TD Jakes - This Famine Won't Last
In the Book of Ruth, Chapter 1, Verses 18-22, I must have hit something. Yes, Ruth 1:18–22. The moment we dive into this text, we find ourselves in the midst of a massive transition, a soul-altering transition. I won’t give you the upper story, but I will explain it as we go. At the moment we read the 18th verse, it comes after Naomi has rejected Ruth and told her to go home, just like Orpah. «Just go, just go!» But Ruth would not go.
I know I don’t dress like you, and I know I haven’t worshiped your God. I know that I don’t look like you, and I come from a different culture—I am a Moabitess; I cannot deny that. But I cannot leave you because you have impacted my life so profoundly. So I tell you, «Your God shall be my God,» and that’s conversion. «Your God shall be my God; your people shall be my people. Where you live, I shall live, and when you die, I will die. There will I be buried.»
This is a lifelong commitment; this is not a fleeting fancy; this is not a result of the mood I am in. I’m going to die where you die. I’m going to live where you live. I’m going to worship the God you worship. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me. Till death do us part, I’m your girl; I got your back. I’m not just your daughter-in-law; I was not just with you for your son. I’m with you in good times and bad. When she saw that she was steadfast-minded to go with her, then she left speaking unto her. So, they too went. Oh, that’s so beautiful! So they too went until they came to Bethlehem.
It came to pass that when they arrived in Bethlehem, the whole city was stirred about them, and they said, «Is this Naomi? Is this Naomi?» And she said unto them, «Call me not Naomi; call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the Lord has brought me home again empty. Why then call ye me Naomi, seeing the Lord has testified against me and the Almighty has afflicted me? So now returned Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, which returned out of the country of Moab. They came to Bethlehem at the beginning of barley harvest.»
Notice that they came to Bethlehem at the beginning of barley harvest. The word that the Lord told me to give to you is this: this famine will not last. I don’t know what kind of famine you’ve been in, what you’ve been going through, what’s been happening in your life. What kind of upheaval—emotionally, physically, spiritually, financially, attitudinally—has been going on in your life? Maybe it’s the lack of love, the lack of friendship, the lack of attention, or the lack of purpose. Whatever famine it is that has turned you into someone else and disfigured you, rearranged you, discombobulated you, and disoriented you, this is a prophetic word from God. It’s not just a message; it’s not a sermon; it’s a word from God. God said this famine will not last. Let us pray.
Spirit of the Living God, fall fresh on us today as we stand before the people as your oracle. Speak through me. I’m not much, but speak through me. Speak through me in such a profound, clear, and didactic way that hell is horrified, that demons flee, that hearts are converted, and chains are shattered. I believe you for victory. In the name of Jesus, we pray, amen.
You may be seated. Now, let’s go to work. When you read the first chapter or the first few chapters of the Book of Ruth—especially the first one—is where all the drama unfolds and unravels. It is difficult to determine whether Ruth, who married Naomi’s son and thereby becomes her daughter-in-law, Naomi, who is the mother, or Orpah, who married her other son, are the main characters in the story. Naomi, her husband, and her two sons are also paramount in the narrative. However, to me, the real catalyst, the driving factor, the paramount character in the story is not the embodiment of flesh, but the famine that drives the narrative. It is the famine that drives the narrative. Say that with me: it is the famine that drives the narrative.
You will notice that I just came from a meeting where people were talking about how people are migrating to the South now, while when I was younger, they were migrating to the North. All the Southern people were going to the North for the good jobs because the famine drives the narrative. People will pick up and move when they get hungry. They will leave areas, cities, communities, and even family friends when they get hungry. The famine is the star of the text. The famine is the star of the text because Naomi’s husband decides to move his whole family away from Bethlehem to go to Moab, where they do not have the same customs, the same traditions, the same clothing, or even necessarily the same language. They take on a new identity.
Do you know how hard it is to go someplace out on a limb and take on a new identity, forsaking all you are accustomed to, blending into an atmosphere where you are a foreigner? But the famine drives the narrative. If you get hungry enough, you will change your skirts, your blouse, your hair—you will learn another language. If you get hungry enough, the famine here drives the narrative. Often when God wants to move us, He sends a famine. It may not always be for food; it may not always be for water; it may be for affection, validation, or attention. But the famine drives the narrative, and the famine in the Book of Ruth plays a crucial role in setting the stage for the story.
