One of the characters in Kent Haruf’s novel Plainsong is Victoria, a seventeen-year-old girl who is four months pregnant. When her boyfriend finds out about her condition, he breaks up with her. And when her mother finds out, she kicks her out of the house and says to her, “You got yourself into this mess, and you can get yourself out of it.” It is low point in the story, and your heart aches for young Victoria. She has been abandoned by the very people that should be surrounding her with their support.
That’s where the McPheron brothers come in. The author describes them as a pair of “crotchety” old cattle-farming bachelors who know more about cows than they do teenage girls. When they are asked to take her into their care, they have to think about it. I mean, who wouldn’t? Right? The author says, “They looked at her, regarding her as if she might be dangerous. Then they peered into the palms of their thick callused hands spread out before them on the kitchen table and lastly they looked out the window toward the leafless and stunted elm trees.” Then, before you know it, you see them rushing around shopping for cribs, stocking up on diapers and baby clothes, essentially winning the love of this hapless young girl, and watching over her with a tender – even if somewhat clumsy – tenacity, covering her with their protective resolve that no harm shall befall her, taking her under their wing, so to speak.
Seventeen-year-old Victoria reminds me of Ruth, who may not have been much more than seventeen herself. Here she was a widow, living as a stranger in the land, taking care of her mother-in-law Naomi, who is also widowed and bitter about it. Bitter about that and the fact that her now deceased husband had sold off the family’s land, had taken them into a foreign country, and then died on her, leaving her without anything. And not only that, but both her sons had died as well. And when she decided to come back home to Bethlehem, all she could say was, “I went away full, but the LORD has brought me back empty” (Ruth 1:21).
What we saw last week – remember: we were in chapter 2 of Ruth – and what we saw was Ruth going into the barley field to gather up any scraps that the harvesters might leave behind. And, as it turned out, she met Boaz, the wealthy landowner to whom the field belonged, and he had been kind to her, sending her home with almost more grain than she could carry.
When Ruth told Naomi about the generosity of Boaz, Naomi had a sudden change of heart about God. Before this, she had accused him of dealing harshly with her (1:21), but now she praised the Lord, “whose kindness,” she said, “has not forsaken the living or the dead” (2:20).
This is a key understanding in the book of Ruth. No matter what the circumstances, God’s grace is yet on the move. No matter how contrary it seems to appearances, God’s providence is at work behind the scenes. James Lowell’s great hymn reminds us: “Though the cause of evil prosper, yet the truth alone is strong. Though her portion be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong, yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.”
In other words, even though we may not notice it at first, we come to see the hand of God in everything. We see it when the unlikely McPheron brothers intervene on young Victoria’s behalf. We see it when Boaz intervenes on young Ruth’s behalf. And we see it when Christ intervenes on our behalf.
Naomi is beginning to get the picture, too. With the words of praise for God fresh on her lips, Naomi tells Ruth something about Boaz – something that can be explained only by taking into account the providence of God. She says to Ruth, “The man is a relative of ours, one of our nearest kin” (2:20).
This is an important detail, because it brings to light one of the wonderful provisions of God for his people in the Law of Moses. It is called the law of the kinsman-redeemer. Keep in mind what Naomi said to Ruth: that Boaz was “a relative…, one of our nearest kin.” So what? you say. Here’s the deal: It was part of God’s gracious covenant provision in ancient Israel that there would be certain protective measures in place for his people. If a family had to sell its land to pay off debts, or if a person had to indenture himself to square things up with his creditors, or even if a man died without an heir, it was the responsibility of the next of kin to be a redeemer – that is, to buy back the land, or secure the freedom of his kinsman, or to marry the widow of the deceased relative.
It is this covenant provision that prompted Naomi to do what she did. She had already spotted Boaz as the family’s kinsman-redeemer. What she knew was that he could marry Ruth, father a child for Ruth’s deceased husband, and buy back the land that Naomi’s husband had let go before he died.
