One scene in the Bible that has always moved me is in the book of Ruth. The story opens with Naomi and her two daughters-in-law. Their husbands have all died, and Naomi has decided to return to her home, Bethlehem.

On the road out of Moab, she turns to her daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, and instructs them to return home to their mothers’ houses. She says the road ahead is very uncertain, and she feels the hand of the Lord is against her. Essentially she is releasing them from any sense of obligation to her. Orpah listens and decides to heed Naomi’s words; she turns and heads for home. But Ruth listens and refuses to leave. She begs Naomi not to send her away.

She chooses her mother-in-law over whatever family remains for her in her homeland.

Ruth’s words in Ruth 1:16-17 are poetic: “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you.” (ESV)

I am not a Hebrew scholar, so I rely on those who are to explain the context and meaning in the original language. Tikva Frymer-Kensky says that Ruth’s words here are the words of covenant and contract. Similar words are spoken in 1 Samuel between David and Jonathan, and can also be found in 1 Kings and 2 Kings.

Why would Ruth bind herself to Naomi with words usually spoken between kings and warriors? What happened during those years of marriage to leave her bound to Naomi with what we are told is hesed, a kindness that goes beyond what is required?

Growing up I was taught that this was really about Ruth choosing Naomi’s God, YHWH, and less about her choosing Naomi. Ruth’s words tell us that in choosing Naomi she is also choosing YHWH, but to discount the fullness of the context feels like a loss to me.

Over the years we have moved multiple times across the country, leaving family—particularly my parents—as we made a life in a new location. We were forced to cultivate relationships to fill the gap left in not having family nearby. For me, that exposed a desire to be deeply known by other women. Today there are relationships from those moves that I would say fall in the realm of chosen family.

Years ago I was part of a ministry that had annual conferences in the fall and spring. One year I was asked to speak, and I remember as I stood on the platform looking out at the audience I found the face of my friend Mary Jane. She was standing in the back of the room, right in the center. Her face was smiling and every once in a while she’d nod at me. She was a “yes face” for me and her presence and smile helped steady my nerves. That evening at a gathering of conference leaders Mary Jane said to me, “It was great to listen to you teach today. I kept thinking to myself, that’s my girl.”

I remember tears welling in my eyes as I felt her delight and blessing of me.

As my own girls entered their twenties I felt them gravitate towards other women my age, women who were different from me. I could feel how those women met emotional needs in my girls in ways that I couldn’t. It was an important part of their development as women. And it was uncomfortable for me. I was faced with my own humanity, places of brokenness, and limitations. Shame bubbled up whispering to me that I wasn’t enough, wasn’t a good mother, that I had failed. This was a threshold moment for me as a woman, as a mother. I had a choice to make about how I would engage the reality of mothering adult women. Remembering that I too had needed other women to fill gaps in me, and feeling gratitude for them, helped me release and hold a posture of blessing for my girls.

There is a need for mothering that extends beyond the family of origin. But oftentimes we feel threatened by this need. Feelings of fear, inadequacy, and shame can result in demands for loyalty from adult children that interfere with the process of their fully becoming who God designed them to be.

A significant part of the work I do involves inviting my clients to consider loyalty. That work often begins with Genesis 2:24, where we read, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and dāḇaq to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” Dāḇaq means cling, stay close, cleave. We often hear the phrase “leave and cleave,” and the two combined require a breaking of loyalty to the parents and the forging of a new loyalty with the spouse.

That word is also used in Ruth 1:14: “…And Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth dāḇaq, clung, to her.” Leaving and cleaving both happen in this scene. Naomi has released Ruth and Orpah from any requirement to remain with her. And Orpah returns to her family, but Ruth forges something new here with Naomi. Demanded loyalty is not covenantal. Ruth makes the choice freely; that freedom is what makes it covenant. Ruth is choosing to become Naomi’s daughter.

What stands out to me today is the combination of releasing, choosing, and blessing that is palpable in this scene. Naomi releases her daughters-in-law. There is no shaming of Orpah; she leaves with Naomi’s blessing. Ruth chooses to remain, and to become family to Naomi in a deeper way.

