Ruth 1 (Trinity Fellowship)

Introduction

Please turn with me in your Bibles to the Old Testament book of Ruth. Today we’ll be looking specifically at Ruth chapter 1.

Since our beginning as a church, we’ve sought to make specific applications in our sermons towards suffering, towards Christian suffering. Because there may not be a topic of the Christian life that our city misunderstands more than the topic of suffering. We turn on the TVs and we hear sermons promising us suffering-free lives if only we’ll have enough faith or give to an apostle’s ministry.

And when we do suffer, what is the typical response that we hear? It’s the same question that Jesus heard in John chapter 9,

John 9:1–2: As he passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

How have you sinned? What have you done? Why is God judging you? And these questions, they never bring comfort, only more questions, only more confusion, and only more doubt. These questions always leave us with doubts about God, and doubts about ourselves. Doubts about God and his goodness. Doubts about our own love for God. Doubts about our sincerity in our faith towards Christ. And doubts about God’s love and patience towards us. They leave us asking, “what have I done to make God angry?” and “what can I do to make God happy with me again?” And if this is your experience in your suffering, I want you to know that my heart especially goes out to you, because the churches I grew up in often had similar misunderstands about God and Christian suffering. And often times disappointments and discouragements were somehow connected back to personal sin.

And while Scripture does teach us that there are times that God brings discipline into our lives to refine us, we must understand that this always come to us from a compassionate Father who uses these trials to draw us to himself. It’s never meant to produce doubts, confusions, and introspection, but it’s meant to show to us our kind Father compassionately opening his arms to his children.

But there is another category in Scripture also. An important category. A category which, I think, is fare more pronounced in Scripture than Fatherly discipline. And that’s the category of righteous suffering. Suffering, not because we’ve done something wrong, not because we’ve sinned, but suffering for reasons we’ll never know, and reasons we’ll never understand. That was Jesus’ answer to his disciples back in John 9:

John 9:3: Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.

John 9:6–7: Having said these things, he spit on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed and came back seeing.

This man was born blind, not because God was punishing him, but because God had a plan to glorify himself in this man’s life. God wasn’t punishing him. God hadn’t abandoned him. God wasn’t angry with him. God had a plan for him, a plan to glorify Christ. And one of the first things this man saw after he was given sight was our Lord himself.

The same is true in the book of Job. Job suffered, and he suffered hard, and in his suffering he refused to admit that he had sinned. He maintained that he was righteous before God. But do you remember the words of Eliphaz in Job 4?

Job 4:7–8: “Remember: who that was innocent ever perished? Or where were the upright cut off? As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same.

Eliphaz sounds just like a penté, doesn’t he? “Job, you must have sinned, because the innocent never suffer, only sinners.” “Job, if you are suffering, then you must have sinned. Let’s stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

But what’s the problem here? We know that Job hasn’t sinned. We know that he’s not suffering because of his sin, but for the same reason as the blind man, for God’s glory. And the true problem with Eliphaz’s theology of suffering is this — if there is no such thing as innocent suffering Eliphaz’s Bible, then there is no room for Jesus Christ. Listen to his words again,

“Remember: who that was innocent ever perished? Or where were the upright cut off?

Eliphaz, I can think of a time that happened. When did the innocent perish? When the sinless Son of God, who had never committed any sin, was nailed to cross, had a crown of thorns pushed upon his head, was spat upon, and beaten — not because he sinned, but for the same reason as the blind man,

“That the works of God might be displayed in him.”

The biggest problem with a theology that all suffering is because of personal sin is that it gives no room for the cross.

William Cowper wrote these words in his song “God Moves in a Mysterious Way”,

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm

Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain For God is His own interpreter And He will make it plain

Brothers and sisters, God is always good, even when we can’t see his goodness. And God is always wise, even when we can’t see his wisdom. And God often uses painful and bitter circumstances bring about his pleasant and good purposes for his people. God often uses painful and bitter circumstances bring about his pleasant and good purposes for his people.

God isn’t absent in our suffering, he is actively at work in our suffering — for our good and for his glory. And like the blind man who Jesus healed, he always works in our suffering so that we can say, “now I see Christ.”

And like Job said,

Job 42:5: I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.

Far from driving us away from God, our suffering is meant to draw us near, and to show us Christ. And through suffering, we know God better than we could without it. Because God often uses painful and bitter circumstances bring about his pleasant and good purposes for his people.

