Tag: faith

Tonight he will be winnowing barley on the threshing floor. Wash and perfume yourself, and put on your best clothes. Then go down to the threshing floor, but don’t let him know you are there until he has finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, note the place where he is lying. Then go and uncover his feet and lie down. He will tell you what to do.” Ruth 3:3-4

Naomi discerned the pulse of God’s timing in the ordinary. A door had opened in the unseen—one that could alter the course of two destitute lives. Boaz was more than a gracious landowner; he was kin, a redeemer written into their story by the quiet hand of providence. Naomi’s heart, once bitter, flickered with hope again. She knew what must be done.

Her plan for Ruth was as bold as it was tender. Wash. Dress up. Anoint. Go.  This was in no way a manipulative scheme; it was faith clothed in vulnerability. Ruth would approach Boaz in the stillness of night, not to seduce, but to let surrender speak through her stillness. Her boldness was holy as she laid herself at the feet of her redeemer, asking without words to be covered in grace.

That kind of courage is rare.  I’ve been extremely shy with Jesus, even though my needs were profound.  I knew of His redeeming power, admired His mercy, even sang of His love, but stayed safely on the sidelines, avoiding an intimate encounter.  I believed His promises were true, but ‘too good to be true’ for me. I came to Him clothed in reserve, rehearsing polite prayers while hiding my spiritual hunger and desperate needs. I feared exposing my longing, feared that my needs were too much.  But there was a turning point.  I engaged.  Nothing has ever been the same.

I’ve learned that redemption is extended as an invitation.  It’s a duet, not a solo.  It requires my direct involvement.  He stretches out His hand and I respond, heart trembling, with a ‘yes’.  Maybe heaven grows still when I come to Jesus without pretense, ready to be covered by grace.

Jesus, spread Your garment over me.  Continue to exchange my history for Your redemptive storyline.  Ruin for restoration. My night for Your dawn. Amen

One day Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, “My daughter, should I not try to find a home for you, where you will be well provided for? Is not Boaz, with whose servant girls you have been, a kinsman of ours? Tonight he will be winnowing barley on the threshing floor. Ruth 3:1-2

Grief had hollowed out Naomi’s heart, yet in this tender moment, she felt a flicker of resurrection. The woman who once declared herself Mara (which means bitter) imagined the possibility of joy. Hope dared to breathe again. She stepped out of lament and into intercession, guiding Ruth toward a kinsman redeemer who mirrored the kindness of God Himself. The threshing floor wouldn’t just separate grain from chaff that night.  It would separate despair from destiny.

Boaz was more than just a good man; he was a foreshadowing of our ultimate Redeemer who gathers the foreigner, the widow, and the outcast beneath His covering. Ruth, the outsider, would soon find herself woven into the lineage of the Messiah. God was already writing eternity into her story.

How often, I wonder, is divine provision hiding in plain sight? We pray for open doors, unaware that God’s answer may already be standing in our field, disguised as something familiar. We overlook the very answer God has planted in our surroundings.

When I moved to Georgia, a much older prayer partner told me that Athens (not Atlanta) would hold everything I needed for our family and for Daughters of Promise. I smiled politely but couldn’t imagine that such a small place could deliver such a promise. I was leaving the big city of Cincinnati.  But here’s how it unfolded.  Yes, Athens may be smaller, but each time I have needed anything and consider driving to Atlanta to find it, the answer turns up in Athens. In many cases, right around the corner from my home/office.

What are you desperately seeking today? Perhaps the dilemma will be solved by narrowing your search to within your four walls. Or, down the street. In your office building. Within the church ranks. In your small town. God is never careless with geography. There is more mileage in each affiliation than we ever thought possible. Don’t overlook the obvious.  Look again. What seems ordinary may, in fact, be the threshing floor of your next redemption.

Lord, I confess how often I’ve accused You of withholding. Open my eyes to recognize Your provision. Teach me to trust what You have waiting for me. Amen

Now Naomi had a kinsman of her husband, a man of great wealth, of the family of Elimelech, whose name was Boaz. Ruth 2:1

Did it just so happen that Naomi had a kinsman named Boaz? Not a chance. I don’t believe in random threads. What looks like a coincidence is the quiet choreography of divine providence. Perhaps Boaz had been only a name Naomi once knew, a distant relative, a familiar face in Bethlehem’s stories. Scripture doesn’t tell us. But what we do know is that, from this point on, his presence will become the hinge on which Naomi and Ruth’s story turns. 

God’s purposes often enter our lives disguised as simple moments or passing acquaintances. A conversation we almost didn’t have. A person we almost overlooked. A door that seemed too small to matter. But later, when we trace the fingerprints, we see God’s perfect design. The stranger I met a decade ago changed the life of one of my children.  The kindness I extended to a crabby waitress was the catalyst that moved her toward God.

In my 70’s, I can see this more clearly.  I look back on seasons where someone’s arrival seemed accidental, only to realize that their presence changed the entire trajectory of my story. When I walk prayerfully, every encounter could be a significant divine appointment.  I may never know the outcome of a seemingly mundane conversation until glory.

Naomi could not have arranged Boaz’s actions, nor could Ruth have planned their meeting or the timing of the harvest. But God, who “works all things according to the counsel of His will,” could and did. Divine providence was quietly at work. What seemed like chance was actually the unfolding of God’s covenant faithfulness. Long before Ruth gleaned a single stalk, God had already prepared the path that would lead her to redemption. Through her, the Messiah would be born.

So when I cross paths with someone who awakens something profound in me, I should stop and take notice: the Lord is the Author of divine appointments. 

Lord, I want to be a woman who sees beyond circumstance to sovereignty. May I never mistake providence for coincidence.  Amen