It occurs during the time of the judges, preceding the Kings. Israel had judges before they had kings because God wanted them to understand that He was their King. They ended up with kings by default because they admired the heathens so much that they wanted kings. But originally, God wanted to be their King, making them a theocracy. America claims to be a Christian country; however, you cannot be a Christian country and a democracy or even a republic. You would be a theocracy; your Constitution would be the Bible. Though it is a nation filled with Christians, it is not a Christian nation, and every now and then, it reminds us that it is not.
I’m going to leave that alone. This is a time of instability, trouble, mayhem, and frequent hardships in Israel. It’s a season of distress because the famine has pushed them to the breaking point. They are not leaving because they have lost their faith, traditions, or culture, nor are they ashamed of their culture; the famine has made them immigrants. The famine has people at the border; the famine has people trying to climb through barbed wire. If there is enough famine where you are, it will make you desperate enough to slither on the ground past snakes and swim with alligators to reach something better. The famine drives the narrative.
The famine prompts a man from Bethlehem in Judah to pull up stakes, leaving his relatives and friends where he’s respected and appreciated to head for a place to make home that wasn’t really home, in a nearby country of Moab. There, they come to meet their wives. Naomi, as a mother, went out full; she had her sons, her husband, her God—she had her identity. She had everything, but that is not really the highlight of the story. There are many things I want you to see because eventually, you will understand that the famine is significant for several reasons.
The famine is significant because it drove them out, but I want to pause and challenge you not to be too quick to relocate every time things get hard. It led them to Moab, true enough, and while they are there, Naomi’s husband dies, and her sons marry Moabitess women, one of whom is Ruth, who is significant in this story. But Ruth would have never met Naomi’s son if it weren’t for the famine. Naomi loses her husband, and as a parent, I can’t even imagine that pain. I can’t even picture it as a husband and much less as a parent. To lose both your sons is something so unnatural. It is natural to eventually lose your parents; that doesn’t make it less painful. But when you begin to lose your spouse because you are the same age in the same era and grow old together—if you’re lucky enough to do that—maybe you lose a second spouse or a third one. But losing your children is a pain I pray I never know.
So we have to give Naomi some grace for being a little moody in this text because she has lost everything that mattered to her. I could come in and tell my wife almost anything as long as my kids are okay; we’ll figure the rest out. For Naomi, she has lost her world. She says, «I went out full, and I came back empty. I’ve got absolutely nothing.» Here comes Orpah and Ruth behind her, trying to follow, and she just doesn’t want to be bothered. Have you ever reached a point in your life where you’ve been through so many famines that you’re just sick of people? They didn’t cause the famine, but you’re just tired of them. By the time Naomi hears that her homeland has food again and she’s ready to come back, there are no sons at her side, no grandsons playing at her feet, no husband by her side. She is alone, almost to the point of wanting to be alone.
She kisses Orpah goodbye, and I’m told that’s where Oprah got her name from—they misspelled it! Goodbye, Orpah! And she tells Ruth, «Go home, girl.» She says it’s too late for her to be productive. «If I got married today and had another son, could you wait for him?» There are some moments that cannot be repeated. Y’all don’t hear me. The enemy comes to kill, steal, and destroy because he knows that if he can kill, steal, or destroy a moment, that moment may never be recreated. For all of your murmuring and complaining about what’s going on in the world, don’t miss a moment; don’t miss a moment. You don’t always get a do-over. You can’t roll back the clock of time and do it over again. This was a unique moment, and so now, she has to let go of the moment because she is a survivor.
But being a survivor sounds better than it feels. The fact that you survived what you loved doesn’t change the loss. It takes the joy out of being a survivor. The fact that you survived doesn’t mean that you didn’t suffer loss. But nobody comforts the survivor; they mourn the dead but do not comfort the survivor. They think that being a survivor means you feel victorious, but it’s possible to be a survivor and still not feel victorious because it costs you so much. It costs you so much to survive that sometimes, you have to recover from survivorship. Most of the time, you have to recover alone because nobody suspects that the survivor is suffering too.
Naomi is suffering and she’s in agony. Her daughter-in-law Ruth chooses to accompany her, but the truth is, she really wants to be alone. Sometimes, when you are hurting badly enough, you lose trust. You don’t want to love again because if you love again, you risk losing again. You haven’t recovered from the last bruise, and for you to make me love you only to lose you again is to reopen a wound that I’m still trying to stitch shut. You don’t stitch these wounds up in a week or two; you don’t fix this in a year or six months. Sometimes it takes you a decade to survive the loss of what you had to give up to reach the next level.
