Late one night some years ago, I discovered a story from the past that startled me. In the pages of an old newspaper I read gruesome details of an attack on three children of the Asa Lupton family, Virginia Quakers who lived two centuries ago.

One Sunday morning in 1805, the parents left the youngest children at home and went to church. While they were gone, a thief broke in and attacked the children. With an ax, he killed their little boy, fractured the skull of six-year-old Anna, and left eight-year-old Ruth senseless on the ground. The details of the crime were enough to chill my spine. Then I saw these words and worshiped: “. . .the eldest, it is hoped, may recover, being reserved by Providence for some special purpose.” The eldest did recover and became  my fourth great grandmother. 

I have an incurable interest in genealogy. It doesn't matter if it is the history of my own family or that of a stranger—there is something exciting about stitching the pieces of the past into stories of God's wisdom and providence. Through the inclusion of genealogies in Scripture, God Himself has indicated that family lines are an important part of the story of redemption.

I often reflect on how the past determines the present. "What if Alexander the Great hadn't died at 32?" or "What if the wind hadn't so powerfully opposed the Spanish Armada?"; these sorts of questions are not unusual. But that story of a little girl named Ruth, my great-grandmother, made me ask another question: where would I be if Ruth had been cut down by that thief’s ax? The answer is obvious, if a bit unnerving. That question is relevant to each one of us, and it is not limited to just the generation that preceded us. Rather, it holds true for each of our ancestors. If just one connection in a thousand generations is missed, where would we be?

In the Book of Ruth,we meet a wealthy and unmarried man named Boaz who owns property near Bethlehem. We also meet a young woman from the nation of Moab named Ruth. The Moabites had descended from Lot, Abraham's nephew, making the people of Judah and the people of Moab distant cousins. There was ongoing animosity between the two nations, but when famine came to Judah, Moab beckoned as a land of opportunity that tempted at least one family from Judah to travel east in search of food.

While these refugees were in Moab, the father died. The sons also died, but not before marrying two local girls. One of these girls was Ruth, who became deeply attached to her mother-in-law Naomi. After her husband's death, and after things improved in Judah, Ruth left the land of her birth in order to remain with Naomi and Naomi's God.

The whole city of Bethlehem welcomed the two widows when they returned, but they remained widows with no means of support. Centuries before, when God had given the law to Moses, he had made provision for the poor of the land. He told Israel that when they gathered their harvests, they were not to reap the edges of their fields or go back to pick up grain that had fallen. This command ensured that those who did not have their own fields would have the opportunity to gather food to survive. Since the two women had arrived back home at the beginning of the barley harvest, Ruth asked Naomi if she might go out one day to gather up some of this grain.

The pivotal moment in the story comes in Ruth 2:3. We read there that “she happened to come to the part of the field belonging to Boaz." God is sovereign over all of creation, and yet the book says that Ruth “just happened" to end up in Boaz's field! The pieces quickly fall into place, and Ruth, the Moabite widow, becomes Boaz’s well-provided-for wife, great-grandmother to King David, and ancestress of King Jesus.

What led Ruth to that specific field that day? Was it the closest one? The one with the most shade? The one with the tallest grain? We might even imagine that Naomi had encouraged Ruth to reap in the fields of Boaz. But this is not likely. Later verses do show that Naomi knew who Boaz was and of his marriageable state, but they also reveal that she did not know where Ruth was working until she returned. We believe that God is sovereign over these details of life, and surely something prompted Ruth to head in the direction of that barley field. Only in eternity will we discover the full story.

If this Moabite widow had ended up in a different field, how would history have been changed? Would Boaz have ever married? Without Ruth, there isn't a King David; at least, there is a different kind of King David. Without Ruth, what becomes of all of David's descendants—including his greater Son? These sovereign connections are not limited to the history of redemption. 

Each of us has a personal heritage filled with stories like these. The chance meeting in a park. The war that sent a lonely son across a continent, or the peace that brought him home with a bride. The immigrant ship that didn't sink with all on board. The young mother who lived just long enough to deliver an only child.

Most of these stories are lost to history, but we can be sure that they happened, and that there are thousands of them, unremembered but true.

Life is amazing, and not one of us is here by accident. We are each a link in a long, unbroken chain of lives. Our God has skilfully ensured that not one connection was missed, in your story or in mine. My great-grandmother Ruth was spared the fatal blow. What hidden providences lie buried in your past? May we thank Him for His sovereign direction and protection of those upon whom our very existence depends.