That’s the lesson that the blind man learned, that Job learned, and that Naomi also learned. And today we’ll see, in Ruth 1, that even though Naomi thought that God had completely abandoned her in her suffering, God was more at work in her suffering than she could have ever imagined. So let’s turn now to our text this morning, to Ruth chapter 1, and let’s read it together.

Ruth 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. The name of the man was Elimelech and the name of his wife Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion. They were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in Judah. They went into the country of Moab and remained there. But Elimelech, the husband of Naomi, died, and she was left with her two sons. These took Moabite wives; the name of the one was Orpah and the name of the other Ruth. They lived there about ten years, and both Mahlon and Chilion died, so that the woman was left without her two sons and her husband.

Then she arose with her daughters-in-law to return from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the fields of Moab that the Lord had visited his people and given them food. So she set out from the place where she was with her two daughters-in-law, and they went on the way to return to the land of Judah. But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go, return each of you to her mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. The Lord grant that you may find rest, each of you in the house of her husband!” Then she kissed them, and they lifted up their voices and wept. And they said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters; why will you go with me? Have I yet sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? Turn back, my daughters; go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. If I should say I have hope, even if I should have a husband this night and should bear sons, would you therefore wait till they were grown? Would you therefore refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, for it is exceedingly bitter to me for your sake that the hand of the Lord has gone out against me.” Then they lifted up their voices and wept again. And Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.

And she said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” But Ruth said, “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.” And when Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more.

So the two of them went on until they came to Bethlehem. And when they came to Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them. And the women said, “Is this Naomi?” She said to them, “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the Lord has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?” So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabite her daughter-in-law with her, who returned from the country of Moab. And they came to Bethlehem at the beginning of barley harvest.

These are hard words to read, are they not? Our story begins in tragedy and ends with a broken and discouraged woman accusing God. And what is it she accuses God of? She says,

Ruth 1:21: “The Almighty has brought calamity upon me.”

She calls God “the Almighty,” the Sovereign One. The one who rules all things and works all things according to his purposes. In her suffering, Namoi is still a good Calvinist, she hasn’t lost her theology of the sovereignty of God over all things. But what she accuses God of here is disturbing. She says “God is indeed the almighty, the sovereign one, but he doesn’t use his sovereignty for good. He has used his sovereignty to bring suffering into my life.” ‘God, the sovereign one, he isn’t good. He’s crewel, and he’s mean.”

And in light of this, Naomi asks that her name be changed. “Naomi” means “pleasant.” But she asks that people no longer call her “Naomi,” and instead she asks that they call her “Marah” which means bitter. “Don’t call my pleasant, because my life has been anything but pleasant. Call me bitter, because my life has been just one bitter circumstance after another.”

Naomi is using a picture from Israel’s Exodus story here. Do you remember Exodus 15 where the Israelites came to the waters of Mara? The bitter waters that they couldn’t drink? And what did God do to those bitter waters? He made them sweet. He made them pleasant. And this miracle, it was more than just about giving the people water, wasn’t it? It was a picture, a parable of their lives. God had redeemed them out of slavery, he had taken their bitter lives and made them sweet. And he used the miracle of the water to show them what he had done.

But Naomi is saying that God has done the opposite for her. God has reversed the Exodus story in Naomi’s life. He hasn’t taken the bitter waters and made them pleasant, he has taken the pleasant waters and made them bitter. God has taken her sweet, pleasant life, and intentionally conspired against her to make it bitter.

If we look back in the chapter at verse 13, we see that Naomi uses more Exodus imagery when she says says to her two daughters-in-law,

Ruth 1:13: “My daughters, it is exceedingly bitter to me for your sake that the hand of the Lord has gone out against me.”

In Israel’s story, when God rescued his people from Egypt, it was the “hand of the Lord” that went out against the Egyptians. And later, in Joshua, the “hand of the Lord” went out against the enemies of God’s people to drive them out of the land. The Hand of the Lord, in the Old Testament, goes out save God’s people, and to destroy God’s enemies. Naomi believes that this Hand of the Lord has gone out again, but not for her salvation, not for her good, but for her discouragement and destruction.

Have you ever felt like this? I think that perhaps these words of Naomi hit us as hard as they do is because they are easy for many of us to say.

