Going from Ruth to Boaz

Toward the end of our eating on a dollar a day, I read the book of Ruth and was struck by its beauty. (If you have not read Ruth recently, you can read it here.)

It is a glorious story of love, faith, and redemption that foreshadows Jesus. Ruth, a foreign widowed woman, moves to Bethlehem with her widowed mother-in-law Naomi. Unable to provide food for themselves, Ruth gathers leftover grain in one of the fields. Boaz, the owner of the field, eventually marries Ruth, and from their children comes the lineage of David, which is the line of Christ.

What a great picture! As I read through the book, two major points stuck out to me:

1. Ruth is incredibly needy.
2. Boaz is a gracious provider.

Of course, these aren't incredibly profound observations, but they meant a lot to me in light of my eating position.

I was Ruth.

I bet everyone has felt like her at some point: incredibly needy. Maybe not with food, but somehow in great need. But it is a great comfort to see that just as Boaz steps in and provides for Ruth, Christ steps in and provides for me.

In some sense, I am always Ruth. Jesus will always be my redeemer in that way, and I am forever grateful.


Still, I couldn't help but notice one part of chapter three. It reads:

Then [Ruth] told [Naomi] everything
Boaz had done for her and added,
"He gave me these six measures of barley, saying,
'Don't go back to your mother-in-law empty-handed.'"

I wondered then,

"When am I Boaz?"

In relation to Christ, I am always Ruth, always the one in great need. But in relation to other people, sometimes I am in a position of neediness and other times I am in a position to provide.

Sometimes I have six measures of barley to give.

As I closed the final week of our experience eating sparsely (as Ruth), I realized I was about to re-enter a state of comparative wealthiness (as Boaz). There is nothing wrong with being Boaz, as long as I give to the Ruths around me. I can't let them go empty-handed.

When I am Ruth, I must be willing to accept giving. When I am Boaz, I must be willing to give.

My giving need not be great, but it must be willing. After all, it only really takes A Dollar to Remember.

My collection of gods

This was my final meal on just a dollar. Of course, it had to be oatmeal.

It's been one week now since I've been able to eat "normally" again. It feels good, I'll be honest. I've thought long and hard about this whole experience, and I have reached a conclusion.

Here is the biggest thing I've learned:

Eating easily becomes my god.
So does not eating.

The first of God's ten commandments given to Moses was You shall have no other gods before me. I realize now just how often I don't live up to that.

At the beginning of this project, while I was still adjusting to eating much less, I saw just how dependant I'd been on food. It wasn't just for nourishment, but for comfort, boredom, loneliness, and a whole list of other things. Without even realizing it, I made food my god.

Toward the end of the project, when I had mastered the "rules" of our dollar-a-day eating, I realized one day that I had started worshipping not-eating instead. It dominated much of my thinking, my conversation, my lifestyle. Without realizing it, I made the absence of food my god.

It's crazy to me how that works. It makes me realize just how easily I put gods before God.

But it's not only food. Sometimes reading becomes my god. Or my time spent with certain people. Or politics and current events. Or blogging. None of those things are bad in themselves, but I often allow them to consume parts of my life. In doing so, I begin to worship them.

They become my collection of gods.

I don't want to sound pessimistic here. This collection of gods is not the final word. Looking back on the experience and my god-worship, I realize two big things:

1. I am more sinful than I thought, which makes me see my need for Jesus more. I sin when I eat; I sin when I don't eat. Thankfully, I worship a God who says that if I confess my sin, He is faithful and just to forgive me. I don't understand that kind of forgiveness, but I am forever grateful for it.


2. Seeing glory in the gift should always lead me to glory of the Giver of those gifts. Food is a gift from God. So are people around me and books and, yes, even blogging. If I worship these things, they become sin. But they can also lead me to see deeper greatness and grace of God. That is a great thing.

Last Sunday, on the day I was able to eat again, I ran across one passage in I Corinthians. It reads:

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."

He is God Almighty, infinitely greater than my trinket collection of gods. He deserves that glory.

Not forgotten

I haven't forgotten to post my final thoughts. I have simply chosen to wait a short while for two reason:

1. I haven't been feeling 100% lately. My stomach is having a tough time readjusting.
2. More importantly, I don't want to make hasty judgments. I want to think through the experience completely before making any remarks on it.

