I posted this in four parts, earlier, but I know that some of you may want it all in one post, instead of broken up. So, here it is in one massive post that’s way longer than “they” tell you to post on a blog. But… I guess I don’t always like to follow rules.

The book of Ruth is named after a woman who played an important role in the history of redemption, and bringing about the Redeemer. 

But the first chapter of the book spends most of its time telling us about her mother-in-law, Naomi. This chapter provides the foundation for the rest of the book so that we can see God’s provision—not just for Naomi, but for his chosen people, as the promises that he made to Abraham in Genesis 15 slowly come into fulfillment. 

I’ve titled my lesson for Chapter 1 “Your Redeemer Will Keep You,” because in this chapter we are given a peek behind the curtains so that we can see God caring for Naomi in the midst of, and despite, her failures and disappointments.

All of this fulfillment could appear unlikely, though, at the end of Chapter 1. By the time we reach the end of the chapter, Naomi has given herself a new name. She no longer wants to be called by Naomi, the name that means “pleasant,” but by the name “Mara,” which means “bitter.” If we’re reading the Old Testament from start to finish, we might notice that this is not the first time that someone has undergone a name change. One notable re-naming happened in Genesis 17. There God renames Abram “Abraham” and his wife Sarai, “Sarah”^[1]when he renews the covenant with Abraham, promising him a great nation to be birthed through his offspring. From this point on, we don’t read of Abram and Sarai, but of Abraham and Sarah.

In contrast, it is not God who renames Naomi, but rather shere-names herself. The reason, it seems, is that rather than fulfilling his covenant through her, she says in verse 21, “The LORD has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me.”^[2]She is so convinced that her suffering is a sign that God did not care for her, that it was an exclusion from the covenant promises, that she takes a new name.

So—what had happened to Naomi between Verse 1 and Verse 20 that could so traumatize her that she felt like she needed to change her name? Let’s circle back to the beginning of the chapter and work our way through from start to finish to see how Naomi came to change her name at the end of the chapter. I’ve broken the chapter into four sections that you can trace along with me.

1. Naomi’s Emptiness, 1:1–5
2. Naomi’s Breaking Point, 1:6–13
3. The Redeemer Breaks Through, 1:14–18.
4. Naomi Is Kept by Her Redeemer Ruth 1:19–22. 

I promise, though, that we will not spend the whole morning talking about Naomi’s hard times. We will also see two ways that God is hinting at how he will fulfill his promise of a Redeemer, for both Naomi specifically, and Israel as a nation, and even us.

Naomi’s Emptiness (1:1–5)

We can see pretty clearly what happened to Naomi in the first five verses of Chapter 1, where the author provides the setting for the story. In these verses, the narrator spells out three reasons Naomi might have reached the point of despair that would cause her to want to give herself the name Mara. Here are the three that I think the text indicates, and these are all part of the first section, which I’m calling “Naomi’s Emptiness”: (Sidenote: Watch these themes throughout the book, and see how God works in all three of these areas)

1. An Empty Belly, or Exile
2. An Empty Throne
3. An Empty Womb

We only have to look as far as the first verse to find the first two: Ruth 1:1

“In the days when the judges ruled there was a famine in the land, and a man of Bethlehem in Judah went to sojourn in the country of Moab, he and his wife and his two sons.” 

Naomi’s first, and broadest challenge is indicated in the very first clause of the very first sentence of Ruth, where we are told that Naomi and her family lived in the time of the judges. This means there was an empty throne. This was the time in Jewish history that came after the Egyptian slavery and Exodus, and the conquest, and most importantly for our story, during the years before Israel had a king. The last verse of the book of Judges, Judges 22:25, which comes right before Ruth in our Old Testament, describes this period concisely, and hints at why this was a problem and trial for Naomi: “In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” 

Instead of the eternal kingdom promised to Abraham, chaos, war, and disobedience ruled the land that was meant to be Jacob’s birthright. The book of Judges is full of stories of violence and ungodliness even among the judges who were often used by God to pursue justice in and for Israel among the surrounding nations. If you read Jason DeRouchie’s “Invitation to Ruth” in the study guide, you can see just how hard the times were, especially for women—fathers allowing their daughters to be harmed, husbands, judges, even, causing the violent death of their wives, women raped, murdered, and story after story of sinful violence. This was a time when Israel, and therefore Elimilech and Naomi, were experiencing the curse God had promised if they disobeyed the law he had given them.