It’s easy to say “surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life” while we’re in green pastures and resting by still waters, what about when our experiences is the opposite? What about the times when our experience leads us to doubt God’s goodness and compassion? Where are we left then? When we suffer, suffer long, suffer hard, and seemingly suffer needlessly with no end in sight, can we say with Naomi that,

“the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me”? and “the hand of the Lord has gone out against me?”

When our circumstances seem to deny the goodness of God and, instead, seem to reveal him to be unfaithful, unloving, and merciless? Can we really affirm the propositional goodness of God when our experiences seem to deny it? The question our text leaves us with is this, does God ever deal bitterly with his people? Does he ever turn against his people? Does he ever work for their harm rather than for their good? Is Naomi right? Is Naomi right?

The Christian life is full of hardships and suffering. And all of us in this room are either suffering now, coming out of a season of suffering, or about to enter into a season of suffering.

So if you’re not asking the questions Naomi asks now, you likely have asked them in the past, or you will ask them in the future. How should we answer our own doubts and questions when we experience them? And because the Christian life is one of community, chances are that we will be drinking coffee with a friend and, after you’ve both said salam no and smiled and pretended like all is well, one of you might look at the other and share these kinds of doubts. And when that happens, how will we help our brothers and sisters who are asking the same questions as Naomi?

And that’s where this text is good news for us. Because God doesn’t leave us answerless. He knows that suffering brings with is all kind of difficult questions. And he has given us this chapter as a kind gift to us. He’s given us this chapter to come along side us in our sufferings, our questions, and our doubts, and give us answers. And especially if you come here this morning questioning, wondering, or just too tired to even try to believe any longer, God has written this book for you as an expression of his kindness and his eagerness to meet you in the midst of your suffering.

So let’s take a deeper look at this text together, and as we do, let’s expect God to meet us in these words, to comfort us in our suffering, and, like the blind man in John 9, to show us Jesus Christ.

First, let’s consider Naomi’s tragedy in verses 1-5. Our story begins at the time of the judges. If you’re unfamiliar with the book of Judges, just look one page back in your Bibles and you’ll see a phrase that is repeated over and over again through the book,

“there was no king in Israel and everyone did what was right in their own eyes.”

It was a time marked by both political and ethical anarchy. And to make matters worse, we find that our story is set in Bethlehem, the place where, in Judges 19, a Levite was traveling from when he found his dead concubine and scattered her limbs across the Promised Land. This is not a good place to be or a good time to be alive. And to make matters worse, we find that a famine comes upon the land. This is just bad news upon bad news upon bad news.

And then our story takes a turn: it narrows its focus from the nation in general to one specific family. And do you see how the story sets certain expectations for us with this family and with this story and then reverses those expectations? The story sets us up, and then disappoints us. It tricks us. It tells us first that this is the story about a man and has family, but by the end of verse 4 we find out that it’s not as Naomi is left all alone. And look at the names of our characters, Elimelech and Namoi. Elimelech means “my God is king” and Namoi means “lovely” or “pleasant.” Sounds like the perfect marriage! In a time where there is no king in Israel, we have a story about “My God is King” and his “lovely” wife.

But the story tricks us again, because while it makes us expect a husband who follows the Lord and lovely wife who follows him, we find that when difficulty comes, when famine comes, “My God is King” forgets God and acts in disobedience and unfaithfulness. Elimelech chooses to move himself and his family out of the promised land, back across the Jordan river, and into the land of Moab, one of Israel’s oldest enemies.

And this wasn’t just a morally neutral move. Going back across the Jordan here is a reversal of the salvation Joshua won for the people of God when they entered the promised land. And the place they went to, Moab, it had a history: they started when Lot’s daughter got him drunk and seduced him, and in Numbers a group of women from Moab seduced Israelite men and lead them in sacrificing to false gods. So for a faithful Israelite, just saying “Moab” left a bad taste in your mouth. And this is the place Elimelech chose to lead his family to. Feel the irony here as “My God is King” chooses to lead his family to this place. And ironically, Elimelech’s attempt to save his family’s lives end with his family’s destruction.

But I’m sure that Elimelech justified this in his mind, and the narrative seems to even hint at that. Look as this plan started in verse with intent “to sojourn” in the land of Moab. Then at the end of verse two they decide “to remain there.” Then at the end of verse 4, 10 years have passed. Elimelech left with good intentions, intentions to return after he cared for the needs of his family. But soon, he got used to life in Moab. And his family did too.

