Song of Redemption Read online

  In the streets below, Hezekiah heard singing and dancing as the second week of Passover drew to a close. What motivated all these people? Why had they traveled great distances to Jerusalem? And why did they dance and sing songs of praise in the streets? Because of the food he provided? Because they hoped Yahweh would bless them, too? He thought of Micah and the vicious beating he had suffered for proclaiming Yahweh's message. What motivated him to serve God? And what inspired Zechariah to endure many years of unjust imprisonment for God and then, at his age, to serve Him with the hard work of thousands of sacrifices?

  If he asked his grandfather or Micah these questions, he thought he knew what they would say-they did it because they loved Yahweh. But in his heart Hezekiah knew that he didn't feel the depth of love for God that they felt. He felt gratitude for his salvation from Molech, and he felt obligated to serve Him in return. But he didn't really know God. How could he say that he loved Him?

  The song in the street ended, and in the stillness Hezekiah heard footsteps ascending the stairs to the roof. He turned to see Zechariah coming up to join him. How Hezekiah loved this frail giant of a man! They stood side by side in silence for several moments before Zecha riah asked, "What's troubling you, son?"

  "Am I that easy to read?" Hezekiah sighed and turned to gaze down at the view again. "I guess I've been thinking about the first law you ever taught me 'Love Yahweh your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength' I've been trying so hard to keep all the laws of Yahweh, all the sacrifices, all the sacred observances-yet I can't honestly say that I'm even fulfilling the first law I ever memorized. How do I learn to love Yahweh?"

  "You already do love Him."

  Hezekiah shook his head. His hypocrisy had fooled even his grandfather. "You think because I've restored our nation's covenant that I love Yahweh?"

  "Yes. A sign that we love Him is that we keep His commandments. That's the starting place for all of us. As the psalmist has written, the Lord's love is with those who keep His covenant."

  Hezekiah still couldn't face Zechariah. "I've been studying His Law, and I'm trying to obey every letter of it as perfectly as I can. Why doesn't that seem like enough?"

  "When you married your wife, you made a covenant with her, but you didn't love her yet. Love will require mutual trust, opening your hearts and lives to each other. It takes work to build a true relationship. The same is true of Yahweh. You've renewed your vows at this Passover feast; now the work begins as you learn to love your God. Love for God is never instant. It has to grow and mature just like any other kind of love. The struggle is always with our will."

  "But why do I feel like such a hypocrite, serving a God I barely know?"

  "God revealed himself to Israel in the Law at Mount Sinai. As you learn to keep that Law, you'll learn to know Him better."

  "I don't understand."

  "When you brought your sin offering to the Temple and placed your hand on the animal's head, how did you feel at that moment?"

  Hezekiah relived the sacrifice, feeling the cold, misty rain on his face and the warm stubble of the animal's fur beneath his hand. "I felt ... unworthy."

  "Then you do know Yahweh. When we feel unworthy in His presence it's because we glimpse His holiness. You obeyed the Law, and He revealed His holiness to you" Hezekiah nodded slightly, remembering Isaiah's vision of a holy God. "And now, at Passover," Zechariah continued, "when you ate the Passover lamb in obedience, how did you feel?"

  Hezekiah thought for a moment, trying to put his feelings into words. "I felt like I was part of a much greater plan-a plan that began in the past and continues in the present and will go on into the future. I felt like part of a greater purpose than I can clearly see."

  "Ah! When you obeyed the Law and celebrated Passover, Yahweh revealed himself to you as the Eternal One, whose plan reaches throughout all the ages. That's why the people wanted to celebrate; Yahweh revealed himself to them, and they hungered for more. As long as you continue to seek Him, son, your love will continue to grow. And as you express your love for Him through obedience, He'll reveal more of himself to you."

  "Will I ever have faith like yours?"

  "That's up to you. The only way to grow in faith is to put your faith to the test. You must place yourself in His hands and let Him prove himself faithful. Unless you make up your mind to trust Him, you'll never know that Yahweh is faithful."

  "You're talking about trusting God to prevail against the Assyrians, aren't you?"

