You have it in you (2)

We needed to know that, once again, he would give us the grace to start over. Her feet were so tired, and yet she knew there  were many miles to go before they would reach the border. Dust hovered above the road and choked her, making her more aware of her thirst. How could her life have changed so quickly? For a while they had all been so happy together, so grateful to have formed a new family. It seemed like just days ago Ruth had been sitting with her husband, his brother and wife, and her mother-in-law and enjoying a meal of bread and fish. Her husband’s father had died many years before, but they had endured their grief, grateful that he had saved their lives from the terrible famine in their homeland. Even though she hadn’t conceived a child yet, there was still much joy and hope for the future. Ruth and her husband looked ahead with anticipation. And then the worst happened. He didn’t come home from the sea one afternoon, and then an old man came and brought them the terrible news. Her husband was dead. Before the shock of his passing could fade, the unimaginable struck again, and her brother-in-law drew his last breath as well. She and her sister-inlaw, Orpah, and mother-in-law, Naomi, consoled each other as best they could, but the double blow felt unbearable. Naomi wailed and sobbed with such anguish.
Now they walked in silence, the three of them. Naomi had decided that she would return to her home in Bethlehem, where the Lord was providing food for the Israelites. The woman who had become like a second mother to Ruth worked hard each day to contain the wells of gut-wrenching grief, anger, and bitterness that ran so deep. Ruth herself continued to grieve, but what choice did she have but to go forward? Everyone told her that she was young and would marry again and bear children, but she wasn’t sure. After what had happened to them, nothing was certain anymore. (Ruth 1) Perhaps of all my moves, returning to Dallas from North Carolina was the hardest. I can’t even begin to  articulate all of the thoughts that raced through my mind over  the next months after Bishop Jakes’s phone call. Going to The Potter’s House would be wonderful, but leaving The River and the beautiful people who taught me how to  pastor in the first place would be, needless to say, extremely painful. I’m guessing you’ve been there, too. When you are faced with a decision, an opportunity, a choice about your life’s direction, it’s so tempting to stay put and maintain a comfortable pace on level ground. As we get older (certainly as I get older!), it seems harder to pack up and start over, more chal lenging to transplant the tender roots so newly established and reimmerse them in distant soil. While the grassy ground often looks greener on the other side, by middle age most of us have learned that beneath the beautiful emerald turf we sometimes find the soil rocky and barren, inhospitable to our attempts at going deep. From my experience, and I’m guessing yours, moving always poses innumerable risks and countless questions: Will it be worth leaving what I know I have here, for the possibility of what I might have there? Will my new home be as comfortable and enjoyable as my present one? Will the people there accept me and my family, welcoming us as part of their community and fellowship? Or will we find ourselves locked into the role of outsiders, always kept at arm’s length from the locals, the natives, the long-term community members who know they belong and want to keep their circle closed? What will the future hold for us in this new land? Will the blessing that’s so obviously on our lives go with us? Will the goodness of the Lord taste as good to us in Texas as it does in North Carolina? Am I even capable of doing this? These were the questions I asked myself. These were the questions that I honestly needed answers to. Knowing that answers emerge from experience, I went to my Bible, the greatest book ever written. I was immediately reminded of a couple of dear friends of mine. I’ve never met them in person, but through the power of their story re corded in God’s Word, I’ve learned so much about what it means to love well, to commit, to obey, and to be faithful. Ruth and Naomi remind me that any move begins with our hearts and not our feet. Their story is one of having more courage than common sense, more love than logic, and more faith than fear. The scene would always haunt her. Standing in the middle of the road with Orpah and Naomi, Ruth watched as her dear sister-in-law returned to Moab, back to her family there. Naomi had insisted. They had stopped beside a well to drink and refresh themselves, the water so cold on their parched throats. And then suddenly, her second mother began speaking softly to them. As tears crawled down the older woman’s withered cheeks, Naomi told her sons’ wives that they must continue with her no farther. Orpah was torn, clearly, but she finally relented and walked back the way they had come. Change did not come easily for Orpah. She was definitely the fruit of her homeland, Moab, a name that meant “the place that doesn’t require change” (see Jer. 48:11). And while she loved Naomi and had been greatly influenced by her God, when the moment of truth came, Orpah couldn’t make a clean break from her past because she found change to be too challenging. Severing old ties and launching into unknown territories was a price she was unprepared to pay. And while standing at the border of a breakthrough, she kissed them good-bye, forever turning her back on Ruth, Naomi, and Naomi’s God. As Ruth stood watching Orpah, for just a moment, questions f looded her mind: Could she really start over in a strange land where she would know no one except Naomi? Should she go back with Orpah and return to what was familiar, the people and place she knew so well? And what about this God of her husband and his family? Was he in the midst of her journey, or was he abandoning her to find her own way? One glance at Naomi’s face, the wrinkles of worry and the eyes of emptiness, and Ruth knew that returning to Moab was not an option. Her questions did not matter. There was nothing Naomi could say that could compel Ruth to abandon her. She had told Naomi that she loved her and that she had even discovered a love for this strange Hebrew God, the one Naomi herself struggled to trust, now that her husband and sons had been taken. Naomi tried to insist, tried to gently push Ruth away, but she would have none of it. “Ms. Naomi, I can’t go back. I have nothing to go back for. Things are different now. Knowing you has changed my life. I was incomplete without you. I found God in you and from there I found purpose. Yes, Ms. Naomi, you were the one who connected me to my destiny! You told me who I was. You told me what I could become. You woke up the sleeping things that were inside of me. I’m awake now and it’s all because of you! How in the world do you think I could go back to sleep now? Whatever I’ve got to do, I’ll do it. Whatever I’ve got to change, I’ll change it, but you can’t leave me where I am! My heart is fixed. “Wherever you go, I’m going. Wherever you live is where I’m living. And whenever we’ve walked together as far as we can walk, wherever you die is where I want to die. And wherever they lay you down, I want them to leave a spot for me right there beside you! “Ms. Naomi, I don’t know where we are going and, to be honest, it really doesn’t matter. If we are starting over, then guess what? We are doing it together!”……T.D Jakes