After his own death, Elimelech’s sons marry outside of God’s covenant people; they married unbelievers, with their own gods. And to add more sorrow, neither of her sons are able to have children — 10 years had passed since they had been married and God had given Naomi no grandchildren. Then, after 10 long years, both of Naomi’s sons die.

And in just a few short verses, Naomi is left all alone in a foreign country, without her husband, without her children, without any grandchildren, without her friends, and, seemingly, without her God. And the narrative hints at this also, do you see how she’s described at the end of verse 4? To show how deep her loss was, it doesn’t even call her by name, referring to her only as “the woman.” This is not just a lost of people, and place, and culture. This is a loss of identity also. Everything Naomi had, everything Naomi was, everything Naomi had worked towards in her marriage, her parenting, all of it was gone. She was once called “wife;” she was once called “mother;” she was once called “Israelite.” Now, she’s alone. Naomi’s loss is total and her experiences are bitter, indeed.

Imagine Naomi, discouraged and frustrated, coming to a penté church and hearing this. “Sister, you just don’t have enough faith. God wants to help you, but you need to believe.” Or maybe, “Sister, what did you do to deserve this? What great sin have you committed?” Or maybe, “Do you want your life to get better? Just give me money, and the blessing will come back.”

But look at the text. Look down at your Bibles. What did Naomi do to deserve this? Nothing. Whose decision was it to leave the promised land? Her husband’s. Whose decision was it to marry Moabite wives? Her sons. And was she responsible for her sons not having any children? Of course not. Naomi suffered these 10 years, and she did so at no fault of her own. This is innocent suffering. Naomi had done nothing wrong. There was no secret sin. She was innocent. And yet, she suffered. She did nothing, but she lost everything.

Why did Naomi suffer? There’s no simple answer. There’s no easy reason. That’s true of Naomi’s suffering, and that’s true of our suffering as well. As we keep reading the story, we’ll begin to understand more what God was doing in Naomi’s life, but that takes time. It takes lengthy dialogue. It takes crushed hopes. And it takes many years. Why is that? Because suffering is lengthy. Suffering is confusing. Suffering is wearisome. And suffering always leaves us with more questions than answers. And that’s OK. That’s OK. It’s OK that suffering is hard, and lengthy, and relentless. And it’s OK that we don’t always know why.

Ruth 1 is one of the darkest chapters of Scripture, but there are ones even darker still.

Psalm 13 asks, “how long, or Lord? How long will you forget me?”

In Psalm 6, David cries out, “I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. My eye wastes away because of grief.”

In his suffering, Job asks God why he didn’t die at birth, or why couldn’t his mother have had difficulty nursing so that he would have starved to death — because that would be better than living and suffering.

And Psalm 88 ends with the author saying that all of his friends have betrayed him, and now darkness is his closest friend.

And while these sections of our Bibles are hard to read, they serve to comfort us greatly. Because our faith knows deep suffering and dark times. Christianity is familiar with long, tearful night. Our Bibles speak to us of wars and invasions, of death and famine. The heroes of our Bibles face dark nights and find themselves confused, sorrowful, and angry. And our Lord himself was known as a man of sorrows and he is acquainted with grief. Our Bibles — and our God — look suffering right in the eyes, and they don’t look away. And this is one of the most comforting realities in the world. Because this means we have a God to go to in our suffering, and in our hurt, and in our confusion. And that God, he’s given us passages like Ruth 1 to go to when the suffering seems endless and no one seems to understand.

And that’s exactly where our story goes next. It sees Naomi’s suffering in verses 1-5, and it doesn’t look away, but it looks closer, and it does so for our good. In verse 6, Naomi hears the good news that the famine has ended. And Naomi and her two daughters-in-law decide to make the long journey to Bethlehem to get some food. And it’s here where our narrative decides to slow down, and take time. In the first 5 verses, 10 years went by with no dialogue. Now, our narrative moves into a lengthy, emotional conversation between our characters. And we see in this conversation how deeply Naomi’s suffering has affected her. Naomi chooses to return to Bethlehem, but she does so with low expectations. The lovely, pleasant woman has become cynical, pessimistic, and hopeless. She’ll return to God’s land, but she doesn’t expect to return to God’s kindness, God’s provision, or God’s grace.

