HOPE IN HARD PLACES
Ruth 1:1-5
Introduction
Good morning, it’s great to be with you today.
I want to invite you to turn with me to the book of Ruth, a small book tucked away in the pages of the Old Testament.
Ruth is an great book and it tells an extraordinary story. One of deep pain and quiet faithfulness, and it’s all set against the backdrop of God’s steady and often unseen work in our lives.
Ruth’s story is a story where hardship is real, where loss is heavy, and where questions seem to remain unanswered (for a long time). However, woven through every page of this book is the unmistakable thread of God’s goodness. It’s a story of hope and provision.
At its heart, Ruth reminds us of a simple but sustaining truth. Even when life is hard, God is still good. Even when circumstances seem to unravel, God still remains present!
So, if you have your Bible open, look with me at Ruth chapter 1, beginning in verse 1:
1 “In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land. So a man from Bethlehem in Judah, together with his wife and two sons, went to live for a while in the country of Moab. 2 The man’s name was Elimelek, his wife’s name was Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Kilion. They were Ephrathites from Bethlehem, Judah. And they went to Moab and lived there. 3 Now Elimelek, Naomi’s husband, died, and she was left with her two sons. 4They married Moabite women, one named Orpah and the other Ruth. After they had lived there about ten years, 5both Mahlon and Kilion also died, and Naomi was left without her two sons and her husband.” — Ruth 1:1–5 (NIV)
The story of Ruth opens with a clear reference to its setting. These events took place during the time when the judges ruled Israel. That detail matters.
The period of the judges was a long season marked by instability, moral confusion, and spiritual drift. Leadership was inconsistent. Faithfulness was uneven. The people of God repeatedly wandered from obedience and then cried out in desperation.
Scripture describes it plainly in Judges 21:25:
“In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” — Judges 21:25 (NIV)
It was one of the darkest and most uncertain chapters in Israel’s history. And it is against that backdrop that this story unfolds.
Ruth does not begin with victory or celebration. It begins with famine, relocation, and loss. Hunger drives a family from their home. Death strips a woman of her husband and eventually her sons. The book opens not with answers, but with grief.
And that matters, because in Scripture, hope rarely begins with resolution. More often, it begins in silence. It begins in sorrow. It begins in places where the future feels unclear and the questions feel heavier than the faith.
The opening chapter of Ruth reminds us of something we are prone to forget when life feels unfamiliar and heavy. God is not absent in seasons of loss. He is still at work. He is still guiding. He is still unfolding His purposes, even when we cannot yet see the outcome.
This story calls us to more than survival. It invites us to trust when clarity is missing, to remain faithful when circumstances are painful, and to choose hope in the middle of uncertainty. Ruth chapter one challenges us to believe that God’s redemptive work does not begin after the pain has passed, but right in the middle of it.
So as we walk through this chapter together, here is the truth I want us to hold onto. Hope is not found by denying what hurts, but by trusting God as we walk through it.
And with that truth before us, the first movement of this story calls us to do something essential.
1. Tell the truth about your loss without surrendering hope.
Naomi’s life unravels quickly, and Scripture doesn’t try to soften the blow.
Ruth tells us plainly what happens next:
“Now Elimelek, Naomi’s husband, died, and she was left with her two sons.
They married Moabite women, one named Orpah and the other Ruth. After they had lived there about ten years, both Mahlon and Kilion also died, and Naomi was left without her two sons and her husband.” — Ruth 1:3–5 (NIV)
In just a few verses, Naomi loses everything that once defined her life. Her husband dies. Her sons die. With them go her security, her lineage, and her sense of future. Scripture doesn’t rush this moment or dress it up. It simply tells the truth. Naomi is left.
To understand the weight of this loss, we have to remember the world Naomi lived in. In the ancient world, a woman’s well-being was closely tied to her husband and sons. Their presence meant protection, provision, and identity. Their absence meant vulnerability. So Naomi’s grief isn’t only emotional. It’s social. It’s economic. It’s deeply personal. She’s left exposed, uncertain, and alone.
When Naomi finally returns to Bethlehem, her pain comes pouring out in words that are raw and honest. She tells the women of the town:
“Don’t call me Naomi,” she told them. “Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me.” — Ruth 1:20–21 (NIV)
Naomi doesn’t hide her disappointment. She doesn’t soften her grief. She speaks from the depth of her sorrow. And what’s striking to me is that Scripture doesn’t correct her emotions. It doesn’t silence her pain. It simply records it.
And that matters, because throughout Scripture, God gives us permission to tell the truth about our losses. Faith doesn’t require denial. Trust doesn’t demand that we minimize what hurts. God doesn’t ask us to pretend everything is fine when it’s not. Instead,
Scripture reminds us:
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”— Psalm 34:18 (NIV)
God draws near, not after the pain has passed, but right in the middle of it.
After more than thirty years of pastoring, I’ve learned that one of the quiet dangers in the church is the pressure to rush healing. Sometimes, without meaning to, we communicate that grief should move quickly, that sorrow should be resolved neatly, and that strong faith means getting past pain as soon as possible. We worry that if we acknowledge loss too honestly, it might sound like a lack of faith.
