Tag: jesus

When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile. Ruth approached quietly, uncovered his feet and lay down. Ruth 3:7

Have you ever taken a step of obedience so large that halfway through, you suddenly wondered, What am I doing? How did I get here?  Faith can carry us into landscapes that feel foreign, vast, and strangely quiet — the kind of places where our confidence trembles and our questions grow loud.

We’ll never know if Ruth had these thoughts as she took her place at the foot of Boaz’ sleeping place. Surely she had some level of apprehension. Would he scold her? Would he feel embarrassed by her act of intimacy? Would he send her away, thereby severing any hopes of redemption? Would he lose respect for her? Would he withdraw his offer to allow her to gather grain from his fields? Personally, there was a lot at stake. There always is when we answer God’s call.

We’ll never know if Ruth felt that quake of uncertainty as she approached the threshing floor and lay at the feet of Boaz. Scripture is silent about her inner world that night, but we can imagine the tremor of human apprehension beneath her obedience. Would he misunderstand her? Would he feel exposed, or embarrassed?  Would he interpret her gesture as dishonorable? Would he send her away and dismantle any hope of redemption? Would this singular act undo all the fragile favor she had found in his fields?

Ruth carried far more than barley to that place — she carried the weight of two women’s futures. There is always something at stake when we say yes to God.  Obedience has a way of escorting us beyond the edges of our comfort. Henry Blackaby calls this a “God-sized task.”  It is too much for human strength, too steep for natural skill, too intricate for our own networking or ingenuity. No wonder it intimidates us. God-sized assignments press on nerves we do not possess and require capacities we have not yet developed. They compel us to put our radical trust in God.

I once insisted I was unqualified to lead a ministry. I told God I wasn’t leadership material. I felt small under the shadow of others’ opinions. I had no vocabulary for the woman I would become when loved into wholeness. I was certain God had chosen the wrong person. But now I see that He wasn’t looking for the most polished leader.  He was looking for someone willing, someone who would trust His shaping hand more than her own limitations.  And across the decades, Scripture has whispered this assurance.   “The One who calls you is faithful, and He will do it.” 1 Thess. 5:24

Father, nothing is hidden from Your sight.  Not the obstacles, not the timing, not the weight of what You’ve asked. Guide me with Your wisdom and anchor my courage in Your faithfulness.
Amen

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