And these low expectations cause Naomi to try to convince her daughters-in-law to not come with her, to stay in Moab, and even to continue worshipping their false gods. Orpa listens to Naomi, kisses her, and leaves. But clings to Naomi, speaking some of the most beautiful words of faith in all of the Bible:

16) Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.

17) 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.

These words of commitment are moving, profound, and somber. Ruth gives us everything, her home, her gods, her future, to follow Naomi and to follow Naomi’s God. And these words Ruth chooses to use, they should remind us of something. Do you remember what God said in Exodus 6?

Exodus 6:7: “I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God.”

This is covenant language. Like when God joined himself to Israel in covenant promise, Ruth is giving up everything for the sake of her mother-in-law.

But how does Naomi respond? With silence. She’s hopelessness. She’s distrusting. She’s not going to get her expectations up again. And this silence lasts the rest of their journey — all the way to Bethlehem. You can feel the tension and awkwardness of this moment, and it only builds as we come to verse 19.

As Naomi and Ruth finally arrive in Bethlehem, the silence is broken by Naomi’s friends. “Is that Naomi?” These 10 years away had so changed her that her friendly hardly recognized her. Suffering can do that, can’t it? It changes how we look. When our spirits are so crushed that it comes out in our faces. But there’s more reason for her friend’s confusion too, isn’t there? Because when Naomi left she had a husband. She had two sons. And how is she coming back? Alone. Just her and a woman from Moab. Do you feel the awkwardness and tension building even more? And I’m sure Naomi knew this moment was coming. She sees her friends from 10 years ago, and they still have their families. Their children are married. They have grandchildren.

And as Naomi hers her friends saying her name, she recognizes the irony of it. Naomi meant “pleasant;” but her 10 year journey away from and back to Bethlehem had been anything but pleasant. It had been full of bitter circumstances. And she says “Do not call me pleasant. Call me bitter.”

And the awkwardness continues to build as she says, “I went away full, and God has brought me back empty.” But as she says that, who is standing next to her? Ruth. Imagine this scene, Naomi says that God has brought her back empty as Ruth is standing right next to her. For Naomi, the presence of her daughter-in-law was only contributing to her sorrows, only contributing to her emptiness. And she ends by saying that God, the almighty, has taken her sweet life, and he’s ruined it.

And brothers and sisters, when we suffer, it’s easy for these same kind of doubts to come to our minds as well. And we’re faced with the question that we asked at the beginning of the sermon again. So is Naomi right? Does God treat his people, those he was covenanted with, harshly and cruelly? Does he sometimes intentionally and maliciously make their lives bitter? Is Naomi right? That’s the question we’re faced with. And as we move to verse 22, we’ll see that this is the question our text answers.

Ruth 1:22: So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabite her daughter-in-law with her, who returned from the country of Moab. And they came to Bethlehem at the beginning of barley harvest.

It’s not easy to see right away, but when we take a close look, I think we’ll see that this verse answers our question in three ways:

First, it answers it in what name it chooses to give to Naomi. In verses 20 and 21, Naomi said “do not call me Naomi. Call me Marah. But the author of Ruth doesn’t listen to her. What does her call her? Not Marah, but Naomi. Naomi says “call be bitter.” And our author says “no. No, I will call you ‘pleasant, for I know that God has not abandoned you, and God has many pleasant things in store for you in the pages to come.”

Second, while Naomi says that she’s returning to Bethlehem empty, the author draws our attention to the fact that she is not alone. He gives Ruth a lengthy title to ensure that we don’t forget her. Naomi returns “with Ruth the Moabite her daughter-in-law with her.” Naomi is not empty, the faithful, loyal, and loving Ruth is by her side.

And finally, with the last phrase in this verse, the author sets up the rest of the book to further prove that God has not abandoned Naomi and he is not working against her. “And they came to Bethlehem at the beginning of barley harvest.” This moment, it’s the turning point of the whole book of Ruth. This is where everything changes.

This dark chapter ends with the slightest ray of hope. This chapter is bookended with mentioning of food: we move from famine at the beginning of the chapter to the mentioning of the coming barley harvest at the end of the chapter. The famine is over, there is a gracious harvest coming! And God brought Naomi and Ruth back to the Promised Land just at the right time for it. God responds to Naomi’s accusations by graciously and mercifully sending the food she so desperately needs at just the time she entered Bethlehem.

