Gods And Kings Read online

  “Forgive me, Yahweh. Forgive my foolish pride.”

  The sun rose steadily to the top of the Mount of Olives and crept over the ridge, flooding around the edges of the curtains. Hezekiah stirred slightly and sighed in his sleep. Zechariah rose to his feet and gazed down at his grandson.

  He resembled his mother so much, with Abijah’s dark hair and eyes. Ahaz was ruddy and fair, like the house of David, but Hezekiah wasn’t like him. Zechariah closed his eyes again in prayer. “Make him different in spirit, too. Help me to teach him about you. Help me, give me wisdom!”

  Fear began to knot his stomach again, but Yahweh’s wisdom spoke louder than Zechariah’s fear as he recalled the words of the Proverbs: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make your paths straight.”

  “Thank you,” Zechariah prayed softly. “We will teach Hezekiah.

  You and I, Lord—we will teach him.”

  When Hezekiah awoke, blinding sunlight was streaming into his room. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and saw that his grandfather had thrown open the curtains that covered his window.

  “‘The heavens declare the glory of the Lord!’” Zechariah shouted. He gestured toward the sun and sky, the green and brown hills outside the window. “‘The skies proclaim the work of his hands!’” He folded his arms across his chest as if nothing more needed to be said. Hezekiah stared at his grandfather in surprise, too sleepy to comprehend.

  “Listen, son, last night you asked how we know that Yahweh is really there. All we need to do is open our eyes and see all the marvelous things He has created. The heavens declare His glory!” Zechariah crossed the room and gently urged Hezekiah out of bed, dressing him in his robe and sandals as he talked.

  “The sun, the moon, the stars, the rolling hills and valleys around us—they all speak to us of God’s glory. Yet the greatest miracle of all is that we are made in His image. Come on, son. Today I will teach you about Yahweh, our God.”

  Hezekiah remembered how his grandfather had seemed unwilling to talk about Yahweh last night—almost as if he was afraid. But this morning Zechariah’s face glowed with excitement. Hezekiah couldn’t imagine what had brought about such a change in him, but he sensed that they were about to start on a great adventure, and he ran to open the door, eager to begin.

  He skipped ahead of Zechariah, running down the stairs and through the palace hallways, wishing his grandfather would walk faster. But he stopped to wait for him by the main doors, and as he watched him striding forward, he decided that Yahweh must look like his grandfather—tall and strong, with a flowing beard. Yahweh’s eyes must be just as wise and kind, his face noble and dignified like Zechariah’s. As his grandfather walked toward him he smiled and reached to take Hezekiah’s hand.

  “Where are we going, Grandpa?”

  “I want to take a walk outside the city where we can see Yahweh’s creation.”

  “Okay.” Hezekiah would follow his grandfather wherever he led him. He felt safe and happy when they were together.

  The city had just awakened from sleep as they left the palace hand in hand and walked down the hill through the streets. The air was smoky with the first fires of the day and filled with the sounds of grinding hand mills and crowing roosters. In the marketplace a merchant shouted threats at his servant as they hastily piled goods for their first customers. Zechariah stopped at a market stand and bought two barley buns and a handful of dates. Hezekiah ate them while they walked, spitting out the pits.

  As they approached the Valley Gate, Zechariah pointed to a little shrine that had been set up along one of the streets. It was a statue of a fierce-looking man holding a lightning bolt. Offerings of food and flowers lay spread at his feet.

  “See that?” he asked Hezekiah. “People make altars like these to worship their idols. But idols aren’t gods at all—they’re only statues made by human hands and human imaginations. There is only one God, Hezekiah. You know Him by the name of Yahweh, the God of salvation.”

  The little image was half as tall as Hezekiah and looked harmless enough. But he shuddered at the thought of facing Molech’s blazing image again and gripped Zechariah’s hand a little tighter.

  When they reached the Valley Gate, they left the walled city, following the course of the aqueduct up the Gihon Valley to the spring.Hezekiah recognized it as the route he had taken with his father the first time they had met the prophet Isaiah. Terraced olive groves and vineyards swirled down the rocky slopes of the mountains to the east, the tree branches drooping under the weight of ripening fruit. A herd of goats clambered over the rocks beneath the city walls, scrambling to find the sparse clumps of grass that grew among the stones. When Zechariah reached the spring, he stopped.