So give yourself some grace; give yourself some time, space, and room to recover. Give yourself the space to be honest—honestly angry, honestly tired, honestly frustrated, honestly at the end of your rope. Truly at the point where you say, «No, I can’t do this. I cannot be who I used to be again.» I’m going to get into this. The problem with great blessings of any kind—whether it’s the blessing of knowledge, finances, influence, or just the blessing of life itself—is that you cannot always do it again. If you’re not careful, you will push yourself to the limit trying to be who people expect you to be rather than recreating yourself.
Find out that there is another version of yourself that may even supersede the former version if you have the courage to stop trying to do encore. Perhaps you’re no longer boxing, maybe you’re coaching now, and maybe you’re better in the coaching role than you were in the boxing role. Instead of standing out there at 70 trying to box somebody just because you know how to do it, remember that knowing how to do it doesn’t mean you’re supposed to do it. It occurs to me that the famine that drove them to Moab is still present in another form. The famine that drove them to Moab was a natural famine, but now she’s experiencing a familiar famine; her family is gone. Losing your family is worse than losing loaves of bread.
Oh, did I tell you that Bethlehem means «House of Bread»? There was no bread when she left Bethlehem; there was no food then, but she had family. It’s possible to have famine in one area and abundance in another. When you can’t use what you don’t have, you lean on what you do have. She had family, but now the famine has progressed and taken on another form, and now she’s lost family too. Therefore, there is a famine in Naomi’s heart, a famine in Moab, and a famine in Ruth. All three are desolate; all three are without life; all three are without fruit.
When I look at the text, it is a class in survival for those of us who are in famine—that’s what it is. It’s a class in survival for those of us who are in famine. When I look at the text, it reminds me not to always think that just because Bethlehem was in a famine when I left, it will be in a famine when I get back. The place that was dried up can become the place of abundance, and the place that was abundant can become dried up. So, don’t fall in love with places, persons, and things as if they cannot change because the one who cursed you yesterday can bless you tomorrow, and the one who blesses you today may turn around and stab you in the back tomorrow.
You must be fluid in the moment; you have to be ready for change at any moment. You must be prepared to deal with whatever you must face and stop defining people by how you met them because people change, jobs change, situations change, seasons change, and time changes. Everything has changed. The one thing we all hate is change. I hate change! Don’t change on me; just don’t change. Don’t say it if you’re going to change it next month. Don’t make me believe it; don’t make me trust you; don’t make me open my heart. Don’t do that to me. If you’re going to be dry, just go ahead and be dry so I can put you in the dry box, but don’t tell me that knowing you will give me water. Don’t start it if you’re not going to finish it.
The text is about famines; it’s about surviving; it’s about persevering; it’s about enduring; it’s about aging; it’s about accepting that you have nothing to prove. Just because you don’t do what you used to do in a previous season doesn’t mean you can’t rediscover new parts of yourself that have yet to be touched. Don’t allow people to box you in and make you be something you were in the spring; you don’t have to be that in the winter. The winter can be just as beautiful as the spring if you stop craving spring and start noticing winter. Every season has its own beauty. Y’all don’t hear me; I’m sorry, let me go sit down. I’m talking to the wrong people; every season has its own beauty.
As soon as you give up on insisting on what was, you can start to enjoy what is. But you are stuck trying to recreate what used to be. Even if you meet a man today, Naomi, by the time your sons are grown, Ruth will be an old woman. You cannot fix her barrenness by your behavior. Stop trying to fix what you didn’t break. I want you to grasp the essence of the fact that just because a season changes doesn’t mean your life is over. Just because you move into another dimension, a new place, or a new area doesn’t mean your life is over. Just because you didn’t hit the spot by 30 doesn’t mean your life is over. Just because you thought you’d be further along by 40 doesn’t mean your life is over. Just because you thought you would own your own place by 50, and now you’re 57 and still living in an apartment above your mother’s house, does not mean your life is over.
