The Faith of a Foreign Woman (The Story)

Ruth: The Faith of a Foreign Woman          Oct. 21/22, 2017

Scripture:  Ruth 1: 1-18, 3: 1-13

            Today we continue our journey through The Story, and we find our way to the wonderful, short like Book of Ruth. Last week we were in the Book of Judges, which is filled with stories of warriors. Today, we are making a blockbuster trade. We’re trading away our warriors and picking up some friends.

I’m not much of a tv guy anymore. I hear stories about This Is Us and still enjoy an episode of The Big Bang Theory every now and then, but I’m more of an older shows kind of guy. If you grew up in the 1990’s like I did, chances are pretty good that you’ll recall a show called “The Wonder Years.”  Ever see it? My brother and I used to hurry home from the bus stop to catch the latest episode, and I still catch him watching re-runs of a show that had it all- romance, suspense, more than a touch of reality, and the sense that the twists and turns of young Kevin Arnold, the star of the show, could happen to any 13 year old kid in America.  During the pilot episode, Kevin learns that a young soldier, who happens to be the big brother of his love interest, Winnie, is killed in the Vietnam War.  From this point on, Kevin, Winnie and another friend, Paul, learn to navigate a difficult world by walking together as friends who sometimes agree, sometimes disagree, but in the end, as their Beatles-composed theme song suggests, “They get by with a little help from their friends.”

            That’s what drew me the show. It had less to do with the quality of the show and everything to do with a group of friends that found a way to be present with each other. Despite an ever changing world and the natural ebb and flow that come with growing up, these friends were present for each other- and that was something I craved- and still need- for my own life. 

            I’ve become convinced that of all the good gifts God has given us, the gifts of companionship and community might be the greatest of them all.  It was in the beginning that God, according to the Scriptures, recognized the importance of relationship for his creation.  All throughout Chapter 1 in Genesis, God creates, takes a step back and proclaims, “It is good.”  And when creation is complete, God puts down his tools, looks around at the amazing work of his hands and says, “It is very good.”  But then we come to chapter 2, and in chapter 2 God looks at Adam, the first man, and sees that Adam is alone.  He has no one with whom to share life; no one with whom to come home, or share his dreams or dry his tears.  Adam is alone.  And for the first time in Scripture, God proclaims that something is not good.  “It is not good for man to be alone,” says God, who then sets out to make Eve, who in the Hebrew language is for Adam more than a wife.  She is a helper, a companion, and a partner for life.  And never is that more necessary and more welcoming than when life seems to fall apart.

Our Scripture for today comes to us out of book named “Ruth,” but it could easily be called “Naomi.”  It is Naomi’s story of suffering dominates the first part of this book, and it’s her bitter reality that sets the scene for God’s redemptive activity. The only problem is that Naomi can’t see what God’s up to. And that’s not surprising. It’s hard to see God when life falls apart. We know what it’s like to be Naomi. You have to feel for Naomi. Life threw at her several unpredictable, and you might say, unfair twists and turns.  And she didn’t ask for any of it.  In fact, Naomi’s role in this story is that of one who is on the wrong end of several factors outside of her control.  A famine in her homeland; the decision to move to a foreign country; the untimely deaths of her husband and sons- Naomi did nothing to deserve such horrible circumstances, but here she is, a woman who feels the dark cloud of despair, emptiness, and hopelessness. At one point in her story, she asks people to quit calling her Naomi, which means “pleasant” and instead call her Mara, which means “bitter.”

            I used to think that love was the only language common to the human experience, but I think there’s another language we all know at one point or another: suffering.  It’s a common thread that weaves its way into all of our lives.  And no one is immune. For many of us, Naomi’s story doesn’t sound like an ancient tale from a foreign land.  Instead it sounds like a story that hits a little too close to home. It was hard to write this sermon without thinking about all the Naomi’s that dot our world, all the people who suffer on the inside and out. Specifically I’ve been thinking about all the women who are now coming forward after the Harvey Weinstein sexual harassment scandal, saying, “Me too.”  Those are the words that are dominating the headlines today. Women I know, some in my own extended family, are now publicly confessing, “I was abused. I was touched. I was made to feel uncomfortable.” And so many questions about those events remain unanswered.  Why do some use their sexuality as a power play? Why do so many women feel compelled to remain silent? Why has it been easier to turn a blind eye and create an environment where so many ask, “Am I the only one?” Why has this happened to me?

