A week after Phil broke up with me he proposed.

It was, he explained later, the longest week of his life. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could hardly function. Even though we’d planned this break up for a month— after praying for peace and finding only worry— the intensity of his emotions took him by surprise.

And so he did what he’d been taught to do: he sought counsel. First he talked to the other pastors he worked with. Mostly they just laughed at his concerns. The age difference? No bother. The idea of marrying a partner in piano playing? Nonsense! That covered, they offered to cancel staff meeting and go buy the ring!

He began to wonder if maybe he’d made a mistake.

Next he took my dad out to lunch. Not, he assured him, to ask his permission to marry me. But if he did decide what would my dad’s response be? What did he think?

My dad just laughed and enjoyed the free lunch.

Then Phil called his parents. His mom was all for it, more than ready for her middle son to make up his mind. Her only question was, do you love her? When Phil couldn’t stop talking about how much and all the reasons why she, too started to laugh. His dad agreed. Time to ask her, son.

Still, Phil worried. What about just knowing?

I was oblivious to the drama. The breakup, as far as I could see was final. And so I spent my days trying to reimagine my life- sad, but determined to set my wobbly feet on that Solid Rock we’d sung about.

The reality for me was that practically from the day we’d started dating I’d been holding my breath, hoping to marry Phil. He was everything I wanted and then some. I loved the vision he painted for me of a life lived completely and entirely sold out to God.

Serving along side this man would be the highest honor.

There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that I loved Phil with the kind of love that happens only rarely. I knew I wanted to spend every moment of the rest of my life loving him. Sure, I had worries about certain parts of him... there was that moodiness that caught me off guard sometimes. And the pace he set for himself made me wonder how I'd keep up. But I'd looked those things square in the face of reality and decided I could deal with those glitches. Or at least I thought I could. Because my deep respect for him as a man, as a person, as a follower after God, overshadowed the rough edges that I was pretty sure would poke from time to time.

Once when he’s asked me point blank if I had any doubts, I’d wavered between my self-protective tendency to pretend and the truth. Dare I let him know how deeply I loved him? Wouldn’t that be humiliating? Shouldn’t I just act like I wasn’t sure either in order to save face?

In what was for me a great leap of faith, I told him the truth. Even now I remember that swallowing of pride, then the great rush of trust that I had done what the Father asked of me. I could sense God’s approval even as my face flamed with the admission.

No, there was no doubt whatsoever. I wanted to marry Phil.

I still don’t know what finally changed Phil’s mind. Neither does he.

Maybe we both had more surrendering to do. Maybe he had to count the cost of trusting God for the less-than-absolutely-perfect-ideal. Maybe I had to let go of him in order to begin the journey to learning that “I dare not trust the perfect frame but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”

All I really know is that as soon as he asked, I said YES!

And do you remember what I hinted at in the first part of our story? Early on in our relationship Phil set a high standard for physical boundaries in order to protect both my purity and his own integrity.

Lots and lots of affection…

With purposeful restraint of passion.

For us, what that amounted to was no kissing. Okay, maybe a peck on the cheek from time to time— but none of that lip-locked, hot and heavy, body-entangling kind of kissing.

But when he asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, making a commitment to love and protect and cherish and lead and provide for me… that’s when he kissed me for the first time.

Magic. Beautiful, melting, magic.

And I know that sounds corny. I know that no one does that. I know its kind of… strange.

But for us… for the hope of our future… for the kind of all-in-forever romance we both craved— it was just the right way.

Tomorrow I’ll finally get us to the alter… and then we can begin this series…

Together we'll commence the conversation and the teaching and the learning about why ... and what to do... with the absolutely true fact that…

He’s Not Your Prince Charming.

From my heart,

Diane

Ruth 3v1-18

The Proposal (Part Two)

 (Click here to listen to the fourth teaching of Ruth)

The Verse of the Week 

“…I GO TO PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU.” John 14v2a NASB

More Words from the Father

John 14v1-4

Luke 6v30-38

Colossians 3

Psalm 90v1,2

From my Heart

How to Create a Haven (Part One)

Every woman longs for a home. Not just a house filled with lovely things, but a home to run into and be safe. An abode where love spills on to everyone who enters there. A dwelling overflowing with comfort. A nest which pulls people in by its peace.

Naomi dreams of this for Ruth. She wants to see her daughter blossom in a place where she is valued. Her hopes for Ruth have risen from a heart which finally sees her for the jewel she is. It is this very desire which propels Naomi to urge Ruth to throw out convention and risk rejection in order to go after what they both need.

What about you? Are you willing to make yourself uncomfortable, to put your grand sense of self aside in order to create the kind of home you long for - the kind of home God longs for you to build?

