Rediscovering Virtue—and Self: Ruth, Boaz, and the Countercultural Road to Relationship
A few months ago Donna Aust spoke to us about the Book of Ruth - in light of her book “When Hope Comes: Discovering God’s Character and Our True Identity”. It was a wonderful show, in which much was learned.
But true to the ethos of Created in the Image of God - that there are as many perspectives as there are instances of that creation - we shared a completely different take on Ruth’s story last night. Nikki Anarado—dating preparation coach, emotional strategist, and the first-generation daughter of Nigerian immigrants certainly has a different take.
From our first exchange, it was clear: this would be a conversation about culture and belonging every bit as much as about love and virtue.
Nikki’s story, after all, is not the sanitized stuff of American suburbia:
“I was born in Knoxville, Tennessee. My parents are immigrants from Nigeria and so I’m a first-generation African-American here. Grew up in Maryland...it was a clash between two cultures, right? And so finding my identity in this space...was a certain expectation that my parents had for the two younger siblings that were born here versus the two older siblings that were really...in a Nigerian way. So, finding my way, knowing how to date in a way that honored my own desires versus the stringent… Nigerian or Ibo way of doing things—I didn’t value it in my youth. I didn’t understand why it was so strict...as I’ve gotten older...I see the value in kind of...infusing some of those things into today’s way of doing things.”
Nikki showed us that every time we talk about “identity” we are, in a sense, re-living Ruth’s journey: two worlds tugging at us, boldness and caution, tradition and invention. Nikki’s reading of Ruth is animated by the ache of straddling two cultures and the labor of learning to honor herself, where she comes from, and where she’s going—all at the same time.
Gleaning Favor: Humility in a Foreign Land
The Book of Ruth, as Nikki told it, is the story of “an outsider who finds home and purpose.”
She brings to the story both the sharp edges of a cross-cultural childhood and the practical faith of someone who has had to make her way: “In chapter two, it begins with Ruth’s declaration to Naomi that she is going to leave the house to find favor...’Please let me go to the field and glean heads of grain after him in whose sight I might find favor’...She’s not necessarily seeking a man. But she understands that the favor she seeks will come from a man. She’s going to a field...not to work a nine-to-five job...gleaning is taking the leftovers. It’s like asking permission to beg on someone’s field.” We noted along the way that gleaning isn’t really begging, once permission is granted, it’s nothing but hard work.
The immigrant heart in Nikki sees her own story reflected in Ruth’s courage and vulnerability: a foreigner, unmoored, risking humility in order to survive. Boaz’s recognition of her virtue—her willingness to glean, her faithfulness to her family, her teachability—echoes every cross-cultural moment where one has to “work twice as hard to get half as far.” It is this lived humility, Nikki insists, that opens doors: “She left the house seeking favor. You don’t seek favor if you feel like you got it all together.”
Finding Home Between Worlds
The Book of Ruth isn’t content to let us imagine Ruth’s heartache or ease.
I want to go back when Nikki pointed out that “It was a certain expectation that my parents had for the two younger siblings...finding my way, knowing how to date in a way that honored my own desires versus the stringent kind of set of the Nigerian or Ibo way of doing things...But as I’ve gotten older and particularly through the work that I do right now, I see the value in kind of infusing some of those things into today’s way of doing things.”
In other words: belonging is a process. Ruth found her place by honoring what she inherited and what she must build anew.
“In that, Orpa went home. She said, ‘Okay, see you. Love you. Bye.’ But Ruth was committed—committed, solidly committed to Naomi...wherever you go, I will go, and wherever you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people and your God my God.” Ruth is “other,” but she becomes “one of us” by the choices she makes in difficulty, by risking connection across divides.
The challenge for modern souls—those with fractured identity or new beginnings—is the same: “I found the importance of having confidence in who you are. And it...took me many years well into my adulthood to find out that that’s something that I could find for myself in seeking God’s face and understanding who he designed me to be.”
A Field Manual for the Disconnected
Beyond the cultural interplay, Nikki’s account resists both fantasy and fatalism.
Virtue, for her, is forged in the tension between initiative and obedience; self-assertion and humility. “She’s been working all day tirelessly...she’s very humble. She’s presenting herself in a very delightful way. And so with that, Boaz is delighted by that information. And then here comes the approach...” There is a kind of mutuality here: both Ruth and Boaz are outsiders in their own right, which—Nikki hints—may be the real wellspring of their affinity.
Ruth “adapts—not by losing herself, but by becoming attentive, open, and teachable.”
Nikki observed: “Naomi gets word and instructs her, all right, don’t do anything. Let him do his thing. He is going to take care of you, okay? It’s going to work out. By the end of today, you’ll get your answer.”
“Sometimes sitting in the gray area is a lot of what I work with women in. Sometimes there will be some uncertainty...But when you really look at it, you know, it’s quite natural, you know...Although it’s not easy because society will tell you it’s not possible.”
Character, Not Cosmetics
Boaz’s reaction draws not on surface, but on substance: “He thanks her for choosing him, which is amazing cause in this day and age, a lot of women don’t have that experience...He says, ‘You could have gone with younger...all these other guys and you're choosing me...’” Nikki points to the way in which virtue, character, and patience upend transactional expectations—reminding us, again, that the “magic” of Ruth’s story is not supernatural intervention, but practical, lived wisdom.
Nikki calls this “re-centering on what matters, so you’re ready—spiritually, emotionally, practically—if and when someone of value comes across your path.” In Ruth’s world, as in ours, outside forces push conformity, but the inner work of identity remains. “I found the importance of having confidence in who you are. And it...took me many years...to find out that’s something I could find for myself in seeking God’s face and understanding who he designed me to be.”
For Those Between Belongings
As the story closes, Ruth—a Moabite outsider—finds not just love, but community, heritage, and purpose. She becomes the great-grandmother of David, a direct ancestor of Jesus, proof that ancient wisdom opens doors for those willing to live in the tension between “home” and “not-yet-home.”
Nikki’s parting words bring the lesson full circle: She challenges all of us to “start to re-realign your mindset so that you can experience something very, very, very different than what you’ve experienced before. It does not have to be your reality.” And, pointedly, to men as well: “You are worthy to be loved. Okay? And you just have to know that. You have to know that before you attempt to connect with any woman... But it is possible.”
Maybe the countercultural road is not about fairy tale at all, and belonging is not a once-and-for-all event, but an unfolding work. Maybe it is for the Ruths, for the Nikkis, for anyone straddling cultures or battered by loss, for all who have ever gleaned at the edges and wondered if there was a place for them.
The promise—for modern readers and ancient wanderers alike—is that identity, virtue, and connection are found not in the safety of sameness, but in the work of rising each morning, seeking favor, offering humility, and trusting that home can be built, one faithful choice at a time.
You are created in the image of God. And God loves His creation.
— Wade Fransson
Next on Created in the Image of God
This Sunday, I invite you to join me for a conversation with Alysha Lee—a guest whose journey of trauma, redemption, and calling radiates with the same raw faith and courage we found in Ruth’s story. Alysha’s mission is to share the love of God through her unique personal circumstances. As we share our own stories of grief and reunion, Alysha reflects:
“I felt a tug, another tug on my heart telling me that this is not what God meant when he said that he wants me to live an abundant life... that there was more for me.”
Tune in Sunday morning, 7:00 a.m. Central / 8:00 a.m. Eastern, as we take another step in the search for what it means to be Created in the Image of God.
Whether you’re looking for a way home or a way forward, Alysha’s honesty, hope, and testimony are not to be missed.
