Ruth 1:1

When judges ruled and famine came,

A man set out with hope aflame.

From Bethlehem he sought to flee,

To stranger fields across the sea.

With wife and sons he crossed the line,

To Moab’s hills, beyond the vine.

But sorrow met them, sharp and deep,

And dreams once sown began to sleep.

Yet in this tale of loss and pain,

A seed of love would bloom again.

For even in the darkest night,

God weaves His plan in quiet light.

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Berean Standard Bible

In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land. And a certain man from Bethlehem in Judah, with his wife and two sons, went to reside in the land of Moab.

King James Bible

Now it came to pass in the days when the judges ruled, that there was a famine in the land. And a certain man of Bethlehemjudah went to sojourn in the country of Moab, he, and his wife, and his two sons.

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This opening verse of the Book of Ruth sets the historical and theological stage for the entire narrative. It begins not only with a time marker but also with an immediate sense of tension and displacement. Each phrase is carefully crafted to root the story in Israel’s broader history while introducing the personal struggles of an ordinary family—whose choices and tragedies will become the setting for divine providence and redemption.

The verse begins with the phrase “In the days when the judges ruled,” which establishes the time period in which the story takes place. This is a key contextual detail. The period of the judges, roughly spanning from the death of Joshua to the rise of the monarchy under Saul (approximately 1200–1050 BC), was characterized by cyclical patterns of sin, oppression, repentance, and deliverance. The spiritual and moral climate was largely chaotic and unstable, as the repeated refrain in the Book of Judges states: “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Judges 21:25). By situating the events of Ruth within this era, the author implicitly contrasts the disorder of the time with the quiet, faithful loyalty and integrity seen in Ruth, Boaz, and others in the narrative. It also anticipates the conclusion of Ruth, where the story points forward to the Davidic monarchy—the divinely sanctioned resolution to the anarchy of the judges’ era.

The next phrase, “there was a famine in the land,” introduces the first conflict. Famine, often a covenantal consequence in the Old Testament, can signify divine judgment or a period of testing. In Deuteronomy 28, for example, famine is listed among the curses for disobedience to the covenant. While the author does not explicitly interpret the famine here as judgment, the mention of famine so early in the story evokes a theological framework in which physical hardship is never random. It immediately introduces vulnerability and instability. The "land" in view is the Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey, and yet it is experiencing barrenness—a dramatic and painful irony. This sense of covenantal tension provides an undercurrent to the narrative, pressing the characters into action.

We then read that “a man of Bethlehem in Judah went to sojourn in the country of Moab.” The name Bethlehem means “house of bread,” further heightening the irony—there is no bread in the "house of bread." This man, unnamed in this verse (though later revealed to be Elimelech), is from a town destined to become significant in redemptive history, not only as the birthplace of David but also of Jesus Christ. His choice to leave Bethlehem because of famine introduces both a practical and spiritual dilemma. Moab was not only a foreign land but often a hostile neighbor to Israel. The Moabites had a contentious history with Israel, marked by conflict, idolatry, and mutual distrust (see Numbers 22–25, Deuteronomy 23:3–6). For an Israelite to move his family to Moab is not simply a geographical decision—it implies a departure from the land of promise and covenant security into a place associated with danger, compromise, and theological ambiguity.

The term “sojourn” suggests that the man did not intend to settle permanently but to live there temporarily—likely with hopes of surviving the famine and returning home. Yet as the story unfolds, what was meant to be a short-term solution leads to long-term consequences. The language here echoes the patriarchal narratives in Genesis, where figures like Abraham and Jacob left their land due to famine (Genesis 12:10, 47:4), often with mixed results. The motif of migration in response to famine serves to connect this family’s story to the broader biblical narrative and shows that God often works through human dislocation to bring about unexpected redemption.

The final clause—“he and his wife and his two sons”—introduces the family unit, the focus of the coming drama. The anonymity of the characters in this verse builds narrative tension and allows the focus to fall on their collective movement and vulnerability rather than on their individual identities—at least initially. This family of four will soon face profound loss and transformation, and their journey will lead to unexpected blessing not only for themselves but for the nation of Israel.

In summary, Ruth 1:1 is a tightly packed verse that lays the foundation for the story’s themes of providence, exile, return, loss, and redemption. It situates the narrative within a chaotic historical period, introduces hardship that drives the plot, and foreshadows theological tensions between faithfulness and foreignness, covenant and survival. Though the verse begins with famine and dislocation, it also quietly introduces the possibility that even in such times, God is at work preparing to bring about blessing, restoration, and fulfillment of His promises.