But the book of Ruth reminds us that honest lament isn’t the enemy of faith. In fact, it’s often the doorway to deeper faith. Scripture gives space for sorrow, for questions, and for tears. God isn’t threatened by our grief, and He isn’t offended by our honesty. He meets us in it.
Lamentations 3:31 states:
“For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” — Lamentations 3:31–33 (NIV)
A.W. Tozer once reflected on the way God works in our lives through pain. He wrote,
“It is doubtful whether God can bless a person greatly until He has hurt them deeply.
That statement isn’t a celebration of suffering, and it certainly isn’t suggesting that God delights in pain. Rather, it’s an honest recognition that God doesn’t waste our suffering.
Often, the deepest work God does in us happens after the layers we depend on have been stripped away. Pain has a way of exposing what truly matters, refining our faith, and reshaping our trust.
In those seasons, suffering doesn’t mean God has abandoned us. It often means He’s forming us in ways comfort never could.
That brings us back to the heart of biblical hope.
Hope in Scripture isn’t pretending things are fine. It’s not forced optimism or spiritual denial. Biblical hope has the courage to say, “This hurts,” while still believing that God isn’t finished. It allows us to tell the truth about what we’ve lost while trusting God with what’s still ahead.
Some of us need that reminder today. It’s possible to love God deeply and still feel devastated by circumstances. We can trust Him sincerely and still carry the weight of sorrow. Naomi’s grief doesn’t disqualify her from God’s purposes. In fact, it becomes the very soil where redemption will eventually grow.
Here’s the quiet grace in this chapter. Naomi believes her story is over. She believes God has dealt harshly with her. But God hasn’t stepped away. He remains near. He’s still at work, even in her emptiness.
Loss isn’t the end of Naomi’s story. And it doesn’t have to be the end of ours either. Very often, loss is the place where God begins writing a new chapter. What feels like an ending may actually be the slow and painful beginning of something redemptive.
And while this story lingers for a moment on what’s been lost, it doesn’t stay there. God is already moving, quietly and faithfully, toward something new.
And this second truth within this story calls us to do something else. It calls us to:
2. Recognize the faithful people God uses to sustain hope.
It’s at this point in the story that we’re introduced more fully to Ruth, Naomi’s daughter-in-law.
That detail matters, because Ruth isn’t an Israelite. She’s a Moabite. She’s a foreigner, someone who lived outside the spiritual and cultural life of Israel. She didn’t grow up knowing the stories of Abraham or Moses. She wasn’t raised under the Law or shaped by Israel’s worship. By every measure, she’s an outsider.
And if anyone had a reason to walk away at this moment, it was Ruth.
Naomi has nothing left to offer her. Their husbands are gone. With them went protection, provision, and any clear sense of future. There’s no guarantee of security. No promise of stability. Ruth could return to her people and start again. That option is open to her.
In fact, Naomi urges her to go. But will not. She commits to staying there with her mother-in-law. But understand, her decision isn’t driven by obligation or convenience. It’s an act of loyalty. Scripture describes this moment with a kind of love that goes deeper than emotion.
The Hebrew word that best captures Ruth’s posture is “hesed.”
“Hesed” is a steadfast, covenant kind of love. It’s a faithful love that refuses to walk away when things get hard. It’s a love that stays when leaving would make more sense. And, that’s the kind of love God shows toward His people, and it’s the kind of love Ruth shows Naomi.
In fact, later on in this chapter, Ruth puts words to her commitment, words that you may recognize, because they’ve been used time and time again — echoing throughout history. She says:
“Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.” — Ruth 1:16 (NIV)
In that moment, hope shows up, but not as a miracle and not as a solution. Hope shows up as loyalty. It shows up as presence. It shows up as someone refusing to walk away.
And that’s important for us to notice, because we often expect hope to arrive as a breakthrough. We look for answers, clarity, or immediate change. But more often than not, hope arrives quietly. It comes through people who simply stay. People who carry faith when we’re struggling to find our own.
Scripture reminds us of that truth in simple, practical ways. Proverbs tells us:
“A friend loves at all times.” — Proverbs 17:17 (NIV)
Ecclesiastes adds:
“Two are better than one…If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NIV)
And Paul says it plainly:
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2 (NIV)
God often carries His hope into our lives through faithful people who show up, stay close, and help us bear what we can’t carry alone.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer once captured this idea when he wrote:
“The Christ in my brother is stronger than the Christ in me.”
In other words, there are seasons when we can’t see clearly. Seasons when our faith feels thin and our hope feels fragile. And in those moments, God allows someone else to stand with us, to strengthen us, and sometimes even to believe for us.
So if you’re walking through a hard season, don’t overlook the Ruths God has placed around you. They may not be able to fix what’s broken. They may not remove all the pain. But their presence is evidence that God hasn’t forgotten you. Hope often comes through faithful people.
But there’s another layer to this story that’s worth noticing.