God’s covenant with Abraham had not yet been fulfilled. God had promised that Abraham’s descendants would be blessed themselves, and that they would be a blessing to those around them. But clearly, the land and its people were not blessed themselves, and they likewise were not being a blessing to the nations around them. There was no king in Israel who could lead the nation in worshipping God, pursuing justice, and blessing the nations. Soon after Ruth’s time, possibly even during her life, the people’s suffering was so great they were begging God for a king— a ruler to fill an empty throne.

Another reason Naomi might have had to doubt the faithfulness and love of God came in the form of a famine in her hometown. She and her family had empty bellies.

Bethlehem—the town literally named for bread and food, located in what my ESV study notes call a “fertile region”—did not have enough food! Thus, Naomi and her husband Elimilech were not able to provide for their sons. She and her family experienced hunger. Her family’s hunger led them to leave the land that had been promised to Abraham generations before, and go to a land where YAHWEH was not worshipped. What a disappointment! Elimilech and Naomi were exiled through famine from the land that had been promised to them. How could they take part in the promises of God, if they were moved away from the land that was so intricately tied to God’s covenant with Abraham?

Naomi’s third problem was an empty womb.

The narrator describes Naomi’s family and origin not once, but twice. They were from the tribe of Judah, from Bethlehem. In repeating himself in verses 1 and 2, he makes clear that Naomi’s family line was very important to the story of redemption that had been promised. The Messiah was to come from the line of Judah, and, specifically, from Bethlehem. Naomi had reason to hope, then, that her sons, from the fullness of her womb, would be involved in the fulfillment of covenant and prophesy.  

But verses 3–5 shows the destruction of that hope. First, Naomi’s husband died. Sad as that may have been, Naomi was still able to hope in her sons’ future. But in a devastating blow, both of her sons died childless after marrying Moabite women. Naomi was left alone. She had neither an heir, nor a provider. As a woman in ancient near east society she was utterly destitute without male family members. In the darkness of this grief, the promises of God must have felt incredibly far-fetched, and the likeliness of God’s provision for her and his faithfulness to fulfill his covenant must have seemed so far away. Her grief must have been, understandably, deep, and dark. 

The Breaking Point (1:6–13)

These last losses seem to have been the breaking point for Naomi, which we see exhibited in verses 6–13—a section I’m calling “Naomi’s Breaking Point.” It’s surprising, actually, that her breaking point didn’t come sooner, considering her plight. Being a single woman, abandoned, in a way, through the death of her husband and sons, she decides to return to the land which seems to have been abandoned by the God who had promised much and, in Naomi’s mind, failed to follow through. Her womb was empty, and she had no hope of producing an heir who would be able to provide for her physical needs and be a sign of the continuing covenant with God.

The narrator slows the story down here so that this point really soaks into the readers—we can just feel the tension rising in the story, can’t we? If you look at the passage, you can see that he pulls out a different literary tool in this section than he’s used to this point, and describes the whole conversation between Naomi and her daughters-in-law in detail.

So perhaps this is her biggest problem—she has no heir. Her line will end with her death. In scripture, this problem was not unique to Naomi. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, an old woman like Naomi, laughed at the prophecy that she would become pregnant and have a son. In this section, Naomi is acting a lot like Sarah! It was true that her body was too old to bear another son, and it was true that her daughters-in-law would not be able to give her an heir even if she did have another son. And so, like Sarah, she took matters into her own hands. Unlike Sarah, however, her move was not to finagle a way to work things out. Instead, she simply gave up, assuming that God would not continue working when the odds were seemingly stacked against him. 

She did what she probably believed to be the kindest and reasonable thing, under the circumstances. She sent her daughters-in-law, her only hopes for an heir, back to their Moabite families. 

This is an incredibly bleak point of the story. Naomi is utterly hopeless; vulnerable at every point. She is a woman, alone in a foreign land, facing the options of staying there, or returning to a home that she has not seen in over ten years with the meagre hope of finding pity among her distant family in a place rife with violence, perhaps especially against women. To be a woman, alone or even a group of women, would have been fraught with risk, and terribly frightening. So here is Naomi, drowning in sorrow and bitterness, empty of hope that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who brought them out of slavery through the parted waters of the Red Sea into the Promised Land, might yet have good things—the fulfillment of promises—waiting for her. 

Can you see yourself here? There are so many circumstances that might lead us to this point. 

