Ruth told her mother-in-law about the one at whose place she had been working. “The name of the man I worked with today is Boaz,” she said.” The LORD bless him!” Naomi said to her daughter-in-law. “He has not stopped showing his kindness to the living and the dead.” Ruth 2:19-20

When Boaz honored Ruth, his kindness rippled backward through time. It touched not only Naomi’s heart but also the memory of Elimelech and the husband Ruth had lost. In blessing the living, he honored the dead. Love never dies.

We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. “Since we are,” the writer of Hebrews reminds us, “let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily entangles.”  Each of us lives before a unique audience, a gathering of souls whose love has shaped us. Yours may include family members who taught you faith, mentors whose wisdom shaped your choices, and the, now unseen, saints who prayed you through storms.  They are not distant spectators but quiet companions.  Their presence reminds me that I don’t live in isolation; I’m part of a far greater story.

There are days I feel their prayers. I discern the reality that I do not make the smallest decision without the watchful eyes of those already with Jesus. My father and mother are cheering me on. Two older prayer partners, Rose and Iris, are smiling over my shoulder. In fact, our church is currently experiencing a tender move on God on our women. The heavens are not silent; they are alive with prayer.

The kingdom of God transcends separation. There is always a connection between the living and the dead. Death cannot sever the bonds of covenant love. The communion of saints is not poetry—it is reality. Their legacy shapes my next steps and reminds me that my choices ripple beyond this calendar day. Unseen faces are watching, cheering me on to make a righteous decision.

The grave has never stopped the advancement of Your Kingdom, Jesus. Amen