Song of Redemption (5 page)

“Then, the same year that he died, I experienced an even greater shaking. I was worshiping at the Temple when the mountain of God suddenly began to quake beneath me. The earthquake was so violent that I was hurled to the ground.”

Isaiah closed his eyes for a long moment. When he spoke again his voice was reverent, as if he was reciting words that were very sacred to him. “I saw the Lord—the Holy One of Israel. And in God’s presence, all the earthly power and glory of King Uzziah blew away like … like dust and ashes. All my life I’d worshiped a mortal king. Now I saw the Eternal One, the King of Kings.

“He was seated on a lofty throne, high and exalted, and the train of His robe filled the entire Temple. Hovering about Him were mighty seraphim, each with six wings. With two of their wings they covered their faces, with two others they covered their feet, and with two they flew. In a mighty, echoing chorus they sang, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty! The whole earth is filled with His glory!’ ”

Isaiah pronounced each word with such reverence and wonder that the room seemed to resonate with the majesty of Yahweh’s holiness. Hezekiah held his breath, waiting for Isaiah to continue.

“At the sound of the seraphim’s voices, the doorposts and the thresholds of the Temple shook to their foundations, and the entire sanctuary filled with smoke. I saw the Lord,” Isaiah repeated in awe, “and in the light of His presence I saw myself for the first time. I saw my sin and my unrighteousness, and I cried out, ‘Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty!”’

Isaiah lowered his head in shame as if seeing himself once again in the light of God’s holiness. Hezekiah waited, transfixed, until the prophet finally looked up at him.

“God’s judgment on King Uzziah wasn’t harsh,” Isaiah said. “If anything, it was merciful. Uzziah had dared to approach the holy God in His dwelling place, even though no mortal man, not even a king, is worthy to stand before the Lord Almighty. And now that I stood before God, I knew that I was condemned to die, too. But then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal, which he had taken from the altar with tongs. He touched my mouth with the coal, saying, ‘See—this coal has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sins are all forgiven.’ ”

Isaiah paused again, as if overwhelmed by the memory. “I certainly didn’t deserve such forgiveness. I deserved God’s judgment just like Uzziah—not mercy and pardon for my sins. Above all else, God is holy and just. But I saw that for those who repent, He bestows grace and mercy beyond measure. Then I heard the Lord say, ‘
Whom
shall I send? And who will go for us?’
And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’

“At that moment, God gave me back my life, King Hezekiah—just as He gave back yours in the Valley of Hinnom. And so I said, ‘Send me.’ Then Yahweh said, ‘Go and tell this people: “Be ever hearing, but never understanding; be ever seeing, but never perceiving.” Make the heart of this people calloused; make their ears dull and close their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed.’ ”

Hezekiah already knew some of the abuse Isaiah had suffered in his work for God, including physical threats and exile by King Ahaz. Yet Isaiah was willing to continue his thankless job, even if it meant turning down political power. Hezekiah knew that men like Isaiah were exceedingly rare.

“When will your work for Yahweh be finished?” he asked.

Isaiah gave another fleeting smile and shook his head. “I asked, ‘For how long, O Lord?’ and He answered, ‘Until the cities lie ruined and without inhabitant, until the houses are left deserted and the fields ruined and ravaged, until the Lord has sent everyone far away and the land is utterly forsaken.’ ”

The prophet’s words alarmed Hezekiah. He wanted to know if this part of the vision would be fulfilled within his lifetime, during his reign, but he was afraid to ask. Perhaps it was better not to know.

“Yet a remnant will survive,” Isaiah added, as if reading his thoughts. “And though the nation will be invaded again and again, it will be like a tree cut down. Israel will be like a stump that still lives to grow again.”

The promise of a surviving remnant should have comforted Hezekiah, but it didn’t. “Rabbi, I think I understand why you can’t serve in an official capacity,” he finally said, “but may I still come to you for advice?”

Isaiah spread his hands. “My own advice will be of little use to you, I’m afraid. But I promise to reveal the Word of the Lord to you, just as I spoke it to the kings who ruled before you. Whether or not you heed that Word will be your decision, as it was theirs.”

