Untitled Sermon (9)

Introduction

Church family, today we continue our series on belonging. Last week we saw that God has always been in the business of drawing people into relationship with Himself, especially those who are on the outside looking in. This week we turn to the book of Ruth, one of the most beautiful short stories in Scripture, a story that unfolds during the turbulent time of the Judges when, as the Bible says, “everyone did what was right in their own eyes.” It’s a time of famine, instability, and moral chaos.

The story begins in Bethlehem—ironically, a town whose name means “house of bread.” Yet there was no bread, no harvest, so a man named Elimelek left with his wife Naomi and their two sons to sojourn in Moab. Now, Moab was not exactly a friendly neighbor to Israel. The Moabites were descended from Lot’s incestuous relationship with his daughter, and throughout Israel’s history, Moab often opposed and oppressed them. Spiritually, Moab was known for idolatry, especially the worship of Chemosh, a god who demanded child sacrifice. For an Israelite family to move there was a desperate act of survival.

Tragedy quickly followed. Elimelek died, leaving Naomi a widow. Her sons married Moabite women—Orpah and Ruth—but after about ten years, both sons died as well. In the ancient world, widows were among the most vulnerable. Without husbands or sons, they had little economic power, no inheritance rights, and no social safety nets. Their survival depended almost entirely on the generosity of relatives or the community. To put it in today’s terms, imagine being a single mother who suddenly loses every source of income, has no bank account in her name, and no government programs to help her. Or think about refugees fleeing war who arrive in a new country with no money, no housing, no language skills, and no legal protections. That’s the kind of desperate vulnerability Naomi and Ruth faced.

Naomi, facing hopelessness, urged her daughters-in-law to return to their families. Orpah reluctantly agreed, but Ruth clung to Naomi with those unforgettable words: “Where you go, I will go. Your people will be my people, and your God my God.” It was more than loyalty—it was faith. Ruth, a Moabite outsider, bound herself to Naomi and to the God of Israel.

When they returned to Bethlehem, it was the time of the barley harvest. This detail matters because the law of Moses required landowners to leave the edges of their fields for the poor, the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow to glean. So Ruth went out to gather leftover grain, and in God’s providence, she found herself in the field of Boaz, a man of standing and a relative of Elimelek. Boaz showed extraordinary kindness, offering protection, provision, and dignity to Ruth as she worked. Later, Naomi explained that Boaz was one of their family’s go’el—a kinsman-redeemer—someone with both the right and the responsibility to restore the family’s future by redeeming land and raising up descendants.

Eventually, the story reaches its climax at the city gate of Bethlehem. The gate wasn’t just an entrance to town—it was the center of public life, the courthouse, the place where elders gathered and legal matters were settled. There, Boaz confronted the nearer relative and formally redeemed Naomi’s land and Ruth’s future, declaring in front of witnesses that he would marry her and carry on Elimelek’s line. This act transformed Ruth from a destitute foreign widow into a full member of the covenant family of Israel.

It’s a story of loss, loyalty, redemption, and ultimately, belonging. And here’s the message for us today: Belonging always requires redemption, and redemption always requires going out of our way.

Belonging requires a go’el

the go’el was the guardian-redeemer in Israelite law. The Hebrew word literally means “to buy back,” “to rescue,” “to restore.” A go’el was a close relative who stepped in to save a family member in crisis—buying back land, protecting widows, continuing the family line.

The Hebrew word go’el, often translated “kinsman-redeemer” or “guardian-redeemer,” carries deep roots in the Old Testament and is central to understanding the story of Ruth. The root verb ga’al means “to redeem, to buy back, to restore,” and it appears in Israel’s law and narrative to describe the actions of a close relative who steps in to rescue a family member from loss, bondage, or extinction. One of the earliest legal frameworks for this role is found in Leviticus 25, where God lays out provisions for family redemption in the context of land, poverty, and slavery. If an Israelite became poor and had to sell their land, the nearest relative was obligated to buy it back so the family inheritance would not be lost (Lev. 25:25). Similarly, if someone had to sell themselves into servitude, the go’el could step in to redeem them, restoring their dignity and freedom (Lev. 25:47–55). In Numbers 35, the concept broadens to the “avenger of blood”—still called a go’el—who had the duty of pursuing justice when a family member was killed. While that role focused on protecting family honor and life, the underlying principle remained the same: the go’el was one who intervened on behalf of kin when their well-being, inheritance, or future was in jeopardy. In Deuteronomy 25, a related custom appears in the practice of levirate marriage, where a brother or close relative of a deceased man marries the widow to continue the family line. Although the term go’el is not used directly in that passage, the practice resonates with the redeemer’s role of preserving name, land, and legacy within Israel. Beyond these laws, the language of redemption takes on profound theological weight as God Himself is described as Israel’s go’el. In Exodus 6:6, God declares, “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm,” as He delivers His people from Egypt. Later, the prophets—especially Isaiah—repeatedly refer to God as Israel’s Redeemer. Isaiah 43:14 proclaims, “Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.” In these passages, 

God is not a distant deity but a near and committed relative who rescues His people out of love .