What do you feel when you read that one third of the homeless population in Minneapolis are children? What happens when see or experience abuse? We lose loved ones to death. We fail at our jobs and people look down at us. Spouses leave us, and children reject us and everything we have tried to teach them to love. Sometimes even things as simple as reading the headlines in our newsfeeds or momentary rejection from someone we respect can cause us to despair. Can any of us read about the abuse in some of the Sovereign Grace, Southern Baptist, or Catholic churches and not feel a little twinge of despair? Can we read about the murder of babies in the womb, or terrorist groups, or the persecuted church, or injustice in our streets without wondering what God could possibly have in mind?  Do these cause you to spiral into despair and doubt? 

Naomi felt not only grief, but physical deprivation, and hunger. She felt displacement and loneliness. She felt grief and loss, and the disappointment of shattered hopes and dreams. Has your faith ever faltered or failed in the face of your own suffering?

Mine has. I remember several times in my life where I could, at least in some ways, relate to Naomi. I remember the last week of March during my freshman year of college, when I spent the week jumping at every phone call, waiting to hear who had died. I lost five peers in four years of high school, two of my classmates just two months before graduation, and all but one in the last week of March. I was jumpy the next March, scared to believe that another loss wasn’t just around the corner. I would imagine Naomi felt like this too. I also remember a few years ago, after my second miscarriage (the first of which occurred in the last week of March), I felt utterly betrayed by my body and even by God. I remember opening my Bible and just looking at it—letting my eyes skim the pages. I don’t say read, because I wasn’t really reading—I was just looking, devoid of feeling or understanding. To use Naomi’s word, I felt utterly, completely “empty”—when I read, when I prayed… My vision of the good things in my life was crowded out by hurt, and loss, and grief. I knew I was blind, and hoped my vision would return, but despite my desire for hope and joy, I was just simply…numb, empty. Can you relate?

The Redeemer Breaks Through (1:16–17)

Maybe, when I felt like that I should have spent more time reading Ruth. Because it is here, in verses 16–17, the climax of the chapter, God shows Naomi his faithfulness in the deepest, darkest of places. We, looking back, can see God working where Naomi saw only doom and gloom. One of her daughters-in-laws, Ruth, refuses to go home. Instead, she pledges to remain with her, live with her, worship with her, and die with her. In Ruth 1:16–17, we see the part of the story I’ve titled The Redeemer Breaks Through. Ruth’s words here are beautiful, and often quoted. She gives Naomi a strong declaration of love and intent. She says in 1:16–17: “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you.”

Right under Naomi’s nose, before her bitter, sorrowful eyes, Ruth was demonstrating the faithfulness and love of God to Naomi. She had not been abandoned, she was not alone. Like a ray of light through a cloud, like a laser beam sent to break up the crusty cataracts on her doubt-clouded eyes, God had provided Ruth to show Naomi his steadfast love for her and his faithful, covenant-keeping intentions. But Naomi doesn’t see clearly just yet. Despite Ruth’s act of immense self-sacrifice and deep love, Naomi remains focused on the bitterness of her circumstances, and, the narrator tells us that she simply “said no more.” She remains chained to her grief and bitterness at the God she believed failed her in every way.

But this is one reason among many to be grateful for the word of God. Here, we can see the stories of how God worked in the lives of those who came before us. We have a great cloud of witnesses who each bore the weight of sin and suffering, and yet ran with endurance.^[3]

Looking back through the lens of scripture and history, we can see that God was at work in Naomi’s story, even when she couldn’t see it. He did not let Naomi go alone. Despite her best efforts to leave Ruth, she stayed by her side, remaining faithful to the covenant she had made with Naomi’s family. I can only imagine that Naomi was not ready for or expecting this from Ruth—after so many losses, the text seems to indicate that she had no expectation to have anything but loss and grief follow her. 

Do we see what is happening here in verses 16–17? We are beginning to see God filling Naomi’s emptiness. God is bringing Naomi and Ruth out of exile. Naomi may not realize it, but this is a movement of grace in her life. Not only is he bringing Naomi home to a belly-filling harvest, he is deftly bringing about the fulfillment of the promises he gave to Abraham, through Naomi’s exile, suffering, and return. And this seems to be the author’s aim in chapter one—to show his audience that God’s love never fails. His covenant-keeping faithfulness is constant; it is our vision that is faulty. 

We can see that God is working to fulfill his promises to Abraham for Naomi and even for us without even spoiling the story by telling what comes in the next few chapters—it’s all here in Chapter 1. All we have to do is watch Ruth. 

The first hint that we should connect this story with God’s promise of a coming, is Ruth’s decision to stay with Naomi.

There are at least three signals here in these verses:

1. She is leaving her home.
2. She is choosing a family—one that she did not have to choose, who could offer her nothing in return.
3. She is pledging to stay with and love Naomi forever, to death.