  “Have you ever seen the wind, Hezekiah?”

  He shook his head. “Nobody can see the wind, Grandpa.”

  “Then how do you know it’s there?” Zechariah folded his arms across his chest and smiled.

  Hezekiah looked up at him, puzzled by the question. “Because I can feel it blowing on me,” he said with a shrug.

  “Ah! You’ve never seen the wind, but you know it’s there because you see evidence of what it does—how it ripples through the golden seas of wheat and rustles through the tree branches. And you can feel it cooling you on a hot summer day. Well, it’s the same with Yahweh.You and I have never seen Him, but we can see evidence of where His hand has touched our lives—like when He saved you from Molech. And we can hear Him speaking to our hearts—the way He spoke to you through His prophet Isaiah. And if you reach out to Him, Hezekiah, you will feel His touch on your life and on everything that you do. He’s the Creator of life, the Creator of everything there is.”

  Zechariah spread his arms wide and shouted to the hills and fields, “‘Hear, O Israel! Yahweh is God—Yahweh alone! Love Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength!’”

  He looked down at Hezekiah, and they grinned at each other as the goats on the hillside bleated in response to Zechariah’s shouts.

  “Those words are the Shema, our covenant with Yahweh,” Zechariah told him. “You must learn those words and never, ever forget them: ‘Hear, O Israel. Yahweh is God—Yahweh alone.’” They sat down together on a low stone wall near the spring and watched as serving girls stooped to fill their jugs with water, then carried them up the ramp, balanced on their heads. Hezekiah looked up at the steep cliffs and city walls that towered above him. They formed a powerful stronghold against the enemy, and he felt vulnerable outside them. Molech lived in the valley outside those walls.

  Hezekiah inched closer to his grandfather for reassurance, then closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sky. As he felt the sun warming his cheeks, he remembered the heat of Molech’s flames. The fire god’s strength and power could be seen and felt; Yahweh, who was unseen, offered no such evidence of strength. Hezekiah felt safe beside Zechariah, but he longed to be certain that Yahweh’s power was greater than Molech’s. He looked up at Zechariah again.

  “Grandpa, is Yahweh strong?”

  “Yes, son. Of course He is.”

  “But is He really, really strong?”

  “Yahweh has all the strength you’ll ever need in your life. That’s what your name means in Hebrew, Hezekiah—‘the Lord is my strength.’” Hezekiah wanted to believe him, but he also wanted a strength he could see and touch. “But if you can’t see Yahweh,” he persisted, “how do you know how strong He is?”

  Zechariah drew a deep breath, pausing before he answered as if searching for the right words. “Don’t be fooled by strength you can see,” he said at last. “Yahweh often hides His power in the simple things, the weak things, and so His strength seems foolish in man’s eyes. Shall I tell you a story about Yahweh’s power?”

  “Yes!” Hezekiah loved to hear stories. He nestled close to his grandfather, leaning against him.

  “Our enemies once had a champion w
arrior,” Zechariah began, “a giant man named Goliath who stood more than nine feet tall. All of our soldiers were terrified of him.”

  Hezekiah remembered the huge high priest who had led the sacrifice to Molech. As Zechariah told the story, Hezekiah pictured Uriah as the giant Goliath.

  “Now your ancestor King David was just a boy like you,” Zechariah continued, “but he volunteered to fight the giant.”

  “Did David have a sword, Grandpa?”

  “No, he was too little for a sword and armor. All he had was a shepherd’s sling and five smooth stones.”

  “Was he scared?”

  “Not at all! The king and all of the soldiers in Israel’s army were afraid of Goliath, but David had faith in Yahweh, his God. That’s because when David worked as a shepherd, guarding his father’s sheep, Yahweh had helped him kill a lion one time, and a bear another time.

  David knew all about Yahweh’s strength. He shouted to Goliath, ‘You come against me with a sword and a spear, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty!”’

  Hezekiah could barely sit still as he imagined the lop-sided contest—a giant like Uriah against a small boy like himself. “Who won, Grandpa? Who won?”

