Song of Redemption (47 page)

The priest laid the offering on the altar, and as the pillar of flame soared into the air, Yahweh suddenly revealed himself to Eliakim. He staggered backward, overwhelmed, as he felt the tender, all-powerful presence of God. Like a blind man recovering his sight, Eliakim recognized that Yahweh, Creator of the universe, was a Father—a gentle, loving Father. Like Hilkiah, Yahweh would lovingly welcome Eliakim back into His arms, forgiving him, even though he had grievously wounded Him. Like Jerimoth, Yahweh had patiently waited for His child all these years, longing for him to return. Yahweh was a Father who would lay down His own life for His children, even as Jerimoth had laid down his life for his children.

God’s presence had been with Eliakim all his life, just as surely as Hilkiah had been with him, but he had been blind to Him.

“Abba!” Eliakim cried as the tears flowed down his face. “Abba! Father God!”

The praise cry resounded, as if coming from heaven itself, and Eliakim lifted his hands high in surrender to God.

“‘Praise the Lord, you his angels… . Praise the Lord, all his heavenly
hosts… . Praise the Lord, all his works everywhere in his dominion. Praise
the Lord, O my soul.”’

When the morning sacrifice ended, Hezekiah waited in his private chambers for his advisors to assemble in the throne room. The long purple robe he had worn to the Temple felt hot and very heavy on his shoulders as it dragged across the floor behind him. At last Shebna came to summon him.

“They are ready for you in the throne room, Your Majesty.” He looked as if he hadn’t slept.

“Shebna, wait. I want to thank you for finding Rabbi Isaiah last night.” Shebna nodded slightly. “Listen, I know I don’t always take the time to tell you how grateful I am for all that you do, but I’m very grateful. You’ve been more than my right-hand man—you’ve been a true friend to me.”

Shebna looked away as if unable to meet Hezekiah’s gaze. “Then I trust Rabbi Isaiah has told you what you wanted to know?”

“Yes, and I want you to hear it first before I tell the others. I’m not going to send tribute … or mobilize our troops and allies.”

“What are you saying?”

“Isaiah told me to wait and to trust in God.”

“No!”
Shebna lunged at Hezekiah, losing control for the first time in all their years together. He clung to the front of Hezekiah’s robes, shaking him, pleading desperately with him. “Do not be a fool, Hezekiah! Please! Send the tribute—I beg you! They will kill you! As a friend, I am telling you that your very life is at stake! Please!”

Shebna’s sudden outburst shook Hezekiah deeply.
“They will kill
you!”
He remembered Jerusha’s vivid description of what the Assyrians would do to a conquered king, and he felt his knees go weak. But in the next moment he grew angry with Shebna for his lack of faith in God’s word. He pried Shebna’s hands off his robes.

“No. I won’t become an Assyrian vassal again. Our nation is in Yahweh’s hands. Now pull yourself together, Shebna. I expect you to stand behind my decision. I need your support.”

Shebna covered his face. “They will kill you,” he moaned.

“Shebna, stop it! It’s time to go.”

More than anything else, Hezekiah wanted to get this meeting over with. He walked briskly down the hall to the throne room, with Shebna trailing miserably behind him, and sat down on his throne feeling tense and overwrought. He studied the anxious faces of his advisors for a moment. Like Shebna, most of them would probably never understand his decision. He wasn’t certain he could explain it to them, but he had to try.

“Rabbi Isaiah has returned to Jerusalem,” he began with more confidence than he felt. “I met with him earlier this morning, and as a result I’ve decided not to send tribute to Assyria.”

General Jonadab stood. “I’ll mobilize our forces, Your Majesty.”

Hezekiah shook his head. “Our weapons will stay in the armory. We won’t need them.” A few of his army commanders muttered their objections, but Hezekiah ignored them. “Nor will we seek an alliance with a foreign power because—”

“That’s insane!” Gedaliah leaped to his feet, cutting off Hezekiah’s words. “Why do you even listen to a fanatic like Isaiah? You’re going to destroy us all. We’ll be annihilated, like Israel was!”

