Hope is not Named Boaz

Some things feel too vulnerable to share.

And while I’d prefer to keep the deepest layers of my heart tucked safely in, sometimes we just need the relief of realizing that someone else walking a similar path has experienced the same emotions and reactions we’re experiencing.

So while it feels a bit risky, it’s worth it if it lifts another sister up, redirects our heart and helps us live where we are and love where we are.

Because I was caught off guard at how soon after Dan’s death I became obsessed with remarrying.

I don’t use that word lightly. It preoccupied my waking moments and became the longing of my broken heart.

When I read grief books by other widows, I’d flip to the last chapter to see if she had remarried. How long had she waited? How had they met? Was she happy?

God, please don’t make me wait ten years, I’d pray.

I had loved Dan deeply. And I had loved being married.

But oh, the conflict.

I’d steal glances at ring fingers and become simultaneously horrified at the possibility of even making eye contact.

I was madly in love with Dan and desperately wanting to remarry.

Even in the rawest ache of grief, my mind churned with when, where, how and who God might bring into my life. For more than 20 years, my heart had been given to one man. And I missed it.

Wait for your Boaz.

It’s the heart cry for the single Christian girl waiting on a godly man.

When you’re suddenly thrust into the club of young widows, the possibility of a Boaz holds out bright hope.

I’m sure it’s the same for my other single sisters.

When friend after friend gets engaged, part of you celebrates wildly while the other part wonders when your Boaz is gonna show up.

When you’ve gone through the nightmare of rejection and betrayal, you dream of a Boaz who will love, honor and cherish you.

Wait for your Boaz.

The story of Ruth spells hope for every single girl, every widow, every woman who’s heart has been crushed.

It feels like God tucked the best love story ever into the Bible just so we’d know it can happen.

And happen better than any Nicholas Sparks novel.

Ruth was a young woman in Moab who married into a Hebrew family. Elimelech, Naomi and their two sons left their hometown of Bethlehem and migrated to next door Moab when famine hit. Their sons married Moabite women – one named Orpah and the other Ruth.

That’s when the bottom dropped out. First patriarch Elimelech died and then – unbelievably – both sons. Naomi was left without husband, without sons, and both Orpah and Ruth became young widows. In ancient times, this was beyond heartbreak. This was desolation.

In deep grief, Naomi was hopeless. She could offer nothing to her daughters-in-law. She’d go empty and bitter back to Bethlehem. Orpah returned to her Moabite family and Ruth alone vowed to go with Naomi.

But not because of Boaz. It was never Boaz that made Ruth move forward in faith. Ruth had never heard the name. She didn’t know Boaz existed. She wasn’t going to Bethlehem for Boaz or even for a Boaz.

Ruth’s longing was not for Boaz, but for God.

“Your people will be my people and your God my God.” Ruth 1:16

Ruth could move forward into her bleak and empty future because she placed her hope in God.

And this is where the violins cue to fortissimo. Ruth found provision as she gleaned in the fields, protection as she gleaned from Boaz’s fields and then full out prosperity as Boaz redeemed his right of kinship and took her as his wife. The book ends as Boaz and Ruth have a child, whose grandson would one day be King David.

All the satisfying sighs as they lived happily ever after.

Because isn’t that what we single girls want? We desperately long to live happily ever after with our own Boaz.

So often we look at the book of Ruth and think, Yes! God can do the impossible. He can bring a wonderful, godly, successful man to my life. Look — it happened to Ruth! And it can happen to me, too.

So we join the singles class at church and scour the e-dating site and begin to view every event as the ONE possibility that will introduce us to our Boaz.

I’m not knocking the singles classes at church or e-dating sites.

But we’ve read into Ruth a message that God doesn’t give.

Because the hero in the book of Ruth is not Boaz.

The hero in the book of Ruth is God.

Ruth sought God, not Boaz, with her whole heart. Ruth trusted God, not Boaz, with her whole heart. Ruth went to Bethlehem for God, not Boaz.

It was God who provided for Ruth.
It was God who protected Ruth.
And it was God who prospered Ruth.

I realized a long time ago that I had to deal with my own longing for Boaz. It was taking up valuable soul space, misdirecting my hope and healing.