  “Yahweh won, of course! David put a stone in his slingshot and hurled it at Goliath before the giant even had a chance to draw his sword. The stone hit Goliath right in the middle of the forehead, and he crashed to the ground. You see, Goliath made a mistake when he sneered at the size of his opponent. David was just a boy, but he had Yahweh on his side—even though no one could see Him—and Yahweh’s power can help you conquer even the strongest enemy!”

  Hezekiah smiled as he pictured himself defeating the huge high priest with Yahweh’s help. “What else did Yahweh help David do? Tell me another story!” he begged.

  Zechariah laughed and hugged him. “Well, now, let me think. Do you see how tall and strong those city walls are above us?” he finally asked, pointing to them. “When David grew up, he wanted to conquer the city of Jerusalem so he could build a temple for Yahweh. But Jerusalem was a strong fortress, and it belonged to the wicked Jebusites. They taunted David, saying, ‘You’ll never get inside these walls!’ But—”

  “David got in, didn’t he, Grandpa!”

  “Yes, he did,” Zechariah replied, laughing again. “You see, Jerusalem has one weak spot—the water supply. This Gihon Spring is outside the city walls. Remember how we had to ration water during the siege?”

  “It tasted bad,” Hezekiah said, making a face. “I didn’t like it.”

  “You’re right, it did taste stale. Well, the Jebusites had decided to dig a secret water shaft from the city down to the spring so they could draw water from it during a siege. But Yahweh led David to the secret tunnel, and some of his men climbed up it. That’s how David’s army got into the city.”

  “Is the tunnel still there, Grandpa?”

  “I don’t think so. That was hundreds of years ago. David probably sealed it up so his enemies wouldn’t crawl through it the same way he did.”

  The day was growing hotter as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Hezekiah didn’t mind, but he saw Zechariah mop his brow as he rose to his feet. “I guess we’d better head back, son.”

  Hezekiah hesitated. He needed to know one more thing about Yahweh, and he summoned all his courage to ask it. “Grandpa, does Yahweh want sacrifices, too?”

  Zechariah squatted down to face him. “Yes, Yahweh also asks his people for sacrifices. But He forbids us to kill our own children. We sacrifice lambs or—”

  “Does Yahweh eat the lambs like Molech eats people?”

  “No, son, He doesn’t eat them.”

  “Then why does Yahweh want them?”

  Zechariah drew a deep breath. “Because when we sin, we deserve to die. But Yahweh allows us to sacrifice a lamb to pay for our sins, instead. The lamb dies in our place.”

  Hezekiah felt tears burning in his eyes as he remembered Molech’s sacrifice. “Amariah died instead of me,” he said softly. “I was really the firstborn son.”

  Zechariah drew him into his arms. “Yes, your brother is gone. But I thank God that you’re alive.”

  Hezekiah clung to his grandfather for a long moment, feeling safe and content. “Will you tell me more stories about Yahweh tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’ll tell you dozens of stories tomorrow—and the next day and the next.” Zechariah took his hand again as they started walking up the steep path toward the Water Gate. “Come on, Hezekiah—say the Shema with me this time. ‘Hear, O Israel …’” “Say it louder, Grandpa,” Hezekiah begged. “Make the goats bellow again.”

  “‘HEAR, O ISRAEL,” Zechariah shouted. “YAHWEH IS GOD—YAHWEH ALONE!”’

  8

  ABIJAH STOOD AT THE window in her husband’s chambers, staring down at the figures waiting in the courtyard below. The Judean soldiers looked hot and disgruntled after standing in the courtyard fully armed for almost an hour waiting for King Ahaz to descend the palace steps so the journey could begin. The horses stamped the ground impatiently and strained at their bits, while behind them, the caravan of slaves and pack mules stood loaded and waiting, the mules tossing their heads and pulling at their tethering ropes.

  The Assyrian soldiers heading up the caravan seemed the most restless of all as they waited silently in their ranks. They had arrived in Jerusalem without warning to summon King Ahaz to a meeting with their emperor, Tiglath-Pileser. Ahaz’s enemy, Aram, had been destroyed, and Tiglath-Pileser’s message ordered Ahaz to follow the Assyrian soldiers to the ruined capital of Damascus immediately. Abijah didn’t really care about all of the politics—she couldn’t wait to be rid of Ahaz for a few months, to be free from the need to pretend to be his loving wife.

