“Now she just happened to end up in the portion of the field belonging to Boaz.” (Ruth 2:3)

One of the peculiarities of human speech is the vocabulary we use to describe events that appear to be serendipitous but that are, in fact, divinely orchestrated. We use words like coincidence or happenstance, as if the great machinery of Providence were subject to the same random patterns of a toss of the dice. But if we have learned anything from Scripture (or from life itself), it is that nothing truly “just happens.”

I mention this because, from time to time, we are introduced as “people of vision.” The phrase is meant as a compliment, and we try to receive it that way. But I always feel uneasy about it. Vision could leave people with the impression that we carefully planned our course from the outset, sat in some early Clear & Simple Media meetings, stroking our chins, and saw the future in bright detail. Then, we followed the well-crafted steps to bring it about.

We are deeply grateful for how God has used what we have done. But what this work has become (as I sometimes say after such an introduction) is “not our fault.”

I quote this passage from the Book of Ruth as an illustration that helps me explain. As you read the story, you come to verse 3 of chapter 2. The narrator, a masterful storyteller, does not pause to declare, “And here, dear reader, is the pivot point of the story!” No asterisks or footnotes. He merely tells us that Ruth, a poor foreigner gleaning in the fields to survive, happened to end up in the field of Boaz. The whole weight of the story rests on this quiet remark. Boaz, as we later see, is the hero-kinsman redeemer. His presence is the hinge on which the book’s entire story turns. And yet, it is introduced as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

But, of course, it was not.

God had been at work all along—through famine, through bereavement, through a widow’s long and weary journey, through the quiet decisions of two obscure women who, in the world’s eyes, were utterly insignificant. And here, at what seemed to be a simple accident of geography, the great purposes of redemption moved forward—unnoticed by all except the One who ordained them. That is the curious nature of God’s Providence.

Now, let me give you another example.

Last week, just as I was considering what to eat for my early breakfast, my phone dinged. I opened my phone to see an email from an unfamiliar name—a young man from near Vancouver, British Columbia. 

Here is what it said:

Hello Tom,

Greetings to you! My name is Tewodros (Teddy), and I am writing from Vancouver. I recently finished reading Simple Answers to Not So Simple Questions and Simple Stories. Both books are so good, helpful for the faith community, and very readable.

I am originally from Ethiopia and moved to Canada eight years ago. I completed my BA in Bible and Christian studies back home and am now finishing my MA in Christian studies at Trinity Western University (ACTS Seminary).

I don’t know which book has already been translated into Amharic, but since my first language is Amharic and I studied language and literature back home, I would love to translate Simple Answers to Not So Simple Questions into Amharic. My background in both language and theology will help me do so, and I believe this book could be of great benefit to the Amharic-speaking Christian community.

After several email exchanges and a bit of toing and froing, it became clear that Teddy was really who he said he was. And he was not only capable of translating the book but had friends “back home” who could navigate the complexities of laying out the Amharic script—no small feat. More than that, they had experience in designing books for publication. We walked through our partnership process together, and before I had time to reflect on how often such things have happened in our ministry, the Amharic translation of Simple Answers to Not So Simple Questions was underway.

And where we asked, had he found the book?

“Oh,” he said casually, “I was in the House of James bookstore in Abbotsford and saw it on the shelf.” (To paraphrase) I saw the title and read a few pages in the store. I got interested and bought it. Then I brought it home and read it. The book is such an interesting book. It has questions and answers and explanations at the end of every topic. Then I started thinking this is something people would love to read and understand about Christianity. Specially my people (Ethiopians who migrated into different worlds and have not enough time to read). 

“I was in a bookstore in Abbotsford and saw it on the shelf.” And why that bookstore on that day? And why that isle and that shelf? And how did the book even get into a bookstore in Abbotsford, British Columbia? We have no idea.

We have been called people of vision. If by that, they mean those who foresee every outcome, draft meticulous plans, and walk forward with unwavering certainty, then, no.

Sorry. I am afraid that’s not us. 

But if by people of vision, you mean those who stumble into the right field on occasion and stand shaking their heads as we watch God’s strange and utterly perfect work unfold before us—then yes, that is precisely what we are.