Love Story, part 3

For background on this series see Ghosts Around the Manger.

Ruth lay there at his feet the rest of the night. Quietly, discreetly she left, but not before Boaz filled her shawl with as much grain as she could carry. In the semi-darkness of dawn, Ruth hurried home to Naomi. She could see the lamp in the window even before she opened the door and walked in to find her mother-in-law waiting. Naomi had been up all night, but she looked fresh, awake, alive.

“How did it go?” she asked.

Ruth’s broad smile conveyed the answer. Naomi held out her hands and the two women embraced.

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked you to go back to your own family?” Naomi asked.

“Yes, mother. I’ve never forgotten.”

“Nor have I,” Naomi said. “Nor has God.”

The change had been so gradual she hadn’t noticed. Now, as Ruth looked into her mother-in-law’s eyes she saw something new. Where there had been pain, she saw peace. Where there had been despair, she saw hope. The morning sun beaming in the through the window cast a warm glow around the cottage. In that light, Ruth saw that Naomi’s face looked younger.

Back at the threshing floor, though, concern furrowed the brow of Boaz. He was a kinsman redeemer, but not Naomi’s closest relative. There was another, a man with an eye for a bargain and known to be a shrewd negotiator. Boaz would have to be at his best to make this plan work. His lack of sleep would be offset, he hoped, by his determination and joy.

With the sun now rising high into the morning sky, Boaz made his way to the city gate where legal matters were settled. He’d arranged for the city elders and Naomi’s nearest relative to meet him there. Sitting down with them, he chose his words and the order of his proposal carefully.

“Naomi, widow of Elimelech, is selling the fields of her deceased husband.” Boaz directed his word to Naomi’s nearest kin. “I am interested in buying them, but you have first right. What do you say?”

“Thank you for your consideration,” the man said, bowing his head slightly. “I would like to buy them.”

“Very well, then, ” Boaz replied. “On the day you buy the land from Naomi, I assume that you will also marry her widowed daughter-in-law, the young woman from . . . Moab . . . in order to maintain the name of the dead with his property.”

Maybe it was the way the word “Moab,” hung in the air. The man’s facial expression did not change. But his mind did.

“Well — I — then I cannot redeem the land because doing so might, perhaps, endanger my own estate. You understand, of course. You redeem it yourself. I cannot do it.”

Boaz’ attempt to hide his feelings almost succeeded. Turning to the elders he announced, “You are witnesses this day that I have bought the land of Elimelech, Mahlon and Kilion, and that I have acquired Ruth, the Moabitess, as my wife.”

“We are witnesses,” the elders replied. “And may the Lord make the woman who is coming into your home like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the house of Israel. May you have standing in Ephrathah and be famous in Bethlehem.”

***

That blessing came true. The Lord did make Ruth like Rachel and Leah. Boaz did become famous in Bethlehem. And God used their love as a cornerstone in building up the house of Israel. The son born to Boaz and Ruth was named Obed. Obed’s son was named Jesse. And Jesse’s son was David, King of Israel, ancestor of Jesus.

Sometimes, what we need isn’t an answer to a perplexing question or an explanation of some deep, theological uncertainty. Sometimes, we just need to be caught up in the wonder and mystery of God at work in the world. Now and then, it is enough to remember that God is always busy in the lives of ordinary people and in the passing of ordinary events.

God was in the famine that drove Elimelech and his family to Moab. God was present in the tragedies that befell Naomi. He was there in the first awkward stare between Boaz and Ruth. God was there at the city gate. And God is in your office and in your home, in your relationships and recreations. Enjoy that mystery. Experience that wonder. With every sunrise there dawns the possibility that you and I are the unwitting characters in a story God himself is scripting.