The go’el is not only a family role but a divine characteristic, embodying God’s faithfulness to restore what is lost. By the time we arrive at the story of Ruth, the audience would already understand the cultural and theological weight of the redeemer concept. Naomi and Ruth, widowed and destitute, represent precisely the kind of situation the law envisioned: without a redeemer, they face the loss of land, name, and future. Boaz’s actions in Ruth 4 step directly into this tradition, as he assumes the role of go’el by redeeming the family property and marrying Ruth, ensuring that Elimelek’s family line continues. Yet 

Thus, the story of Ruth does not introduce something new but embodies and personalizes a rich biblical thread, showing how God’s covenantal design for redemption worked on the ground, in everyday life, and ultimately pointing forward to Jesus Christ, our greater Redeemer, who fulfills once and for all the role of the go’el for all who trust in Him.

Without a redeemer, widows like Ruth and Naomi had no future. They were cut off from inheritance, from stability, they were cut off from belonging.

The actions of Boaz echo the greater story of God as Redeemer—the One who intervenes, who bears the cost, who ensures that the vulnerable are not cut off. 

In Old Testament times, widows like Ruth and Naomi occupied some of the most vulnerable positions in society. Ancient Israel was a patriarchal culture where family inheritance, legal standing, and financial security were all tied to the male head of household. When a husband died, his widow often lost her primary source of protection and provision, and unless she had grown sons who could support her, she was left economically and socially exposed. Widows had no automatic claim to their husband’s land or estate; those rights usually reverted to the husband’s male relatives. Culturally, they were overlooked and marginalized, frequently dependent on charity or the goodwill of extended family. To give a modern comparison, being a widow in ancient Israel was somewhat like being both unemployed and undocumented today, with no social safety net, no financial independence, and no legal rights to secure housing or income. That is what Ruth and Naomi faced: a precarious, uncertain existence, where hunger, exploitation, and hopelessness were constant threats. Their story underscores the radical compassion of God’s laws for widows and the extraordinary faith of Ruth, who clung to Naomi and to Israel’s God despite such bleak prospects, and it reminds us of the call to protect and uplift the most vulnerable in our own communities.

That’s what makes Ruth’s story so powerful. She’s an outsider—widowed, foreign, poor. And yet God provides Boaz as her redeemer. Boaz is not just a kind man—he is a picture of redemption in action.

And it points us forward to Jesus, our greater go’el, who bought us back when we were outsiders. Who restored us when we had no future. Who brought us into God’s family so we could belong.

Redemption is costly—and it requires going out of our way

Boaz didn’t just happen to redeem Ruth. He went out of his way.

Look at Ruth 4:1—“Boaz went up to the town gate and sat down there.” In other words, Boaz didn’t wait for redemption to fall into his lap. He took initiative. He went to the city gate, the public square, where legal and civic matters were handled. He gathered ten elders as witnesses. He called the other relative into the conversation.

He didn’t cut corners. He didn’t try to do this quietly or secretly. He went the long way—the public, costly, accountable way—because that’s what redemption required.

And notice the contrast. The other redeemer was willing at first, as long as it only meant acquiring some land. But when he realized it also meant marrying Ruth the Moabite widow, and potentially risking his estate, he backed out. He said, “It’s too costly. I can’t do it.”

Boaz could have said the same. He could have walked away. But instead, he went out of his way to secure Ruth’s future. He bore the cost. He risked his reputation. He opened his life to someone who, by every cultural measure, did not belong.

That’s what redemption looks like. It’s not convenient. It’s not cheap. It requires going out of our way.

And this points us straight to Jesus. Our redemption wasn’t convenient for Him. It required the incarnation—leaving heaven’s glory to take on our flesh. It required the cross—the ultimate cost. Jesus didn’t redeem us from a distance; He came all the way into our brokenness, all the way into our suffering, all the way into our death.

Friends, if we claim to follow Jesus, then we have to ask: 

Are we willing to go out of our way so that others can belong?

Because let’s be honest—too often we only practice belonging when it’s convenient. We welcome people who are easy to welcome. We help people when it doesn’t disrupt our schedule. We include people when they’re like us.

But real belonging—the kind that reflects the heart of God—requires holy discomfort. It requires going out of our way.

