Ruth, Part 3 - Revision history

Greetje: New page: {{info}}When David woke, he was surprized
To see old Boaz energized,
And waiting for the boy to wake.
The old man couldn't see or make
His feet tread where his mind said, Go.
Greetje — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 15:17:28 GMT

New page: {{info}}When David woke, he was surprized<br>To see old Boaz energized,<br>And waiting for the boy to wake.<br>The old man couldn't see or make<br>His feet tread where his mind said, Go.<b...

New page
{{info}}When David woke, he was surprized<br>To see old Boaz energized,<br>And waiting for the boy to wake.<br>The old man couldn't see or make<br>His feet tread where his mind said, Go.<br>But he could recollect, and, Oh,<br>How he did love to tell the tale<br>Of how the God of Israel<br>Turned famine into wedding feast,<br>And formed the greatest from the least,<br>And wakened love when it had died,<br>And brought a Moabitess bride<br>Into his life, and made a field<br>Of Barley, barren once, to yield<br>Such seed as he had never dreamed. 

He heard the boy awake, and beamed,<br>"Young man, my son tells me that you<br>Are David, Jesse's son." "That's true,<br>And you're my great grampa." "Last night,<br>I didn't know, without my sight,<br>That it was you. Come here and let<br>Me touch your face. There is a debt<br>To parentage that one can feel.<br>My wrinkled fingers can reveal<br>More memories of Ruth than both<br>My eyes. Yes, there, a little growth,<br>And that will be her nose, and this,<br>Her cheek, where once I placed my kiss.

Obed!" "Yes, father?" "Take me and<br>The boy down by the gleaning stand.<br>You know the one." So Obed took<br>His father in his arms. A look<br>Told David to make wide the door.<br>He set him on a cart before<br>The cottage plot, and then the three<br>Of them, at dawn, rode happily<br>Down to the gleaning stand. The face<br>Of Boaz beamed as if the place<br>Were like a home, and he had been<br>Away for years. And Obed's grin<br>Burst into laughter once or twice,<br>As if he drove to paradise.

It was a bright and lucid dawn,<br>And both of these old men were drawn,<br>Not just by this well-seasoned mare,<br>But by a memory out there<br>Beyond the edge of Bethlehem,<br>Where bitter providence for them<br>Had been reversed, and God had turned<br>A famine into feast. It burned<br>Inside their hearts with hope,<br>And as they rode the final slope<br>Down to the gleaning stand, the two<br>Of them, one blind and due<br>In heaven thirty years ago,<br>The other one with hair like snow,<br>Broke into song.
<blockquote>
"O barley field! O barley field!<br>When you were bent with heads,<br>I feasted on your ample yield<br>And ate your simple breads.

O barley field! O barley field!<br>All scorched with desert breath,<br>You starved the one I would have healed<br>And stole my love in death.

O barley field! O barley field!<br>A paradise in truth<br>You kept for me a better yield<br>And brought to me my Ruth."
</blockquote>
"Great grampa, you<br>Made up that song. But tell me who<br>You mean — the one you would have healed<br>But lost in death." The wagon wheeled<br>Down to the gleaning stand and stopped.<br>The morning sun warmed all, and topped<br>The half-grown grain with tiny crowns<br>Of gold, and wrapped the trees in gowns<br>Of yellow green. "Yes, David, I<br>Will answer you. But first now, try<br>To put yourself back eighty years.<br>Your grampa isn't born. Great fears<br>Grip all of Judah. Drought has left<br>The barley field unsown, bereft<br>Of even root and stem. I'm not<br>Quite nineteen years of age. This spot,<br>One year ago at seventeen,<br>I married Mara." "Do you mean,<br>Great grampa, you were married once<br>Before?" "I was, for fourteen months.

Eight weeks before she died, again<br>Here at the gleaning stand, the men<br>Persuaded me to leave, and go<br>With them to Moab. I should show,<br>They said, my bride more love, and take<br>Her to a place where there is cake<br>And wine. But when I told her of<br>The plan, she said, ‘Boaz, such love,<br>You know full well will not endear<br>Me to your soul. In this I hear<br>The counsel of Elimelech,<br>Your uncle. And I will not treck<br>To Moab in his godless train.<br>It is not love to trade for grain<br>Your God. I will not suck with these<br>The breast of foreign deities.<br>I'd rather starve beneath the wings<br>of God, than live with foreign kings.'<br>And so we stayed. Eight weeks, and she<br>Was dead — too weak and thin to see<br>The fever through. And as she died<br>She said, ‘Our God is on your side,<br>Boaz, and do not doubt that this<br>Is best. I know there is more bliss<br>In dying underneath the wings<br>Of God, than living by the springs<br>Of Chemosh. Boaz.' ‘Yes, I'm here.'<br>‘Boaz, I don't want you to fear.<br>I had a priceless dream last night.<br>I dreamed that God would show his might,<br>And take your bitter providence,<br>And by this famine here dispense<br>For you a feast — a wedding feast —<br>And make the greatest of the least,<br>And waken love when it has died,<br>And bring an unfamiliar bride<br>Into your life, and make this field<br>Of barley, barren once, to yield<br>Such seed as you have never dreamed.<br>And that he will be born esteemed<br>In this our little town, so small<br>Among the clans, and God will call<br>Him out of ancient days to sway<br>The nations with his rod. Don't say<br>That you were wrong. This very hour<br>God makes the sin of man, with power,<br>To serve your faithfulness. In ten<br>Short years you will be healed. And then . . .'

‘O, Mara, what of you?' ‘My task<br>Is done. The Lord did only ask<br>That I should serve to keep you here,<br>Lest out of mingled love and fear<br>You flee to Moab and make void<br>The mercy of your God. Employed<br>For such a God-like work, your bride<br>Is now content to step aside.'

And ten years later, David, there,<br>Just over there beside the stand, as fair<br>As any in the world, stood Ruth.<br>She rested in the gleaners' booth.<br>Ten years to turn the mutiny<br>Of sin into the ecstacy<br>Of faith. I knew that it was she<br>I watched her, breathless, steadily.<br>I still can see her tawny neck.<br>The daughter of Elimelech!<br>Do you see, David, why we sing?
<blockquote>
O barley field! O barley field!<br>A paradise in truth<br>You kept for me a better yield<br>And brought to me my Ruth.
</blockquote>
I'd rather live beneath the wing<br>Of God, or die there, if I must,<br>Than try to save my life by trust<br>In my own plans. O, David, do<br>You understand? O son, how few<br>There are who wait for God to act!<br>How few who trust the solid pact<br>That God has made, that he will work<br>For those who wait for him, nor shirk<br>One moment in a ten-year plan,<br>Or more. Perhaps he wills to span<br>A thousand years before the space<br>Of time is full for him to place<br>His final king upon the throne.<br>And when he does, it shall be known<br>That here in Bethlehem we played<br>A part.

If you are not afraid,<br>Tonight, God willing, we will ride<br>Down here again, and I will guide<br>You to the place that I love best<br>And sightless show you all the rest.

And so the light of candle three<br>Today, is meant to help us see,<br>That waiting is a holy work<br>Of faith in God. Nor does there lurk<br>Beneath the timing of his ways<br>Some secret malice that displays<br>Itself in holding back the flow<br>Of future grace. God does not go<br>From here to there by shortest routes;<br>He makes a place for faith and doubts.<br>Nor does he hasten on his way,<br>But comes when it is best, today,<br>Or maybe twenty years from now,<br>Or more. With Boaz we will bow<br>To God, and there embrace the truth:<br>Some serve like Mara, others Ruth.