Hezekiah sat alone for a long time after Isaiah left, trying to decide who to appoint as palace administrator. Isaiah’s refusal had disappointed him nearly as much as Zechariah’s had. Both men possessed a deep relationship with God, and Hezekiah found it curious that neither of them wanted any part in his government.

The job of palace administrator was an important one. Hezekiah knew that he needed someone intelligent and uncorrupted, someone who would support his reforms, someone he could trust as a friend, and, most importantly, someone who was faithful to Yahweh. He knew a man who fit every requirement but the last one: Shebna, his tutor. Shebna would make an excellent choice except for the fact that he refused to believe in the existence of God.

Hezekiah continued to ponder a mental list of all the officials and nobles in his court, weighing each of their qualifications carefully. But he always returned to the same frustrating conclusion—none of them was as intelligent or trustworthy as Shebna. Unable to make a choice, Hezekiah finally decided to send for Shebna and seek his advice in making this difficult decision. All his life Hezekiah had relied on Shebna to help him examine all aspects of a problem and make a choice. The lanky Egyptian had been Hezekiah’s closest friend for as long as he could remember, and he felt a sense of relief as soon as Shebna strode into the throne room. He knew he could come straight to the point.

“Shebna, I’ve asked the two most qualified men I know—Zechariah and Isaiah—to serve as palace administrator. They’ve both refused.”

“Both of them? That is astounding!”

“Yes, and their reasons were even more astounding.” He considered sharing Isaiah’s vision with Shebna, then rejected the idea, knowing that he would never understand it. “So where do I go from here? Who’s left? My brother Gedaliah?”

“I do not think that would be wise.”

“What about the precedent my father set?”

“Gedaliah lacks the experience for such an important job.”

Hezekiah sighed in frustration. He was tired of sitting, and he rose from his throne to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “Let’s be honest, Shebna. I’m inexperienced, too, thanks to my father.”

“But you have always worked diligently, my lord. And hard work will quickly compensate for inexperience. On the other hand, Prince Gedaliah … May I be frank, Your Majesty?”

“Of course. That’s why I asked you to come.”

“Prince Gedaliah seldom works hard unless it involves personal gain. I doubt that he cares about the good of the nation.”

“I know. That’s what bothers me the most about my brother. He seems to have inherited our father’s love of pleasure.”

Shebna said nothing, but his grim expression confirmed his agreement. Hezekiah continued to pace for a moment, then stopped near the shuttered window. He could hear the slashing rain beating against the wood.

“So, who’s left?” he finally asked. “The truth is, I want to appoint you as my palace administrator, but …” He sighed again.

“I understand, Your Majesty.”

“Shebna, I need someone who’s not connected to Ahaz’s administration, someone who can’t be bribed. I don’t know much about my other advisors, but I know I can trust you. The others might tell me one thing and believe another, but I know exactly what you believe—”

“And what I do not believe,” Shebna finished for him.

“I’ll admit your lack of faith is a big problem for me. I need your sharp mind, your reasoning skills, your loyalty. You’re not an idol worshiper, but …” Hezekiah felt as though he’d run into a wall and couldn’t find the doorway. He turned to his friend. Shebna nodded in understanding.

“Your Majesty, more than anything else I want to continue to serve with you in your new government. But I can never say that I believe in Yahweh. I would be lying if I did.”

“And I’m determined to build my kingdom on Yahweh’s laws. I don’t know how we can reconcile that.”

Both men were silent for a moment as thunder rumbled in the distance. Finally Shebna said, “Your Majesty, consider this: I have read your code of laws, your Torah, and found them to be good laws. I would have no problem conforming to them, and I would even submit to your rite of circumcision. But you must understand that my religion is only external. I have no faith in any god.”

“I’m sure there are men in my court who will look me in the eye and tell me they’re believers when, in reality, they have no more faith than you do. You could have done the same thing just to obtain power. At least you’re honest.” Hezekiah thought for a moment about what Shebna had suggested. “You would really agree to follow all the laws, Shebna—including circumcision?”

“Yes. But you had better think it through carefully, Your Majesty. You are certain to meet with opposition to my appointment. My religious views are not a secret, nor would I lie about them if anyone asked. I would not wish to cause a controversy for you so early in your reign.”

