A Changing Room
A Changing Room
Ruth 2:19-20
And her mother-in-law said to her, “Where did you glean today? And where have you worked? Blessed be the man who took notice of you.” So she told her mother-in-law, … “The man’s name with whom I worked today is Boaz.” And Naomi said, … “May he be blessed by the LORD, whose kindness has not forsaken the living or the dead!” Naomi also said to her “The man is a close relative of ours, one of our redeemers.”
I can picture Naomi’s astonished expression as she kneels down to count the hefty bushels of gleanings that Ruth brings in, amazed by the haul, blurting out words as soon as they rush into her mind while stagnant pools of bitterness begin to drain from her heart. Even if the biblical scribe had slapped a few exclamation points at the end of her questions here or written every word in upper case letters, he still couldn’t have conveyed the atmospheric change taking place in this small room. “Where on earth did you get all of this, Ruth?!”, we could translate her words. “Someone must’ve taken mercy on you! When you said you’d be going out to glean, I prayed you’d come back with a little something, but this? How? Where? Who?! I’m completely blown away!” Yet, I bet it isn’t till Ruth answers that excitement with the name Boaz that Naomi’s eyes really light up. Picture the moment, friend. Dramatize it. Naomi hurls the questions over her shoulder, still focused on counting the grain, till Ruth utters the name; then, all of a sudden, that old hand freezes on the wheat, and that old face snaps around, and that old faith is filled with the light of fresh understanding. “Did you say Boaz?!”, I hear Naomi whispering through trembling lips. “Ruth, you don’t understand—he’s our way out!”
You’ve been in that room, too, haven’t you? Praying for a way through the wall that never comes. Changing your countenance from ‘blessing’ to ‘bitterness’ and leeching off the faith and virtue of others. Till that phone call comes out of the blue. Or a whisper of a name cuts through the silence. Or a new sprout springs up from a dead stem. And suddenly you’re running, not crawling; smiling, not frowning; trusting, not doubting; acutely aware that the story you’re living, even with all the famines and deaths and broken dreams, is one of redeeming love.