Blessed
Blessed
Ruth 4:13 & 17
So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. And he went into her, and the LORD gave her conception, and she bore a son. And the women of the neighborhood gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They named him Obed. He was the father of Jesse, the father of David.
How unneighborly of these neighbors! How unfeeling and unaffirming of these so-called “friends!” How downright bigoted and unprogressive of these old wives stuck in their old ways! How dare they speak the word “Naomi”—that’s a dead name. She should sue them all. She’s Mara now, remember? Say the word slowly, ladies—it isn’t hard to pronounce. M-A-R-A. Two consonants and two vowels. Have a heart! This old lady has lost her husband and her two boys, and she’s been draped in black ever since arriving home from Moab. She’s goth now. Bitter, hurt, bewildered, hopeless, out of steam, out of luck, out of options—she’s Mara from head to toe. Affirm the name or just keep quiet!
Satire aside, I’ll devote at least one devotional next month to the significant names of Jesse and David given at the end of this divine drama—please don’t think for a second that I’ve been foolish enough to miss them—but before we move ahead to greener Messianic pastures, we shouldn’t miss the extravagant glory of this transfigured old woman. After all, this is Naomi’s story, too. A tale of an old identity revived by the redeeming and resilient love of a faithful God. A story of blessing, seemingly lost for a time in the valley of despair, but making a profound resurgence in the end.
Let Naomi’s metamorphosis from a false, manufactured identity to her true, God-given identity fill you with hope during these days of deep identity confusion, friend. As kids continue to be taught that a soul can be born in the wrong body, and as once-faithful youths graduate from universities as self-proclaimed atheists, and as seasoned saints grow more senile toward a world gone mad, and as the devil seems to be shouting “MARA!” from every corner of the globe, God roars another word into the clamorous cosmos—"NAOMI!”—ascribing His bride as blessed, and restoring the days that the locusts have eaten with new harvests!
In the end, His word is the only word that will be remembered.