Ruth’s faithfulness doesn’t just bless Naomi. It reveals God’s heart. God is already working redemption through someone the world would least expect. A Moabite woman becomes an instrument of God’s grace. She becomes a sign of hope. In time, she becomes part of the lineage of King David. And generations later, Jesus Himself will enter the world through her line.
That matters, because it reminds us that God’s hope isn’t limited to the powerful, the impressive, or the religious elite. God delights in using ordinary people. Faithful people. Willing people. People who simply say yes and stay when it would be easier to leave.
So don’t miss this truth. Hope often comes through faithful people.
And yet, even with Ruth standing beside her, Naomi is still hurting. The situation hasn’t changed. The losses are still real. Scripture still describes her as bitter, heavy-hearted, and struggling to see clearly.
And that reminds us of something else that’s important. Even when hope is standing right next to us, it can still be hard to believe that God is for us.
3. Trust God’s work even when hope feels far away.
Look with me again at the closing verses of this chapter:
“So the two women went on until they came to Bethlehem. When they arrived in Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them, and the women exclaimed, ‘Can this be Naomi?’ ‘Don’t call me Naomi,’ she told them. ‘Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me.’ So Naomi returned from Moab accompanied by Ruth the Moabite, her daughter-in-law, arriving in Bethlehem as the barley harvest was beginning.” — Ruth 1:19–22 (NIV)
When Naomi returns to Bethlehem, she doesn’t hide her pain. The women recognize her and ask, “Can this be Naomi?” In other words, she looks like someone who’s been through something.
And her response is as honest as it is heartbreaking. “Don’t call me Naomi,” which means pleasant. “Call me Mara,” which means bitter. Naomi believes her suffering defines her story. She interprets her pain as evidence that God has turned against her.
If we’re honest, many of us have stood in that same place. When loss piles up, it’s easy to assume that silence means absence, and that hardship means God has stepped away.
But the reader knows something Naomi doesn’t yet see. God is already at work.
One of the most beautiful and hopeful details in this chapter is tucked into the final line. Ruth tells us they arrived in Bethlehem “as the barley harvest was beginning.”
I know it’s easy to overlook that brief phrase, but it’s significant and carries enormous weight in this story.
While Naomi feels empty, God is positioning her for provision. While she feels forgotten, God is quietly setting the stage for redemption.
One quick note here: Harvest language in Scripture always points toward hope! It speaks of God’s faithfulness, His provision, and His ability to bring life out of what once looked barren.
So, while Naomi can’t see it, her timing isn’t accidental — because God was at work. And, her arrival back in Bethlehem aligns perfectly with God’s purposes.
Don’t miss this: Hope often moves ahead of our awareness.
There are seasons when God’s work isn’t loud or obvious. He doesn’t announce what He’s doing. He simply places us where grace will soon meet us. What feels like coincidence is often providence.
Charles Spurgeon once said,
“When you can’t trace His hand, you must trust His heart.”
Naomi can’t trace God’s hand at this moment. She can’t see how He’s working. But that doesn’t mean He isn’t. God is still at work, behind the scenes, quietly moving, faithfully shaping a future she can’t yet imagine.
That’s why Scripture reminds us:
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose.” — Romans 8:28 (NIV)
Let this be a reminder of the invitation for you and me today.
May we continue to trust that God is working even when hope feels distant. May we believe that our story isn’t finished, even when the chapter we are in feels heavy. Let’s remember that bitterness does not have to have the final word!
Even when we can’t see or understand what He is doing, let’s remember that He is near. And as Isaiah reminds us (in Isaiah 55:8–9), God says:
8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” — Isaiah 55:8–9
While Naomi arrived in Bethlehem believing her life is over, God was still at work. God was still positioning her for a future that she couldn’t yet imagine. Because, a redeemer is coming. Her family would yet be restored. And through her story, God will ultimately bring forth a Savior for the world.
Hope may feel distant, but it is never absent when God is involved.
Conclusion
The book of Ruth reminds us that hope is often quiet and unassuming.
It doesn’t force explanations or rush understanding. More often, it slips into the worn and uncertain places of our hearts and stays through faithfulness, even when leaving might feel easier.
Naomi couldn’t see it in chapter one, but God was already at work.
Ruth couldn’t fully understand it, but her faithfulness was already shaping redemption.
And the same is true for us. God often does His deepest work when hope feels distant and answers feel slow. So, if you’re walking through a hard place today, don’t give up. Don’t assume God is finished. Don’t believe the lie that this chapter is the final word. Stay faithful. Stay open. Stay close to the people God has placed beside you.
Trust that even now, God is writing a story bigger than you can see. Because when God is involved, hope is never absent.
Would you bow your head with me as we wrap us today?
Closing Prayer
Heavenly Father, we come today with our hearts wide open and honest before You. Some of us carry loss. Some of us feel uncertain. Some of us wonder where hope has gone. Thank You that You meet us exactly where we are. So Lord, we invite you to teach us to trust You even when the road feels unclear. Help us recognize the hope You are already placing around us and ahead of us. Give us faith to keep moving forward, believing that You are still writing our story. We pray this in Jesus’ name, amen.