  Zechariah didn't answer right away. "Hezekiah, do you remember what Yahweh promised you long ago, in the Valley of Hinnom? `When you go through deep water, Yahweh will go with you. And when you ford mighty rivers, they won't overwhelm you. When you pass through the fire, you won't be burned. The flames will not hurt you. For Yahweh is your God. The Holy One of Israel is your Savior.

  Hezekiah stared at his grandfather as the truth struck him. "That prophecy wasn't just for me, was it?"

  "No, son. That promise is for everyone who believes in Him and trusts Him in faith."

  The merriment in the street died away as the revelers went home for their evening meals. Hezekiah gazed over the parapet, watching them go. When he turned back, Zechariah was gone. Hezekiah stood in the growing twilight, pondering the decision he knew he had been avoiding. He couldn't avoid it much longer. The time was rapidly approaching when the tribute payments to Assyria would have to be made.

  His people suffered under a heavy burden, even though God had delivered them from slavery once before, at the first Passover. Worse, the Assyrian king was receiving Yahweh's tithe. For both of these reasons, Hezekiah knew it was wrong to send the tribute. But now there was a third reason. If he truly believed that God heard Israel's cries of suffering, truly believed everything that the Torah said about Him and His covenant with the nation, then why didn't he trust Yahweh to deliver him from Assyria? Was the Assyrian emperor more powerful than Yahweh? Zechariah had told him to put his faith to the test, but did Hezekiah dare to test Yahweh with the future of his nation at stake? Was it fair to risk the lives of his people? Would God really intervene in the political struggles of his nation?

  Hezekiah felt as if he were balancing on the parapet and one mistake-one misstep-would send him hurtling to disaster. No matter whether he decided to send the tribute or not, the effect on his nation was certain to be great. He needed only a push, a gentle shove to help him decide which way to fall-to allow his nation to plunge deeper into poverty and debt, or to let them fall into the hands of God. Again Hezekiah heard footsteps ascending the stairs, and this time he turned to see Shebna walking toward him.

  "Your Majesty, the meal is ready, and I told the servants I would summon you. I ... I wanted to talk to you"

  Hezekiah was surprised to see Shebna struggling for words. It hadn't happened before, in all their years together. "What is it, Shebna?"

  "Your Majesty, I owe you an apology. You know that at first I did not agree with all the religious reforms you were making."

  "Yes. I know"

  "I am sorry. I was wrong. Now I can see the wisdom in what you have done."

  "Does that mean you believe in God?"

  "No, my lord. I still cannot say I believe. But in the short time that you have been king, I have seen this shattered nation pull itself together almost miraculously. It is wonderful! I have never seen such strong bonds of nationalism, such a sense of shared history. You used the same strategy that your ancestor King David used. He strengthened his power by returning the ark to Jerusalem. And now, by celebrating Passover, you have unified the nation in support of your reign. It was a brilliant strategy, Your Majesty. No king has been this popular since David. You could do anything now, ask anything of them, and they would follow you.,,

  "Is that what you think?" Hezekiah asked in horror. "That I started these religious reforms as ... as some sort of political strategy? For my own personal gain?"

  Shebna didn't need to answer. Hezekiah knew that his fri
end wasn't far from the truth. His original motives had been self-servingto save his reign from economic and political disaster. And Yahweh, who knew all men's hearts, knew the truth, as well.

  "Please, don't let it be true," Hezekiah murmured.

  "Pardon, Your Majesty?"

  "You're wrong, Shebna" Hezekiah said quietly. "David brought the ark to Jerusalem because he wanted the reality of the presence of God"

  "I do not understand."

  "No, of course not," he said to himself. "You couldn't possibly understand unless you believed." Hezekiah felt the push he needed, the gentle shove that forced him off the wall of indecision. He made up his mind. "Shebna, I know you've argued against this in the past, and that's why I want you to be the first to know"

  The Egyptian looked alarmed. "To know what, Your Majesty?"

  "At harvesttime, when the tribute to Assyria is due, we won't be sending it. Our nation is in God's hands now"

  "Your Majesty, no! Are you certain you want to do this? You cannot possibly believe that some invisible god will be able to protect you if you rebel against the Assyrians!"

