Redeemer

 So she went down to the threshing floor and did just as her mother-in-law

 had commanded her.  And when Boaz had eaten and drunk, and his heart was

 merry, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain. Then she came softly

 and uncovered his feet and lay down.  At midnight the man was startled

 and turned over, and behold, a woman lay at his feet!  He said, “Who are you?”

 And she answered, “I am Ruth, your servant. Spread your wings over your servant,

 for you are a redeemer.”  And he said, “May you be blessed by the Lord,

 my daughter. You have made this last kindness greater than the first

 in that you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich.  And now,

 my daughter, do not fear. I will do for you all that you ask, for all my fellow

 townsmen know that you are a worthy woman."  (Ruth 3:6-12, ESV)

I have always been drawn to the story of Ruth.  If you have never read it, it's a lovely, surprising, tragic, amazing story--part biography, part family history, part historical record, part love story.  It begins as the story of one family, becomes the story of one woman, and in the end becomes the story of a new and different family.  And Ruth herself is the central character, the one who ties the threads of the story together.   

It begins with a typical, two-parent, two-child family, and their move to a new country.  Both sons, young men, come of age and marry women in that place--one of the new daughters-in-law is Ruth.  But exceptional tragedy strikes this unexceptional family, and the father and both sons are lost, leaving three widows behind.  With no providers and no prospects, the three women are left with no choice but to retreat to the safety of their respective families.  Naomi, the mother, sets out for her home country, and sends her daughters-in-law back to their homes.  But Ruth, in a remarkable act of cultural rebellion, refuses to return to her family of origin, and instead returns with her mother-in-law, to try to eke out a subsistence together in what, to her, is a new land among an unfamiliar people.

In Naomi's homeland, two women surviving alone, with no man to earn for them, protect them, or represent them, are in a fragile and vulnerable position.  But an eminently respectable man, Boaz, a prominent community member, soon begins acting as their benefactor, and ultimately, his kindness and respect leads Ruth to ask him to consider a far greater act of generosity--becoming the man to care for her (and, in this culture, for her mother-in-law as well), officially, legally.  Permanently.

I often puzzle over Ruth.  In many ways, she fascinates me.  Why, I wonder, did she refuse to go home?  Why stay with Naomi, why defy the odds?  Where did she gather the strength for this, and for so much more--the difficult journey to a new land, the back-breaking work she did to support herself and Naomi, the amazing vulnerability she showed in approaching and offering herself to a powerful man who might have ruined her in every way with his rejection?

But as much as I am compelled by Ruth, in the last couple of years my thoughts have been captivated by Boaz.  Who is this man?  I find it so remarkable, the story of what he did for Ruth.  In our day, the magnitude of it is difficult to comprehend, but in Ruth's time, the ramifications of it were astounding.  He saved her life, and her future--not only with companionship and love, as we are first inclined to think of in our romanticized, modern culture--but legally, socially, and economically.  He erased not only the pain of her personal past, but the tragedy of her family line--Naomi, who earlier in the story names herself "bitter" with loss, in the end renames herself "joy", as she cradles her new grandson.  All of these are things that were completely outside Ruth's power to do for herself or for her family. 

And yet, his response in the passage above is not to assure Ruth of his own generosity toward her.  Instead--look carefully--he THANKS HER.  He talks about her kindness, her worth.  He considers himself the lucky one here. He sees, not his own act of blessing, but hers.  This man, Boaz, is strong enough to lead, to save, yet secure enough for humility.  This man of integrity does what is right for Ruth, even when it flies in the face of the expectations of others.  He takes the role of redeemer, he pays the price, he changes Ruth's life, not out of a sense of his own generosity or goodness, but out of a selfless love for another.

So how is this possible?  What can make a man see things, see people in this light?  There is only one thing that I know of.  Boaz is not using the world's math; Boaz is seeing things in the way of the Kingdom.  He does not see Ruth as a poverty-stricken immigrant widow, unloved, undesirable, and of no worth.  He sees Ruth as God sees her--as a woman of beauty, a woman of valor, a woman worthy of being desired, loved, honored.   How incredibly fortunate was Ruth, to be found by this redeemer who acts to save her life, to assure her future, and to bring beauty from the ashes of her past, and in the process, sees himself not as the benefactor, but as the recipient of a beautiful gift.

And how like that other bridegroom is Boaz, that divine bridegroom of us all, who arrives at the altar of marriage possessing all the wealth, all the status, all the power, and gives himself up for his bride, the church, who cannot save herself, and can never repay his act of love.  And yet, that bridegroom is motivated, not by a sense of his own obligation, or even his own generosity or goodness, but by a deep love and desire for his bride.  This is that same story, the ultimate story, of a God who, in spite of his immense, incomparable greatness, created us, not so that we could love him, but instead created us to be loved.

The most beautiful thing about this story, for everyone, is that this God, the one who seeks us, desires us, redeems us--this God is out there.  But another beautiful thing about it is this--I believe that means this man is out there too.