Ruth 4:1–12 – The Cost of Redemption

Have you ever felt stuck in your life? Sure you have!

Just the other day, I heard screaming from the other room. I put down what I was working on to go see who needed help. My 3-year-old had put her head through an opening in one of our chairs and couldn’t figure out how to un-put her head through that same opening… she was stuck! I’ll be honest… I remember doing something similar at a Wendy’s through the bars lining the waiting line area… sadly I was quite a bit older than 3 though, pretty sure I was like 12 or 13! Definitely old enough to know better! They almost had to break out the blow torch to get me out! They didn’t, but it was quite a scene getting unstuck… maybe you’ve been there too! Probably not like that, cause you’re all way smarter than I am.

We’ve all been stuck though, haven’t we?

Maybe you rolled out of bed earlier than any human should be awake, already late. You’re rushing—throwing on clothes while brushing your teeth—and somehow you put your head through the wrong hole in your shirt. Now your arms are trapped, you're doing this little panic dance, and you're thinking, “This is how it ends.” You’re stuck!

Or maybe you stopped by the restroom at work to, you know, take care of some business, and pulled out your phone to check the weather real quick. Forty-five minutes later, you’re still sitting there watching some kid in the jungle build a luxury pool villa out of mud and a spoon. You’re stuck. And honestly, you gotta see how it turns out!

Or maybe you decided to knock out a quick IKEA project at 9 PM. I mean, it’s just a coffee table—how hard could it be? Fast forward three hours, you’re surrounded by a pile of mystery screws, two wooden panels that definitely weren’t in the picture, and a half-built “Löngstränd.” You’re wondering if your sanctification is still intact. You’re stuck!

But let’s be honest—Being stuck it ain’t always funny!

Maybe you’re stuck in a job that pays the bills but drains your soul. You had dreams—passions—things you thought you’d be doing by now. Instead, it’s just emails, errands, and the gnawing thought: “Is this as good as it gets?” You’re stuck.

Maybe you had a falling out with someone you used to talk to every day, a family member, a friend. It’s been months, maybe years. But Every time you think about reaching out, pride and fear pull you back. The relationship is stuck—and so are you.

Maybe you’re a single parent working two jobs, holding everything together with duct tape and grace. There’s never enough time, never enough money, and every small setback feels like a major crisis. You’re not just tired. You’re stuck.

Or maybe it’s darker than that. Maybe you’re in a relationship that looks fine on the outside—but behind closed doors, it’s filled with fear, control, and manipulation. Your voice is gone. Your freedom’s gone. You feel alone, ashamed, and completely stuck.

The truth is, we all get stuck. Sometimes it’s just an awkward moment with a shirt or a pair of pants… other times it’s soul-deep weariness, broken dreams, or situations that feel impossible to escape.

And when we’re stuck—like really stuck—most of the time we don’t need more advice. We need a rescuer. We need someone who sees us, and loves us enough to step in and pay the price to set us free.

Sometimes, the only way to get unstuck is for someone else to sacrifice.

That’s exactly where Ruth and Naomi find themselves in Ruth 4. They’re not just inconvenienced—they’re out of options. Stuck. And only a Redeemer can set things right.

Over the next few verses, I want us to consider three key things: the palpable weight and reality of their stuckness (verses 1-4), the significant cost required to get them unstuck, and finally, the beautiful rewards and far-reaching ripple effects of the sacrifice that follows (verses 11-12).

Last week, Wes walked us through Ruth 3, reminding us that God’s providence often moves through human action. Faith isn’t passive—it’s trusting God while also moving our feet. It looks less like “let go and let God” and more like thoughtful, prayerful steps forward.

So Naomi acts in faith. She sends Ruth, dressed to impress, to the threshing floor to make a bold move—essentially proposing to Boaz and putting herself in a vulnerable position.

Though nothing inappropriate happens, the moment is full of romantic tension. Boaz, a man of integrity, sends Ruth home before dawn to protect her reputation.

And then... they wait. Legally, Ruth has a right to redemption, and Boaz is willing—but there’s someone else first in line. So Ruth returns home, and Naomi tells her to wait patiently. Boaz won’t rest until the matter is resolved.

I. The Weight and Reality of Being “Stuck” (vv. 1-4)

Now, it’s hard for us to fully grasp emotionally, but I want you to try: Ruth and Naomi are completely stuck. Their situation is terrifyingly vulnerable. They’ve lost their husbands—every thread of provision and protection has been severed. In their world, land, inheritance, and safety were all tied to a man’s name. Without a husband or son, they had no legal standing, no economic security, no physical safety. It wasn’t just hard—it was dangerous.