Flip to my page about people for whom God did great things in the middle of their lives. I want to remind you that Colonel Sanders was an old man in his 60s when he started his first Kentucky Fried Chicken. The first one failed, but he fought back and became famous; now you have KFC all over the world. But it started not at 20, it didn’t start at 30; it didn’t hit until he was 65. Until then, he worked menial, everyday, ordinary jobs, and he didn’t hit his stride until he turned 65. So, stop planning on the nursing home, get yourself up out of bed, and get yourself together! Then there was Ray Kroc. Ray Kroc was in his 50s when he partnered with two brothers called the McDonald brothers and started the fast-food empire that exists today. He started it in his 50s. It takes time to grow up. Y’all don’t hear what I’m saying. It takes time to know yourself, to come into yourself, to come into your fullness.
As good as you are now, you’re not nearly as good as you will be later—nowhere close. Life’s experiences accrue equity and value because you lose your sons, you lose this, and you lose that. For everything God takes, God gives. He gives you something that you couldn’t buy in a store—a resilience, a tenacity, a fight, a work ethic. You have to understand that God will use the famine to bless you. Laura Ingalls Wilder, the author of the famous Little House on the Prairie series, published her first book in her mid-60s after many years of other occupations. She wrote Little House on the Prairie in her mid-60s, and there you are at 40, upset, talking about why it hasn’t happened for you. They just don’t appreciate me; they don’t respect me.
Shut up! Enjoy what 40 gives! Enjoy what 30 gives! Stop trying to control the famine because when He squeezes you over here, He’s pushing you over there, and you’re going from faith to faith and from glory to glory. I wish I had a witness in this room! There are people in history like Grandma Moses, Anna Mary Robertson Moses—a renowned folk artist. Grandma Moses began painting earnestly in her 70s after arthritis made it difficult for her to continue her prior work in embroidery. She started painting when she was arthritic. Ronald Reagan, known earlier as an actor living in California, ended up going into politics and became the United States president at 69, leading the country through a transformative period in his 70s. And you’re out here at 50 thinking you’re done!
Naomi has said to them, «Don’t call me Naomi.» By the way, Naomi means «my joy,» because when they birthed her, they looked at her and said, «My joy,» and they loved her. But she said, «Don’t call me my joy anymore; call me Mara,» which means bitterness because I went out full and came home empty. Naomi has decided that if she cannot be who she used to be, she’s nobody. She’s not worth following; she’s not worth supporting; she’s not worth loving; she’s not worth company. When you fall in love with how you saw yourself, it stops you from seeing what you are going to become out of what you lost in your life. I don’t know who I’m prophesying to, but you’ve been in love with a season; you’ve been in love with a moment in time. It’s as foolish as going down to the ocean, sticking your foot in the water, and coming back 10 years later to the same spot, expecting it to be the same.
Water—this is why you have to enjoy everything when you do it. You have to love everybody when you love them. That’s why you have to say it and feel it; that’s why you have to know it and taste it because you blink and it’s gone. You don’t get a do-over, so stop going to the cemetery having conversations with people who can’t hear you and missing the people who desperately need you to talk to them. Your soul is in famine. What we find is a Naomi—oh God, I wish I had time. What we find is a Naomi who has responded to pain and trauma by isolating herself. She pushes everybody away who would love her because isolation is the way we punish ourselves for not feeling valuable enough.
We use words like «introvert.» No, you’re not an introvert; you’re punishing yourself because you either don’t trust the people or you don’t think yourself worthy of the love they offer. Oh, you’re fine giving it; as long as you’re giving it, you’re in control. So, Naomi says to Ruth, «Don’t follow me. I’m empty,» never even noticing that even empty, she has converted Ruth to serving Yahweh. Even in her pain and confusion, she has made a young Moabite girl want to follow her God. Even in her confusion and agony, she has changed the entire narrative of the Bible—not at the height of her life, but at the worst of her life. She becomes better when it’s bad than she ever was when it was good, and she doesn’t even know it.
If Naomi had not brought Ruth back to Bethlehem, the rest of the scriptures could not have been written. If Naomi had not brought Ruth to Bethlehem, the House of Bread, in the middle of the famine, if she had not brought Ruth to Bethlehem, Ruth would have never met Boaz. If Ruth had never met Boaz, there couldn’t have been Obed. If Obed had not been born, there couldn’t have been Jesse. And if there were no Jesse, there couldn’t have been David. David being born in Bethlehem was a prophecy of Jesus being born in Bethlehem, and all of it depended on her going through this famine. Understand that you may be in pain, but sometimes you’re better in pain than you are in power because pain brings things out of you.