So, Naomi came up with a plan, and here’s how it worked. The harvesters would work in Boaz’s field during the day, but at night they would be found in the barn threshing the gathered barley. But it was not all work and no play. This would not only be a time for working but a time also for eating and drinking. So, Naomi told Ruth to go to the threshing floor, but she was to wait. She was not to approach Boaz until he had had his fill of food and wine, and then, “when he was in a contented mood” and had fallen asleep, she was to “go and uncover his feet and lie down.” Naomi’s plan may have been reckless – no doubt about it – but, thankfully, God would oversee the whole matter and bring about his own purposes. Remember what he is always doing: he is always “keeping watch above his own.” Ruth did all the things Naomi instructed her to do. And, at midnight, when Boaz turned over in his sleep, he was startled to find a woman lying at his feet. And in his bewilderment, he asked, “Who are you?”
Ruth told him. She said, “I am Ruth.” And then she said this to him. She said, “Spread your cloak over your servant, for you are next of kin” (Ruth 3:9). Or as the English Standard Version puts it, “Spread your wings over your servant, for you are a redeemer.” I point this out because it takes our thoughts back to chapter 2, where Boaz spoke to Ruth of “the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge” (v. 12).
What was Ruth doing here? Was she attempting to seduce Boaz into a liaison that he would later regret? After all, according to Naomi’s instructions, she got all “perfumed up,” dressed in her “best clothes,” and waited until Boaz was feeling no pain, as they say. And then she lay down at his feet, creating what could have been construed as a compromising situation. This was all at Naomi’s direction, of course, but however questionable Naomi’s tactics might have been, Ruth was not interested in a single night of passion. She didn’t want to trap Boaz and then force him to marry her. She wanted him to commit himself to her as her kinsman-redeemer. This took guts, no doubt about it. But neither is there any doubt that both Ruth and Boaz were people of character, who sought to do God’s will God’s way.
In fact, Boaz was so moved by Ruth’s request that he admitted to her that, more than anything else, he wanted to be her redeemer – to marry her and to restore her fortunes. But, as much as he wanted it, there was another man – a man more closely related to her than Boaz was. It was only right for this nearer relative to have the right and the opportunity to serve as Ruth’s kinsman-redeemer. But if he wouldn’t do it, Boaz made it clear: “I will act as next-of-kin for you.”
I want you to notice something here. I want you to notice the similarity of what Ruth asked of Boaz and what God says to Israel in Ezekiel 16:8. God says to his people, “I…looked on you [and] you were at the age for love. I spread the edge of my cloak over you, and covered your nakedness: I pledged myself to you and entered into a covenant with you, says the Lord GOD, and you became mine.”
Did you hear that? “I pledged myself to you,” God says, “and entered into a covenant with you!” This is all covenant language. It is all about how God takes us, sinners one and all – spiritual waifs, to be honest – and he “marries” himself to us. He redeems us from the estrangement sin has caused in our lives. He takes us under his wings; he covers us with his cloak. And we are restored. As Isaiah describes it, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined” (Isa. 9:2). Or as Paul puts it in Ephesians, “Remember that you were at [one] time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise” – that’s got Ruth’s name written all over it, doesn’t it? an alien “from the commonwealth of Israel,” a stranger “to the covenants of promise”? But it’s got our names written all over it, too. We also were “without Christ…, having no hope and without God in the world” (Eph. 2:12). “But now” – that’s what Paul goes on to say. “But now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ” (v. 13). He is our Redeemer, you see. Just as Boaz was Ruth’s redeemer – just as, by marriage, he could restore the land she had lost and guarantee the continuity of her family, so Christ, by his union with us, restores us to God and guarantees our inheritance in him!
Christ is our kinsman-redeemer. He is the One who spreads his cloak over us and covers our sin. He is the One under whose wings we find refuge. Do you know Psalm 36:7? It says, “How precious is your steadfast love, O God! All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings.” That is where you and I will find safety. That is where we will find rest. There we will find our deepest satisfaction – under the shadow of him who says, “How often have I desired to gather [you] as a hen gathers her brood under her wings” (Luke 13:34). Let us hasten to position ourselves there, for what we will find is: In the shadow of our beloved Redeemer, we are covered by wings of mercy.
