A God who does not need a defense

One of the things that makes grief hard is that it often doesn’t make sense to us.
We ask questions like “Why?”, “How?”, and “Seriously, God, how much more could there possibly be?!”
In the days after our loss, we go back over and over what we might have done differently.
We get angry at the ways we did what we were “supposed to,” but somehow we still got to where we are.
We listen as people point out that God’s still got us. But that can be really hard to believe when it feels like we are living in an empty void.
Sometimes we just need someone to sit with us and let us speak aloud our grief and share our pain.

Which is why I appreciate Naomi and Ruth.
Their story opens during the time of the judges, after a famine in Judah has caused Naomi and her husband Elimelech to immigrate to Moab. At some point during their time there, Elimelech dies. Then ten years later both of their sons die. And Naomi is left with only her two daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah. In a time when women were dependent upon the men in their families to take care of them, these women are left to fend for themselves. Naomi decides the only real option she has is to go home, and Ruth bravely commits herself to go with her.

So the two of them continued on their journey. When they came to Bethlehem,
the entire town was excited by their arrival.
“Is it really Naomi?” the women asked.
“Don’t call me Naomi,” she responded. “Instead, call me Mara,
for the Almighty has made life very bitter for me. I went away full,
but the Lord has brought me home empty.
Why call me Naomi when the Lord has caused me to suffer and
the Almighty has sent such tragedy upon me?”
- Ruth 1: 19-21

As we enter into our second week of Lent, let’s pause here.

Last week, as we began our Lenten study, the writer of Job’s story invited us to sit with Job in the ashes. This week, the writer of Naomi’s story invites us to do the same with her and Ruth. Each one of these followers of God has had their world rocked, and their sense of security dashed. Their unspeakable, and for many of us incomprehensible, pain seeks expression.

So, Naomi changes her name.
At her birth, her parents would have prayed for a blessed, life full of joy for their daughter. They would have celebrated Naomi’s milestones. And at her wedding, they would have blessed her with prayers for a future surrounded by children and grandchildren.
But now, after the death of her husband and sons, her name which means “pleasant”" no longer matches the reality of Naomi’s life.
And if she’s going to be honest, it doesn’t match her relationship with God at the moment.

In the midst of his deep grief, Job was able to proclaim, “The Lord gave me what I had, and the Lord has taken it away. Praise the name of the Lord!” But Naomi isn’t going to let God off the hook quite so quickly. She makes it clear that it wasn’t her choice to return without her husband and sons. So, she tells her family and friends, “Don’t call me Naomi. Instead, call me Mara.”
By choosing to be called Mara, every time someone says her name, they will have to acknowledge her deep pain and grief. But, her life has been changed forever, and she cannot pretend otherwise.

There is no explaining away what has happened. Mara can see no justice in the death of her husband and sons. Instead of being surrounded by babies, she and Ruth are now at the mercy and kindness of others. While her family is happy to see them, there is no guarantee that any of them will take the two women in to protect and provide for them. There is a great deal of uncertainty about the future.

What I love about the story of Naomi is that she is allowed to be angry at what has happened. The writer of her story doesn’t gloss over the reality of her story. He doesn’t try to explain away her grief. And he doesn’t try to make excuses for God.
The writer does allow Naomi sit with her grief. He gives space for her to voice her pain. He allows her to question. As the story unfolds, we are told several times that “one day…” the next step happens. But, they don’t happen immediately. And God isn’t shown actively at work making things happen. The days come, and the days go.

“As people looking to help others find their way in their story,
we don’t always have to be on God’s side, defending him.
There are in fact times when the biblical position is at the plaintiff’s side.”
-Eugene Peterson, Ruth: Discovering Your Place in God’s Story

In these days of Lent, we are given permission to come honestly and boldly before our God. We are in fact invited and welcome to bring our questions, our doubts, our fears, our anger, our “whys” and our “Oh God, how much more?” Bringing all of this to God doesn’t mean that we don’t believe in him anymore. And it doesn’t mean that we are weak. It just means that we are broken, in need of strength and courage to wake up tomorrow and live another day.

One note before we leave Naomi and Ruth’s story. The women make decisions and take actions that keep them fed. Within time, Naomi is able to look at their lives and dare to proclaim, “God hasn’t quite walked out on us after all! He still loves us, in bad times as well as good!” (Ruth 2:20). This glimpse of hope was enough to help her trust that their story wasn’t over yet. There was still a ways to go, but it was enough to keep her going.

My hope and prayer for you today is that you will have a glimpse of hope. Wherever you find yourself, wherever you are in your relationship with God, whatever questions and emotions you carry, may you have the courage and strength to keep going. You are not alone.

Peace,
Denise