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Beloved in Christ, we turn today to a verse that opens one of the most tender and yet powerful books in all of Holy Scripture—the Book of Ruth. With but a few words, the Spirit begins a story of providence, loyalty, redemption, and grace. And though Ruth 1:1 may appear at first to be little more than background—a note of history, a setting of the stage—it contains, like a seed in the soil, the full mystery of God’s redemptive hand working through ordinary lives in desperate times.

The verse begins, “In the days when the judges ruled…” This is not a random note. It is a spiritual signpost. It tells us this story unfolds in a time of chaos, a time of moral confusion and national instability. The Book of Judges ends with these sobering words: “In those days there was no king in Israel; everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” It was a season of spiritual darkness, marked by cycles of rebellion, oppression, and deliverance. And it is precisely in such a time that this quiet story of Ruth unfolds. Let us take heed: God does not stop working when the world seems broken. He does not retreat when the judges fail. His hand moves even in the margins, in the lives of the overlooked, in the pain of a single family.

The Word continues, “There was a famine in the land.” O brothers and sisters, consider the irony. Bethlehem—Bet Lechem, the “House of Bread”—was a land without bread. The place meant for provision became a place of lack. God allowed scarcity in the land promised to be flowing with milk and honey. And why? Not to destroy, but to discipline. Not to condemn, but to awaken. Famine in the Old Testament was never random—it was a call to return, a divine shaking meant to stir repentance and seek God afresh. And so we must ask ourselves: where are the places in our lives, our churches, our nations, that have become Bethlehems without bread? Where has the famine of righteousness, of truth, of spiritual hunger settled? And will we, like Elimelech, run from the famine—or will we seek the face of God amid it?

The verse continues, “A man of Bethlehem in Judah went to sojourn in the country of Moab…” Ah, now the story narrows. It moves from the nation to the family, from the broad to the personal. Elimelech, whose name means “My God is King,” chooses to leave the Promised Land and take his household to Moab, a land born of compromise, a people descended from Lot through sin, and often hostile to Israel. This was not a light decision. He left the covenant land in search of provision elsewhere. And though we must not judge hastily—who among us has not made desperate decisions under pressure?—we must also see the spiritual message: when the famine comes, it is not always wise to flee the place of promise for the place of comfort.

Elimelech’s choice is a picture of many souls today. When the church feels dry, they run to the world. When the Word seems silent, they turn to their own reasoning. When testing comes, they flee from God’s order to man’s alternative. And yet what did Elimelech find in Moab? He sought survival, but there he met death. He left the House of Bread and perished in a foreign land. His name may have confessed “My God is King,” but his actions said otherwise. Let this be a warning to us: it is possible to bear a name of faith and yet walk by sight. It is possible to profess trust in God and yet turn from His path in the hour of difficulty.

But, beloved, we must not end here. For though this verse introduces sorrow and famine, it is only the beginning. Ruth is not the story of Elimelech’s fall, but of Ruth’s rise. It is not a tale of death only, but of redemption beyond death. God, in His mercy, takes this broken beginning and weaves a glorious ending. He uses Ruth, a Moabite widow, to bring forth the line of David, and from that line, the Christ. Out of famine, He brings fullness. Out of foreignness, He brings family. Out of loss, He brings legacy.

And let us not miss this, Church: the book begins in the time of judges, when there was no king—but it ends with a genealogy leading to David, Israel’s greatest king. This is the movement of God’s grace—from disorder to order, from scarcity to supply, from exile to home, from barrenness to blessing. And all of it begins here, with a famine, a departure, and a decision.

Therefore, take courage, beloved. Your story may begin in famine, in confusion, even in a land not your own. You may feel like Elimelech, carrying your family in uncertainty. You may feel like Naomi, walking through loss and bitterness. You may feel like Ruth, stepping into an unfamiliar place with only loyalty and hope. But know this: God sees. God moves. God redeems. The hand of the Lord is not shortened. He works in obscurity. He writes salvation into sorrow. He brings kings out of crises.

So let us not despise the day of small beginnings. Let us not run from the land of promise when it feels barren. Let us not forget that God can turn the House of Famine into the birthplace of the Bread of Life. For it is in Bethlehem that Ruth will glean. It is in Bethlehem that David will be born. It is in Bethlehem that Christ will come. And it is through the pain of Ruth 1:1 that the plan of redemption marches forward to Calvary, to the cross, to the resurrection, and to the hope of all nations.

May the Spirit of the Lord help us to see beyond the famine, to trust beyond the exile, and to believe that even in the darkest times, God is preparing a harvest of glory. In the name of Jesus Christ, the greater Son of David, born in Bethlehem, risen from the grave, and reigning forever, we give thanks and surrender our lives. Amen.

