Bye Bye Ben Gurion

At midnight the man [Boaz] was startled and turned over, and behold, a woman lay at his feet! He said, "Who are you?" And she answered, "I am Ruth, your servant. Spread your wings over your servant, for you are a redeemer." And he said, "May you be blessed by the LORD, my daughter. You have made this last kindness greater than the first in that you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich. And now, my daughter, do not fear. I will do for you all that you ask, for all my fellow townsmen know that you are a worthy woman.--Ruth 3:8-11

I passed through the highest levels of interrogation yesterday. Even got a full body check in a back room. Then, it happened. My knee brace. He frisked me and felt it. Alarm ensued, the red button kind. On the wall, three times. Ten men rushed into the room. The curtain pulled back in wonder.

How could I?

"You didn't tell me about this when I asked you if you had anything underneath. Why not?"

"You only asked me to empty my pockets." That was my honest response. Besides, it was only neoprene rubber. I injured my knee working out three months ago, and its been acting up lately.

Going to Ben Gurion airport was sort of like going to church back home: I got the wrong kind of attention for overdressing. From the moment I approached the entrance to the airport, my three layers of warm clothing drew suspicion. Never mind that I can get cold in air-conditioning and that I had no room in my luggage for the sweater and hoodie. I was passed from one security officer to another, some rude and some pleasantly apologetic. Nonetheless, I understood their concern for security, and I was happy for the last-minute bonus-round tour of Israel which they gave me free of charge--behind the locked doors of Ben Gurion airport security. I noticed that even these doors had Mezusas, which my escort religiously touched while entering. All this was much more interesting than waiting in line like all the others, and in the end, after winning an argument with the rude guy about whether IATA regulations allowed me to take my instrument as a carry-on, I was escorted past the lines to the boarding area. Along the way, my escort grinned and apologized, telling me I really got the full monty--the red button alarm only happens about 20 times per day-- a big deal, but not a big deal really.

Arriving in Malmö, Sweden, last night, I stayed with an old friend, Samuel, and then took a bus today up to Gothenburg, Sweden, where I'm staying with the kingpin of Sweden's Reformed believer's network. In my visit with him, I hope to gain a better understanding of how, and indeed if, God wants to use me for his kingdom work again in Scandinavia. His small group just met this evening. Most of it was in Swedish, which I understood pretty well. There are three other guys in the group though who are all theology buffs and were wrestling with the translations, trying to get at the meaning of John 16:16ff, especially concerning the meaning of praying in the Name of Jesus.

Since leaving the Holy Land yesterday, and during the hours spent soaring above the Mediterranean world of the New Testament lying in darkness below me, a different question has been occupying my thoughts, however. Under what circumstances, if someone is divorced, are they free to remarry?

For the choice good Boaz faced 3000 years ago, he knew what was right and acted on it. He saw beyond the condemning lables, Moabite and alien, and saw the beauty, the worthiness, of Ruth's heart. He saw the grace of God working in and through Ruth's life. He married the accursed alien, the Moabite widow. It was controversial, but the brave and good thing to do. That's the way grace is. It redeems. It can turn an act of faithlesness and disobedience-- Naomi leaving the promise land for (accursed) Moab and then marrying her sons to Moabites--into the greatest of blessings: faith for an accursed Moabite, Ruth, and a child (not just any child) for a childless Israelite, Naomi. Boaz came to understand what was right. But the choice for Boaz did not come without a cost. To be a Redeemer, as the Messiah was himself, implies sacrifice.