And now, they’re waiting. Their fate is being decided by men at the city gate. Boaz, a man of integrity, wants to redeem them—but legally, there’s another man with first rights. What if he doesn’t care? What if he sees them as a burden? This isn’t some romantic drama—it’s life or death. Ruth and Naomi are holding their breath, hoping someone sees them not as a problem but as people worth sacrificing for.

I know this feels distant from our experience, but think back to a time you felt helpless. Think back to a time where you were forced to wait for some situation in your life to play out that was completely out of your control but the outcome of which would determine the rest of your life. The waiting room of a doctor's office as you waited for others to determine the results of a scan or a treatment plan. The kitchen room where you sat alone left to contemplate the future of your marriage as your spouse storms out after just dropping the D word. A business deal, a legal matter. Try and think back to a time where you felt a pit in your stomach as you realized the fate of your future was completely resting in the hands of others and all you have to do is wait. That sick feeling, the pit in your stomach, that’s the air Ruth and Naomi are breathing.

I can't over-emphasize the gravity and weight of what is playing out here. This moment is heavy. The future of their lives is teetering on the brink of destitution.

But God knew. He knew how vulnerable women like Naomi and Ruth could be, so He built protections into His law. Leviticus 25 outlines the kinsman-redeemer—someone in the family who could buy back land to keep it in the family line. For Israel, land wasn’t just property; it was identity. It was part of God’s promise. Deuteronomy 25 adds: if a man dies without children, the next closest male should marry the widow—not as punishment, but to preserve dignity and legacy. God didn’t ignore the vulnerable—He wrote rescue into the law.

That’s what Ruth and Naomi are clinging to. Not just to Boaz’s kindness, but to God’s covenant heart. Because when you’re stuck—really stuck—you need more than a kind word. You need someone willing to act and sacrifice. You need a redeemer.

So in Ruth chapter 4 the scene shifts from the threshing floor to the city gate—the ancient courtroom. This isn’t just a personal story anymore; it’s a public legal crisis. Naomi and Ruth need a redeemer. According to Israelite law, a close relative—a kinsman—could restore their future. But even that hopeful provision is wrapped in complexity.

Boaz lays the situation out to the nearest relative. On paper, it looks like a win: land is available for redemption. But there’s a cost attached—a hidden clause that will require more than just money.

Again, sometimes the only way to get unstuck is for someone else to sacrifice.

In Ruth 3 we see what a glimmer of hope flicker only to get cast under the shadow of a legal loop hole!

And this friends is why I love the Bible. How true to life is this!

One minute, you feel hope. The next, you’re blindsided by another obstacle. How often do we find ourselves swinging from confidence to crisis in a matter of moments?

And yet, Ruth and Naomi don’t panic. Most of us presented with this situation entered into fix it mode! And sometimes end up making matters worse becauase we fly off the handle in a quick reaction, but not Naomi! Naomi, seasoned by life, doesn’t rush to fix things. She tells Ruth to wait. They’ve acted in faith, and now it’s time to rest in trust. That takes wisdom—wisdom to know when to move and when to wait. Wisdom we’re promised to get in James from God if we’ll ask.

They could’ve made a mess, but Ruth and Naomi wisely choose patience. They've down their part and recognize, now it’s time to sit back and let God do his!

Again, don’t just gloss over this! Can you imagine this playing out today in our world. How many woman do you know that would be content to let their future be determined by a bunch of men in their town sitting around a couple of beers at Spenglers!

And to make their situation even more delicate, there's wealth tied to them. Naomi has land. And in this day and age, land was everything. Land and livestock. They didn't have banks. The bank was your land and your live stock. Today it's rude to ask how much someone makes and how much someone has in the bank, back then it was rude to ask how many cows you had or how many acres you farmed!

Alright, now hopefully understanding the weight and reality of Naomi and Ruth's stuck-ness, I want to read for you how things play out.

Look at Ruth 4 vv. 1-4.

Ruth 4:1–4 NLT

1 Boaz went to the town gate and took a seat there. Just then the family redeemer he had mentioned came by, so Boaz called out to him, “Come over here and sit down, friend. I want to talk to you.” So they sat down together. 2 Then Boaz called ten leaders from the town and asked them to sit as witnesses. 3 And Boaz said to the family redeemer, “You know Naomi, who came back from Moab. She is selling the land that belonged to our relative Elimelech. 4 I thought I should speak to you about it so that you can redeem it if you wish. If you want the land, then buy it here in the presence of these witnesses. But if you don’t want it, let me know right away, because I am next in line to redeem it after you.” The man replied, “All right, I’ll redeem it.”

Now, I think it’s actually a grace that Ruth and Naomi aren’t present for this conversation. Can you imagine? You can almost see the glimmer of greed in this man’s eye as Boaz mentions a piece of property for sale. More land? More income? Expanded farming operations? Yes, please! “I’ll redeem it,” he says. Sounds like a win.

