Visible Goodness
Day 300 – 27 October
Kindness That Never Left Off
“And Naomi said unto her daughter in law, Blessed be he of the LORD, who hath not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead.” (Ruth 2:20, KJV)
Handfuls Dropped on Purpose
Ruth went out to the barley fields of Bethlehem with nothing but a hope. “Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of corn after him in whose sight I shall find grace,” she told Naomi, and as it turned out “her hap was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz, who was of the kindred of Elimelech” (Ruth 2:2–3).
After the mealtime Boaz gave his workers an unusual order. “Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not: and let fall also some of the handfuls of purpose for her, and leave them, that she may glean them, and rebuke her not” (Ruth 2:15–16). The phrase “let fall” translates shol tashollu (you shall surely draw out), from shalal (to draw out, to pull loose), which Brown-Driver-Briggs explains in this verse as “draw out” from the bundles. The reapers were to pull stalks loose from their own sheaves and leave them lying where she would find them, so that she could gather them without feeling like an object of charity.
Why Have I Found Grace?
That kindness reached a woman who expected none. When Boaz first spoke to her, Ruth “fell on her face, and bowed herself to the ground, and said unto him, Why have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou shouldest take knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger?” (Ruth 2:10).
She was a foreigner from Moab, a widow, with nothing of her own. Her question carries the theme we followed last week: goodness made visible prompts people to ask why. Boaz answered that he had heard all she had done for her mother-in-law, and he blessed her by the God of Israel, “under whose wings thou art come to trust” (Ruth 2:12). The kindness in that field made no distinctions. It gathered in a Moabite stranger as readily as anyone born in Bethlehem.
An Evening Question
Ruth worked until evening and beat out “about an ephah of barley” (Ruth 2:17), a generous load for a single day’s gleaning. When she carried it home, Naomi asked at once, “Where hast thou gleaned to day? and where wroughtest thou? blessed be he that did take knowledge of thee.” Ruth told her, “The man’s name with whom I wrought to day is Boaz” (Ruth 2:19).
At the sound of that name something changed in Naomi. This was a woman who had buried her husband and both her sons in Moab (Ruth 1:3–5) and had come home grieving. Now, with an ephah of barley on the table, she saw that goodness had been travelling beside her all along.
Kindness That Never Let Go
Naomi’s words are the heart of the passage: “Blessed be he of the LORD, who hath not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead.” In Hebrew the phrase is lo-‘azav chasdo (he has kept his kindness, never abandoning it). The verb is ‘azav (to leave, to let go, to forsake), and Strong’s defines it as “to loosen, i.e. relinquish.” The noun is chesed (steadfast kindness, loyal love), the faithful love that keeps its commitments. Brown-Driver-Briggs lists this very verse under the sense “leave unexercised,” a kindness the LORD has never left unused.
Scholars note that the Hebrew can be read of the LORD or of Boaz, since either could be the one whose kindness never let go. Both readings lead to the same place. The loyal love Naomi saw in a kinsman’s field was the LORD’s own kindness reaching her through a human hand, and it had been with her through every day of her grief, through Moab, through the funerals and through the long road home. Nothing in God’s heart had changed. What changed was that Naomi could see it.
Tuesday’s Handfuls
Someone near you is gleaning today, picking up what they can from a hard season. Drop a few handfuls on purpose. Pay for a coffee, send the encouraging message, finish the task a tired colleague left half done, and do it discreetly enough that nobody feels like a charity case.
And if you are the one gleaning, look again at the field. The kindness that never left Naomi has never left you either. Somewhere in this ordinary Tuesday, handfuls lie waiting where you will find them.
Declaration
The love that walked beside me through loss is still beside me today. I see the handfuls left on purpose in my path, and I give thanks. I leave some of my own for others to find, gently and without fuss. No stranger is beyond the reach of grace, and I treat each one as welcome. Let those I help sense a care larger than mine, and let them come to trust the One who shelters us all.
Every Day Begins with a Thought © 2026 Promise Ave. All rights reserved.