I don’t know who I’m talking to, but I’m going to drive this home. There you are, bitter, and none of your feelings are telling you the truth. A feeling is not an evaluation of worth. She felt bitter; she was angry with God. She said, «The Lord has dealt bitterly with me,» and all the while she’s fussing about what God didn’t give her, she’s winning people to God. Ruth is walking behind her saying, «Thy God shall be my God,» and she’s talking to somebody who is angry with God. The truth is there are some people in this room who, no matter how you clap and skip, you’re angry with God because of the famine in your life. But I’ve got news for you: something is about to happen! I’ll try that again—something is about to happen.
You’ve been praying about the famine, but you’ve been praying about the wrong stuff. Whether you’re talking about the famine in Bethlehem, the famine in your heart, or the famine in Ruth’s womb, you must understand the one thing that all three famines have in common is that none of them lasted. Hey, I feel like preaching in here! Can I preach for a minute before I leave the stage? I want you to know that every famine has a birthday, and every famine has a death day. If God started it, God will finish it! I want you to know that these light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. For we look not at the things that are seen, for the things that are seen are temporal. Y’all don’t hear me!
The things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal! Slap five people and tell them, «The famine won’t last! The famine won’t last!» Cry if you want to, but the famine won’t last. Stay up at night if you must, but God said the famine won’t last. Walk the floor if you please, but God said the famine won’t last! Slap somebody and tell them the famine won’t last! You’re in it right now, but the famine won’t last. You’re suffering right now, but the famine won’t last. You’re watching online, and God kept you online. You couldn’t log off because God wanted you to know the famine will not last. Somebody take 10 seconds and praise Him like you got a breakthrough! It won’t last!
It won’t last, and it came to pass. Everything that happened to you came to pass, but when it all passes over, you’ll still be standing there, praising God, serving God, lifting Him up. Find another neighbor and tell them, «Did you hear what I said? The famine won’t last!» You ought to run all over this church; you ought to leap on top of the pew; you ought to swing from the chandeliers, 'cause you’ve been under attack for a long time. But the devil is a liar! The famine won’t last! You’d better sit me down, 'cause I’m about to feel like preaching, and if I start preaching, something’s going to break loose in this place. The famine you’re in right now that looks so real that you’re making decisions about?
God said it’s temporary; it will not last. If that is your word, give Him a praise! You’re going to go from faith to faith and from glory to glory. The problem is not going from faith to faith or glory to glory; it’s being stuck in between, where you’re not quite here and you’re not quite there, and you’ve been stuck for a while. But the devil is a liar! I said the devil is a liar! I said the devil is a liar! I said the devil is a liar! The Lord told me to tell you this won’t last; the trouble won’t last; the poverty won’t last; the famine won’t last; the loneliness won’t last; the struggle is over! The famine will not last! Somebody help me shout! Somebody help me praise Him! Somebody help me lift Him up! Somebody help me give God the glory!
Watch this: By the time Naomi had lost her husband and her sons, it took time to occur. By the time that was over, the famine was over in Bethlehem, and it was time to go back home. So, she started out to go back home, full of uncertainty, full of her past, full of her pain, full of her agony, full of her struggle, full of her contemplation, but still walking. Is there anybody in here? You’re confused, but you’re still walking. You’re hurting, but you’re still walking. You’re worried, but you’re still walking. You’re bitter, but you’re still walking.
Is there anybody in here that’s determined to keep on moving forward? Though He slay me, yet shall I trust Him. Sometimes up, sometimes down, almost level to the ground, but I’m still walking! Somebody take a little walk somewhere; let the devil know I’m still walking! I’m hurt, but I’m walking. I’m lonely, but I’m walking. I’m uncertain, but I’m walking. I’m worried, but I’m walking. I’m distressed, but I’m walking!
And stop right where you are! I know you’re not there yet, but stop right where you are and praise Him in the middle of the way! Praise Him! I may not be there yet, but I’mma praise Him anyway! I may not be there, but I’mma praise Him in the middle of the road! I’mma praise Him! I haven’t got home yet, but I’mma praise Him right where I am. This is a rest stop; this is a roadside praise! This is a «give me a minute to give God the praise.» I’m fussing at you, but I’m still praising you. I don’t understand you, but I’m still praising you. I’m brokenhearted, but I’m still praising you. I’m lonely, but I’m still praising you. I’m disappointed, but I’m still praising you. I’m distressed, but I’m still praising you!
