A Providential Love (Ruth #3)

This morning we’re walking through Ruth chapter 3.

For those visiting, we’ve been studying the book of Ruth, which takes us back roughly three thousand years. Ruth occurs during the period of the judges, around 1200 BC, and some very important lessons about the love of God have been emerging through the narrative.

Not only was Ruth showing a committed love to Naomi by determining to stay with her to the end — God shows a committed love perfectly to us. Not only was Boaz generous toward Ruth as she gleaned in his field — God is infinitely generous toward us.

Today we’ll be learning about God’s providential love for us through His sovereignty, worked out in the relationships and efforts in our passage.

Where We’ve Been

Naomi, her husband Elimelech, and their two sons traveled from Bethlehem in Judah to the country of Moab — which was essentially enemy territory — because of a severe famine that was devastating the region. They moved out of desperation.

And in that time, Naomi’s husband died. Her sons married two Moabite women. And then her sons died too. It was just Naomi and her daughters-in-law.

In her mourning, Naomi resolved to return to her roots in Judah. She urged both daughters-in-law to go home to their families in Moab, to remain under their protection and eventually remarry.

And Ruth heard the case and said no. Where you go I will go. Where you stay I will stay. Your God will be my God.

So they travel to Bethlehem — which means house of bread — and Ruth goes out to glean in a field to provide for them both, and finds generous favor in the eyes of Boaz, one of Naomi’s relatives and one of their family’s kinsman redeemers.

As we dig into chapter 3, I want us to get a real sense of the conversations taking place — between Naomi and Ruth, and between Ruth and Boaz. Because we can read the Bible merely as story and lose the reality that these were actual people in actual circumstances at an actual place in time.

Two Old Testament Concepts

Before we can read this well, we need two concepts.

Levirate marriage.

The word comes from the Latin levir, which translates the Hebrew for brother-in-law. Under the Mosaic law this regulated marriage customs when the man of the house died.

Rather than leaving everything to the whims of people who would very likely take advantage of such a loss, God determined a framework by which the family would be cared for.

Deuteronomy 25 lays it out: if a husband dies leaving his wife without a son to succeed as heir, and that husband has a brother, the brother steps in to fulfill the role — to marry her and, hopefully, eventually bear a son under the name of the deceased brother, preserving the family line.

Full disclosure: this was not an absolutely mandated law. But if the brother declined, it was considered a real cultural dishonor.

Remember, this was a patriarchal society in which women did not share the same degree of power or access that men had. God provided levirate marriage as a way to protect and provide for widows through a male provider, and to preserve property and inheritance for the present and future generations.

The kinsman redeemer.

This was a relative who had the responsibility to do everything necessary to secure the land and support his next of kin. He would step in to recover and restore a family out of loss or debt.

Like levirate marriage, the law of Moses made provision here on two fronts: the family line, and property and possessions.

And the purpose of all of it was that God would preserve a people for Himself — that the names of Israel would continue down the line, and that the property belonging to Israel would remain with Israel.

Naomi’s Nudge

Despite the misery she has endured and the bitterness that has encompassed her life, Naomi’s concern is for Ruth — that Ruth be cared for and settled. Moms, I suspect you’d call that an understandable maternal instinct.

Remember how she first expressed that concern back in chapter 1, urging her daughters-in-law to go home so they might eventually remarry. Now, having seen the generosity Boaz has shown, Naomi starts nudging Ruth in his direction.

Though “nudging” may be the understatement of the year. You can hear it in her voice.

Isn’t Boaz one of our relatives? Isn’t he one of our kinsman redeemers? After everything you’ve told me about him — isn’t he a pretty nice guy? You don’t have a husband. As far as we know, he doesn’t have a wife. He’s been very kind to you. And I happen to know exactly where he’ll be this evening.