  She heard Uriah clear his throat and turned to study him, won-dering if he was as eager for Ahaz to leave as she was. Uriah appeared calm and serene as he stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching the king, but she could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that he was losing patience. Ahaz’s dawdling seemed deliberate as he took his time choosing robes and finery for his trip, changing his mind every few minutes and ordering his servants around in circles.Whenever Uriah managed to catch the attention of one of the servants, he would glare at him as if hoping to frighten him into moving faster. But his efforts were useless. Ahaz simply wouldn’t be rushed.Finally, Uriah seemed to reach the end of his patience.

  “Your Majesty, the caravan has been waiting—” “Let them wait. I’m not ready.”

  “But the journey to Damascus will be a long one, and you should make the most of the daylight hours.”

  Ahaz turned on him angrily. “I am about to leave on a very important diplomatic mission. I’ll be meeting with the great emperor Tiglath-Pileser. I will not be rushed.” He turned back to finish primping in front of his bronze mirror.

  “But, Your Majesty, the Assyrian ambassadors arrived more than a week ago to summon you. You really should—”

  “Don’t you see?” Ahaz interrupted. “I’m finally getting the international recognition I deserve. The emperor of the most powerful nation on earth wishes to meet with me.” He smiled at himself in the mirror. “We’re allies. We’ll be sitting in counsel together—discussing the nations of the world, signing treaties as equals, pledging our support to one another. I must look my best.” He adjusted the folds of his embroidered robe and turned sideways, admiring himself.

  Uriah stared at the king in disbelief. Abijah could guess what he was thinking. Ahaz was a fool to imagine that he would sit as an equal with the king who had just rescued him from a bloody invasion and siege. Even she could see that. She heard Uriah draw a deep breath as if steeling himself before he spoke.

  “Your Majesty, you’ve formed an alliance with Assyria, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “You’ve heard the reports of what our Assyrian friends have done for us, haven’t you, my dear?” Ahaz asked, turning to Abijah. “They’ve conquered Aram and deported thei
r population. The Arameans’ allies have surrendered rather than meet the same fate. And now the Assyrians want to meet with me.”

  “That’s my point, Your Majesty,” Uriah said. He took a step toward Ahaz, gesturing as he pleaded with him. “With such obvious power and military strength, surely you can’t possibly think—”

  But Abijah could tell that Ahaz wasn’t listening. He interrupted Uriah to bark a new set of orders at his exhausted servants, then added, “I will always be remembered as one of Judah’s greatest kings.”

  Uriah gave up trying to reason with him and turned away. Abijah forced herself to go to her husband’s side, reminding herself that for a few blessed weeks she would be free of him.

  “You look magnificent, my lord,” she said as she smoothed the folds of his robe, “and as regal as any king in the world.” Even as she said the words, Abijah felt like a hypocrite. It embarrassed her to have Uriah see her with Ahaz, even though she knew it was foolish—she was Ahaz’s wife. And lately the king had wanted her with him as often as possible, relying on her for comfort and companionship. With her father helping Hezekiah, it had become more important than ever for Abijah to remain close to Ahaz, distracting him. She only wished that she could tell Uriah it was all an act. Instead, she felt humiliated every time Ahaz caressed her in front of him.

  At last Ahaz decided he was ready. “Come outside with me, Uriah, and see my procession off,” he said. “You come, too, my dear.”

  Abijah followed him outside, standing with Uriah on the palace steps as trumpets announced the king’s appearance. Nobles and elders bowed before him in obeisance as Ahaz surveyed the waiting caravan with pride. The Assyrian soldiers, sent to escort him to Damascus, stood in tight, well-disciplined ranks, ready to lead the procession. Behind them, Ahaz’s personal chariot stood harnessed to a team of six horses. It would carry Ahaz, his driver, and the valet who would attend to his personal needs. Pack mules and slaves carried equipment for the journey, as well as more gifts for the Assyrian king. The remainder of the Judean army, meager as it was, served as a rear guard.