But Boaz isn’t done. He’s wise. Shrewd, even. And he drops the caveat:

“Oh, by the way, the land isn’t really yours to keep or build your empire on. This isn’t about expansion—it’s about restoration. To redeem the land, you also take responsibility for Ruth, the Moabite widow, and for Naomi. You’ll be marrying Ruth, providing for her, and raising up children in Elimelech’s name—not your own.”

This is no ordinary real estate deal. This is a calling to sacrificial love. It’s not a business expansion—it’s an adoption. It’s an invitation to pay a steep price to care for the vulnerable, with no promise of return. It’s grace, not gain.

II. The Cost of Redemption (vv. 5-10)

Let’s keep reading—verses 5–6:

Maybe it was a mentor, a parent, a spouse, a friend. Someone who stood in the gap when you couldn’t stand on your own.

Ruth 4:5–6 NLT

5 Then Boaz told him, “Of course, your purchase of the land from Naomi also requires that you marry Ruth, the Moabite widow. That way she can have children who will carry on her husband’s name and keep the land in the family.” 6 “Then I can’t redeem it,” the family redeemer replied, “because this might endanger my own estate. You redeem the land; I cannot do it.”

The man backs out.

Why? Because the cost is too high. It’s not just the price of land—it’s the ongoing cost of people. Provision. Inheritance. Legacy. He does the math, and it doesn’t pencil out. He looks at the situation and essentially says, “I can’t risk my family. I can’t risk what I’ve built. I won’t sacrifice everything I have to save this foreigner and her widowed mother-in-law.”

And Church—this is where it gets personal.

If you’ve been with us a while, you can guess where we’re heading! You can feel it! This whole scene is pointing forward to Jesus. And yes—we are going to talk about the price He paid to redeem us from our stuck-ness in sin. But even before we go there, I wonder if you’ve ever had a moment in your life—like Ruth and Naomi—where God used someone to rescue you. Someone who didn’t walk away. Someone who saw you, cared, and sacrificed to help carry you through.

I for one can’t help but think about the moments in my own life where the only way to get unstuck was for someone else to sacrifice.

There’s a running joke in my family: when you’ve got a problem or a project that needs doing, what do you do? You call my dad.

One of my sisters is really into Instagram and all those DIY projects. She’s always got something going, and my dad usually gets roped into helping. Our joke is that her videos should just start with, “Here’s how I made this wedding backdrop… I called my dad,” and then cut straight to the finished project.

As I read the story of Ruth and Naomi, I thought back to when I was eight. My biological father was killed in a construction accident, and a few years later, Brian—the man I call my dad today—stepped in and, on some level, redeemed our family. He was a 28-year-old single guy who married my mom and became a father of three overnight.

A few years back, I borrowed my friend Wes’s truck for some reason. Not his new one—this was back when we both drove hoopties because that’s what we could afford. The brake lines blew while I was trying to stop at a light in Defiance, right by AutoZone and Lowe’s. By God’s grace, I managed to avoid traffic and limp it into the parking lot, but I was stuck.

For 45 minutes, I tried to fix it on my own because, you know, I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, and I’m a bit of a proud guy who likes to handle his own problems. But eventually, I had to admit I was stuck. I’d beaten on that rusted bolt until my hands hurt, but it wasn’t budging.

So, I called my dad. He dropped everything, rolled his giant service truck out, and fixed my mess right there in the parking lot.

I said something that day I regret. It came out more blunt and unkind than I meant, but I looked at him and said, “What am I going to do when you’re dead?”

Not the warmest or most thoughtful thing, I know, but if you knew the number of times that man has sacrificed for me and my family, you’d understand. I’m sure if there were a balance sheet, I’ve received far more than I’ve given. But if you asked him if he’d pay the price to redeem our family again, I know he wouldn’t even hesitate.

Now, I know not everyone has had a healthy relationship with a father, and I feel doubly blessed because I’ve had two amazing dads in my life. But regardless of how your earthly father has treated you, here’s what I know: all of us have received this kind of sacrificial love through Jesus Christ.

Hopefully, you’ve had your “Lowe’s parking lot” moment—when you’ve exhausted your strength and options, realizing there’s nothing more you can do to get yourself unstuck. Like Ruth, maybe it’s time to throw yourself on the mercy of another. Maybe it’s time to call your Dad.

Because here’s the thing: our heavenly Father stood at the city gate, heard the proposal, and faced the cost. He saw the property and the people up for redemption, and He said, “I’ll pay the price. I’ll go to the cross for them.” And if it came to it, He’d do it again.