  Once again Hezekiah recalled the prophet's words: "When you pass through the fire, you won't be burned . . . for Yahweh is your God."

  "Yes, Shebna," he answered quietly. "I do believe it."

  Shebna looked up from his evening meal as Prince Gedaliah pushed past the servant and barged into his private chambers without waiting to be invited. Gedaliah's face was flushed, and his body bristled with anger. Shebna knew immediately why he had come.

  "You can't let him do it!" Gedaliah shouted. "He's rebelling against Assyria? Are you both crazy?"

  Shebna laid his bread down and pushed his plate aside. "I had no choice," he said, controlling his own anger. "The king never asked for my advice. He reached the decision on his own."

  "Well, why didn't you send for me right away? We could have gathered a delegation to petition him. There are plenty of men who disagree with Hezekiah. We could persuade him to listen to us"

  Shebna remembered the determined look on Hezekiah's face and shook his head. "I don't think-"

  "Yes! There are plenty of influential people who believe we should stay under Assyria's protection. I know the taxes are high, but we've lived in peace since my father made his alliance with them. Why jeopardize that now?"

  "Stop shouting at me and sit down. I am telling you the king would not have listened-not to me, not to you, not to a whole delegation."

  "Who brainwashed him, then? My grandfather?"

  Shebna recalled passing Zechariah on the stairs to the palace rooftop the night Hezekiah had made his decision. "Maybe so."

  "I knew it!" Gedaliah shouted. "That old man and his prophets have more power in this government than you do!"

  "You're wrong. They have no power at all."

  "Oh really? Take a little tour of our nation, then, if you don't believe me. Those religious fanatics are causing trouble everywhere. I've got one named Micah who's been trying to stir things up in Lachish, telling me to tear down our temple to the sun god. My father had the right idea in dealing with these fanatics-he never tolerated any of their religious garbage."

  Shebna allowed Gedaliah to ramble and shout until he finally ran out of venom. "Are you finished?" he asked.

  Gedaliah cursed and slumped into a chair.

  "Now listen to me, Gedaliah. I know your brother very well, and believe me, he is not going to listen to reason. This is some sort of a test he is putting himself through to prove that he has faith in his god."

  Gedaliah bolted to his feet again. "What? He's trying to prove a point by putting our entire nation at risk?"

  Shebna moved to within inches of Gedaliah, staring hard at his unreasonable guest. "Listen to what I am trying to tell you. It is impossible to talk him out of it. You had better consider some other options."

  Gedaliah sat down again, his brow furrowed, his body tense. "I'm governor of one of Judah's largest cities. Maybe we could organize a coalition of other city-states, persuade them to rebel against the king and become independent. Then we could pay the tribute to Assyria ourselves-"

  "It would never work."

  "Why not?"

  "King Hezekiah is much too popular with the people. You could never incite the masses to rebel against him. They would tear you to pieces if you tried. I am sure you heard what happened all over the country after the Passover feast-how the men of Judah destroyed all of Ahaz's shrines and high places on their way back to their homes? It happened in nearly every city, all the way down to Arad"

  "I know," Gedaliah said. "They went after my temple in Lachish, but I wouldn't let them destroy it."

  "And do you really think you can fight that kind of popularity, that spirit of nationalism, all across Judah?"

  "What if we convinced the military to back us up?"

  Shebna gave a short laugh. "What military? If you are talking about the palace guard, General Jonadab would lie down and die for his king. He trained you and Hezekiah since you were childrenremember?"

  Gedaliah cursed in frustration. "Well, if the king is going to go ahead with this suicidal rebellion, then at least we can convince him to make some alliances with other nations. We can't possibly take on Assyria alone."

  "That is exactly what I am trying to do," Shebna said.

  "And is my brother listening to you?"

  Shebna sat down at the table again and toyed with his bread. "It is not that easy. The timing is never right. Besides, I cannot freely offer my advice unless the king asks for it."

  "You're stalling, Shebna. You don't want to lose your precious job, do you?"

  "It has nothing to do with that."

  "Are you going to stand up for what you believe, or are you going to sell out, just to keep your fancy lifestyle?"