The story concludes in Ruth 4 with Naomi holding her grandson on her lap as the women of Bethlehem tell her Ruth is “more to you than seven sons.” Ruth’s choice to dāḇaq becomes part of the lineage of David, and of Jesus. Chosen family can become part of our legacy. For adult children, the question is whether we will choose to do the necessary “leaving.” For mothers, it is whether we will release and bless. Both are thresholds. Both ask us to leave something behind. Most of us stand on both sides of that road with Naomi and Ruth.

My next Sacred Circle begins on November 16th - December 21st
Mondays 8:30 - 10am Central Time

A small, intimate group of women meeting weekly online for 5 weeks facilitated by Tracy Johnson. This Advent, join a small circle of women to light the four candles of hope, peace, joy, and love alongside Rahab, Bathsheba, Ruth, and Mary. Bring whatever you’re waiting for, and we’ll keep vigil together until the Christ candle is lit.

Click here to register.

Ruth 1:16–17; 2:14; 4:14–17

Ruth binds herself to Naomi with a vow: “Where you go, I will go.” She gleans barley in Boaz’s field and eats parched grain at his table. At the end of the story, the women of Bethlehem bless Naomi and name the child, Obed, grandfather of David.

Read more

Her words stunned me and quickly I felt a flood of feelings, followed by thoughts that left me in a swirl, disoriented. My brain began to sift, sort, and scramble as I tried to find my footing again.

I had shared what felt to me like the pertinent information, the truth that was necessary. And I had not shared some of the things that felt personal, proprietary. It didn’t feel like lying to me. It felt like wisdom and care for myself and my family.

The setting was important, relationships were torn and I was participating in a reconciliation process grounded on the hope that restoration was possible.

Despite my taking ownership for my part in what had led to the torn relationships, the hoped for restoration did not come about. I was left holding a portion of the blame for that, and for some people I still remain reduced to the name “liar”.

Scripture tells us that Rahab was a harlot. Exiled to the edges of Jericho where she ran her business out of a home located inside the city wall.

We read about her in Joshua 2 where it says,

Joshua the son of Nun sent out two men from Acacia Grove to spy secretly saying, “Go view the land, and especially Jericho.” So they went to the house of Rahab the harlot, and lodged there.

The story goes on that the king heard the men were there and sent to Rahab telling her to bring the men out and turn them in.

Rahab seems very well known. The spies knew about her, the king knew her, they all knew the way to her house. And it seems that she is known for what she does, she is a harlot.

Rahab moves the spies to the roof of her house, hiding them under the flax. When the king’s men arrive she tells them, “Yes, the men came to me, but I didn’t know where they were from. And it happened as the gate was being shut, when it was dark, that the men went out. I don’t know where they went, but if you pursue them quickly you may overtake them.”

I think Rahab was smart, shrewd even. She had heard about these men, and the God of Israel. She knew about the Red Sea crossing and what had occurred in the forty years since that time. She believed that God had given the Israelites her land, her city. She names the fear that is running rampant around the inevitable destruction of her people. She declares to the men that she believes their Lord is the God of heaven and earth.

Then she proceeds to make a deal with them. A deal brokered around the word hesed.

Joshua 2:12-13 says,

Now therefore, I beg you, swear to me by the LORD, since I have shown you kindness (hesed), that you also will show kindness (hesed) to my father’s house, and give me a true token, and spare my father, my mother, my brothers, my sisters, and all that they have, and deliver our lives from death.

That word, hesed, is most often associated with the book of Ruth. It is often preached about as God’s loving kindness. The Hebrew word means benevolent action beyond what is legally required. It is kindness that goes above and beyond, and it can be the basis for new legal arrangements, new covenants.

Rahab names her lying as the act of hesed.

Here a new covenant is brokered. Rahab uses the components of covenant language with the spies as she lays out her request and the deal is sealed with the “token,” a scarlet cord to be hung in her window. It is reminiscent of the blood on the door posts in Egypt.