His brother’s outburst unnerved Hezekiah. He paused as elders from various Judean cities rose to their feet and clustered around Gedaliah, shouting at Hezekiah and voicing their support for his brother. Hezekiah wasn’t prepared for such a strong show of opposition, and it staggered him.

“Don’t just sit there, Shebna—tell him!” Gedaliah shouted above the noise.

“Tell me what?” Hezekiah turned to Shebna, certain that he could count on his friend’s support, even if he disagreed with the decision. But Shebna’s face was ashen, and his hand trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Tell me
what
?” Hezekiah repeated.

For a long moment Shebna was silent, but when he finally spoke, his answer startled Hezekiah. “Your Majesty, your brother is right. You must take some course of action. To sit and wait for the Assyrians is suicidal.”

Hezekiah felt his anger rising dangerously. “This
is
my course of action! God promised to deliver us from the Assyrians, and I’ve chosen to wait and trust in that promise!”

“Let my troops march to defend our borders,” Jonadab begged. “Remember how Yahweh helped us defeat the Philistines? They were stronger than us, too.”

“No troops, Jonadab. Yahweh can deliver us without the sword of man. The Torah says—”

“Those are foolish tales!” Gedaliah shouted, his face flushed with rage. “You’re governing a real nation, with real people!”

Shebna clutched Hezekiah’s sleeve, pleading with him. “Surely you are not putting your trust in the mythical accounts of your ancestors.”

“Those are bedtime stories for children!” Gedaliah shouted. “But this is not a child’s game!”

The throne room erupted into chaos as nearly all of Hezekiah’s advisors shouted their objections at once. Their reaction shocked him. Everyone was joining the mutiny, even his close friends Shebna and Jonadab. Anger choked off Hezekiah’s reply.

Shebna continued to plead with him in a low voice. “The opposition to your decision is overwhelming. Please, before they kill you—I beg you to reconsider!”

Suddenly Hezekiah realized what Shebna’s words had meant.
They
were going to kill him—not the Assyrians, but his own officials. If he didn’t give in to them, he risked a revolution. But if he changed his mind now, he would forfeit his sovereignty forever—and God’s sovereignty, as well.

“
No!
I will
not
reconsider!” he shouted. The hall gradually grew quiet as everyone stared at him. “Listen to me! When my father faced an invasion twenty years ago, Isaiah told him to wait and to trust God for deliverance. But Ahaz refused to listen. Instead of waiting for the crisis to pass, he sent tribute to Assyria and turned us all into slaves. Once again, God has told us to wait. I have sworn a covenant to the Lord, and I’m going to obey Him, no matter how dangerous it seems.”

The discontented murmuring started up again as the angry men rallied around Gedaliah.

Shebna slowly shook his head. “There is no god to save us,” Hezekiah heard him murmur, and those words made Hezekiah angrier than anything else did.

“Silence!” he shouted. Instantly the hall grew still. “Shebna, if you and these others say there is no God, then I ask you—what’s the point of life? Why govern the nation at all or live our lives by any rules and laws? Why not live in anarchy? Why should we make rational decisions if life is chaotic and irrational, if there’s no order to the universe?”

No one moved. No one spoke.

“Or … if there
is
a God but He isn’t strong enough to deliver us, then who can? Our meager military forces, Jonadab? Some neighboring nation? How can the arm of man possibly succeed if God himself fails us?”

He slowly rose from his throne and stood to face them. “But … if there
is
a God who keeps the heavens and the earth in order and lovingly rules over all His creation, if He truly
has
intervened in our nation’s past to deliver us from slavery and place us in this land, then how can we do anything but trust and serve Him? How can we ever presume to know more than God knows? All our plans, all our schemes are worthless—foolishness—beside His wisdom and planning.” He stared for a moment at their silent, sullen faces. “Yahweh gave me His word to be still and to wait for His deliverance. I have chosen to obey that word, and I will
not
reconsider! Gedaliah, Shebna—any of the rest of you who can’t support that decision—get out! I don’t need you!”

