Ruth and Boaz - more than a quaint story

She was a young, childless widow, an immigrant with no property and no income. He was a respectable land owner in a small town. Their story has a touch of romance, but it's hardly the stuff of history. Why is it included in the Bible? What distinguished Ruth and Boaz from those around them, who lived and died, then rested forgotten within a couple of generations? Why does Ruth´s story appear among the Old Testament records of kings and battles?

After her husband´s death, Ruth could have chosen to stay in Moab with her family, as her sister-in-law Orpah did (Ruth 1:8-18). No-one would have criticised her for that. Israel was in a state of chaos, with no clear leadership. As a foreigner, with no means of supporting herself, she would hardly have expected a warm welcome there. Her mother-in-law, Naomi tried to persuade her to return to her own people.

But Naomi's faith had touched Ruth. Her own gods, the gods of Moab, were not like Naomi's God. She felt a bond with the older woman that had nothing to do with self-interest. Naomi had little to offer her, but Ruth decided to go to Bethlehem and trust God for his provision and protection.

No-one would have protested if Boaz had looked after his own interests, as his near kinsman did, rather than caring for Ruth. But Boaz took God's word seriously. He accepted his responsibility towards Ruth, no matter how inconvenient it might be to him. He treated her with the kindness and generosity which Jesus described when he spoke of going the second mile (Matt 5:38-42).

Sometimes God calls on people as leaders, to do mighty deeds. Moses led the Hebrew people out of Egypt. David killed Goliath and enlarged the kingdom of Israel into a powerful nation. Paul travelled immense distances to preach the gospel to the gentiles.

But God also involves himself in the lives of ordinary people, working through their losses and hardships to bring them lasting joy. He uses those willing to be obedient in small things, to bring about results which they themselves could never have imagined. We are not told what became of Orpah and the kinsman who chose not to get involved. But Ruth and Boaz became the ancestors of both King David and Jesus. Their story is recorded for all to read and ponder.

(This article is modified from one which originally appeared in the St Alban's church bulletin and on my previous website, One Candle. Image Neil Palmer (CIAT), Threshing, near Sangrur, SE Punjab, India. November 2011)

Precious gifts

Imagine that a friend gives you a present, rather clumsily wrapped. You know that your friend has very different tastes to yours, in fact, if you were quite truthful, you'd say that they have poor taste. So you unwrap the parcel with some trepidation. Inside you find a plain white candle in some sort of glass candle holder. You try to look impressed, but the thing is unattractive, hideously old-fashioned,and not at all in keeping with your decor. You thank them politely, and as soon as they've gone you put it away in a cupboard and forget about it.

A few weeks later there's a power failure. Stumbling around in the dark, you look for a candle and find your friend's candle holder. Gratefully you light it and at last you have a little light. And now you realise that when the light shines through the glass, the candle holder is exquisitely beautiful. There are colours and patterns in the glass that you couldn't see before.

Sometimes when we try to tell people about Jesus and the gospel, our words are like that candle holder. They seem clumsy and we wish we knew how to present them better. Those listening receive them with polite indifference, even embarrassment, because what we say seems so out-dated, and doesn't at all fit in with their personal "interior decor". Next time we meet them, they seem to have forgotten everything we said. We may be tempted to stop speaking to them about Jesus altogether.

We can pray, though, that one day, in a dark moment in their lives, they will remember our words. When they do, they will discover that with the light of the Holy Spirit shining through them, they are a most precious gift.

Confident sinners

Here's a paradox - the longer we've been a Christian, the more we come to realise how sinful we really are. We discover that our antagonism towards God runs very deep.

Does this sound familiar? Before I turned to Christ, I sometimes felt guilty about specific things I'd done, but I didn't know what to do with the guilt. It was a joy to discover that because of Jesus' death on the cross, I'm forgiven and accepted by God.

For a while I was delighted to find that I was overcoming some of my unwanted bad habits. But then the Holy Spirit started to show me things that I'd never seen as sinful before. And worse than that, I sometimes found myself committing sins I thought I'd conquered years ago. I also realised that even the good things I do are often motivated by a need to gain another person's approval, or fear of criticism, or pride in my own skills. And what of the good things I could have done, but failed to do, out of laziness, fear or lack of love?

If you recognise this process, you'll know that at this point it becomes tempting to doubt that God could really love us. It was one thing to believe that God loved us when our sins were all out on the surface - deep down we knew that we were really quite decent people. But how could God love someone who is sinful to the core?

Eventually (by God's grace) we discover that doubting God's love is itself a sin. Perhaps the greatest sin of all. Isn't that what the story of Adam and Eve is all about? Satan, in the form of the serpent, persuaded the pair that God didn't really have their best interest at heart, that he was treating them unfairly, and keeping good things from them. So they chose to doubt God's love. They ignored his warning about what would happen if they tried to judge for themselves what was good and evil. And then, when they realised what they'd done, they shamefacedly hid from God rather than coming to him for forgiveness. They refused to confess, blaming each other, the serpent, even God himself. They didn't recognise God's anguished question, "What have you done?" as the cry of love. They heard it as a rebuke.