Then Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, “My daughter, should I not seek rest for you, that it may be well with you? Is not Boaz our relative, with whose young women you were? See, he is winnowing barley tonight at the threshing floor. Wash therefore and anoint yourself, and put on your cloak and go down to the threshing floor, but do not make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking. But when he lies down, observe the place where he lies. Then go and uncover his feet and lie down, and he will tell you what to do.”

And she replied, “All that you say I will do.”

Now, I don’t have a three-point sermon for you today, and if I did I’d probably get in trouble. Get cleaned up, get dressed up, get yourself a man is not a good three points — and it isn’t applicable to the men in the room.

Reading This Without Modern Baggage

I should say up front that from a twenty-first-century Western perspective it’s very hard not to read something sensual into this narrative, because so much of it is foreign to us. Uncover his feet. Ask him to spread his garment over her. Stay until morning. Is this a romance novel in the middle of the Bible?

Maybe a little. But coupled with Boaz stuffing six measures of barley into her shawl and telling her “be blessed, my daughter,” this narrative is telling us something both culturally grounded and far more deeply significant.

First, the obvious part. On a first meeting with someone who could be your future husband or wife, you should probably shower and brush your teeth. Spouses, can I get confirmation on that? Guys, wear something nice — and by nice I mean clean — and comb your hair. If this is someone you’re seriously interested in spending your life with, you put your best foot forward, hoping they’ll reciprocate.

But there’s a second thing here that matters far more.

In that culture it was appropriate for widows to express mourning outwardly through their attire. It signaled to men: this woman has lost her husband, her provider, the father of her children. She is off limits for now.

So Naomi is encouraging Ruth to communicate to Boaz, through a change of attire, that her season of mourning has passed and she is ready and available to remarry.

And the Hebrew word used for her cloak describes a heavy mantle — the kind worn to convey anonymity and shield a woman from onlookers. She’s dressing the way a woman would dress for marriage. There is decorum and restraint and dignity in it.

There was also a particular daily rhythm Naomi knew well. From late afternoon into early evening the wind would rise up off the sea, and that was the time for threshing. Boaz and his workers would be out on the hillside outside the village, throwing the trodden grain into the air so the wind could carry off the chaff and leave what was good.

That’s how Naomi knew exactly when to send Ruth.

Naomi’s Character

Can I point out how Naomi’s character shows here?

Despite everything she has experienced, despite the bitterness that has enveloped her whole life, she does not begrudge Ruth a remarriage. She is not so bitter, not so self-focused, that she tries to keep a good thing — a potential husband, a generous provider, a great comfort — away from her daughter-in-law, who is also a widow.

Naomi is able to sympathize and to recognize that Ruth needs to be cared for, protected, and happy.

The Risk Ruth Takes

Ruth heeds the instruction and heads down to the threshing floor.

Naomi’s directions are precise: don’t interrupt him during his meal; wait until he has finished his responsibilities and lain down; note exactly where he lies.

There needed to be tact in this. She needed to be discreet — not only to keep the encounter private, but for the protection of her life and her reputation.

What if the wrong man saw her? What if the wrong man recognized her? Her life could be endangered and her reputation destroyed. Remember: this is a Moabite woman, a Gentile, in Israelite land. What could be done to her, or said about her and spread around, would be far worse than what most of us can imagine.

And notice the vulnerability. Here is a single woman heading down to a barn full of men who have just eaten and drunk and are in a very good mood. She has to be extraordinarily careful.

Once he’s asleep and it’s dark, she’ll approach him and uncover his feet. And she absolutely cannot uncover the wrong person’s feet — that would be a disaster.

So on the strength of Naomi’s word, and trusting in the providence of God, Ruth proceeds.

Think about how little she actually knows. Wash your face, put on your clothes, get your perfume, uncover his feet, and he’ll tell you what to do. If I gave a friend dating advice that loose and uncertain, I don’t think anyone would call it an airtight plan.

There is enormous uncertainty here. And she goes for it. She trusts God with it.