He pointed toward the door, staring down at them boldly. A tense silence filled the hall. Anger and discontent showed on many faces, and he wondered if there would be an open rebellion, if any of them still supported him—if even Jonadab and Shebna would turn against him. Then he remembered that God had chosen him to rule, and a strange peace filled his heart. His life rested in God’s hands. It was enough to know.

“I have nothing more to say. This meeting is over.” He strode from the room.

Shebna didn’t move from his seat as Hezekiah left but sat in stunned shock. The king he greatly admired and worked hard to please had just made a fatal mistake. His impassioned speech had convinced no one. It had only sealed his death warrant. Deep sorrow consumed Shebna, and he slumped forward in his seat with his face in his hands, oblivious to the grumbling and arguing of the other advisors as they filed out.

“Are you with us, Shebna?” He looked up at Gedaliah. “Yes or no? We need your answer now.”

Shebna closed his eyes, wishing he could hide from the ugly reality of what he was doing. “When?” he whispered.

“Tonight. When he’s asleep.”

“Cowards! You would rather murder a man in his bed than fight him face-to-face?”

“You’ll leave in the morning with the delegation to deliver our tribute to Assyria,” Gedaliah said. Shebna didn’t reply.

Gedaliah’s eyes traveled to the row of guards standing nearby. “By the way, don’t try to double-cross us. You’re being watched.”

37

T
HE MORNING SACRIFICE LEFT
Eliakim exhausted and broken. He wondered how he would make it through the day. He sat in the foreman’s tent near the empty Pool of Siloam and stared into space. He no longer consulted his drawings and calculations. They couldn’t tell him anything new. All he could do was wait—wait and hope that God would forgive him and answer his prayers.

Outside the tent door he heard one of the workmen grumbling about digging all the way to Sheol. Then the foreman appeared at the door of the tent.

“We’re ready for the signals, my lord.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there in a minute.” Eliakim looked down at the diagrams on the table in front of him and closed his eyes. The warmth of God’s presence filled his soul.

“Lord God—Father—guide us through the darkness,” he prayed. “Not for my sake, but for your glory.”

Eliakim rose to follow his foreman—then froze. The mere thought of crawling inside the suffocating tunnel again made him feel sick. He couldn’t do it. Someone else would have to listen for the signals. Eliakim could never go back inside. He emerged from the tent to tell the foreman to go ahead without him and was startled to see King Hezekiah standing outside.

“Your Majesty!”

“I decided to come see what you’ve accomplished, Eliakim. Then we can decide together how to proceed.” His voice was kind, not accusing, but he looked as though the burden of his reign weighed heavily on him. “Is this a good time to show me?”

Yesterday the king’s unexpected arrival would have thrown Eliakim into a panic, but today he felt strangely numb.

“Certainly, Your Majesty, but the work has stopped so we can try the signals again.”

“Then I’d like to go inside and listen with you.”

Eliakim’s heart galloped with fear. He couldn’t go inside. But how could he explain that to the king? “You’re welcome to listen, Your Majesty, but it’s very cramped down at the end. Maybe we should wait out here and let the foreman—”

“I don’t mind tight spaces.” Hezekiah removed his outer robe and handed it to his servant. “Lead the way, Eliakim.”

“You’ll need a lamp.”

Eliakim’s hands shook as he picked up one of the lamps and lit it for the king. He lit another for himself, grabbed a hammer to signal with, then plunged into the darkness. His heart pounded uncontrollably as soon as he entered the shaft. After a few yards, Eliakim knew he couldn’t go on. He had to get out. He turned around but Hezekiah was following right behind him. The shaft was too narrow, the king too tall and broad-shouldered for Eliakim to squeeze past him. Unless Eliakim knocked him down and trampled over him, he couldn’t get out.

“What’s wrong, Eliakim?”

“Uh … nothing.”

Eliakim turned around and continued walking, embarrassed to confess his fear. Waves of terror overwhelmed him as he forced himself to creep deeper and deeper into the winding labyrinth. He felt the weight of the mountain above his head, pressing down on him, closing in on him again. He was gasping for air and perspiring so heavily that the oil lamp threatened to slip from his sweating palms. Still, he plunged on, with the king following closely.