I have to ask myself the same question. You see, all my life I’ve been called a dreamer. As I leaned on my window sill overlooking the rooftops of the town in which I grew up in Europe, I weaved lovely stories of life as it ought to be - a handsome prince, a house full of children who talked just like my Chatty Cathy, and me, pampered and petted and adored.

Reality painted a different picture. My handsome prince had to go to work, my children argued, whined, and complained (sounding an awful lot like me!) and moments of pampering got lost somewhere between loads of laundry

Are you disappointed that your home isn’t what you wish it were? Do you gaze around and wonder what happened? Do you look at your kids or your roommate and feel your heart sink in discouragement?

Here’s what I have discovered along this adventure of listening and learning from God’s Word for the last three decades: the kind of haven I envision for myself doesn’t just happen,

it is built on purpose.

This third chapter of Ruth provides for us a picture of what our homes can be. Here, the Father gives us a glimpse of home as He intended it to look and feel and smell. Whether your home is an apartment or a mansion, a cottage or a cot in the corner, it can be a place of refuge for all who enter its doors.

Let’s take a look at what Ruth and Boaz, with a little nudging from Naomi, created in the beginnings of their home.

A place of beauty.

From the beginning, God created man and woman for a beautiful place. The Garden was a reflection of His creativity and care - His welcome of us. It was there that He placed in our hearts an instinctive embracing of beauty which has never gone away. Naomi knew this. She helped Ruth to bathe and slather on perfume and to put on her finest clothes, not to impress Boaz, but to welcome him.

It takes time to create beauty. It takes effort. It takes forethought and planning. Yet when our home looks and feels and smells beautiful, we can’t help but sigh a great sigh of relief and rest there.

A soft place.

“Then she came softly…” I love that phrase. Here we get a glimpse of Ruth’s unique imprint on the scene…her signature style. As we go about building our home we add our uniquely gentle touch. By our own example as well as by our watchful enforcement (think hall monitor with a smile), we can create and defend an aura of gentleness within our relationships. We can insulate our homes from the harshness of the outside world - a world where horns blare, bloggers decimate strangers, teachers belittle teenagers, and peers point out every misstep. Our home ought to offer relief from all that in-your-face sort of confrontation.

And mothers, take note. If you follow the current strategies in child-raising by allowing your children to “work it out for themselves,” you will be an unwitting participant in what often amounts to sibling brutality. We have all seen it happen. Voices escalate, words proliferate, and the strongest, ugliest, meanest man wins. Training our children to control their feelings, reign in their tongues, and learn to communicate in loving, direct dialogue takes a lot of work. It requires constant vigilance and incredible wisdom as well. We know who to go to for that, though, don’t we?

A delightful place.

Ruth gave Boaz the surprise of his life when he woke up in the middle of the night to find her curled at his feet. Heart thumping, adrenalin surging, Boaz sat up with a start. His response to Ruth’s overtures bubbled up and spilled over her in the form of an outpouring of praise. He couldn’t say enough about her kindness to him in that moment. What about you? Do you often bring exclamations of delight from those who reside in your home? Are you filling your family and friends with memories of delightful surprises - those extra touches that speak volumes to whom they are directed? When I got the rare chance to visit my parents in their home in the mountains all by myself, my mom delighted me each night by slipping into my room, turning on the electric blanket, and folding back the bedding. That small gesture practically shouted love and care to me.

What would bring delight to those you love the most? Perhaps it’s time to give it some thought.

A place of discovery.

Every once in a great while there comes into our lives someone who “gets” us. They find us fascinating instead of weird. They shine a flashlight into the corners of our personalities to discover strengths we didn’t know we had. When we find such a treasure in a friend, we find ourselves feeling freer than we’ve ever felt before. Those of us who are kind of quiet begin to talk. Talkative people rest. Walls fall down and our hopes and dreams seem doable.

Boaz listened to Ruth. He asked questions instead of firing accusations. He waited to interpret her behavior through the grid of respect and what he discovered was a gold mine. How can we unleash that sense of discovery in our own homes? Could we, like Boaz, learn to believe the best of those we love? Dare we ban that attitude of distrust we find ourselves so naturally reverting to? What if we choose instead to highlight each other’s value and overlook each other’s flaws? I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of heart I want to come home to.

Whether your home is a suburban house with a husband, children, and a menagerie of pets or an apartment with three roommates, are you making it a place of rest and refuge? Is it time that you, like Naomi, threw off that passive complacency and poured yourself into creating a home for those you are called to love?

Somehow, I think, this longing in our hearts for home may be part of the Father’s plan. He wants to use us to create an alluring glimpse of God’s dwelling place. And that just makes me want to jump in and get to work!

