She Thought She Came Back Empty

I recently took a trip to Switzerland with my mom and my daughter, and it was one of the very best weeks of my life. I loved getting to give my mom a bucket-list trip, but somewhere along the way, I realized it would probably be the last trip like that we would take together.

At 68, my mom can’t hike or walk very far. She struggles with maps, technology, making quick train changes, and following a complicated travel itinerary. All of the research, planning, and decision-making fell to me. And if I’m being honest, it frustrated me.

I’m having a hard time seeing my mom this way because this isn’t the woman I remember growing up. My mom was independent and resourceful. Before Google Maps—or even MapQuest—she could unfold a paper map and navigate like a BOSS. My dad traveled most weeks for work, so she ran our house, handled every appointment, planned dinner, and somehow made grocery lists organized by aisle.

Watching this incredibly capable woman become so dependent on me was jarring. I even found myself judging her. I remember thinking, I will never let myself get this far behind with technology. I’m going to stay in shape so I can always travel. I want my body to go before my brain.

But we don’t get to choose, do we?

None of us gets to decide when aging, loss, illness, or circumstances will place us in a position where we can no longer do everything for ourselves. At some point, many of us will find ourselves in the vulnerable position of needing others to do what we once did easily.

That is where we meet Naomi in the book of Ruth.

After losing her husband and both of her sons, Naomi returns to Bethlehem with almost nothing. She is no longer the capable matriarch of a thriving family. She is widowed, grieving, financially vulnerable, and dependent on the kindness of others. 

She will have to learn how to receive.

Naomi isn’t quiet about her bitterness. She flat out says “Do not call me Naomi… call me Mara.” Naomi means pleasant. Mara means bitter. Her bitterness isn’t hidden or cleaned up. She believes God has dealt bitterly with her. Yet God continues caring for her even when she cannot see Him clearly. God did not wait for Naomi’s perspective to improve before He began providing for her.

While Ruth focuses on what she has left in her life, Naomi struggles to see past all of the loss, declaring, “I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty.” If she looked right beside her, she would see that Ruth is there, along with her promise to go where she will go. Naomi thought she had returned to Bethlehem with nothing, but God knew she had returned with Ruth. Sometimes the provision we think is missing is already standing beside us.

As Ruth and Naomi settle into Bethlehem, Ruth goes to work. She brings food home and shares with Naomi. Naomi had spent years caring for others; now she had to let Ruth care for her. She cannot contribute equally or repay Ruth or fix their situation. She can only receive what Ruth brings home. This is a profoundly vulnerable position. And if I’m really honest, I have a lot of fear about being someone who can’t contribute. I think that’s what caused a lot of my frustration with my mom. It was my own fear of being dependent on anyone but myself. But Naomi’s story reminds us that worth does not disappear when capacity does.

God’s provision for Naomi did not fall from heaven. It looked like Ruth’s loyalty and

hard work, Boaz’s generosity and protection, a field, community, and eventually, redemption of her pain. It was woven through ordinary human faithfulness. Receiving from people can actually be receiving from God. Naomi didn’t have to create her own rescue. She had to recognize the provision that God was placing around her.

In Ruth 2, Ruth returns from Boaz’s field with a very generous amount of barley. Naomi asks, “Where did you glean today?” For the first time, Naomi starts recognizing God’s kindness again. When Ruth tells her about Boaz, Naomi says: “The Lord bless him! He has not stopped showing his kindness to the living and the dead.” That’s a huge shift from “The Lord has brought me back empty.” Receiving begins restoring Naomi’s hope. 

Naomi doesn’t know yet that Ruth will marry Boaz, or that there will be a child. She certainly doesn’t know that this family line will eventually lead to David and ultimately Jesus. All she has is enough grain for today.

We often want God to show us the entire restoration. Instead, He gives us today’s provision: A Ruth, a field, a meal, a safe place, a person who stays, a door that opens. And He asks us to trust Him with everything we cannot yet see. Naomi didn’t receive the whole picture of redemption at once. She received enough evidence of God’s kindness to take the next step.

At the end of the story, Naomi is holding her grandchild while the women of Bethlehem call out the redemption in her life. For Naomi, redemption didn’t look like God replacing what she lost. Her sons and her husband are not interchangeable with her new family. But God did create something new from what remained.

Maybe you have found yourself in a season where you are exhausted, grieving, financially vulnerable, newly single, sick, dependent on others in ways you never expected. Perhaps you’re thinking you should be doing more to make it better, or to get back to the way things were. But maybe this isn’t a season of doing more. Maybe it’s time to allow someone to carry something, bring dinner, help financially, sit with you, love you without immediately paying them back. 

There are seasons when faith looks like courageously giving; and there are seasons when faith looks like opening your hands. I think that’s the hope in Naomi’s story: when we have nothing left to manufacture, fix, or give, God is still capable of providing. Our job may simply be to receive today’s grace and trust Him with the rest.

-Niki Hathorn, Worthy Content Creator

1. Do you tend to define your worth in terms of your capability? How does God define your value?

2. Is there a situation or space in your life where you feel vulnerable right now? Does this make you anxious? If so, why?

3. How have you seen God provide at times in the past when the future seemed uncertain? Is there a difference between that situation and where you find yourself now?