I’ve got a feeling that everything is going to be alright! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, I don’t know where, but I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be alright! I don’t have any money, but I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be alright! I don’t have any bread, but I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be alright! Make some noise in this place!
So, the writer says they both went on together. They went together! Two generations going together: Naomi and Ruth going together! Two different perspectives, but they’re going together. One of them has their future in front of them, and the other one has most of their future behind them, but they’re going together. The writer takes the time to tell us that by the time they got to Bethlehem, it was at the time of the harvest of the barley. This is no accident, because if you’re going to have bread, you need to come at harvest time.
And the Lord said He’s setting you up so that by the time you get through this, you’re going to be in the right place at the right time to receive everything that God has promised for you! He said He’s going to set you in a field full of blessings, and every need is going to be met! Slap your neighbor and say, «I see blessing in my future! The famine won’t last, but I’ve got a feeling that there will be bread in my house!» Shout yes! Shout yes! Yes! Shout yes! Shout yes! Shout it like you mean it! Shout it like you don’t care! Shout it with all of your heart!
So, they got there, and they came into a prepared blessing. They came into a prepared blessing! They didn’t seek it; they didn’t work the field for it; they showed up at harvest time! High five somebody and say, «You’re going to show up at harvest time!» Now, we have gone from famine to harvest! What was a famine is now a harvest. So, be careful who you write off, because who used to be your famine may become your harvest, and God may use the same place that almost killed you to be your place of provision! Oh, He told me to tell you your eyes have not seen; your ears have not heard; neither have entered into your heart the things that God has in store for them that love Him! Leap up and down; that’s how your blessing is going to leap up after you! It’s going to leap up and grab you! It’s going to leap up and touch you! It’s going to leap up and overtake you! It’s going to leap up! It’s going to leap!
I can’t explain this, but they showed up at the time of the harvest of the barley, so that famine is destroyed; it’s mitigated because they came at the time of the barley. The fruit of the barley is seed! Wow! So, there’s seed where there was barrenness. Naomi points Ruth to the corner of a field; she told me Mo, and she’s working over in the corner of the field, and Boaz saw her at a distance and commanded that they leave handfuls on purpose! In other words, don’t reap everything but leave something behind, 'cause whoever that Moabite girl is over there in the corner of the field, I’ve got something special for her, and I want you to leave it for her!
Reach down and pick up something! You’re going to pick up stuff that God left—handfuls of favor, a handful of prosperity, a handful of blessings, a handful of wisdom! God said a handful! Are you watching me online? A handful is left for you! Nobody can take it; nobody can have it; nobody can steal it! It left handfuls on purpose! What the field was to the famine is what Boaz was to Ruth, because Boaz had the seed for her famine in her womb.
But the part that’s hardest to explain is this little phrase in the text: it says that when Ruth and Naomi got together, Ruth and Boaz got together, and they had the baby. They brought the baby to Naomi to nurse. Now, I’ve got a problem with this because old women don’t nurse babies—they’ve got a famine in their breast, and there is no milk. But when God started rebuking famines, He rebuked the famine so strongly that Grandma’s breast became engorged with milk! Grandma is a type of Israel that would nurse the birthing of the church. As she begins to nurse the baby, it is a sign that Israel’s breast will be engorged with milk, and we know that milk is the Word. We know that in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was made flesh. And the Word dwelt among us, and we beheld the wonder of His glory.
And we know one more thing: we know that the famine, whether it’s in your breast, or in your field, or in your finances, or in your mind, or in your life, that God sent me with a declaration. I can’t control who believes it, but I’m going to throw it out here anyway. I know you think you’re too old, or too young, or too late, or too dark, or too bright, but the Holy Ghost told me to tell you the famine is over! It’s going to be so over that an old lady is going to nurse a baby she never had to push out. It’s going to be so over that a young girl is going to get barley she never even planted! It’s going to be so over that the field she started working in she ended up owning! God is going to do a switch; the last shall be first, and the first shall be last!
I’ve got to close; I’m out of time, but somebody turn around in a circle and tell them, «God is about to turn this thing around!» I started out in the back of the field, but I’m going to end up in the front of the field. I started out working in it; I’m going to end up owning it! If I’m talking to you, give God a praise as an indication that you understand that it’s over! There might be a few demons left in this room, but when we shout, «This famine is over!» every demon is going to have to hit the door! Hallelujah to God!