Over and over God's Word tells us that Jesus really did die for us "while we were yet sinners". Each new discovery of the depth of our sinfulness serves to grow our understanding of how much Jesus suffered for us on the cross. Instead of being weighed down by our discovery that we aren't just people who sin, but innately sinful, we find new freedom, thankfulness and joy. The more we understand how sinful we are, the more we come to appreciate just how much God loves us.

And then we meet another paradox - the more we recognise our ingrained tendency to sin, the more God can use us in his service. Because we no longer dare trust ourselves, we learn to depend on him. We know we can't overcome our sinfulness by our own efforts, but God's Spirit is working in us to make us more and more like Christ. It's this confidence in Christ, not self-confidence, that turns pew-warmers into witnesses and activists into prayerful, powerful servants of God.

A shorter version of this article originally appeared on "One Candle", my former website. It may be copied (without alteration) for non-commercial use, but please acknowledge its source.

Staying power

Poverty, chastity and obedience are the traditional vows of those entering religious orders. Benedict, however, added a fourth vow for his order - stability. Benedictine monks and nuns are expected to remain within the same community for life.

This might seem strange, even harsh to us. We expect to move house and change jobs several times over a lifetime. Our whole society is hooked on the idea that change is progress. We are enticed and cajoled into changing our clothes, our furniture and our cars, not because the old ones have worn out, but because "new is better".

Current wisdom sees no virtue in staying put. If a relationship is no longer satisfying, leave it and find someone more compatible. If the church you attend is a bit dreary or disagreeable, try the one down the road. After all, wasn't Jesus himself a wandering preacher with nowhere to lay his head?

What Benedict recognised was that neither true community nor growth of the individual Christian is possible without some stability. This may not necessarily mean living a lifetime in one place. But we should be slow to move unless we have a clear call to do so.

When Jesus told Peter that he should forgive his brother “seventy times seven’ (Matt 18:21-22), he was surely implying some sort of long-term relationship between the two. It's relatively easy to forgive a petty offence two or three times. To go on forgiving day after day goes beyond our own resources. Even minor irritations become painful sores if they are constantly renewed. By enduring, we not only learn to forgive as God forgives, but we also learn to rely on God for grace to forgive.

When we first join a community we are often enthusiastic. Our relationship to others is positive but superficial. People are kind to us because we are new. After a while, we begin to feel disillusioned. We're no longer given special attention. We discover that these people have all the usual human faults and weaknesses. Sometimes our relationships with others become quite difficult or painful. It is tempting at this stage to leave.

But by leaving we miss the opportunity to become more Christ-like. Love which is patient, not easily angered, keeps no score of wrongs, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres (1 Cor 13) takes time and adversity to develop. By moving on we also miss the opportunity to become part of a community in which we are accepted as we really are.

(This article originally appeared on "One Candle", my former website. It may be copied (without alteration) for non-commercial use, but please acknowledge its source. Photo copyright Stella Budrikis)

What happened to One Candle?

A lot of the articles on my old website "One Candle" were out of date, and the site itself was difficult to maintain, so I've closed it. I'm planning to edit or rewrite the articles worth keeping and post them here. If you are looking for a particular article that used to be on that site, please contact me and I'll send you a copy.

Are you more like Timorous, or Mr Fearing?

Timorous and Mr Fearing are two of the characters described by John Bunyan in his allegorical story, The Pilgrim's Progress. Despite the similarity of their names, they have rather different personalities, and come to very different ends.

The Pilgrim, Christian, meets Timorous and his companion Mistrust at the top of the Hill of Difficulty. Unlike Christian who is heading for the Celestial City, Timorous and Mistrust are going the other way. Christian asks "why?" After all, they have already come some way in their journey and struggled up the Hill. Why not keep going? 

Timorous replies "The further we go, the more danger we meet with." He's seen the dangers ahead, he's had enough, and he's going back to the easy life he had in the world. He was never really committed to reaching the Celestial City.

Mr Fearing also falters at every danger and opposition he meets. But unlike Timorous, he stands his ground, quaking, until he finds the courage to go forward. His journey to the Celestial City is slow and painful, for his companions who have to bear with him as well as himself. Yet the Lord seems to take special care of him. And in the end he arrives at his goal.

Two things distinguish Mr Fearing from Timorous. The first is his determination to reach the Celestial City. No matter what lies ahead, he won't turn back, even if he fears going forward. The second is that his greatest fear is not danger or discomfort, but making mistakes. He often missed out on the joys of being a pilgrim because of his lack of assurance. Yet he sometimes showed remarkable courage and spiritual strength.

Bunyan was an astute and experienced pastor. He recognised that Mr Fearing's problem was not that he lacked the will to be a Christian, but that he carried with him a personal weakness. Bunyan also observed that the Lord seemed particularly gentle with such people.

None of us ought to be like Timorous, giving up too soon. No doubt we would all like to be like Great Heart, Faithful, or Valiant-for-Truth - Christians who do great things for the Lord and seem to fear nothing. Yet if we feel like Mr Fearing, we can be assured that God still has a place for us in the Celestial City and will see that we get there.