Ruth 1:22
So Naomi returned and Ruth the Moabite her daughter in law with her, who returned.
Joel 2:12
Yet even now, declares the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning and rend your hearts, not your garments.
A moment where Elimelech thinks that leaving God's land, God's presence would somehow fulfill him, give him his desires. Instead, he dies. His two sons die. And a famine arrives.
Naomi, in faith, decides to return to Judah. She leaves Moab, with no husband, no sons, nothing. Except a daughter-in-law. A daughter-in-law willing to forsake what is known for the unknown. Willing to trade her comfort for discomfort.
In biblical times, a sign of mourning was to tear your clothes, shave your head, and sit in ashes. But God is never after our outward action. He wants our heart.
So Naomi and Ruth return, certainly mourning and weeping not knowing what awaited them.
Naomi, who had left hardship only to find heartache. And returns, only to find uncertainty.
There are times the Lord calls us to stay. In the midst of confusion, crushed dreams, and dire circumstances, God calls for us to take courage and wait on Him (Psalm 27:14).
Often we go, when we should stay. Running to another town, another well, another pasture because it all looks promising and anything has to be better than what we have.
Elimelch lead his family away from nothing (Jerusalem, where a famine has encroached) into nothing (Moab, a place of false gods) and his wife takes a step of faith and returns back to Jerusalem with even less than nothing and a burden to bear (Ruth, her daughter-in-law).
But in the midst of the mess, God is working. He has relieved Jerusalem of the drought and leads Ruth to glean in the fields of a godly man. A godly man who is willing to rescue and care and protect and redeem not only Ruth, but Naomi.
One of the many tangible ways His promise to work everything for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose comes to fruition (Romans 8:28).
His sovereignty is seen in Ruth being faithful to Naomi, in Ruth being obedient to gather the grain to provide, in Ruth happening upon the field of Boaz and Boaz being a godly, compassionate man.
God takes the broken and restores it.
He takes the hurting and heals it.
He takes the lonely and fills it.
As is Mosaic Law, Boaz has the right to redeem Ruth and they marry. A son is given to them. A son that will grow into a man and will father another son. This son will grow into a man and father another son. This son will be the future king, annointed by Samuel and in direct lineage of Jesus Christ.
Both men, one a son of man, one the Son of Man, promised hundreds of years before either appeared. Both brought about by the faithful work of God -- David, to restore Isreal, God's chosen nation, and Jesus, to restore the elect, God's chosen people.
Because of loss, because of mourning, two women are lead simply by faith. They return to the land of the Lord with hearts desiring His goodness. And His goodness does indeed prevail.
John 1:16 And from his fullness we have all received grace upon grace.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Two Year Birth - In So Many Ways
Two years ago, Hunter appeared. Healthy, whole and in the midst of much turmoil making its way to the surface.
When I think back over these last two years, there is no joy except what I had in Jesus Christ. And most days had me crying out to Him, "How long, O Lord?"
How long for this confusion? This separation? This loneliness? This desolation?
I won't even touch on the physical brutality that awaited me after birthing my fourth child two weeks after his due date.
Emotionally, I was battered. Bruised. Limping. Barely hanging on; it was days that turned into weeks that turned into months where the waves kept coming.
Confessions. Separation. Shame, distrust, fear. Confusion.
But God, in His mercy; in His unending, overflowing, pulling-me-in-steadfast love, was prying my hands away from the things and ideas I held so dear to. Those things I thought satisfied. Those things I thought gave my life meaning.
Seeing what God was doing during a very black time is still hard for me to fathom. But I do know this: I am His and He is mine and I would not trade that for anything.
Not the financial ruin, not the hospitalization, not the hidden addictions, not the realization that I had come to the end of myself, not the painful loss of friends, not the hurt and despair that drove me to realize I was either all in or all out.
The moment where I opened my hands, became Abraham, telling myself I didn't understand but I did trust in Him and His goodness even if it meant death. Most days, that was all I had - - His Word assuring me He was for me and it was best to trust in Him no matter that I didn't feel it.
In the midst, I only had His promises to exist on. Now in hindsight, I can actually see the fulfillment of those promises.
Grateful that He didn't leave me to find my way. Thankful, humbly so, that He guides me, gives life to me and sustains me. May I ever be so dependent on Him.
Psalm 30:2 and 5
O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.
Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
When I think back over these last two years, there is no joy except what I had in Jesus Christ. And most days had me crying out to Him, "How long, O Lord?"
How long for this confusion? This separation? This loneliness? This desolation?
I won't even touch on the physical brutality that awaited me after birthing my fourth child two weeks after his due date.
Emotionally, I was battered. Bruised. Limping. Barely hanging on; it was days that turned into weeks that turned into months where the waves kept coming.
Confessions. Separation. Shame, distrust, fear. Confusion.
But God, in His mercy; in His unending, overflowing, pulling-me-in-steadfast love, was prying my hands away from the things and ideas I held so dear to. Those things I thought satisfied. Those things I thought gave my life meaning.
Seeing what God was doing during a very black time is still hard for me to fathom. But I do know this: I am His and He is mine and I would not trade that for anything.
Not the financial ruin, not the hospitalization, not the hidden addictions, not the realization that I had come to the end of myself, not the painful loss of friends, not the hurt and despair that drove me to realize I was either all in or all out.
The moment where I opened my hands, became Abraham, telling myself I didn't understand but I did trust in Him and His goodness even if it meant death. Most days, that was all I had - - His Word assuring me He was for me and it was best to trust in Him no matter that I didn't feel it.
In the midst, I only had His promises to exist on. Now in hindsight, I can actually see the fulfillment of those promises.
Grateful that He didn't leave me to find my way. Thankful, humbly so, that He guides me, gives life to me and sustains me. May I ever be so dependent on Him.
Psalm 30:2 and 5
O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me.
Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
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