Hezekiah knew that he needed Shebna. There was no one else he could trust. The thought that Shebna’s appointment would spark a controversy didn’t deter him. He made up his mind. “I’m the King of Judah, Shebna. I don’t need to justify my decisions to anyone. I want you to serve as my palace administrator.”

4

T
HE EERIE SILENCE THAT
suddenly filled the grove of trees terrified Jerusha more than the sound of screaming had. She lay on the ground, numb with shock and pain, listening. The agonized cries had all stopped. The other girls were dead. And now Jerusha’s captor would kill her, too. He rolled off of her and stood. She watched in horror as he removed a short dagger from his belt.

“No—please! Please don’t kill me.” Her voice was barely audible.

She stared up at his dark face and saw him clearly for the first time. He was lean and muscular with wavy black hair and a short, squared-off beard. His deep-set eyes looked cold and cruel. She held up her hands as if to fend off his knife thrust.

“Please don’t!” she begged.

His eyes narrowed as if considering her plea. Jerusha braced herself for the first painful stab of his knife, but he reached down and grabbed her hand instead, jerking her to her feet. Jerusha could barely stand, much less walk, but he shoved her down the path ahead of him, pressing the point of his knife to the base of her spine to keep her moving.

As she stumbled through the trees, Jerusha discovered the fate of the other captives. Their bodies lay scattered all over the grove. When she saw her cousin Serah, recognizable only by the embroidered wedding dress, Jerusha fell to her knees and vomited. Her Assyrian captor laughed. It sounded out of place amid the horror all around her. Then he suddenly grabbed Jerusha’s hair and thrust her head back, pressing the blade of his knife to her throat. Fear pulsed through her. She was going to die.

But a moment later he released her. He said something in his language, and his thick brows arched as if asking her a question. Jerusha understood. He was offering her a choice: submit to him or die. She had only a moment to decide. She bowed before him, clinging to his feet.

“Please, I’ll do anything… . I don’t want to die.” He laughed and pulled her upright by her hair, then shoved her down the path again.

They found the other soldiers waiting for them beside the horses. Jerusha’s captor began barking orders, and she noticed that the men moved quickly to obey him. He was older than the others—probably in his mid-thirties—and clearly in charge of the group. One of the men tied Jerusha’s hands and tossed her like baggage across the back of a horse. Then they all mounted and rode off with her.

For almost a week the soldiers made their way northeast at an exhausting pace, stopping occasionally to raid an unsuspecting town as they had raided Dabbasheth, burning and killing and destroying. There was no reason for it that Jerusha could see except to instill terror throughout the countryside. Between the villages, they left a trail of blackened fields, slaughtered livestock, and devastated vineyards and olive groves. Jerusha wondered if the Assyrians had destroyed her father’s little farm before attacking Dabbasheth. She prayed that they hadn’t, knowing how very much Abba loved his land.
Beloved Abba
. Jerusha wept when she thought of him and his desperate efforts to save her. She tried to remember his smile, his voice, but every time she pictured him she saw the Assyrian’s sword slashing toward him and Abba’s face, covered with blood.

Please, God,
she prayed.
Please let him be all right
.

She remembered Mama and her sister, Maacah, cowering beneath the cart, and she wondered if the soldiers discovered them. Had they taken Maacah captive, too?

Please, God …

Jerusha thought about her family constantly in the days that followed and vowed that somehow, someday, she would find a way to escape and return home. She would live through this somehow and one day be reunited with her family. Her love for them gave her the will to survive the seemingly endless days of terror and cruelty. But the farther away from home they traveled and the more unfamiliar the terrain became, the more she felt her hope trickling away like water from a cracked jar.

Jerusha had learned that her captor’s name was Iddina. He had shouted it at her, pointing to himself and making her repeat it. Iddina terrified her. There was no mistaking the cruelty in his dark eyes or his hunger for violence, his thirst for bloodshed. The sight of him, the smell of him gagged her as he forced her into his tent, night after night. But she remembered the mutilated bodies left behind in the little grove of trees and knew that her only hope of survival was unquestioning submission.