Desired

Y’all, I’ve never been terribly fond of Naomi, Ruth’s mother-in-law. Do you know this story? Naomi and her husband leave Israel and move into Moab. (I’ve often wondered about that – I mean, yes, there was a famine, but Moab? The Jews were all about cocooning themselves away from the pagans around them – by God’s command – so how exactly did they justify this relocation? I hate to accuse them of being bad Jews, but . . .)

While they are there, Naomi’s husband dies and her two sons marry Moabite women (which mom couldn’t have been happy about, but just what did she expect?). Then the sons die as well, leaving Naomi all alone with two foreign girls. So, she decides to head back home where she belonged . . . and she has a bit of a pity party as she does so.

Now, hear me – that pity party of hers is understandable, but it also feels annoyingly over-the-top. (Please don’t crucify me for that, friends – I’m just being honest.) And let me add that later in the story, when she’s advising Ruth about how to snag herself a man, she also strikes me as a bit manipulative. I’ve always just read this story assuming there are cultural things I’m not getting in that situation and trying to give her some grace.

But when the first chapter of Ruth was read in our worship service recently, I saw Naomi in a different light. As she starts back to Israel, her daughters-in-law say they want to come with her. And here’s her response:

"Return home, my daughters. Why would you come with me? Am I going to have any more sons, who could become your husbands? Return home, my daughters; I am too old to have another husband. Even if I thought there was still hope for me -- even if I had a husband tonight and then gave birth to sons -- would you wait until they grew up? Would you remain unmarried for them? No, my daughters. It is more bitter for me than for you, because the Lord's hand has turned against me!"

Now again, I always hear some emotional manipulation here. Maybe I’m just hearing echoes from the past, voices of emotionally manipulative women I’ve known before.

But this year, I’m in a better place, so I listened with a little more grace. And I was suddenly struck by the heart pain behind those words.

Naomi thought they would leave her – and should leave her – because she couldn’t do anything for them anymore. She thought they were only with her because of her sons, their husbands. Now she was a widow, childless, poor. She has nothing left to offer them. Why should they stay? And yes, maybe the words came out of her mouth as an unconscious effort to arouse guilt-inspired devotion in them. But I suspect that particular mode of manipulation surfaced here because it reflected what she felt in her heart.

I have no worth. I am nothing.

This is sad. Yes? But again, so understandable.

It’s unfortunate how many of our relationships are treated as something of a business transaction. I mean, that is, again, understandable to an extent. Mutual edification is something that you DO in a relationship. We give to those we love – not just stuff, but time and attention and devotion and respect. And if we don’t get such things in return, we question the health of the relationship. There is some validity to that.

This is why Religion has such a hold on us, I think. We know we need God (however we understand God) and that there is a huge gap between us and God. We figure we do things for God and then he does things for us. In fact, the Old Testament covenant between God and Israel implies exactly that kind of relationship. You do, then I do. You don’t, so I won’t.

But the New Testament is a New Covenant, and it’s not that way at all. God does. Period. We couldn’t do enough in return if we tried. And even if we don’t try, he still does. We can’t possibly give him back anything of value – anything we give him is something he gave us first. This relationship is not reciprocal. He doesn’t need us. He wants us.

Does that not strike you as amazing? It does me. The God of the universe wants a relationship with me. I have no worth of my own accord . . . but he wants me. I have nothing to offer him . . . but he wants me. I’m not his obligation. I’m his desire.

Desired . . . somehow, that's even more powerful than simply being loved.