It’s been a long season of waiting. This waiting was certainly unwanted, but I cannot see another way in which the Lord would have pruned me more, another way in which God would have moved me to where I am now. The waiting has been a gift, but one I never would have asked for, with the long-term results weaving a tapestry of trust in my God and a hope with roots found in wrestling.
We finished Ruth together this week by celebrating shavuot, pentecost. Although things like cheesecake are wholeheartedly necessary, most of what the celebration looks like involves reading portions of Scripture together, enjoying God’s beautiful and good gifts.
He has come.
One of those Scriptures seems to be interesting, given the celebration being one of harvest, thanksgiving for plenty and bounty:
This season has born no signs of visible fruit, no prosperity to be seen but seemingly emptiness amidst toil. The prophet takes joy. He continues to walk in faith day after day that the Lord is His strength and carries him through the desert with mercies anew that he is even made capable.
This is the passage chosen to read in this season of rejoicing, in that hard work and toil for the whole season of reaping, regardless of the outcome. This has been for them a season of active waiting. Waiting is work. Ruth had to wait. Her waiting looked like small, hard earned keep for basic needs for a period of time. When even in waiting we are tempted to ask where God is in the midst of all of it, He is there in the food for the day, for the simpleness of even making it through the day.
God with us.
Yet again, Ruth was not inactive, and surely we know that her and Naomi were very intentional about what it would look like to live into fullness, provision, harvest. Even though some of us can ask if their plotting was out of a distrust in God, we know we have a part to play in the intricacies of God’s plan, in both waiting and activity.
Take heart, He is on the move in the ordinary decisions, no matter the weight.
Our mundane matters.
We have much to take joy in, to celebrate.
Although it seems as if the harvest season is here and there is nothing to look at, we look to God. The vast majority of the context of those two verses in above is a brilliant display of God’s glory. Shifting our eyes, taking them off ourselves and others, to see Him high and lifted up, to see Him moving through the dirt under your fingernails, means that nothing has gone to waste. We wade into the seeming unknown, as Ruth sneaks through the middle of the night to the threshing floor, to await in faith for our Redeemer to make a way.
He is the harvest. He is the plenty. He is enough.