So What’s With the Feet?

Here’s the question you’ve all been waiting for. And the answer is delightfully boring, which honestly relieves me.

She uncovered his feet in order to wake him — without startling him too badly.

Have you ever been asleep and had a foot slip out from under the covers, and it gets just cold enough to wake you up so you have to resettle yourself? That’s the mechanism. She’s waking him in a way that involves laying no hands on him and nothing physically inappropriate. And then she lies down at his feet.

I do need to address something. Some commentators try to draw a connection in the Hebrew between “feet” and, let’s say, other regions — arguing this was a Hebrew euphemism and that the encounter had a sexual element.

Hebrew is inherently a poetic language, so you can construct that argument. But nearly everyone who does ignores the entire surrounding context of the story.

Ruth is a woman of great character whom Boaz and his men have called a worthy woman. In chapter 2, Boaz commends her explicitly for leaving her home, staying with Naomi, and living as a foreigner in an unfamiliar land. And in this very act — even though he is startled to find her there — he says this is a greater kindness than the first one she showed.

What She Is Actually Doing

At midnight the man was startled and turned over, and behold, a woman lay at his feet! He said, “Who are you?” And she answered, “I am Ruth, your servant. Spread your wings over your servant, for you are a redeemer.”

In lying at his feet she is communicating that she respects him and is at his service. But she is also proposing marriage.

Naomi told her to introduce herself and let Boaz tell her what to do. Ruth keeps going.

“Spread your wings” refers to the corner or fringe of his garment — and carries the meaning: provide refuge. Take me in. Spread your garment, give refuge to your servant, for you are a redeemer.

Before anyone cries scandal — or, for that matter, before anyone cheers about shattering a glass ceiling — recognize that this was not at all uncommon in the kinsman redeemer dynamic. Women caught up in the levirate process were entitled to approach and pursue the redeemer, perhaps because the man was unaware, or because he was hesitant and avoiding the responsibility.

So as Ruth initiates, her plea is that he would be the one who acts, so that she may be the receiver of his action.

Boaz’s Integrity

And he said, “May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter. You have made this last kindness greater than the first in that you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich. And now, my daughter, do not fear. I will do for you all that you ask, for all my fellow townsmen know that you are a worthy woman. And now it is true that I am a redeemer. Yet there is a redeemer nearer than I. Remain tonight, and in the morning, if he will redeem you, good; let him do it. But if he is not willing to redeem you, then, as the Lord lives, I will redeem you. Lie down until the morning.”

Because Boaz is an honorable man, he honors her. He knows her plight. He has seen her proven integrity. And he is willing to step up.

But look at verse 12. There is a kinsman closer than he is — a relative whose responsibility this properly is.

And while Boaz is entirely willing, he is not about to circumvent the process in order to get what he wants.

Women — can we simply acknowledge that as a trait of integrity? He is not going to find some dishonest workaround to get to you.

You might wonder whether Naomi engineered this approach partly to force the nearer kinsman to recognize his responsibility. That’s hypothetical, and I don’t think it was her intention. Because by urging Ruth in this direction, it becomes gradually more apparent that any action on Boaz’s part would not be driven by legal obligation — it would come from the generosity of his heart.

And so Boaz, like Naomi and like Ruth, trusts God’s providence. If the closer kinsman steps up and fulfills his duty, so be it — that’s good. Naomi and Ruth would be provided for either way. But if that man steps aside, Boaz promises: as the Lord lives, I will redeem you.

He has her stay until morning to conceal her from harm — physically, because who knows who’s walking around at night, and reputationally, because who knows what rumor might spread if she were seen leaving a barn full of men in the dark. He is protecting both her life and her name.

“You Must Not Go Back Empty-Handed”

So she walks home in the morning with six measures of barley on her back. And when she reaches Naomi, Naomi is ready for the debrief. How did it go? What did he say? Tell me everything.