I want you to shout it like you’re mad at somebody! I want you to shout it like you’re ready to whip somebody! I want you to shout it like you’re about to step on new ground! I want you to shout it like this is a prophetic word for you! I want you to shout it at every frustration in your spirit! I want you to shout it like you’re ready for victory! Shout, «The famine is over! The famine is over! The famine is over! The famine is over! The famine is over!» I want you to shout it! «The famine is over! It’s over! It’s over in my pocketbook; it’s over in my 401k; it’s over in my family; it’s over in my body!» Shout it out again: Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Now let’s just shorten it and touch ten people and say, «It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over!» I decree and declare, «It’s over! I decree and declare, 'It’s over! I decree and declare, 'It’s over in my life! I’m through struggling! I’m through being bitter! I’m through being worried! I can’t hear you!»
Yes! What the Lord just spoke to you and told you to sow, if you sow it, it’s going to stop that famine in your life right now! Right now! Obey Him! I know you’re trying to figure out is it God or not, but obey the Holy Spirit! The Holy Spirit spoke to you; this is a curse-breaking message in your life! It’s going to break curses—not just generational curses, but curses in the way you think, curses in the way you define yourself, curses in your emotions and your attitude. That spirit of bitterness is going to leave you! God said, «It’s over!»
While it’s on, type on the line: «It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over! It’s over!»
I know the popular thing—I must apologize. I know the popular thing is to preach about favor, but instead of preaching about favor, the Lord told me to preach about famine. I said, «Well, Lord, it would be nice to preach about favor,» and the Lord said, «The favor is in the famine!» You all didn’t get it! The favor is in the famine! The favor is in what went wrong! The favor is in what you didn’t get! The favor is in the nights you cried! The favor is in the nights you did without! The favor is in the moments you suffered great agony!
Favor is in the famine. If there were no famine, you wouldn’t have gone to Moab. If there were no famine, you wouldn’t have met Ruth. If there were no famine, Ruth would have been a married woman and couldn’t marry Boaz! If Ruth would have still been married and your son would have lived, Jesus' genealogy would not have set him up to take the throne. Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see the light! That song would have never been written. You see, the real bread is not in the loaf. Jesus says, «I am the bread of life. Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness, and they perished; I am the true bread that cometh down from heaven.»
This ain’t about Ruth; this ain’t about Naomi; this ain’t about Boaz! When you see that wheat blowing in the wind, that’s Jesus! Jesus said, «Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abides alone; but if it dies, it will bring forth much fruit.» Yes, Lord! The favor is in the famine! It is a famine-breaking seed! Jesus said, «I am the Seed of Abraham; I am the grain of wheat!» But seeds don’t grow if they don’t get buried, because what you call buried, God calls planted! They look just the same; you know, you’ve got to dig for it!
Both of them, when you bury, you dig to bury; but when you plant, you have to dig too. However, when you bury something, it goes in and doesn’t come up, but when you plant it, it goes down so that it might come up. The Bible says that He went down so that He might rise again on the third day, and He is your bread. Now I’m going to close; I don’t feel like it. I feel like flipping out. I want you to understand, if you don’t get anything else, yes sir, I want you to understand that halftime isn’t out of time. Naomi’s greatest job was not in raising her own child, but in nursing Ruth’s child.
I want you to know that God will give you unnatural resources to nurse what He places in your hands; He’ll make things work that don’t work. God won’t put anything in your hands without providing the means for it. Alright, I want you to stop being distracted by the famine. I know it hurts, and I’m not minimizing how traumatic we can have real famines. I’m not talking about not getting your parking space this morning, or someone not speaking to you when you came into church. Those are the luxuries of being able to be offended by people who have not faced real trouble.
When you have faced real trouble, you are not easily offended because you know what real trouble is. But in the absence of real trouble, y’all make up trouble and act like you’re wounded over things that don’t even matter. It doesn’t matter. You think it matters whether you speak to me? It doesn’t pay any bills; it doesn’t add anything to my life; it doesn’t give me a grain more wisdom. It’s nice if you speak, but I’ll be fine if you don’t, because my umbilical cord is not cut based on your reaction to me. God will send someone who’ll smile at me because I decree and declare today that the famine is over.