Masterpiece
She dropped to her knees, then bowed her
face to the ground. “How does this happen that you should pick me out and treat
me so kindly — me, a
foreigner?” Boaz answered her, “I’ve heard all about you — heard about the way
you treated your mother-in-law after the death of her husband, and how you left
your father and mother and the land of your birth and have come to live among a
bunch of total strangers. God reward you well for what you’ve done — and with a
generous bonus besides from God, to whom you’ve come seeking protection under
his wings.” She said, “Oh sir, such grace, such kindness — I don’t deserve it.
You’ve touched my heart, treated me like one of your own. And I don’t even
belong here!” (Ruth 2:10-13)
Two figures
crested the horizon of the Judean desert. One, an old widow; the other, a young
one. Wrinkles crevice the face of the first; desert dust powders the cheeks of
both. Ten years earlier, a famine had driven Naomi and her husband out of
Bethlehem. They’d left their country and immigrated to enemy territory – Moab.
There they found fertile soil to farm, and girls for each of their two sons to
marry. But then tragedy struck. Naomi's husband died. So did her sons. So, Naomi
resolved to return to her hometown of Bethlehem. Ruth, one of her
daughters-in-law, was determined to go with her. No money. No possessions. No
children. Nothing.
In the twelfth
century B.C., a woman's security was found in her husband, and her future was
secured by her sons. These two widows had neither; they'd have been lucky to
find a bed at the Salvation Army. And although we may be three thousand years
from Ruth, our circumstances aren’t that much different, frankly. Hopes the
size of a splinter, and solutions as scarce as sunlight in the rainforest.
Drought, doubt, debt and disease. It’s a war zone out there, and we ask
ourselves if grace actually happens to sick moms, unemployed dads, and
penniless widows from Moab.
The women
shuffled into the village and set about to find some food. Ruth went to a
nearby field to scavenge enough grain to make some bread for herself and her
mother-in-law. Enter Boaz. Picture a guy straight out of GQ: square jaw, wavy hair, biceps that flex, pecs that pop, teeth
that sparkle, and pockets that jingle. His education? Ivy. Jet? Lear. Farm? Extremely profitable. House?
Sprawling and paid for. He had no intention of interrupting his charmed,
bachelor life by getting married. But then he saw Ruth. She wasn't the first
immigrant to forage grain from his fields, but she was the first to steal his
heart. Her glance caught his for a moment. And a moment was all it took.
As fast as you
can turn a page in your Bible, Boaz learned her name, story and Facebook status. He upgraded her
workstation, invited her for supper, and told her manager to send her home
happy. In a word, he gave her grace. At least that’s the word Ruth uses:
"Oh sir, such grace, such
kindness – I don’t deserve it. You've touched my heart, treated me like one of
your own. And I don't even belong here." (Ruth 2:13) That evening, Ruth
left with thirty pounds of grain and a smile she couldn't wipe off her face. When
she arrived home, such as it was, Ruth told Naomi about her adventure, and
Naomi recognized the name. And then she recognized the opportunity. "Boaz
. . . Boaz,” as she drummed her fingers on their meager table. “That name
sounds familiar. Hmmm. That’s it. Now I remember. He's Rahab's boy! Ruth, Boaz
is one of our cousins!" And then Naomi's head began to spin with
possibilities.
This being
harvest season, Boaz would be eating dinner with the men and spending the night
on the threshing floor to protect his crop from thieves. So, Naomi told Ruth,
"Wash and perfume yourself, and put on your best clothes. Then go down to
the threshing floor, but don't let him know you are there until he has finished
eating and drinking. When he lies down, note the place where he’s lying. Then
go and uncover his feet and lie down. He will tell you what to do."
(3:3-4) Pardon me while I wipe the steam off my glasses. How did this midnight,
Moabite seduction get into the Bible? Boaz – full bellied and sleepy; Ruth –
bathed and perfumed. “He’ll tell you what to do?” Really? What was Naomi thinking?
She was thinking
it was time for Ruth to get on with her life. Ruth was still grieving the death
of her husband. When Naomi told her to "put on your best clothes,"
she used a phrase that describes the clothing worn after a time of mourning. In
other words, as long as Ruth was dressed in black, Boaz – respectable man that
he was – would keep his distance. New clothing, on the other hand, would signal
Ruth's re-entrance into society by changing out of her clothes of sorrow. Of
course, Naomi was also thinking about the law of the kinsman-redeemer. Here’s
the law in a nutshell.
If a man died
without children, his property was left to his brother – not his wife. This kept
the land in the family. But it also left the widow vulnerable. So, to protect her,
the law required the brother of the deceased to marry the childless widow. If,
on the other hand, the deceased husband had no brother, his nearest male
relative was to provide for the widow, but he didn't have to necessarily marry
her. The law kept the property in the family and gave the widow protection and,
sometimes, a husband. While Naomi and Ruth had no living children, they did
have a cousin. Boaz. It was worth the gamble.