            That’s the question Naomi asks. And her response to this question is probably no different than ours. She has no good reasons, no explanations, no answers. All she has is a shattered faith and a brutally bitter life. And for reasons that escape her best logic, Naomi can only conclude that her suffering is proof that God is angry with her.

            In the wake of recent devastation left by hurricanes Harvey and Irma, I’ve been thinking a lot about an experience I had in 2005. In that year, Hurricane Katrina ripped through several southern states, leaving behind a wake of death and disaster.  And many took a Naomi approach to interpreting the devastation as evidence of God’s wrath.  Well-known televangelists asserted that God was wielding his anger-infused retribution in response to the practices of abortion and homosexuality.  And I’ve hard similar sentiments this year. A year after Katrina, I had the opportunity to travel to New Orleans to participate in rebuilding efforts.  As we drove through the deserted towns I saw an image that will never escape my mind. Every building had a number spray-painted near the main entrance.  Some were single-digits; others numbered into the teens and twenties.  But they all told the same story. They all indicated the number of dead bodies that were found- men, women, children, babies, pets.  And I saw casinos and porn shops whittled to splinters.  But I also saw homes, schools and even churches obliterated to pieces.  And I remember thinking, “I don’t think this was God. Everything I know about God is one who enters our messes and rescues and saves. And I just don’t think God concluded that horrible, unthinkable suffering was the best way to teach America a lesson.” So, I came to the highly sophisticated conclusion that the cause of the devastation was a hurricane named Katrina- but God was there, because everywhere I looked, I saw people of God all over the country- mission teams, churches, volunteers- lending their hands, their vacations and giving their time as away of saying, “New Orleans, you are not alone.” And the same outpouring of love and support is happening today.

            Naomi has a hard time seeing God in the midst of her suffering.  What Naomi doesn’t need are easy answers that provide very little comfort. Sometimes when we should just be silent and listen, we find ourselves saying things like, “Everything happens for a reason” or “God must have a plan,” And while there may be some nuggets of truth in those, to hear those words in the midst of suffering doesn’t offer much help. A few months after my father died, I was able to look back and see just how much my faith grew because of that experience.  I became a better father, a better husband and a better son through my dad’s battle with cancer and eventual death.  But to say that the reason my father died was for the purpose of growing my faith would be a gross misrepresentation of a God who is full of love and grace.  Some day Naomi will be able to look back and see how the redemptive hand of God had been actively working behind the scenes, but she’s not ready to hear that now.  And she’s not ready to see that now.  What she needs more than anything is a little help from a friend.  What she needs is Ruth.

            The first chapter of this book is dominated by Naomi’s grief and despair, but what we can easily overlook is that Ruth has been there all along.  The text doesn’t say this, but I think Ruth has been with Naomi this entire time, holding her hand, listening to her confused, grief-stricken questions, and simply offering her quiet presence.  And to help shoulder the burdens of others is a wonderful ministry.  We need Ruth’s in our lives.  Battle-tested warriors like Moses, Joshua and Gideon are great at overcoming obstacles, but it’s Ruth who provides a different sort of spiritual hero. She’s the one you can call when no one else is around. She’s the one who will persevere with you when you can’t go on. And she’s the one who will have faith for you until you can believe again.

I wonder who your Ruth is? You need a Ruth or two in your life. They help you see God when you can’t see anything. And it’s beautiful and redemptive. But the redemptive work of God really begins when Naomi tries once and for all to pull away- to pull away from Ruth, to pull of away from God, to pull away from the world (which is what we try to do when we are angry and confused)- and Ruth emphatically says, “No.” And in a stubborn, loving manner, Ruth utters the words that have become famous for everything they say and everything they mean:  “Where you go I will go and where you stay I will stay.  Your people will be my people and your God will be my God.  And where you die, I will die and there I will be buried.”  With these words, Ruth is no longer offering her friendship for a long journey; she is offering her very life.

            In many ways, the Ruth’s of the world remind us of Jesus. “Greater love has no one than this,” said Jesus, “than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.  What a beautiful statement, one that I think we desperately need today. For a culture like ours that places so much significance personal happiness and satisfaction, Jesus seems to be making the case that that the truest form of happiness and satisfaction is found in the life that is poured out, laid down and given away so that others can live. Sometimes we try so hard to be Jesus for other people. But what I’ve learned is that we can’t be Jesus for the world, but we can be Ruth. We can be the lovingly stubborn friend who won’t let you alone to travel your road of suffering.  And I can’t think of any better way to live out Jesus’ command to love one another.