December 8, 2024
Determined Friendship
Ruth 1
We are continuing in the Advent season, and our sermon series is called Words for the Beginning. Last Sunday David shared with us on the theme, “You are a Blessing.” Today, the title of this sermon is Determined Friendship, and I want to reflect with you on a deeply human experience that many of us know all too well: the experience of loneliness.
Some of you know that personally, today. Some of you can remember times in your lives when you were lonely. Let me give you some statistics.
Recent studies show that more than 60% of Americans report feeling lonely and isolated multiple times each week, without close friends to share their lives.
This is particularly true for older adults, who often face the loss of peers, mobility difficulty, and health challenges that keep them at home or out of touch.
Yet, loneliness isn’t limited to older generations. Many younger people, despite living with constant digital connectivity, report that their relationships online often feel shallow and unfulfilling.
Single adults, too, frequently feel the weight of loneliness, missing the built-in companionship of a marriage partner.
You may be surprised to know that pastors report high levels of loneliness. Even though our work puts us in touch with many people, and you think “O, they must be so busy,” more than half of us report feeling very often personally lonely.
This week, the Washington Post highlighted a growing trend, especially among youth and young adults: the use of Artificial Intelligence apps designed to simulate friendship. These apps create AI friends that can mimic conversation with a real person. For hours, an AI friend can hold digital dialogue, and can do so without the judgment, pressure, or criticism that real-life friends sometimes bring. Now before you think that’s weird, listen to what Jenny says.
Jenny is a high schooler in North Texas, who spends more than three hours a day chatting with AI friends. Why? Her parents are always working, and these interactions are less lonely than her other options.
She told the reporter, “At least it’s better than mindlessly scrolling brain-rotting videos on TikTok.”
Jenny knows that AI friends aren’t the same as real-life relationships, but they offer solace in a world where she, like so many, feels disconnected.
Jenny’s experience, and the experience of many of us, underscores a truth that is timeless: we can’t go alone. Loneliness is not just a modern problem.
It is as ancient as humanity itself, and the Bible offers one of the most moving portrayals of loneliness and the power of determined in the story of Ruth and Naomi.
The biblical book of Ruth begins in a time of profound loss and isolation for its two main characters. Naomi and her husband Elimelech were from Bethlehem in Judah. Have you heard of that town? The same place Jesus was born centuries later.
Naomi and Elimelech fled their home in Bethlehem to escape a famine, with their two sons Mahlon and Chilion. They went to the country of Moab looking for food.
But tragedy soon struck: Elimelech died, and before long, so did their sons. Naomi was left with her Moabite daughters-in-law – Orpah and Ruth – neither of whom had children.
At first, Naomi decided that the best thing for the three of them was to travel back to Bethlehem. The famine was over and she had heard God was blessing the people. But before going too far, Naomi realized this was not the best path for Ruth and Orpah because when they got to Judah, these Moabite women would be strangers in a foreign land.
As widows and foreigners, they would have virtually no hope of marrying again.
The ancient practice that was supposed to protect women like Ruth and Orpah was known as Levirate marriage. It said that if a husband died, one of his brothers would marry his wife to preserve the family as a kind of safety net.
But Naomi had no more sons, and she would have no more sons, and there would be no one to marry Ruth or Orpah. So Naomi told Ruth and Orpah to go back home and find a new family and a new life.
Naomi was not wrong about what was best for her daughters-in-law, but it was bitter for her. She left her home in Bethlehem ten years earlier with a husband and two sons; now she would return alone.
Orpah took Naomi’s advice. She kissed her mother-in-law and went back home. Ruth, however, Ruth “clung” to Naomi. Naomi tried to make her let go, but she would not let go. She clung.
And refusing to leave, Ruth spoke these immortal words of determined friendship.
We hear them often said at weddings because they are the poetry of steadfast love.
“Where you go, I go;
where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
and your God my God.
Where you die, I will die–there will I be buried.”
Ruth then closed with a solemn oath:
“May the Lord do thus and so to me,
and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!
Ruth’s words reveal a love so determined and steadfast, Naomi could no longer argue. Together, they walked back to Bethlehem—a quiet journey of companionship, begun by Ruth’s refusal to let Naomi go alone.
How often do we, like Naomi, pull away from others because we fear being a burden? We convince ourselves that others are too busy; they have more important things in their lives; they don’t need us; our struggles are too much for them to bear. In those very moments when we need others the most, like Naomi, we decide to walk alone.
How often do we, like Ruth, walk away from others because we assume they’re okay. They don’t need us. They said they’re fine. They must be busy. In the very moment they need us the most, we let them go.
Ruth did not try to fix Naomi’s grief. She offered no advice, no shallow comfort, no explanations for why \ this happened, no promises that God would make it better. She simply stayed. She embodied the kind of determined friendship that heals the pain of isolation.
In literature and film, writers and poets have provided us many other examples of how determined friendship can transform lives. You probably know the book and film, A Man Called Ove.