God is my hero. God alone can give me hope, ease the raw ache of my broken heart and prosper me to live well where I am, and to love well where I am.

I had to long for God alone.

I’d like to say it was easy to lay it down. But it was an over and over again process of giving my heart, my hurt and every hope to God and trusting him. Over time, my preoccupation to remarry began to fall away. I still have dreams tucked in close, but they don’t redirect my heart.

God is my Boaz. And he’s yours, too.

Originally written by Lisa Appelo of True & Faithful. Used with permission.

Hope

HOPE. We throw it in like a pseudo-synonym for crossing our fingers. But lately the weight of the word has been sinking deep in me. 

I work at a day job where I stare into faces devoid of hope. And it isn’t just my students in their too small jeans and unkempt hair- traces of an old bruise that I can never be sure came from typical kid blunders or a parent’s heavily thrown backhand. 

It isn’t only the dads with altered smiles due to the meth that took their teeth. Or the mothers who roll in wearing overly low tank tops, fuzzy jammie pants, house shoes, and what appears to be a countenance of confidence but really comes across as fear in the way they won’t hold eye contact. And it isn’t even the other teachers who confess their frustrations in a way that makes you know the only hoping they do is hope the school day ends without any major screw ups or another blow of devastating news. Really, it’s all of it. It’s everyone. It’s no one. Hope is hard to find. 

Sometimes I feel like the life I lead is small. I’m Kathleen Kelly - I feel like a lone reed leading a valuable but small life. I’m caught up in paperwork and planning, reading data and high stakes testing. It’s easy for me to forget that’s not why I’m there. CRTs are never someone’s ministry. My ministry is HOPE. I have it. I point to it. I wallow in it, so Jesus can leave traces of it everywhere I go. 

When I took this job as a teacher, I thought I knew what I was getting into. We never know. Why do we always think we know? Sometimes I even catch myself saying, “I finally understand what God is doing!” Even in my mind I’m cracking up at that ridiculousness. 

I thought I would teach kids things like math and reading strategies. How to master an outline like a boss. Maybe even how to navigate a relationship with a peer. Instead, God knew what he was doing. Because HE knows the plans he has for me. HE knows. So instead of teaching writing and reading and science, this month alone (9 days into October) I have done what feels like everything except teach letters and numbers. 

This month I prayed for a woman who was trying to decide whether or not she should abort her baby. She’s well into her second trimester, but the doctors think the baby will be deformed. No arms. “There’s no HOPE.”

I also held an 11 year old boy while he sobbed on the playground because his mom is going to jail. He’s the oldest of many children. He’s without HOPE. 

I spent time at the broken home of a student and watched as mom, dad, and stepmom tried hard to be civil and push their hurts and insecurities down deep. Their HOPE is small. 

I prayed for a co-worker who is at the end of her choices before chemo and radiation are her only HOPE. 

I watched a little girl attempt to navigate the trauma of learning people in her extended family were murdered. She missed school for the funeral. She said she’s fine. She doesn’t need to talk to anyone. And it’s true that her face is straight and she seems unscathed by it all, but when we ask mom about it, she begins to list the trauma this little girl has already walked through. It’s heavy enough to make my eyes get misty and forget for a second where my HOPE comes from. 

As I took it all in, I tried to come up with all the ways I could fix these problems. Some great plan to help everyone not hurt so much. But every plan seemed to only put me in the way—God’s way. I needed to love in small ways and leave room for God to be powerful. If I don’t, then I leave no room for HOPE. there’s no space for God to say, “I got this”.

I don’t know how any of these stories end. I don’t know if that woman chose to terminate her pregnancy - a little girl who I call Hope when I pray for her. A little girl I would scoop up myself and let her use my arms to hug us both until our hearts burst if God would just say the word. 

I don’t know if my co-worker will live. I will never see that little girls family reconciled with a life cut short. I don’t know how to help any of them. Not on my own. 

But I can share my HOPE. I can give it away. I can recognize that I was created for such a time as this. I can be a lone reed standing tall and burning brightly, pointing the way toward HOPE. 

