“Don’t call me Naomi,” she said. “Call me Mara.” And with that, a woman walked into the quiet plains of Bethlehem carrying more than luggage. She carried tombstones in her memory, dust in her mouth, and a name rebranded by sorrow. Naomi was once sweet, pleasant, desirable. But now, the honey had soured. What remained was a frame of faith held together by one thread—a Moabite daughter-in-law who refused to let go.
There is a deeper sermon in Ruth 1:20-22 than mere sadness. It is the story of African mothers who bury their husbands, fathers, and sons, yet must keep walking. It is the pain of widows in Nigerian villages, drenched in tradition but starving for comfort. Naomi walked back to Bethlehem like many of our mothers return from war: wounded, silent, but guided by someone younger who believes God still has a plan.
The Book of Ruth is not just a love story. It is an obituary turned into prophecy. And in the womb of Naomi’s sorrow was the lineage of Jesus Christ. That’s not just theology. That’s divine irony. As Prophet TB Joshua once said, “Your pain is not meant to destroy you, but to prepare you for a testimony.” Naomi’s story proves it.
In the spirit of inverted news writing, let us begin from the peak of the mountain: Naomi returned in bitterness but God used Ruth’s loyalty to make her the grandmother of royalty. From sorrow to seed, from famine to fullness, from Moab to Messiah. God knows how to work with leftovers.
When Naomi said, “Call me Mara,” it wasn’t just an emotional outburst. It was a theological lament. Mara means “bitter” and it echoes Exodus 15:23, where the waters were too bitter to drink. But just as Moses threw in a tree to make the waters sweet again, God placed Ruth in Naomi’s life to make her bitter season sweet again. The cross was foreshadowed long before Calvary. The tree was always God’s solution to bitterness.
Many women today wear the name Mara emotionally. Divorce. Betrayal. Stillbirths. Lost jobs. Political disappointment. They carry grief in their purses and sighs in their prayers. They return to churches, homes, and memories with nothing but a Ruth beside them—some loyal soul who dares to believe that God still rewrites stories.
We often speaks of God’s ability to use what is left. In Naomi’s case, all she had left was Ruth. And Ruth was not even Hebrew. She was Moabite. An outsider. A widow. And yet, it was through her that God injected new life into Naomi’s dead hopes.
That is the strange mathematics of heaven: 1 Ruth > 10 sons.
African cultures often overlook daughters-in-law. They are expected to serve, not to save. But Ruth reversed the formula. She clung to Naomi, not for marriage or money, but for covenant. Her words in Ruth 1:16-17 are more than poetic; they are prophetic: “Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” That was a conversion. That was a spiritual adoption. Ruth did not just follow Naomi; she followed Yahweh.
And God followed Ruth.
This is why Dr. Juanita Bynum says, “There is something about a woman who knows how to follow destiny even when the road is dark.” Ruth followed, and destiny honored her.
By Ruth 1:22, the Bible subtly mentions something powerful: “And they came to Bethlehem in the beginning of barley harvest.” Timing matters. Bitterness walked into Bethlehem just as harvest was beginning. That is not coincidence; that is providence. Naomi returned empty, but it was the beginning of a new season. The name Mara would not last forever.
There is an Igala proverb that says: “A bird that forgets the mother that fed him because of friends is bound to die of hunger” Naomi almost forgot her path. Pain clouded her memory. But God brought her back just in time.
Let every Mara know: Barley harvest is coming.
There are women who have named themselves after their loss. Like Naomi, they have changed their identity. But God is not finished. You may have lost the husband, but not the harvest. You may have buried the dream, but not the destiny.
Naomi thought her story was over. But in Ruth, God planted a Boaz. And through Boaz came Obed. Through Obed came Jesse. Through Jesse came David. And from David came Jesus.
That is not just genealogy. That is divine recovery.
Bishop David Oyedepo says, “God never leads backward. Every divine instruction is to move you forward.” Naomi thought she was going back to Bethlehem in shame. But she was walking into prophetic fulfillment.
It is instructive that Naomi did not walk alone. She walked with Ruth. In African spirituality, the journey of restoration is communal. One person’s loyalty can open the gates for generations. One woman’s refusal to let go gave Naomi a second life. Loyalty is not just emotional; it is spiritual warfare. It breaks cycles of abandonment.
Sometimes, all God needs is a Ruth.
Let the Nigerian church stop looking only for Boaz. Before Boaz, there was Ruth. And before Ruth could be blessed, she had to follow Naomi.
Pastor Chris Oyakhilome once said, “When you carry God’s purpose in your heart, nothing you go through is wasted.” Ruth carried purpose in her heart, and her pain was not wasted. Naomi returned home, yes—but she returned with someone who would give her legacy.
Let every woman reading this know: your Ruth may not look powerful. Your return may feel painful. Your name may feel rebranded by sorrow. But God is not through with your story.
From Mara to Naomi again. From bitter to blessed. From widow to grandmother of kings.
Your Boaz is waiting. Your harvest is beginning.
You are not forgotten.
You are not finished.
You are being rewritten.
Like Naomi.
Like Ruth.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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