Ruth: She Watches and Wonders
The closing day of the Read + Repeat: Ruth study ends a bit differently from the weeks before. Ruth leaves us with a legacy—proof of God’s providence not only in redeeming her story, but in weaving her life into the lineage of Christ, who would redeem us all. We close with these thoughts, imagining what she might think as she looks at Jesus with Heaven’s eyes.
This description, drawn from the study, offers a glimpse into the biblical and cultural background behind those words:
As we close our time in Ruth, let’s step back and see the larger story God is telling. In Jewish tradition, Ruth is read during the Festival of Weeks—Shavuot in Hebrew, known as Pentecost in the New Testament. This festival celebrates both the wheat harvest and the giving of God’s law at Mount Sinai, seven weeks after Passover. The timing matters: in God’s pattern, rescue comes first, then relationship. Freedom, like the Exodus from Egypt, is followed by covenant—God’s promises and ways.
Ruth’s story fits beautifully here. It unfolds during harvest, and her redemption by Boaz points to a greater redemption in Jesus. Boaz publicly welcomed an outsider into God’s family, just as Christ would one day welcome us.
Fast forward hundreds of years: Jesus shares Passover with His disciples at the Last Supper. He is arrested, crucified, and rises from the dead. Fifty days later—Pentecost again—something extraordinary happens. In Acts 2, God pours out His Spirit. The gospel is spoken in every language, and more outsiders are welcomed in. The Church is born. The story doesn’t end in a barley field or even in Bethlehem. It’s still unfolding.
Matthew 26:30 tells us that after the Last Supper, Jesus and His disciples sang a hymn before going to the Mount of Olives. Most scholars believe it was part of the Hallel (Psalms 113–118)—songs of praise and deliverance sung at festivals like Passover and Pentecost. Ruth wouldn’t have known those exact psalms, but she would have heard her own harvest songs—gratitude rising with the rhythm of reaping.
And now, I like to imagine her among the “cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1). Not just watching, but cheering us on. God’s kindness didn’t stop with her rescue, and it hasn’t stopped with yours. It will carry us all the way to restoration.
Just as Ruth and Naomi journeyed together through hardship, heading home to the promised land, we too walk this shared road. Together, we’re heading home—home to heaven.
She Watches and Wonders
A narrative from Ruth’s perspective in eternity
I didn’t know my name would be remembered.
Not like this.
I didn’t know that barley fields and aching nights,
That whispered prayers in the dark,
Would be read aloud for generations.
That my story—of famine and faith,
Of gleaning and grace,
Of foreigner to family—
Would echo through time.
But every year, during Shavuot—
The Feast of Firstfruits—
They read my name.
They read our story.
And now, from where I sit, I watch.
Not in question, but in wonder.
From heaven, I see Him.
The One Boaz pointed to.
The Redeemer greater than my own.
His mother journeyed to Bethlehem too—pregnant with promise.
What a welcome He received—shepherds, angels, gifts.
And now He sits in an upper room with His friends.
Bread. Wine. The weight of what’s to come.
He kneels to wash their feet.
The God of the universe—postured low—showing them how to love.
Then, after the meal, they sing.
The Hallel.
I lean in.
“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;
His steadfast love endures forever.”
Yes. His hesed. I lived it.
“The Lord is my strength and my song;
He has become my salvation.”
True—oh, how true.
“The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone...
This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Even this day—this heavy, holy day—He calls good.
“The Lord is God, and He has given us light.
Bind the festival sacrifice with cords to the horns of the altar.”
He is singing Himself to the cross.
This is His threshing floor.
Where He will cover His people—
Not with fabric, but with blood.
He’s taken. Beaten. Crucified.
I weep. And I worship.
All of heaven roars in praise of His sacrifice—
And louder still at His victory.
I remember death.
Mahlon. Chilion. Elimelech.
Naomi’s heartbreak.
The quiet finality of the grave.
But this Redeemer—He rises.
Death cannot hold Him.
I watch His friends rejoice at His return—
Then weep as He ascends.
But like Boaz, He doesn’t just speak of hope—
He acts.
He sends.
The Spirit.
Wind. Fire.
It descends.
And there—Peter.
Oh, Peter. Bold, faltering Peter.
So much like Naomi—so much like me.
Standing in the light now, proclaiming that the promise is for everyone.
Even women like me.
Even foreigners.
And they hear it—in their own language.
More strangers welcomed.
More redemption poured out.
The story keeps going.
Their story.
Your story.
So come close, friend.
I want to lean in and take your hand.
To tell you myself:
You are welcomed.
You are wanted.
You belong at His table.
You’ve been redeemed.
Bring Him your pain, your loss, your questions.
He is the God who holds the whole story—and the intimate details of your days.
So run, daughter. Reap with joy.
Take your place in the story.
Because the Redeemer lives.
And the harvest?It’s far from over.
Let these words cover you—from my side of eternity to yours:
“Blessed be the Lord, who has not left you this day without a redeemer.” —Ruth 4:14