  Shebna leaped from his seat. "I do not know why I am even listening to you. I know what you are really after-you want to be the king. Well, I have no intention of helping you. Your brother is doing an outstanding job, considering the mess he started with. And who knows? Maybe he will succeed in this, too. Maybe he will get away with rebelling against Assyria."

  "And maybe he won't!"

  "Assyria has other problems within her empire. She is too busy to be concerned about our puny country. And it will certainly be in our best economic interests if we do not send the tribute."

  "So I see they've brainwashed you, haven't they?" Gedaliah said bitterly. "Next thing I know you'll be spouting faith in Yahweh."

  "No-but I do have faith in King Hezekiah. And our nation is certain to benefit if he succeeds in this rebellion."

  "Yes, and we're certain to be annihilated if he doesn't!"

  12

  JERUSHA AWOKE AS THE FIRST rays of dawn soaked through the seams of the heavy tent. The tense atmosphere that hung over the camp was unbearable, and she had slept poorly. The powerful Assyrian battering rams were poised to break through the walls of the besieged city at any time. Today might be the day, and the lust for battle, the scent of spoil, intoxicated the restless soldiers. Like wild animals that know their prey is cornered, the warriors prowled around the camp waiting for the signal to pounce and kill.

  As Jerusha lay on her mat, her baby thrashed and kicked restlessly inside her. She gently stroked her abdomen, trying to soothe the child back to sleep, but the activity inside her increased. Was it part of the Assyrians' nature, even before birth, to fight and struggle? Would her baby, born into this atmosphere of death and destruction, be cursed into becoming like them? She shuddered at the thought of giving birth to a son in Iddina's image.

  Iddina. The name alone had the power to terrify her. Everything about him seemed more animal than human: his powerful muscular stance, his stealthy catlike movements, his fierce brutality. He could torture and kill another human being as casually as a boy pulls the wings off a fly.

  Jerusha no longer dreamed of escaping. Some of the male slaves had tried it, but the soldiers quickly recaptured them. The Assyrians l
oved the challenge of a hunt, and they tracked runaways as a gleeful sport, wagering among themselves on the success of their pursuit. The Assyrians always recaptured their slaves. No one ever escaped. And the brutal punishment that awaited runaways was horrifying as the Assyrians prolonged their victim's agony for days and weeks. Jerusha would never attempt to escape. There were much faster ways to die.

  She finally rose from her mat and began preparing the morning meal, dragging the heavy clay pots from the tent, rekindling the fire, grinding grain between the stones to make flour. She looked around for Marah and found her huddled inside the tent, mute and staring, paralyzed with fear. Jerusha would have to do the work alone.

  Iddina and the other officers had risen much earlier to meet with the priests and consult the gods for omens. Jerusha could hear the distant pounding of the barns' drums and the faint drone of their incantations as she worked. Before long the drumming stopped, and when Iddina returned for his breakfast a few minutes later, Jerusha knew that the omens had promised victory. The great walled city was doomed.

  Iddina's dark eyes glittered with hatred and with lust for battle. His every muscle twitched with readiness to kill. Jerusha had seen him in this state before and had watched in horror as he'd killed a slave for committing a minor mistake, snapping the man's neck with his bare hands. The sight of him now sent a shiver down Jerusha's spine. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she served his meal. When Iddina finally left, she wept with relief.

  All that long day Jerusha listened to the distant sounds of battle. As she hauled fresh water from the spring, she heard a thundering rumble as a portion of the breached wall finally toppled. As she washed the dishes and serving platters, the Assyrians' piercing war cries drifted to her on the wind along with the first sounds of torture. She tried not to think about what it would be like to be one of the victims trapped inside the city with no hope of escape.

  And all day Jerusha's baby thrashed inside her as if longing to join the battle. The stench of fire and death grew so overpowering it gagged her, and she wondered if the child could smell it, too-if it would poison his soul, even in the womb. The sky turned black with vultures, like dark-robed pilgrims flocking to a great feast. Jerusha watched and listened all day, then the next day, and the next. The soldiers didn't return from their sport, and she was alone. Marah hadn't moved from her place inside the tent.