Who else might we know that does this? 

Ruth’s actions were actions of emptying herself of every hope she could claim by returning to her family. She was foreshadowing for Naomi, and telling us, of a Redeemer whom she had not yet seen—one who would empty himself to make good all the promises of God to Abraham and his descendants. A redeemer who would bring his people from exile, and, as the heir to Abraham, rule for all eternity. 

But Ruth probably didn’t realize that this is what she was doing. So what was she tryingto do here? What was she actuallychoosing? Naomi? I doubt it. Naomi had nothing to offer Ruth. Ruth had every reason to expect that it would be better for her to say a tearful goodbye to Naomi and go home. As a Moabite, she had no reason to expect a warm welcome from Naomi’s family and friends in Bethlehem. Moabites were descendants of Abraham’s relative Lot, in fact, they were the descendants of an incestuous encounter between Lot and his daughter-in-law. There was generations-deep bad blood between the Israelites and the Moabites—violence, persecution, idolatry. The law in Deuteronomy prohibited Moabites from worshipping with Israelites. Numbers 25 tells of violent deaths at the hands Moabites (and violent revenge), and plagues on the people in consequence for men marrying or having other sexual relationships with Moabite women. With this context, Ruth certainly could not expect protection, marriage, and children. So what could Ruth have been thinking? What could Ruth possibly gain by staying with Naomi? There was only one gain. YAHWEH. Hewas her onlygain in choosing to remain with Naomi. “Your God will be my God,” she says. What does that say about Him? If, like Ruth, we were given the choice between God along with physical and economic insecurity, or physical safety, provision, and family withouthim, what would we choose? Oh, that we would have faith like Ruth’s. 

So Ruth, forsaking everything, followed YAHWEH and remained with Naomi on the long journey back to the land of promise. She did not leave Naomi to suffer alone, but shared the burden of her friend’s suffering. Like the coming Christ, at great personal cost, she cared for her chosen family with tender affection and loyalty.

Kept by the Redeemer (1:19–22)

Despite this, Naomi continued on in her despair, as if nothing profound or important had just happened. The pair resumed their journey to Bethlehem, the town full of prophetic potential. And when they arrived, in verses 19–22, we see that Naomi is, as I’ve titled this section, Kept by the Redeemer. 

Chapter 1, verse 19 tells us that “The whole town stirred” when Ruth, a widow, a woman, an immigrant, a poverty-stricken outcast, came into Bethlehem. And this is where we see another whisper of the coming redemption through Christ. Matthew borrowed this same phrase in Matthew 21:10 to describe Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem days before his crucifixion— “the whole town was stirred.” For Matthew’s audience, it was a clear indication that Jesus was the fulfillment of the same promises given to Naomi and Ruth, fulfilled through the line of David. Through Matthews words, we can connect Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection with promises made to Abraham, and with the story of Naomi and Ruth. We see that God’s redeeming love and covenant-keeping faithfulness was in action even then to bring about the fulfillment of the Abrahamic covenant through Christ—generations before Jesus’ birth. Not only that, but we are given a beautiful picture of Christ’s work on the cross here in dual use of this phrase. 

Ruth had every reason to expect that she would be met with suspicion and disdain and mistreatment. And yet (spoiler alert!) she was instead lifted up to be part of the royal lineage of the coming king, and the Messiah. This is the gospel, isn’t it? We, like Ruth, have every reason to expect and even deserve judgement and wrath for sin, when we cling to Yahweh we are instead met with favor. Why is this? Because Jesus, who had every reason not just to expect, but deservedglory and honor for ever and ever, willinglysuffered and took the wrath that we deserved. Jesus, God incarnate, a sinless man with impeccable lineage, rode into the city with honor, and an ecstatic, hopeful greeting— “the whole town was stirred.” And within days he was dead, murdered on a cross. 

But we see that poor Naomi was still unaware of God’s hand over her life. When she arrived back in Bethlehem she told her old friends that she was “empty,” and “bitter.” She identified herself by her distance from God, and did not seem to have any faith left that God could or would save her.

Maybe this is your story. Maybe you feel so far from God that you cannot imagine that he would come to redeem and restore you. Do you believe that God could still love you, despite your own sin and distance from God?

If you’re struggling to believe that God could love you because of sin, this book is for you. Watch what the narrator does when Naomi tries to name herself according to her sin: The narrator does not let us believe her words. He ignores Naomi’s attempt to take “Mara” as her identity, but persists in calling her Naomi. He calls her by her given name. The narrator knows more of the story than Naomi, and he knew, even though she didn’t, that God was intending to restore her, keep her, and fill her. 

