12/01/2023
kgckraus@gmail.com
The Best Medicine
Elimelech (Naomi’s husband) died and Naomi was left, she and her two sons. The sons took Moabite wives; the name of the first was Orpah, the second Ruth. They lived there in Moab for the next ten years. But then the two brothers, Mahlon and Kilion, died. Now the woman was left without either her young men or her husband. One day she got herself together, she and her two daughters-in-law, to leave the country of Moab and set out for home (Bethlehem)... After a short while on the road, Naomi told her two daughters-in-law, “Go back. Go home and live with your mothers. And may God treat you as graciously as you treated your deceased husbands and me. May God give each of you a new home and a new husband!” She kissed them and they cried openly…Orpah kissed her mother-in-law good-bye; but Ruth embraced her and held on.
—RUTH 1:3-14 MSG, A PARAPHRASE
I always say that I don’t have hobbies. I have friends. Who needs to learn to knit (I have terrible grip strength) when you can do something ridiculous with someone who loves you? Hope comes in many shapes and sizes, but hope, for me, often comes in the shape of my people. People who embody the very promises and presence of God. In the book of Ruth, we meet a woman whose life has come undone—she has lost her husband, her sons, her home, her security, and her future. Naomi has experienced profound grief—a change she marks by renaming herself Mara, meaning “bitter,” and declaring that her life and arms are empty (Ruth 1:19-21). In her grief, Naomi (Mara) tries to push everyone away. But her daughter-in-law Ruth doesn’t leave her to believe that great lie that loss loves to whisper to us, “You are all alone.” Ruth stays. Ruth embraces her despite her despair.
Name it what you will—your besties, your book club, your co-workers, your siblings, your mom—these are the people who cling to you even as you declare, like Naomi, that your life is empty (Ruth 1:20-21). In God’s faithfulness to us, we learn to be faithful to others even in the worst of times. Faithful friendships are the people who show up with a casserole (and know when you couldn’t possibly eat another bite of lasagna) and a hug and maybe a bottle of wine or ice cream on your most difficult days. These are the people that know that they may not be able to fix what is happening or what has happened to you, but they can and will bear witness. These friends will believe (even when you can’t) that the sun will rise again. And in that kind of hold-your-handthrough-the-worst-of-it love, may we find hope.