To be continued tomorrow…from my heart,

Diane

ETC

 How Big is a Scoop?

A pinch of salt, a dash of nutmeg, a dot of butter. We can imitate these in our kitchens. But an ephah of barley? Six measures of grain? Is that a lot or a little? A token or a treasure?

According to historians, an ephah of barley was an enormous amount of grain. It would have weighed between 30 and 50 pounds by today’s measurements. Considering that an average bag of whole wheat flour which we buy at the grocery store weighs about five pounds, Ruth gleaned a lot of grain! In one day, she gathered the equivalent of a month’s ration of grain for the average male worker in Israel.

A measure is uncertain terminology and, in fact, is not specified in the text. Translators filled in the blank with a vague term in order to keep the sentence coherent. He measured six somethings of barley into her upheld cloak. It could have been six shovelfuls or even six omers, which would have equaled about half of what she’d carried home from the fields. Whatever it was, it was more than enough to convince Naomi that Boaz’ intentions were serious. Their days of hunger were over.

Words

Kanap

What in the world was Ruth up to when she snuck up to the place where Boaz was sleeping, uncovered his feet, and lay down? Was this some sort of sexual seduction? Not at all! Ruth was using a common idiom for a proposal of marriage. The phrase “corner of your garment” is kanap. It is a word which can be applied either to the edge of his covering or as coming under his wings for protection. It is the same word Boaz used in Ruth 2v12 when he admired Ruth for seeking security in God.

Ruth may have been bold, but she was not in any way suggesting something shocking. Boaz response to her proposal was immediately enthusiastic, for he knew exactly what she meant. He had given her plenty of reason to believe that he held a strong affection for her. She was simply encouraging him to pursue his interest. Still, he knew that others could possibly perceive her presence at the threshing floor late at night as inappropriate, so Boaz took steps to protect both her purity and her reputation.

Note: for a really interesting rabbit trail, read what Jesus had to say about measurements in Luke 6v30-38.

The Proposal 

Ruth 3v1-18 (Part One)

(Click here to listen to the fourth Ruth teaching)

As the fourth scene of our story opens, a light begins to dawn in Naomi’s heart. All these inexplicable events which “happened to happen” to her and Ruth begin to add up to a revolutionary idea. Maybe, just maybe, God is in control after all.

She sees that she has a part to play in this drama - an essential role. Whereas previously we pitied Naomi for her irritating passivity, now we watch as she plunges into her position as matchmaker. Naomi has found her niche and she revels in it!

Naomi’s perspective on Ruth’s role has changed seemingly overnight: from tagalong servant to treasured daughter. As Naomi scurries to undo some of the damage of Ruth’s backbreaking labor in the gleaning fields, she sets about to secure a home for her future. With explicit instructions, she directs Ruth in how to nab her man.

A bath?...Check...Lotion and perfume?...Check...Feminine clothes?...Check.

Naomi knows just what to do. And Ruth enthusiastically complies even as she adds her own imprint to the intrigue. What man could possibly resist the charming way in which Ruth “comes softly” into his world and invites his love? Boaz certainly offers no sign of resistance to Ruth’s overtures, blowing every book’s theory that men don’t like to be chased! He passionately welcomes Ruth even as he protects her purity and her reputation.

The scene closes in suspense. Will Boaz come through? Will Ruth be rescued? Is the home the women have been longing for about to become a reality or another dismaying disappointment?

This week, we will spend some time delving into the idea of rest and security and home.

Just as Ruth and Naomi threw off any vestiges of passive complacency, we’ll be challenged to actively cooperate with God to create a place of beauty for those He calls us to love.

Most of all, as we involve ourselves in this scene, we will fall head over heels in love with Boaz. He is the man of our dreams; the one we’ve been looking for our whole lives. Our protector, our provider, our Prince Charming…he’s the man!

Come along with me as we open the curtain on Scene Four of our story to reveal our Redeemer.

The Verse of the Week:

“…I will give you rest.” Matthew 11v28b NASB

More Words from the Father:

Matthew 11v28-30

Ruth 3v1-18

Psalm 116

From my Heart:

 A Rare Place

Outside the quaint cottage where we spent our honeymoon, a conglomeration of letters set in a beautiful mosaic had us completely stumped. Framed by planters and overflowing with cascading blooms sat the wonderfully curious phrase, “Resta bitfo rtisa ra replace tor estat.” At first we thought it an odd bit of Scottish poetry or some beautiful Gallic saying. But, as the days passed and our eyes adjusted to the strange configuration of letters, a message emerged. The message intended all along:

Rest a bit for tis a rare place to rest at.

