|
"She said to them, 'Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi, when the LORD has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?' " (Ruth 1:20–21).
There are seasons when life feels reduced to one word: empty. Not just tired. Not just disappointed. Empty. And when that feeling becomes palpable, it becomes easy to shrink life down to what feels safe, manageable, and survivable. In grief, Naomi had every reason to feel empty, and it's not just her (Ruth 1:1–5).
Joshua stood at the edge of the unknown. God didn't give him certainty; He gave him His presence. "Be strong and courageous ... for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9). Joshua's strength wasn't found in himself but in the God who went with him.
Joseph’s story carries the same pattern: betrayed by his brothers, thrown into a pit, forgotten in prison. He had every reason to withdraw, to settle into survival, to assume his life had been reduced to what others did to him. Empty. But God was with him in every place: pit, prison, and palace. That presence sustained him long enough to see that what was meant for evil, God was shaping for good, and to teach the next generation what God’s grace can restore (Gen. 50:20–21).
Naomi returned to Bethlehem convinced her story had ended in emptiness. But while she named her grief, hurt, loss, and bitterness, God was already writing redemption. Through Ruth's loyalty and Boaz's kindness, God did more than restore Naomi; He used her for His saving work. A child is born — Obed — and from Obed came Jesse; from Jesse came David; and from David came Jesus Christ (Ruth 4:14–17; Luke 2:4–7).
What Naomi called empty, God used as the doorway to bring His own Son into the world. What looks like time wasted, a future reduced, and a light extinguished was the very pathway in which the Word made flesh would illuminate the path to reconciliation between God and His, albeit sinful, people. On the cross, the pain of death would be where God would graft those eternally dead in sin into their eternal life in Christ (Rom. 6).
And this is where Christ enters our story too. Because we don’t just read about strength in Joshua, faithfulness in Joseph, or redemption in the book of Ruth — we receive a Savior who steps into our emptiness and fills it with Himself. Jesus does not stand at a distance from our weakness. He carries us through it. He gives strength for the hard things. He supplies what we lack so that we can keep walking when we would otherwise stop. He brings life to the things that in sin ought to be dead — life to you and me. He allows us not just to hear empty words, unfulfilled promises, or weak platitudes, but does what needed to be done so that the Word made flesh would call us into blessing and restoration (James 1:20–25).
So don't settle for survival. Don't call it empty as though God has stopped working. Carry Christ into your week, your summer, your next step. You don't move forward because you're strong enough. You move forward because Christ is with you, and His strength is already carrying you. In Christ, empty moments, empty places, and empty spaces are never final.
Maybe we should stop calling it empty?
| 