Thank you for your patience. I will post my final thoughts by the end of the weekend. Best,

Nathan

Day 46: The Final Day

This is the last day of eating on a dollar a day. Tomorrow is Easter, and I will have a full "normal" lunch after the Sunday service to break the fast.

I am excited and exhausted at the same time. These last few days have been especially difficult, feeling like the last leg of a long marathon. Still, I am satisfied, knowing our mission has been fulfilled.

At the bottom of this blog has been written a single verse from Galatians. It comes from the time when the Apostle Paul and Barnabas are about to separate from Peter, James, and John and move in different directions in their ministry of the gospel. At that moment, Paul makes one simple note:

"All they asked was that we should
continue to remember the poor,
the very thing I was eager to do."

So Laura and I put up A Dollar to Remember with a similar goal. And we have remembered. It has been a humbling, enlightening, frustrating, joyous journey. I am grateful for the experience.

Over the next few days, I will continue to blog about my closing thoughts and greatest lessons. Until then, here is all the food I have eaten over the past month and a half:


Week 7

Week 6

Week 5

Week 4

Week 3

Week 2

Week 1

All food costs from 46 days:

$45.98

Day 45: Knowing Our Weaknesses

How rich are you?

This is the question of globalrichlist.com. It lets you type in your annual income and see how you compare to the rest of the world. And it's a humbling experience.

For instance, a person working one full time job at just minimum wage in the U.S. ends up in the top 12.84% in the world:



This in itself is a sobering perspective. My first reaction is to say, "Wow, things may be tough, but they could be worse!"

Still, I can't help but wonder what that bottom 1% of people looks like. What is it like for those whose poverty actually couldn't get any worse? What are they supposed to say?

It brought to mind a part of the book of Hebrews that encourages us to hold firm to our faith. The author writes:

"We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

No matter our situation, Christ can identify with our weaknesses. All of them. And he offers us grace and mercy in our time of need according to his wisdom.

On this Good Friday, in the last few days of eating sparsely, I can't help but read that and smile. What a great God!

Day 44: Tasting Spring

Today is officially the first day of spring.

I've never been good with poetry, but I think 17th century poet Anne Bradstreet had some profound words on spring:

"If we had no winter,
the spring would not be so pleasant.
If we did not sometimes taste of adversity,
prosperity would not be so welcome."

So true. Now that I've taste the wintry side of poverty, I know that once I am able to eat again, it will be as welcome and pleasant as spring. Oddly, the wintry experience makes the spring even sweeter.

Still, once my day of spring arrives in a couple days, I don't want to forget what it was like in winter. I hope to continue to see poverty in this new light.

This is why I was so glad to find freerice.com, an organization that lets us help fight poverty around the world simply through the power of supporter advertising. (It's also helpful to build our vocabulary. Win-win situation!)


Here's a short video on the project:


While I am tasting spring, I want to help those still in winter.

Day 43: I'm (relatively) Hungry

"I'm starving." I used to say this all the time.

I didn't really mean "I'm so hungry that I need a doctor." I just meant that compared to other days or people around me, "I'm (relatively) hungry."

One of my psychology professors last semester has lately been researching the related concept of shifting standards. In her book, Standards and Expectancies, she writes:

"It is almost a truism to say that life is relative--that our experiences and judgments of people, things, and events occur against the backdrop of some comparative standard or frame of refefence. My claims that 'I'm hungry' or 'my daughter is brilliant' or 'that haircut is ghastly' are all things made with reference to some standard... [S]uch statements imply more x (more brilliance) than others, and they are therefore inherently comparative" (Monica Biernat).

Am I poor? What about in comparison to each of these men?













When I say that a person is poor, what I really mean is that he is poorer than me or than the general population. But if the standard of poverty shifts in relation to Bill Gates, for instance, than suddenly I am just as poor as the next guy.

Jesus himself calls this out in the book of Revelation: "You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked."

So what does all this mean? It levels the playing field a bit. Somehow, we're all now in the same needy boat--relative to God. As a needy man myself, the only answer is to look to the only One who is never needy: my Lord.

Suddenly, my cry becomes that of King David in Psalm 70:

Yet I am poor and needy;
come quickly to me, O God.
You are my help and my deliverer;
O LORD, do not delay.
I'm starving. We all are.