And Ruth does — his generosity, his integrity in letting the process play out rather than jumping the gun, and his willingness to step up and redeem her. And not only Ruth: through the levirate process, he would be redeeming Naomi’s family as well.

And Boaz sends her home with a shawl full of barley and this instruction: you must not go back empty-handed to your mother-in-law.

Do you remember the end of chapter 1? They arrive home and the people say, “Is this Naomi?” — a name meaning pleasant. And she answers: “Do not call me Naomi. Call me Mara” — bitter — “because the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the Lord has brought me back empty.”

Empty. And now: you must not go back empty-handed.

Can you imagine the hope that sparked in her? That despite the tragic losses and the grief-stricken bitterness, God had her safely in the palm of His hand?

You can hear the palpable confidence in her response: “Wait, my daughter, until you learn how the matter turns out, for the man will not rest but will settle the matter today.”

The One Thing to Take Home

I’m not going to spoil the ending — come back next week for chapter 4.

And as I said, there’s no three-point sermon today. If you walk out of here with “get cleaned up, get dressed up, get yourself a man,” we need to talk after the service, because that’s a serious problem.

But there is one thing I want you to carry out.

In God’s sovereign rule over all things — from joy to sorrow, from victories to tragedies, from birthday parties to funerals — God in His love provides exactly what we need, precisely when we need it, according to His perfect will.

By no means do I think we’ll always be able to see the way God is weaving Himself into our stories. Nor do I think we’ll fully grasp why God allows some things and not others.

But our lives are not happenstance. God is in the midst of it all, working all things together for the good of those who love Him. All things, Paul says in Romans 8. Not some things. Not a few things. Not just a majority of the good things. All things.

So: despite the loss of their husbands, God in His love provided Naomi and Ruth with the comfort of a relationship only a mother and daughter can share.

Despite their vulnerability and poverty, God in His love provided Ruth a field to glean in — and not just anyone’s field. In His sovereignty He made it so that she gleaned in Boaz’s field.

Despite her heritage as a foreign woman in an unfamiliar and potentially hostile environment, God in His love provided her Boaz’s favor and generosity.

And despite the risk she took by placing herself at the feet of a kinsman redeemer who was second in line — God in His love provided Ruth, a woman of great character and virtue in need of redemption, with Boaz, a man of great compassion and honor who was ready and willing to redeem.

So let’s entrust ourselves to the perfect will, the mighty hands, and the providential love of God.

Who Does Boaz Remind You Of?

One more thing before we come to the table.

Every time we encounter Boaz, we should get a certain feeling. He seems familiar. His words echo. His demeanor reminds you of someone who would not only give generously out of his wealth to pay a debt, but give his entire life to pay it in full.

Boaz is the kinsman redeemer who foreshadows our kinsman redeemer.

Jesus became one with us in everything except our sinfulness, so that He might redeem us. As Boaz dealt with and cared for Ruth, so Christ deals with and cares for every one of His people who repent and believe.

As Ruth cast herself at Boaz’s feet, so we cast ourselves at the feet of Jesus. She depended on Boaz’s mercy; we depend on Christ’s mercy. She was covered by the corner of his garment; we are covered by the blood of the covenant, by which God welcomes us with a steadfast, providential love.

Ruth was introduced to peace, contentment, and security by being brought under Boaz. And we, in the shadow of Christ, find that He soothes our sorrows, calms our fears, and dries every tear.

She walked up that road burdened with six measures of barley — all of Boaz’s benefits. And we go about our lives becoming more and more aware of the provision God has made for us through His Son.

Boaz took Ruth to himself to make her his bride. That’s the only spoiler for chapter 4 you’re getting.

And Christ the bridegroom takes us to Himself and makes us His bride.

Have you cast yourself at the feet of Jesus and asked Him to make you His own?

If you haven’t — why not today? Why not ask Him to cover you with the sacrifice He has already made for you?