It means inviting someone to your table who doesn’t speak your language.

It means driving across town to sit with someone who is grieving.

It means rearranging your budget to care for someone in need.

It means making room in your pew, your schedule, your circle for someone who stretches you.

Boaz went out of his way to redeem Ruth. Jesus went all the way to the cross to redeem us. What are we willing to do so that others can belong?

Redeemed people create communities of belonging

Look at how this passage ends. After Boaz redeems Ruth, the elders and the people at the gate bless them: “May the Lord make the woman who is coming into your home like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the family of Israel.”

Do you see what’s happening? Ruth, the outsider, is publicly affirmed as belonging—not just to Boaz, but to the entire community. She is woven into the story of Israel. She is compared to the great matriarchs of the nation.

And from her will come Obed, the grandfather of King David, and ultimately Jesus, the Redeemer of the world.

That’s what happens when redeemed people create communities of belonging—the ripple effects extend far beyond what we can see.

Church, if we have been redeemed by Jesus, our greater go’el, then our calling is to be that kind of community. A community where outsiders become insiders. A community where people who thought they had no place find a home. A community where redemption is not just a doctrine we believe, but a reality we live.

And that won’t happen by accident. It will only happen when we, like Boaz, are willing to go out of our way.

Conclusion: A Strong Challenge

So let’s bring it home.

Ruth 4:1–12 shows us that:

Belonging requires a redeemer. Without Boaz, Ruth had no future. Without Jesus, we have no belonging.

Redemption is costly—and it requires going out of our way. Boaz bore the cost and went out of his way for Ruth. Jesus bore the cross and came all the way for us. 

Will we bear costs for others?

Redeemed people create communities of belonging. Ruth’s redemption reshaped her future, Naomi’s future, and the future of Israel itself.

The question before us is: will we, the redeemed people of God, embody that same kind of redemption?

Who in your life is waiting for someone to go out of their way?

The neighbor who’s new to town.

The coworker who always eats lunch alone.

The single mom who is exhausted.

The teenager who feels out of place.

The person in church who looks like they don’t fit in.

Church, belonging doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when redeemed people are willing to go out of their way.

So may we be a church like Boaz. May we go out of our way. May we bear the cost. May we create a community where outsiders find belonging, where redemption is lived out loud, and where the love of Christ is not just preached but practiced.

Because when the world sees that, they don’t just see us—they see Jesus, our Redeemer, who went all the way for us.

Church, as we’ve walked through the story of Ruth and Boaz today, we’ve seen that belonging always requires redemption, and redemption always requires someone willing to go out of their way. Ruth and Naomi were outsiders—widowed, vulnerable, forgotten. And yet Boaz stepped into the role of go’el, the kinsman-redeemer, bearing the cost so they could have a future and a place in God’s family.

That’s a picture of Jesus. He saw us in our need—cut off, outsiders to the promises of God—and He didn’t wait for it to be convenient. He went out of His way. He stepped down from glory, took on flesh, walked among us, and bore the cross. He gave His life so that we could be redeemed, restored, and welcomed into God’s family forever.

Some of us here today need to receive that redemption personally. Maybe you’ve been feeling like Ruth—an outsider, unsure if there’s a place for you in God’s family. Hear this: Jesus is your Redeemer. You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to prove yourself. He has already paid the price, and He is inviting you to belong.

And for others, this is a moment of challenge. If we’ve been redeemed by Jesus, then we are called to live like Boaz—going out of our way so others can experience belonging. Who is God placing on your heart? A neighbor, a coworker, a single parent, someone who sits alone in church? Redemption is never convenient. It always requires holy discomfort. But it is always worth it.

In just a moment, we’re going to sing “There Is a Redeemer.” Listen to what we’ll be declaring together:

“There is a Redeemer, Jesus, God’s own Son.” That’s the message of Ruth’s story fulfilled—God Himself has provided the Redeemer we need.“Thank You, O my Father, for giving us Your Son.” That’s the gratitude of the redeemed—like Naomi and Ruth, we have been given new hope, new life, a new family.“And leaving Your Spirit till the work on earth is done.” That’s our calling—to live Spirit-filled lives, continuing the Redeemer’s work of bringing others in, making sure no one is left outside.

So as we sing, I invite you to respond. If you need to know Jesus as your Redeemer, come forward and pray. If you sense the Spirit nudging you toward someone who needs belonging, come and surrender your “yes” to God here at the altar. Don’t just sing the words—live them. Let this be your prayer, your declaration, your act of faith.

Church, let’s stand together, and as we lift our voices in “There Is a Redeemer,” let’s respond to the One who went all the way for us.