Jeremiah 29:11 says, “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” We can be tempted to look at this verse and get caught up on the part that says God has plans. But maybe the more important part is that God knows the plans. He knew our hardship was coming, and even better, he knows exactly where it’s going. And the whole time we can confidently trust in the God of Hope.

Written by Shontell Brewer, blogger and author at www.shontellbrewer.com. Used with permission.

The Comfort of Consistency

“Listen to Me, O house of Jacob,
And all the remnant of the house of Israel,
You who have been borne by Me from birth
And have been carried from the womb;
Even to your old age I will be the same,
And even to your graying years I will bear you!”
(Isaiah 46:3-4a NASB)

Dad Gamble had been in the hospital a few days and was feeling better. “I like living with you and Ray,” he said during my visit. “In the morning, honey, you come in with a cup of coffee and put it on my bed tray. You open the blinds so I can see the sun rise.” Then he continued, repeating our daily routine. In that strange hospital room in a new town and a new state, reflecting on our everyday habits gave him comfort. Remembering the consistent routine we had established at home helped him cope with the surprise and change at the hospital. Simply listing what was normal was reassuring.

“Nina,” says my four-year-old grandson. “When I go back to living in Virginia and you come to visit, will there still be a present every day when I wake up?” This little guy and his family are living with us temporarily, so in this household, much to his sadness, there are not presents every day. However, he thinks back on the familiar and loves remembering the consistent promise that when Nina and Papa visit, there’s always a fun bag with a treasure when you wake up and come downstairs in the morning. He is comforted to think that this routine will re-emerge once he’s back home again. It eases the unfamiliarity of living in a new place for a season.

No matter our age, consistency matters. Even though rituals and routines can feel boring at times, the lack of any rhythm to a life creates confusion and chaos and fear. We are most contented when we know what to expect and when those expectations are met. Just about everyone chooses certain patterns of living that guarantee each day has some certainties.

This beautiful passage in Isaiah is God’s way of telling us that there is great certainty in being His. Those of us born into His family are carried by Him. And “even to our old age” God will not change. He will be the same, and even to our “graying years” God will bear us.

Every week, I see a little more gray in my brown hair—the graying years have arrived. I’m Nina to five grandchildren with one on the way, and my hair will gray more with each passing year. Oh, how I am comforted by this passage! Since I was a little one of four, kneeling, and asking Jesus to come into my heart, my good, great God has carried me. He has been with me in good times and hard times. The reassurance that He will never abandon me lifts me up and makes me smile. The consistent love of my God is a wonderful comfort.

Dear Lord, thank You for Your deep, consistent love. I could barely understand what I was doing when I was four, and yet You loved me and carried me. When I’m very old, I suspect I may not be able to do too much then either—except love You and pray. And You will continue to love me even then. And, when I pass from this life to eternity, there You will be! Loving me still. Oh, how glad I am to be Yours. Thank you, in Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Originally written and published by Sharon Gamble of Sweet Selah Ministries. Used with permission.

Sharing the Load

People always ask me how I do everything. Truth is, I don't! This guy right here literally carries the load.😉

Let me share with you a few things we do as a couple that has helped us stay strong in our marriage:

1) Think the best of one another, not the worst.

2) He gives me back-massages, which always leads to mutual intimacy.😉

3) Be a team player. Share the load. Literally.

4) If you're frustrated about something, speak up in a kind way, after the kids have gone to bed and you've had a few minutes to chill first.

5) Being opposites helps balance us out in a good way. Otherwise I would be broke, and he never would have had the courage to pursue his dreams.😉 (P.S. he's still getting there.)

6) Let him take out the trash, and you put the trash bag in. Otherwise, you will always be irritated that he forgot.😁

7) Speak his love language. He loves acts of service. So do it. And let him know what you love in return and he will do it too. Stop hinting and just be blunt with how you love to be loved. This isn't Hollywood, this is real life and a thriving relationship takes honest communication.

8) Pray together. It's amazing the intimacy and peace that is brought when you open up spiritual intimacy in your marriage.

What about you? What do you do to keep your marriage alive and thriving?

Originally posted on Facebook by Rachel Swanson. Used with permission.