This is what Boaz does. And this is what Christ has done for us. Look at the text:

Ruth 4:7–10 NLT

7 Now in those days it was the custom in Israel for anyone transferring a right of purchase to remove his sandal and hand it to the other party. This publicly validated the transaction. 8 So the other family redeemer drew off his sandal as he said to Boaz, “You buy the land.” 9 Then Boaz said to the elders and to the crowd standing around, “You are witnesses that today I have bought from Naomi all the property of Elimelech, Kilion, and Mahlon. 10 And with the land I have acquired Ruth, the Moabite widow of Mahlon, to be my wife. This way she can have a son to carry on the family name of her dead husband and to inherit the family property here in his hometown. You are all witnesses today.”

Boaz doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t calculate risk. Boaz willingly bears the cost—his wealth, his reputation, even his future. He redeems not just a piece of land, but two lives. Taking on their burdens as his own and recognizing that sometimes, the only way to get unstuck is for someone else to sacrifice.

With the simple yet powerful act of handing over a sandal, the transaction becomes official. It’s a humble, almost mundane act, but in that moment, Boaz makes a public, binding declaration: “I will redeem.”

What he offers is more than just provision. It’s restoration, identity, and hope. He steps into the gap, paying the price to lift Ruth and Naomi out of their stuck, uncertain place.

But the story doesn’t stop there. Redemption doesn’t just fix the present—it reshapes the future forever! The sacrifice made to get someone unstuck has eternal ripple effects!

III. The Rewards & Ripple Effects of Sacrifice (vv. 11–12)

The elders and townspeople witness this act of love and justice and speak a blessing over Boaz and Ruth. They invoke names loaded with meaning—Rachel, Leah, Tamar, Perez—names that echo through Israel’s history as markers of God’s faithfulness across generations. These aren’t just well-wishes; they’re a recognition that this moment of costly, selfless redemption is now part of a much larger story—God’s story.

Ruth 4:11–12 NLT

11 Then the elders and all the people standing in the gate replied, “We are witnesses! May the Lord make this woman who is coming into your home like Rachel and Leah, from whom all the nation of Israel descended! May you prosper in Ephrathah and be famous in Bethlehem. 12 And may the Lord give you descendants by this young woman who will be like those of our ancestor Perez, the son of Tamar and Judah.”

From Ruth and Naomi’s vantage point, this is a clear win. Grace, redemption—it costs them nothing. Sure, they had to wait. Sure, that waiting was uncomfortable. But other than having to humble themselves a bit and be patient, what real cost did they bear? They gain everything—a home, a family, a future—at no real cost to themselves.

That’s a picture of grace for us.

I mean, in comparison to what it cost Jesus, what does it cost us follow Him? Not much! We gain eternity through surrender, while Jesus says, “I’ll pick up the tab.”

But let’s not downplay the cost to the one doing the redeeming. For Boaz, this wasn’t trivial. He paid a high price—his wealth, his status, his future. For Jesus, it cost Him everything—His life, His blood, His dignity.

But it wasn’t without reward.

Boaz gained a wife and a family. He found the kind of love and legacy that, in hindsight, likely made every lonely night and every unanswered prayer for a wife worth it. The text is silent as to his marital status which leaves us to believe he was single with no children and with questions: How is a man of such integrity and business acumen still single? Perhaps Boaz, himself had his long nights of wrestling with God, wondering similar things? But when the story unfolded, it was better than he could have imagined—a loving wife, a perhaps slightly meddlesome if not well-meaning mother-in-law to keep things interesting, and a place in the lineage of not just Israel’s greatest king, David, but of the universe’s greatest King, Jesus.

While the cost of redemption is high, the ripple effects and rewards are eternal. Boaz’s sacrifice didn’t just restore one family—it became part of the very fabric of the Messianic line, leading to the birth of the One who would redeem the entire world.

And here’s what I want to leave you with.

On the one hand, the grace on display here is something to celebrate when you receive it!

But if you’ve received it, that same grace also challenges us to commit to becoming the kind of people who will pay the cost for others, just as the cost was paid for us—recognizing that while the price is high, eternally, it’s worth it.

I’m reminded of Hebrews 12:2:

Hebrews 12:2 NLT

[Jesus] Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne.

Sacrifice is costly, but eternally speaking, it’s worth it. Jesus looked at the joy awaiting Him—the redemption of those who would respond in faith, the glory and honor He would receive—and said, “It’s worth it.”

And thank the Lord He did!

Because sometimes, the only way to get unstuck is for someone else to sacrifice.

And who doesn’t love to be on the receiving end of that kind of rescue? It’s a beautiful thing when someone steps in, pays the price we cannot, and sacrifices for us.

But here’s the challenge: if we’ve received this kind of grace, the hope is that we are transformed by it into a people who look, think, and act more like Jesus. That grace is meant to help us become a people who treat weakness with gentleness and love like Jesus and Boaz did, a people who are generous with our time, abilities and money.

Because sometimes, the only way to get unstuck is for someone else to sacrifice.

Let’s pray.