And while the promise of a coming harvest alone doesn’t seem to answer all of our questions, it does reveal to us something about God’s character and his disposition towards Naomi. God is gracious. And God loves to give his pleasant and satisfying grace to hurting and broken people, people like Naomi, and people like us. This Barley Harvest doesn’t undo all of the hurt Naomi suffered, but it does represent something much bigger. God is still the giver of grace in Naomi’s life. God is indeed is the almighty, the sovereign one, and because of that, and only because of that, can God satisfy Naomi in her hunger and in her need. And God often uses the dark backdrop of painful suffering to wonderfully display his pleasant and good purposes for his people. God often uses the dark backdrop of painful suffering to wonderfully display his pleasant and good purposes for his people.

And once we understand this, it changes everything. It changes everything for Naomi, and it changes everything for us as well. Because these suffering passages of Scripture, they not only serve to comfort us in our suffering, but — at times — they serve to correct us as well. Because, my friend, if God has not abandoned Naomi in her suffering, he has not abandoned you in your suffering either.

And once we see this as true about God, that God is still kind, and God is still faithful, it changes the way we look at Naomi’s story. It gives us new glasses to read Ruth 1, and see this as a story, not of God abandoning Naomi in suffering, but being faithful to her through suffering.

Look again at verse 6, God brought about someone to come and tell Naomi that there was food for her in Bethlehem. How kind of God to do that.

God provided, in Ruth, a daughter-in-law for Naomi who modeled faith and faithfulness. A family member who would never leave her or forsake her. And God even used Naomi to bring about Ruth’s conversion in verse 16.

And since we know that God’s kind and pleasant hand was truly on Naomi this whole time, that means that even the tragic events in verses 1-5, as hard as this is to understand in the moment, they all happened so that God could bring Naomi back to the promised land. If Naomi had not lost everything, she likely would have lived the rest of her life in Moab, away from God. Even in her calamity, God was leading and shepherding Naomi back to himself. God was determined that grace would have the final word in Naomi’s story. In all her suffering, God was working to bring Naomi back to the promised land and to satisfy her with his bread.

And this Barley Harvest, it gives us new glasses, not just to look at Naomi’s suffering differently, but to look at our suffering differently as well. Like Naomi, we may not be able to perceive God’s kindness in the middle of our suffering, but we can be confident that even in our most bitter of circumstances, God is working his pleasant purposes in our lives. And in all of our pains, God has not turn against us, but he is working in our lives to bring us to our future home in the promised land. Eyes of faith will see this, even in circumstances that seem unbearable. Because sometimes when our suffering is long, and hard, and difficult, we also can miss the ways that God is at work all around us.

To quote William Cowper again,

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform He plants His footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm

O fearful saints new courage take The clouds that you now dread Are big with mercy and will break In blessings on your head

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense But trust Him for His grace Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face

Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain God is His own interpreter And He will make it plain

Christian, are you here this morning utterly convinced that God has forsaken you? Are you sure that God has gone out for your destruction and your hurt? Naomi was too. But God had not abandoned Naomi, and God hasn’t abandoned you. If you are a Christian, God is at work in your life, and he’s powerfully at work, not for your destruction, but for your good. So let me give you this advice, some time this week take out a pen and a piece of paper, and write down some ways that God has been kind to you. And start with this, he’s forgiven you of all your sins. Even when it seems like there’s nothing left, nothing good, and darkness all around you, that is always true, and no suffering can take it from you.

And if you keep sitting there with your pin and paper and you can’t see anything, let me advise you to find a good friend. Someone in this church, and tell them that you need help seeing how God is at work in your life. And I’m confident they would be happy to fill that paper full of evidences of God’s grace and reasons for you to rejoice.