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O Lord Most High, everlasting God and Father of mercies, we come before Thee today with trembling hearts and uplifted hands, giving glory to Thy name which is above all names, and crying out to Thee from the depths of our generation, as we stand in the shadow of Thy Word recorded in Ruth chapter 1 and verse 1. For Thou hast spoken, not only through thunder and flame, not only through the voices of prophets and kings, but also through the quiet beginning of a widow’s journey, and through a family walking in the midst of famine and uncertainty. And we say today, Lord, let this Word speak again—into our day, into our hearts, into our homes.

For Thy Word says, “In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land.” O righteous Judge of all the earth, we acknowledge before Thee that we, too, live in days not unlike those—days of confusion and rebellion, when every man does what is right in his own eyes; days of spiritual famine where truth is scarce and faith is tested; days of wandering where many flee from the covenant and seek security in Moab. But Thou, O God, art still on the throne. Thou art not absent in the famine, nor silent in the chaos. Thou seest all, knowest all, and movest all things according to the counsel of Thy will.

We lift up our souls unto Thee, O Shepherd of Israel, and we confess that in times of pressure we have been tempted to run to Moab—to lean on the strength of the world, to find comfort outside the place of promise, to trust in provision rather than in Thy presence. But today, O Lord, we repent. We turn back. We ask Thee to forgive us for the times we have looked for bread where Thou hast not sent us. Forgive us for the choices we made from fear and not from faith. Forgive us for leaving the House of Bread when the Bread of Life was yet to come.

Lord, we cry out on behalf of every family that feels the pressure of famine—whether it be famine of provision, or famine of peace, or famine of hope. Stretch forth Thy hand, O God, and sustain them. Let not the famine consume their faith, but let it refine it. Let them know that even in the dry places, Thou art present. That even when the judges fail, the King is still coming. That even in Moab, Thy eyes are upon those who still trust in Thee.

We pray for the Elimelechs, the ones making hard decisions for their households. Give them wisdom, O God. Let them not be led by desperation but by divine direction. Let them not settle in foreign lands of compromise, but find courage to dwell in the land of promise, even when it is dry. We pray for the Naomis, those who have lost husbands and children, those who have walked through grief and bitterness, those who feel as if the Lord’s hand has gone out against them. Wrap them in Thy everlasting arms. Whisper to them, as Thou didst to Naomi, that the story is not over—that the end is not in the grave, but in the field, in the redemption, in the rising again.

We pray for the Ruths—those who do not yet belong, yet cling to covenant; those who come from afar, yet choose to say, “Your God shall be my God.” Bless them, Lord. Guide them. Bring them into Bethlehem, bring them into the field of grace, bring them into the lineage of promise. For in them, we see the foretaste of Christ, the great Kinsman-Redeemer. And we ask Thee, O Redeemer of our souls, to do again in our generation what Thou didst in Ruth’s—to raise up glory from obscurity, to bring forth legacy from loyalty, to birth kings from barren lands.

God of covenant, let us not be people who only seek ease, but those who pursue faithfulness. Let us not flee at the first sign of famine, but stand firm and wait upon the rain from heaven. Let us not despise the days of judges and trouble, but trust that even then, Thou art writing a story of redemption that no man can interrupt. Let us trust in Thy sovereignty when we cannot trace Thy hand. Let us see that behind the famine, behind the failure, behind the fear, there is still a providence that moves quietly, a hand that never sleeps, and a plan that cannot be undone.

O Lord, bring us back to Bethlehem, the place of true bread. Bring us back to the house of covenant. Bring us back to the place where the Redeemer walks. And let Thy Church—though weary and scattered—rise again in the beauty of holiness, clothed not in garments of despair, but in the covering of Thy mercy. Let the nations behold in us a people who trust Thee in famine and follow Thee through Moab. Let the lineage of Ruth be fulfilled in us, as we become partakers of the greater story—the story of Jesus Christ, who came not in power first, but in weakness; not in might, but in humility; not with an army, but with blood poured out on a cross.

So we worship Thee, our sovereign God. We trust Thee in the famine. We cling to Thee in the wilderness. We follow Thee through the foreign land. And we know that in due season, Thou shalt lead us to the field of promise, to the threshing floor of mercy, to the feet of the Redeemer. For Thy story always ends in glory.

To Thee be all praise, now and forever, through Jesus Christ our Lord, the true Bread from heaven, the Son of David, the Redeemer of Ruth, and the Savior of our souls. Amen.