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God Waits

Meet Jacob. If ever there were a man whose name fit his disposition, it was he—Jacob means “deceiver,” and what an accomplished deceiver, he was! Add schemer, for good measure. He callously commandeered his older brother’s birthright, diabolically duped his unseeing father into giving him the blessing of the firstborn, and he absorbed his father-in-law’s wealth while managing his flocks. “Isn’t he rightfully named Jacob?”1 fumed Esau, his twice-bested twin. Jacob even bargained with God, offering, “If God will be with me and will watch over me … so that I return safely to my father’s house, then the Lord will be my God.”2

Deception and scheming declare in devilish tones: my desires are more important than your wellbeing. People are means to our ends, expendable if it comes to that, and injustice is merely collateral damage. “All’s fair in love and war,” we blithely chirp. What we don’t realize when we manipulate and mislead is that treachery and lies are also isolating to us—like Jacob fleeing a vengeful Esau and decades later a cheated Laban, we run away from the consequences of our actions or live in fear of them. Even if we remain, we live at arm’s length from once-trusting, now-cynical victims; though present in proximity, their wounded trust, or what’s left of it, has moved on. There we exist, alone with our spoils.

Yet our scheming is no match for God’s character. “If we are faithless, he remains faithful”3—this is His nature, and He will not waver from it, even in affront; He will not be moved from His redeeming love. He speaks the wise counsel of conviction into our soul, and He allows repercussions of our actions to take their toll—all that we might set aside our conniving ways and turn to Him for newness of life. Wrote Paul, “Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin?”4 Yes, in tireless kindness, God waits for the Jacob’s of this world to tire of control and to rest in His wisdom and ways, for our wellbeing is His desire.

Father, how good you are! Even my worst will not change your best. Lead me away from my controlling ways, and strengthen me to trust you and to rest in your wisdom, sovereignty, power and love. Amen.

1 Genesis 27:36
2 Genesis 28:20, 21
3 2 Timothy 2:13
4 Romans 2:4 NLT

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Fuller Fullness

A friend of mine is fond of saying, “When you reach the end of yourself, you come to the beginning of God.” Though we like to think ourselves sufficient in our wisdom and ways, life has a way of proving otherwise. Striving produces riches that don’t enrich, willpower is openly mocked by addictions, mortality emerges through dreaded diagnoses, and one person cannot sustain a relationship alone. For Naomi and her family, self-sufficiency meant living by sight and not by faith. Amid famine, they left the promised land for seemingly greener pastures, and when Naomi’s husband and two sons died, she assessed the situation within the limitations of her own abilities, urging her daughters-in-law, “Return home, my daughters. Why would you come with me? Am I going to have any more sons, who could become your husbands?”1 And who was God but someone to blame? “I went way full,” Naomi lamented, “but the Lord has brought me back empty.”2 At least He had her attention, and she would see His love.

She would see it through Ruth, her daughter-in-law, who in the words of Naomi’s friends, “loves you and who is better to you than seven sons.”3 God’s love would shine through Boaz, whose integrity and compassion would bring redemption and closure: “The Lord bless him!” said Naomi to Ruth, “He has not stopped showing his kindness to the living and the dead.”4 She would touch and feel God’s love through the grandchild laid in her lap and through these tender words from the women of the town: “Naomi has a son.”5 No longer would they call her “Mara” [bitter]; she was renewed, she was Naomi again.

It hurts to lose those we love; it stings like nothing else possibly can. Yet God uplifts us with the promise of a greater glory, “an inheritance that will never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you.”6 As we wait, He leads us to fuller fullness through stronger faith in Him. Writes Paul, “So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight.”7 It is in this confidence that we are transformed to become to those who follow us as those who came before us were to us—lovers of our soul—people like Ruth, Boaz, and now, Naomi.

Yes, Lord, renew us, that we would become like these, trusting in you and useful to others. Amen.

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. (1 Thessalonians 4:13, 14)

1 Ruth 1:11
2 Ruth 1:21
3 Ruth 4:15
4 Ruth 2:20
5 Ruth 4:17
6 1 Peter 1:4
7 2 Corinthians 5:6, 7 ESV

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Renewed with Fresh Purpose

It happens not infrequently—as I ring the bell for The Salvation Army at Christmastime, someone approaches the iconic Red Kettle with a recognizable humility. They mine their billfold for money and gladly tuck a gift of gratitude into the slot, and with a long-ago look of fond recollection, they say something like this: “I remember when I was a child and our family was in tough times, The Salvation Army was there for us.” Healing acts of kindness change us—though we remember the isolating pain of emptiness, it is the Christlike character and care of others that fill us, sustain us and send us down a new path of fresh purpose.

Overwhelmed by the death of her husband and two sons, Naomi had tried to send her daughters-in-law away: “Return home, my daughters. Why would you come with me?”1 One did return to her people, but Ruth remained, true to the noble character for which she would become known—loyal, respectful, compassionate, practical and industrious—a reputation reaching people’s ears even before her visage met their eyes. Said Boaz to Ruth upon their first encounter, “I’ve been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband—how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before.”2 He saw to it, then, that she would be protected and honored in his fields as she picked the sheaves the harvesters left behind. Her kindness kindled his own, though neither had an inkling where this shared trait might take them.

But Naomi did! Boaz was a relative of her late husband, and under Jewish law, he could “redeem” Ruth from a life of want and emptiness by marrying her. And Naomi knew it. Raison d’être! Fresh purpose! Step aside, I got this! “My daughter,” said the elder to the younger, “should I not try to find a home for you, where you will be well provided for? Is not Boaz … a kinsman of ours? … Wash and perfume yourself, and put on your best clothes. Then go down to the …”3 Ruth had been all about Naomi, and now the reawakening Naomi would be all about Ruth.

God “comforts the downcast.”4 He “comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves had received from God.”5 Then even our mourning has meaning, growing us into a people who give comfort as only the comforted can give. And so sculpted into the character of Christ, we go forward with fresh purpose—to be there for others in their troubles. They are all around us, hoping.

Father, thank you for those who comfort us—we need them. Heal us in our hurt, and send us to others as conduits of your healing and hope. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

1 Ruth 1:11
2 Ruth 2:11
3 Ruth 3:1-3
4 2 Corinthians 7:6
5 2 Corinthians 1:4