Hard Times

             In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land. So a man from Bethlehem in Judah, together with his wife and two sons, went to live for a while in the country of Moab. The man’s name was Elimelek, his wife’s name was Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Kilion. They were Ephrathites from Bethlehem, Judah. And they went to Moab and lived there.

            Now Elimelek, Naomi’s husband, died, and she was left with her two sons. They married Moabite women, one named Orpah and the other Ruth. After they had lived there about ten years,  both Mahlon and Kilion also died, and Naomi was left without her two sons and her husband. (Ruth 1:1-5)

            In some ways, Ruth reminds me of Job, only she wasn’t rich and her struggle lasted for a decade or more. Then, a famine hit Israel, so her husband uprooted his family and moved away from their support network. They moved to a place with food, but a place with a different culture,  where a different god, Chemosh, supposedly reigned. During the ten  years they remained here, her husband and both her sons died. That eliminated the rest of her support team, leaving her with two daughters-in-law. She could hardly expect their families to take her in, and she couldn’t support herself, let alone her daughters-in-law.

            Too often, I think we’re like Ruth’s family. Circumstances turn hard. Instead of banding together with family, friends, and neighbors, we wander off in search of something better. We end up where we aren’t supposed to be and when things turn hard again, we’re basically alone.

            It would be one thing if one person in a hundred, or even one in ten did this, but I suspect it’s a lot more common than that. Fear is part of the problem. We don’t want to face hard times. Pride and shame (which may be the same thing) is involved, too. We don’t want to be seen as needy. We don’t want to be a bother. Only weak people can’t handle things on their own. Or, we’re smarter than all those other folks who didn’t do what we’ve chosen to do. Comparison is another factor. We want to be like God, or like the hero, and if we’re reduced to being the victim, better to do so where no one knows your name.

            Much later in the story, when Ruth returns home and is recognized, she tells them to call her “Mara” meaning bitter, because life had been hard for her. She almost makes it sound as though she is pushing them away. One of the prayers that people who are hurting need is the prayer for the courage and strength to not separate themselves from others. Yes, there are times when a temporary separation may be helpful to the person, but the key is that it is temporary.

            I don’t know whether Ruth’s people supported her when she returned. They should have. We should gather around those who are hurting even if we’re hurting, too. We should wrap those who are hurting in prayer for peace, joy, and healing. Why is it that the “whole nation” is praying for Damar Hamlin and not for the person down the street? Why did the Buffalo Bills form a prayer huddle, but we can’t walk down the block to pray for the person for whom the ambulance arrived?

            I’m not saying we shouldn’t pray for Mr. Hamlin. I’m not saying we should get in the way of emergency services folks to pray for the guy down the street. But as I think about these things, my mind is also kicking in with the “I am not prepared for emergencies” chorus it sings so often. Why am I not prepared to go pray for someone who is hurting? What sort of thing should I be prepared to do? What could I prepare in advance – whether a card, a meal, or something else, that I could share with someone facing a hard time? That’s going to take some thought.