“Turn and go back, daughters. I’m grown too old for a husband. Even if there was any hope of one, and it happened tonight and bore sons what are you going to do, wait for them till they were ripe for the taking? No, you’re not going to wait for a husband, my daughters. I’m sorry but the hand of the Lord has turned against me” (Ruth 1:12-13).
The Book of Ruth is, perhaps, one of the best-written books in the Bible. Take the first chapter: in twenty-two verses, we are introduced to Naomi, see her married, have two boys, see them married, and then have it all fall apart as her husband and her sons die, leaving her and her daughters-in-law alone. In these few verses, Naomi transforms from a joyful person to one who is sad and bitter, resigned to facing the world alone. A woman who, at the outset, probably praised God for her blessings transformed to one who asks everyone to call her by a new name—bitter.
Both daughters-in-law want to stay with Naomi. This is not just because they really like her, but out of real concern. They’re young enough to find new husbands, likely. But Naomi, well she’s older. She’s a true widow, which means she’s one of societies’ most vulnerable; because they have no one to care for them.
But Naomi, partially out of grief and partially because she sees these two young women still capable of enjoying a life of marriage and bearing kids, tells them to go on. Make your own way home. Nobody wants to marry an old woman. And even if they did and I had two sons tonight, what are you going to do, wait for them to grow up?
I don’t know what it is, but that image is so striking to me. Imagine being there to help nurse and change your future husband’s diapers. To wipe his runny nose, send him to his room, chase away the monsters from under his bed for years until he was old enough to marry you. All the while growing older, seeing eligible men come and go, knowing you were no longer young enough for them to notice.
That’s patience. It’s also foolish, but sometimes the foolish way for someone else is the right one for us. But it’s a level up from anything most of us would ever want to take on, isn’t it? When there other, perhaps better options, who’d want to spend years waiting on a promise to be fulfilled?
Turns out, I would. And, if you’re reading this, I image you would too.
Standing there with their mouths as wide open as their eyes, the disciples are asked by one of the Divine Messengers why they’re still staring at the empty space that Jesus left. He’ll be back in the same way he left. There’s no reason to stand around here. It’ll be a bit.
That bit has stretched into two millennia. The world has changed and changed and changed again. Empires have risen and fallen. Humans crossed sea and space. And, still, we look and we wait. Patient. And foolish? No, but it can seem so.
What we are doing, as so many have done before, is what Naomi asked if her daughters-in-law were willing to do: to be there at the birth and tend someone or something in its infancy until it is full grown.
The Realm of God, Jesus told us, is right here. It’s in us and around us. It’s been born. But it needs some care as it grows. And it’s going to be some time before it’s ready for us, to be mature enough to begin to care for us, to take us into its shelter and the life that’s promised.
Will it be worth it? We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Just as if Ruth and her sister-in-law had chosen to raise their own husbands, there’s no way to know if it’s worth waiting for. But you believe it will be. You have hope.
And that’s enough to stick around, tend what’s been put into our care, and see what happens.
Jesus, having overcome death and the powers of this world, you left this world to us to heal, restore, and reconcile to your love. As we move from one season to another, help us tend and feed your flock so that our world might be transformed into your Realm of Love.