"So she
[Ruth] went down to the threshing floor and did everything her mother-in-law
told her to do. When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good
spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile." (vv.
6-7) Ruth lingered in the shadows, watching the men wander off to bed, one by
one. Soon, laughter and chatter gave way to snoring. And that’s when Ruth made
her move. She stepped carefully between the lumps of sleeping men in the
direction of Boaz. Upon reaching him, she "uncovered his feet and lay
down. In the middle of the night something startled the man, and he turned and
discovered a woman lying at his feet." (vv. 7-8) Startled is probably an
understatement.
This gesture was
roughly equivalent to the giving of an engagement ring. "'I am your
servant Ruth,' she said. 'Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you
are a kinsman-redeemer.'" (v. 9) Pretty gutsy move because Boaz was under
no obligation whatsoever to marry her; he was a relative, but not Elimelech’s brother.
Besides, Ruth was a foreigner and he was a prominent landowner. She was a
destitute alien. He was a local power broker. "Will you cover us?" she
asked him. Boaz just smiled.
The next day, Boaz
convened a meeting of ten city leaders. He summoned another man who, as it turned
out, was actually a closer relative of Naomi than Boaz. And when Boaz told the closer
relative about the property, the man jumped at his rights of first refusal and
agreed to purchase the property. But then Boaz showed him the fine print:
"On the day you buy the land from Naomi and from Ruth the Moabitess, you
acquire the dead man's widow in order to maintain the name of the dead with his
property." (4:5) The land, in other words, came with strings attached – an
old widow woman and an illegal alien. The relative balked, and we have a hunch
that Boaz probably knew that he would.
Ruth's story is your
story; our story. We all wear robes of death. She buried her husband; we've
buried our dreams, desires and aspirations. We're out of options. But our Boaz
has taken note of us. Just as the landowner approached Ruth, Christ came to us
"while we were yet sinners." (Rom. 5:8) He made the first move.
"Will you cover us?" we asked, and Grace smiled. Not just mercy, mind
you, but grace.
You see, grace
goes beyond mercy. Mercy gave Ruth some food. Grace gave her a husband and a
home. Mercy gave the prodigal son a second chance. Grace threw him a party.
Mercy prompted the Samaritan to bandage the wounds of the victim. Grace
prompted him to leave his credit card as payment for the victim's care. Mercy
forgave the thief on the cross. Grace escorted him into paradise. Ruth's story
is a picture of how grace happens in hard times. Jesus is your
kinsman-redeemer. He spotted you in the wheat field, ramshackled by heartache
and hurt. And he’s resolved to romance your heart. Feeling marginalized and
discarded? Others may think so. Even you may think so. But God sees in you a
masterpiece. He will do with you what Vik Muniz did with the garbage pickers of
Gramacho.
Just a few years
ago, Jardim Gramacho was the Godzilla of garbage dumps. What Rio de Janeiro
discarded, Gramacho took. And what Gramacho took, catadores scavenged. About three thousand garbage pickers scraped a
living out of the rubbish, salvaging 200 tons of recyclable scraps daily. They
trailed the never-ending convoy of trucks, trudging up the mountains of garbage
and then sliding down the other, snagging scraps along the way. Plastic
bottles, tubes, wires and paper were sorted and sold to wholesalers who stood at
the edge of the dump. Across the bay, the Christ
the Redeemer statue extends his arms toward Rio's million-dollar beachfront
apartments along the Ipanema and Copacabana beaches. Tourists flock to
the beaches; but no one comes to Gramacho. No one except for Vik Muniz.
This
Brazilian-born artist convinced five garbage workers to pose for individual
portraits. Suelem, an eighteen-year-old mother of two. Isis, a recovering drug
addict. Zumbi, who read every book he found in the trash. Irma, who cooked
discarded produce in large pots and then sold it. And Tiao, who organized the
workers into an association. Muniz took photos of their faces then enlarged the
images to the size of a basketball court. He and the five catadores outlined the facial features with trash. Bottle tops
became eyebrows. Cardboard boxes became chin lines. Rubber tires overlaid
shadows. Images gradually emerged from the trash. Muniz then climbed onto a 30’
platform and took new photos. The result? The second-most-popular art exhibit
in Brazilian history, exceeded only by the works of Picasso. Vik donated the
profits to the local garbage pickers' association, and treated Gramacho with
grace.
Grace does that.
God does that. Grace is God walking into your world with a sparkle in his eye
and an offer that's hard to resist. "Sit still for a bit. I can do wonders
with this mess of yours." Believe his promise. Trust it. Cling like a
barnacle to every hope and covenant. Imitate Ruth and then get busy. Go to your
version of the grain field, and get to work. This is no time for inactivity or
despair. Off with the mourning clothes. Take some chances; take the initiative.
You never know what might happen. Ruth's troubled life helped give birth to
grace incarnate. Who's to say yours won't do the same?
Grace,
Randy
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