And while we could end the sermon right there, I want to press this a bit further. Because there is more grace to be found here in the barley harvest. This barley harvest not only prompts us to look back in Naomi’s life and see God at work in suffering, it causes us to look forward as well. And as we look further ahead in the story, we will see that God will continue to be gracious towards Naomi in specific and meaningful ways. And while we don’t have time to go into all of those details, the most significant is this: God’s gracious, sovereign hand on Naomi’s life guided her away from the promised land for the purpose of bringing her back again with Ruth. Why? Not, as Naomi though, to empty her, to bring her sorrow, but the exact opposite. Why did God do this? Why did God bring Ruth back with Naomi? Because it would be through Ruth that God would bring the birth of Jesus the Messiah. And for this to happen, for Jesus to have been born, Naomi had to leave, she had to lose everything, and she had to come back with Ruth.

In Naomi’s bitter suffering, God was working to bring Jesus Christ, the one who would end all suffering forever. Naomi said that God had emptied her, that he had left her, that he had abandoned her. She was convinced that God had no good plan for her and her life. And Naomi could not have been closer to the kind will of God for her life. What Naomi didn’t know was this: God was nearer to her in Ruth than ever. And the same is true for us too. God is not absent in the things and people who cause us heartache, but he is actively present, and actively working. Part of faith is believing that, in the very things that bring to us the most sorrow, God is woking most intentionally and most purposefully for our good. When we behold those things with eyes of faith, we do not hear whispers of God’s absence, rather, we hear strong declarations from God that “where you go, I will go. And where you lodge I will lodge.”

Eyes of faith will see this, even when it feels impossible. Even when the pain is overwhelming and impossible to bear. Because part of faith is trusting God, even when we don’t see his goodness and grace in our circumstances. And believing that no matter how bitter things may seem and no matter how discouraging things may get, our God is still kind, and God is still gracious. And God often uses painful and bitter circumstances bring about his pleasant and good purposes for his people. And we can be confident of this, that no matter how no matter how bitter our circumstances may get, for us who have trusted in Christ, there is a sweet barley harvest coming soon. When Christ returns, and all the wrongs and sufferings we experience now will be made right when we look into the eyes of our Savior.

And when we see him, we will not see a man who does not know suffering. We will see the Man of Sorrows himself, the one who suffered like we do, and who suffered far worse. Because while Naomi, and us like her might feel that God’s hand is against us and that God has forsaken us, Jesus Christ suffered on the cross with the hand of God fully against him as he hung there naked, truly forsaken by God.

Jesus, this Man of Sorrows bore not only our sins on the cross, but our griefs as well. He entered into our suffering and he entered into our pain. He knows what it feels like to suffer, to suffer hard, and to suffer long. And because of this, this Man of Sorrows is able to sympathize with us. He pities us. He hears our groaning and our crying; he sees our suffering and our pain. And he’s not indifferent. He says “I know what that’s like. I know how you feel. Because I suffered too.” When we get to heaven, and we look into the eyes of our Savior, we will never hear him say, “I don’t know what that feels like."

And ultimately, this Man of Sorrows suffered on the cross so that he could take your tears, my tears, and Naomi’s tears, and wipe them away, not with soft hands, but with rough, scarred, nail pierced hands, and through sympathetic eyes. And he suffered to replace our tears with infinite, eternal joy in his presence. Brothers and sisters, there is a barley harvest coming for us! A barley harvest of joy which we will experience forever in the presence of our Savior.

No matter how long and you’ve suffered, I do know this, your suffering has an expiration date. The barley harvest is coming and you and I will both enter joyfully into the presence of God where we will never suffer again. Oh may that day come soon!

And while we’re waiting, while we’re waiting for that new creation, while we’re waiting all wrongs to be made right again, let’s find ourselves often going to Christ, the Man of Sorrows. When life is overbearing, darkness is looming, and we feel like we have nothing left to give, let’s find our hope and our comfort in Christ. Let’s commune with him. Let’s share our pains with him. Let’s share our fears with him.

In our suffering, let us not, like Orpa, and Judas after her, simply kiss the Man of Sorrows and then leave him to return to Moab; rather, let us find ourselves, like Ruth “clinging,” to our Savior. Let us say to Christ, “where you go I will go. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.” And let us hear him say to us in return, “Yes, and more than that! Where I rise, you too will will rise. And where I am seated, you too will be seated. And where I reign you too shall reign. And nothing, not even death, can separate me from you.”

My friends, this is how Scripture answers our questions in suffering. Not with “what did you do wrong,” but with “look to Christ.” So church, let’s look to Christ today. Let’s look to him in our suffering. Let’s to him in our need. Let’s look to him in our loss. And as we do, let’s look look fort he day