — transparent and undeniably beautiful eyes. They were brown eyes. Brown just like hers. They were kind, too.
And so Ruth decided to try and marry Boaz. Then she’d have more than enough food and money to take care of Naomi. But Ruth was not cunning, or sneaky, or particularly clever. She didn’t know how to be mysterious or subtle. She didn’t know how to play hard-to-get or how to flirt or seduce. Instead, she went straight to his home and asked to marry him.
“We need someone to save us,” she said. “We need someone to claim us. We need someone like you. And so here I am, and there you are. Will you marry me?”
It was pitiable, and surprising, and perplexing, and unromantic, and inconvenient. And at that moment, Boaz had two clear options. He could say no, and Ruth and Naomi would continue living off the extra crops on his field. He could say yes, and he would have to marry a Moabite woman, which was a very, very unpopular thing to do. It could cause problems for him. It could cause problems for his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
But Ruth was not at all like what Boaz had thought the Moabites were like. She was not cruel or self-interested. She was not manipulative or shallow. She was generous, honest, and bold. She had helped her mother-in-law across the wilderness, made a home with her, and worked tirelessly to find food to keep her alive. She prayed with her, cried with her, and loved her. Wasn’t this exactly the sort of person Boaz wanted in his family? Wasn’t this exactly the sort of person he wanted to marry?
And so Boaz looked straight into Ruth’s tired, hungry, desperate eyes and said, “Yes.”
And Boaz married Ruth in front of the whole city of Bethlehem. And they had a baby boy named Obed. And the city had to decide what to do with Obed. Would they accept him as one of their own, or reject him like the Moabites had rejected the family of Jacob? And the city decided to welcome Obed. And Obed had a son named Jesse, and Jesse’s son David would become their king. And someday, David’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson would be born in a stable in the city of Bethlehem under a new star. And the family of Ruth, Boaz, and Naomi would grow even larger. Everyone in the whole world would be welcomed in — Jew and Gentile, Israelite and Moabite, Russian and American, Chinese and Korean, new friends and old enemies.
Remember that this Christmas when you talk about Bethlehem. Remember Ruth, who took a mother there, and Boaz, who took a wife. And try to be like Boaz, who was not ashamed of goodness. Be like Naomi, who wasn’t too embarrassed to accept help. And be like Ruth. And if you are blessed to be able to help another person like she was, don’t walk away. Say, “I will go with you.” And do whatever it takes.
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