Free Unshaken by Francine Rivers

Jericho. Unashamed, she had boldly declared to them her faith in Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews. She’d risked her life to be aligned with God and His people. One of those spies had been his father, Salmon. And God had blessed both his parents, for they had loved one another throughout their lives.
    Nevertheless, God had warned His people against the miseries of yoking themselves to foreigners. Men were too easily seduced away from God by the wiles of women. But what constituted a foreigner? Surely this young Moabitess was one of God’s people. She had declared her faith by turning her back on life in Moab and coming to Bethlehem with Naomi. This girl was like his mother, who had been a standing stone of faith among a mountain of loose gravel. Boaz often wondered if it wasn’t faith—not just Hebrew blood—that declared one chosen by God. For surely it was and always had been God who selected those who would belong to Him.
    But perhaps that was merely the old hurt rising within Boaz, rationalizing and justifying the match his father had made. Even after all these years, he felt the pang of rejection. Hadn’t he been turned away as a suitor because he was half Canaanite? There were those among God’s people who thought the bloodline to Abraham was all that God counted as righteous, and faith a mere by-product of blood.
    Boaz paused at the edge of his field, gazing back at the young woman gleaning behind his reapers. She gathered a stalk here and a stalk there, cradling them in her arms. Her attire proclaimed her a young woman of the city. Yet, here she was in his field, doing backbreaking work in the heat of the day, and grateful for the opportunity. And why did she work so hard? To provide for her Hebrew mother-in-law. Were there any young women among his people that would do such a thing for someone not of Abraham’s blood?
    Something stirred within him, pain and pleasure at the same time. How long since he had felt this yearning? He smiled in self-mockery and turned away.
    A pity Ruth was so young, and he so old.

          
    Ruth heard a man call her name. When she glanced up, she saw Boaz standing before the shelter, motioning for her to come. “Come over here and help yourself to some of our food. You can dip your bread in the wine if you like.”
    Her heart thumped heavily as she placed her gleanings in a careful bundle and left them where she had been working. She was amazed that a man of his station would take notice of a dirty, sweating foreigner at all, let alone invite her to share a meal with his workers. Before entering the shelter, she washed her hands in the water provided. She was embarrassed by the curious looks of his workers. The men perused her from the hem of her dress to the top of her head, while the women whispered among themselves.
    “May I sit here?” she said at an open place among his maidservants.
    The girl sitting closest moved over. “Should I say no when the master has invited you?”
    Ruth’s face went hot. When she sat down, she noticed how the girl beside her shifted again, increasing the distance between them. Folding her hands in her lap, she bowed her head and closed her eyes as Boaz blessed the food. When he finished, those around her began to talk among themselves again. They made no effort to include her in their conversation, nor did she expect it of them. She was surprised to see the master himself serving his workers. When Boaz came to her, he gave her a double portion. She glanced up in surprise and saw him frowning down at her hands. She drew them back and clasped them beneath the table again. Had she committed some breach of etiquette? When she dared look up, the others glanced away, talking among themselves. She was so hungry her stomach rumbled loudly, embarrassing her even more. Boaz had given her more than enough to satisfy her hunger. She put half of the double portion of bread into her shawl for Naomi, and then tore off a piece of the second portion