For two glorious weeks we rested at that rare place. It became our respite from the real world - our own secluded island, far from the cares and chaos of life in the fast lane. Eventually, however, we had to go back. Back to work. Back to bills. Back to all the hassles and hurts that are a part of the reality of living in this world.

For my husband and I, that place was magical. We found joy and peace and wonder and delight under the eaves of its shelter.

A rare place to rest at.

After months of misery, Naomi finally wakes up one morning and realizes that it’s time to stop sulking, time to “get off her duff,” time to stop making excuses and create for Ruth what she’d been longing for all along. A place of rest.

The Hebrew word used here and throughout Scripture is manoah. Naomi set out to find manoah for Ruth.

Rest.

Security.

A home.

Naomi wanted more for Ruth than the cold cave they had found shelter in. She wanted what we all want. She wanted a rare place to rest at.

Is that what your home is?

Is your home a sanctuary from the storm? A cozy place to curl up and relax? A place of welcome? A place of delight?

What would your kids say…or your husband…or your friends? Would your roommate agree?

Maybe it’s time, like Naomi, for us to wake up and start over - to clear out the closets full of criticism and conflict. Time to smooth down some ruffled feathers and sing a soothing song of joy and acceptance. Maybe it’s time to get off your duff and get to work, rethinking, rebuilding, renewing, and restoring the ruins of relationships that have become anything but restful. Time to unscramble the letters and to plant some beauty there.

It wasn’t until Naomi stopped thinking about herself and started loving on Ruth that her own joy returned.

I can just see Naomi as she concocts her female scheme. Washing Ruth’s tangled hair. Hauling water for a long hot soak in the tub. Finding perfume for her to slather on. Rummaging through their clothes to create something appealing. Naomi is having the time of her life! Gone is the sour expression and depression that have characterized this woman since the first sentence of our story. Now Naomi is happy, and busy, and full of hope and creativity.

I don’t know anything about your home, but I know about mine.

I know that “if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” I know I set the tone of our home. When everybody is uptight, it’s usually because I’ve been on a rampage, trying to shape everyone up and quiet everyone down. On the other hand, if I welcome my friends and family into my home with peace in my heart and the presence of the Holy One shining through me, they respond with an inexplicable sense of rest.

Light a few candles, spray around some perfume, and they sink in and stay a while.

Manoah.

How about it? Should we try? Can we cheer each other on as we attempt, with Naomi, to provide a place of rest for those we love?

Let’s unscramble those letters. Let’s write with beauty. Let’s…

Rest a bit, for ‘tis a rare place to rest at.

From my heart,

Diane

ETC...

A Type of What?

A type is a theological term referring to an event or person in the Old Testament which foreshadows its fulfillment in the New Testament. The idea of what constitutes a type and what it represents is fraught with controversy and confusion. It seems best to err on the side of caution when identifying a biblical type while recognizing that the Old Testament stories and prophesies inevitably point to the Messiah.

Three rules of hermeneutical interpretation2 lend legitimacy to types:

1. There must be an obvious resemblance between the type and the antitype.

2. There must be some biblical evidence that God intended it to be a type.

3. A genuine type must clearly portray, without any mystery, what is being prefigured.

Boaz is clearly and without controversy an Old Testament type of Christ. His role as the Kinsman-Redeemer who steps in and rescues Ruth is a provocative picture of Jesus. Many commentators, including the late J. Vernon McGee, interpreted the entire book of Ruth as a beautiful prefiguring of Christ. There is undoubtedly an underlying sense of double meaning throughout the story. It is, however, a genuine historical story involving people who actually lived, who loved, and who married in the town of Bethlehem.

Boaz was a man. Imperfect and flawed. In every way real. The story doesn’t show any of that. Instead, the author beckons us along to peer down the ages and imagine what it might be like when Jesus comes.

The original readers didn’t know what we know now. They couldn’t imagine Jesus riding into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, then paying the awful price for our redemption. But we know, and that knowing makes this story come alive.

While reading about Boaz, remember Jesus. You’ll find yourself falling in love with Him right along with Ruth.

Words

Manoah

When Naomi seeks a home for Ruth, she uses the Hebrew word manoah. It is a noun designating a resting place. The word does not indicate a freedom from hard work as much as it is points to a particular location where someone settles down and remains.¹ Since this is not the typical word used to denote a house, translators chose a variety of English words to give its meaning:

ESV: rest

NASB: security

NLT: a permanent home

NIV: a home

This rest can also mean a spiritual place of rest for the soul. In the midst of difficulties and stress, the Psalmist cried out to the Lord and He answered with manoah, rest for his soul.

“Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; Yes, our God is compassionate. The Lord preserves the simple; I was brought low, and He saved me. Return to your rest, O my soul. For the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.” Psalm 116v7