As I read the commentaries about this story I was struck by the ideas on how to justify and clean up Rahab and her story. Josephus suggests that perhaps she was an “innkeeper”. Augustine comments on her lying saying that she was forgiven for this because of her other virtuous deeds.

And she is still known in Joshua, Hebrews, and James as Rahab the harlot. Hebrews 11, “the hall of faith” says, “By faith the harlot Rahab did not perish with those who did not believe.” James asks, “Was not Rahab the harlot also justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out another way?” Justified but apparently not enough to lose the name.

There is one place where she is known not for her behavior but for her belonging. In the genealogy of Jesus as recorded in Matthew 1:5 it says, “Salmon begot Boaz by Rahab.” Rahab is the great-great-grandmother of King David. In the lineage of Jesus she is grafted into the story because of her faith, bravery, some well executed lies rooted in hesed and the boldness to name and ask for what she and her family needed.

The Israelites march around the walls and the walls of the city come down. Joshua 6:22 says that Joshua then instructs the spies to go get Rahab the harlot and her family. They do so and in verse 23 we read that they left them outside the camp of Israel. Joshua 6:25 says “So she dwells in Israel to this day, because she hid the messengers whom Joshua sent to spy out Jericho.” Her lie secures her place in Israel, still she and her family at the edge of the camp.

I wonder about the whispering inside the camp. How long were they left outside? Did the moniker of harlot drop when Salmon took her as his wife? Was she ever embraced by the women inside the red tent? Did anyone open the tent flap and say, “Come in. We want you with us.”?

I feel some solidarity with Rahab. She took a huge risk in hopes for something more. She lied as part of living into that hope. She played an important role in the unfolding of God’s plan. And, while she escaped destruction she was left outside the camp for an unknown period of time.

We exile people when we need someone to blame, or somewhere to put our fear, anger, insecurity. We leverage failure and reinforce the city walls telling ourselves we are protecting something important. And in the process we forget their humanity, and our own.

I grew up in a church culture ripe with exiling energy. It was couched in words like accountability and teachability. I learned early to know what was right, and do what was right in order to avoid losing my belonging. And sadly, I participated in what left others feeling exiled.

In the wake of all that came after the failed reconciliation where I was named a liar I found myself exiled, living on the outside of what had once felt like my camp.

Today I remain tenderized by my time in the desert, and grateful that my exile was interrupted by invitation back into the camp.

I want to be a woman who offers hesed. Opening the flap of the tent, bringing an end to judgmental whispering and saying “Come in, you are wanted and welcomed here.”

Read more

Welcome to “Stories from the Red Tent”.

It has been nearly twenty years since I hosted the first Red Tent Dinner around my table in San Antonio. I invited twelve women who didn’t know one another to join me for a meal inspired by Anita Diamant’s book “The Red Tent” and a story I read in Dan Allender’s “To Be Told” about a woman who had a story feast.

That dinner led to nine months of those friends gathering around my table sharing stories. I can still see their faces and the memory provokes tears.

From there the dinners traveled. Women began to ask how to host their own, so I began to send packets around the globe. That grew into Red Tent Living, where for more than a decade women found one another through the vulnerable work of sharing stories, and a vibrant community took root.

Many factors went into our decision to close the monthly submissions to Red Tent Living, but what was born in that space lives on. Many of the Red Tent women now have storywork coaching practices. Others have written books, started ministries, led retreats and launched podcasts.

My love of story and my belief about what happens when women gather around the table hasn’t changed. This Substack is the next chapter of what began around my table in San Antonio all those years ago.

Each month you will find stories about faith, grief, a woman from the Bible I am walking alongside in my own daily life, and what I am pondering, learning and unlearning as I go.

Paid subscribers will also receive the monthly Red Tent Dinner guide and join a community of nearly four hundred women who host dinners around the world. You’ll have access to live video calls with me and the women I work, podcast, and go on pilgrimage with: my friends and companions in real life.

My hope is that this becomes a red tent for you, a place where stories of women are honored, passed on and where you find room for your own.

Welcome.

Warmly,

Tracy

Subscribe now