After the death of his wife, Ove retreats in bitter isolation. When a new family moves to the neighborhood, they try to break through his defenses. If you’ve read the book or seen the movie you know how painfully funny it is as they try to break through his shell because they walk right up to the point of being very annoying. Finally, their family crisis softens his heart and begins a friendship that brings him back to life.
Or think of Carl in the animated film Up. After losing his wife, Carl isolates himself, ready to abandon the world. His spouse was also his best friend and his partner on adventures. Carl didn’t know what to do without her. Enter Russell, a young boy who refuses to be ignored. Russell barges into Carl’s life, literally stows away in his life, and through their unlikely friendship Carl finds joy again. He discovers he can write new adventures with new friends.
These stories echo the bond between Ruth and Naomi, they show us the power of friendships, especially intergenerational friendships, to break through even the deepest isolation.
Often, we imagine that our friends will only come from those around our same age.
Younger folks, listen to me: there are older folks in this community, in your neighborhood, on your street, in this church, maybe on your pew right now, who would love your friendship. They may be so different from you, and intimidating, and they may not do email much, they may use a flip-phone.
But you may be the Ruth to their Naomi, the Randall to their Carl, the new neighbors to their Ove. You may be the answer to their prayer. You may have the gift of friendship that brings new life into old age.
And older folks, listen to me: there are younger folks in this community, in your neighborhood, on your street, in this church, maybe on your pew right now, who are lonely and who would love your friendship. They may be totally different from you, they may make references that you don’t understand, they be intimidating. But listen… Jenny in North Texas isn’t only in North Texas. She’s here and many like her.
You may be the Naomi to their Ruth, the Carl to their Randall, the Ove to their neighborhood. You may be the answer to their prayer.
If we scratch below the surface of our very busy, hyper-connected, often-distracted, digitally powered lives, we will find an ancient truth: we are lonely and we need each other. We cannot go alone, no matter what age we are.
At first glance, all this may seem unrelated to Advent and Christmas and to the child born in Bethlehem, but it’s not. Isn’t Advent about God’s determined friendship with us? In Jesus Christ, God enters our loneliness, clings to us in steadfast love to break the darkness of our isolation.
Through Jesus we see that the sin in which we are trapped is not just personal wrongdoing but deep separation— alienation from God, from one another, and even from ourselves. One of the most insightful ways we can talk about human sin is – not as the little things we do wrong – but as our deep separation. In one of our denomination’s Confessions, the Confession of 1967, sin is defined as turning against God and our fellow human beings, leaving us in “rebellion, despair, and isolation.”
We isolate. We alienate. We decided that we are not connected, that we do not need each other, and that we do not belong to each other. We turn away from God and one another. Into our loneliness, Jesus comes as our Reconciler.
Jesus’ life on earth was marked by relationships that broke barriers. As we say in our congregation’s mission statement, his love was a boundary-breaking love. He made friends with outcasts from society. He befriended those whose illnesses or disabilities or mistakes or poverty or reputation kept them away from others. He called his disciples his friends. He calls us his friends.
Advent, you see, is about waiting for the Messiah– but it is not about waiting alone. We are waiting for Emmanuel – God with us. In Jesus, God meets us in our loneliness. Born into humble circumstances, surrounded by scared parents and outcast shepherds and bewildered strangers, Jesus embodies what Ruth did for Naomi: he gets close to us, he walks with us, he opens the way to new life.
For those of us who are feeling lonely this season, Advent reminds us that we are not forgotten. The birth of Jesus is the birth of God who is with us and who loves us beyond measure.
For those who are not lonely, Advent is a call to reach out, to be Ruth to Naomi. Who in your life might be feeling isolated? Who in your life could be lonely?
Don’t be intimidated- you don’t need grand gestures. Sometimes all it takes is a phone call, a text message, a willingness to do something together, an effort to connect, an invitation.
On December 18th, here at church, we’re hosting our first ever Christmas Caroling and Lunch in the Fellowship Hall at 12:00 Noon. It’s the first time we’ve done this event, and it’s a time of laughter, music, and fellowship – a chance to bring joy into someone’s life. I hope you come. And, I hope you consider inviting someone who might need it, someone who could use a reminder that they are not alone. Tell them you need a friend to come with you.
You probably didn’t see this coming when the scripture was read, but the spirit of Ruth is indeed the spirit of Advent: the determination to stay, to walk together, to show steadfast love.
Ultimately, this is the truth about Jesus, who was born centuries later in Naomi’s hometown of Bethlehem, who clings to us in our loneliness and calls us his friends.
This Advent, let us live out his spirit of friendship for a world in need—live as siblings of Christ—breaking barriers, building connections, and sharing the boundary-breaking love of our friend and Savior Jesus.
God of love, we thank You for the gift of friendship that heals our loneliness. In this Advent season, help us to be like Ruth, bringing light into the lives of others. And remind us that You are Emmanuel—God with us—breaking through the darkness of our isolation with the light of Your presence and love. Amen.
Rev. Patrick W. T. Johnson, Ph.D.
First Presbyterian Church
Asheville, North Carolina