So at the end of Chapter 1, Naomi and Ruth at last come to Bethlehem, the last verse in the chapter tells us, at the time of harvest. It’s as if the narrator is foreshadowing what was to come. They came when there was an abundance in store for Bethlehem. Naomi’s physical redemption, the filling of her empty belly, was there, ripe and rippling in the fields—a hopeful hint that the filling was about to begin. First her belly, next her womb, and finally the throne of Israel.

This sign to Naomi and Ruth should give us hope, too. Let me speak clearly here: If you feel that you are too far from God. If you feel that your suffering is a sign of God’s unfaithfulness or even hatred for you, if you think you have sinned too much to be loved by God, take hope. Because Naomi’s redeemer is our redeemer. Have you lost the battle against anger at your spouse or children? Does your singleness or infertility feel like a curse from an unloving God? Have you been enslaved to sexual sin and feel irredeemable? Have you experienced so much hurt at the hand of others that you want to distance yourself from a God who seems to be unjust? Do you wonder if you even want to be redeemed? Friend: Take hope, and believe.

Naomi’s Redeemer, who called her by name, is our redeemer. The fulfillment that Ruth foreshadowed came to earth to redeem sinners just like you, just like me. From where we stand in history, we have seen God’s faithfulness to fulfill his promises through the birth, life, death, resurrection of Jesus Christ, and his ascension to his throne in heaven. Our hope is not in an unnamed or unfulfilled promise, but in Jesus, at whose name every knee will bow when he returns. And in Christ, no emptiness or weakness or rebellion in our own life can drive us far enough away that Christ cannot or will not redeem us. As Romans 5:8 says “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly…God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”^[4]

You may not see God’s goodness, or his faithfulness, or his steadfast love right now. But take hope. 

Paul says in Romans 8:24 that it is in thishope that we were saved:^[5]The hope for our redemption—the adoption as sons, and the redemption of our bodies. The hope that “all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”^[6]As someone said, “the one who is writing your story lovesyou.”^[7]

I’m reminded of this every time I celebrate my two livingchildren’s birthdays, both in March. It was not a given that I would have children to laugh and play in my home—it still isn’t. I will never know my two children lost in miscarriage here on earth, and my living children are one breath away from death, as are all of us. Not only that, but I know that not all stories of loss or unmet desire go hand in hand with answered prayers on earth. Some of us will never see the answers to our prayers before heaven, and it is good and right to mourn that. But when we do get to heaven, we willsee clearly that God’s way was the way of blessing—somehow, someway—after all. In my case, my living children are simultaneous reminders to me of both the pain of loss, and of God’s goodness and love amidst the brokenness of this world. The blessing of life and the sorrow of death mingle together, and I am convinced of the hope we have in Christ even in sorrow, even if we do not see the relief we hope for on earth. We can trust God in our pain.

Paul says in Romans 8:32 that “if God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”^[8]

Did you hear that? He did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all. 

Let’s close with Romans 8:35–39. Here, as if in answer to Naomi’s doubts, and our own, about the faithfulness and love of God, Paul encourages God’s family that Christ’s sacrifice on the cross purchased an unbreakable bond with God the Creator, and an impermeable love.His words remind us that our Redeemer will keep us. The author of Ruth 1 meant to show us that God is a covenant-keeping God. This side of the cross we can see that Jesus died to redeem us, and no one can snatch us out of us hand. He will love his children no matter what.  “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine or nakedness, or danger, or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”^[9]

Let’s rest here for a moment. Read this once more, slowly. I’d encourage you to pause for a few seconds between each phrase, resting and praying that confidence and joy in God’s redemption through Christ, as we’ve seen here in Ruth 1, would soak into your souls. 

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?                    Shall tribulation          or distress,      

or persecution,                        or famine or                nakedness,                   or danger,                   or sword?…

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 

For I am sure              that neither death        nor life,          nor angels       nor rulers,       nor things present nor things to come,          nor powers,                         nor height                   nor depth,                    nor anything else                   in all creation,            will be able to separate us                  from the love of God             in Christ Jesus            our Lord.”^[10]

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^[1]Gen 17:5

^[2]Ru 1:21

^[3]Heb 12:1

^[4]Rom 5:6–8

^[5]Rom 8:24

^[6]8:28

^[7]Perhaps Nancy Guthrie?

^[8]8:32

^[9]Rom 8:35–39

^[10]Rom 8:35–39