Harvest of Gold (41 page)

Sanballat would not give up. Like a stubborn horsefly, he kept coming back no matter how hard Nehemiah swatted him away. Four times his enemies sent him the same message, and each time, Nehemiah wrote back the same answer.

Out of patience, the fifth time Sanballat sent his own aide rather than a simple messenger. The man came armed with an unsealed letter. Nehemiah wondered how many times it had been read along the way, spreading its bitter lies amongst friend and foe alike. No doubt, that was the reason the senders had chosen not to seal it. He read it under the cold eye of the Samaritan aide.

It is reported among the surrounding nations—and Geshem who has many friends and relatives among your people confirms it—that you and the Jews are plotting to revolt against Persia. They say this is your motive for building your wall. According to these reports, you are about to set yourself up as the king of Judah. You have even appointed prophets to make the proclamation that there is now a king in Judah! You can be certain that this report will get back to King Artaxerxes. So come, let us confer together before he sends his army to destroy you
.

Nehemiah curled his lip. “Is that the best your commander can come up with? Now you go and tell him that I said there is no truth in any part of his story. He has made up a child’s tale.”

Darius, drawn by the appearance of Sanballat’s aide, had come to linger nearby in case Nehemiah should need help. It was typical of Darius, who had avoided him since the awkward conversation about his childhood, to set aside his personal anger in order to lend his support in national matters. Nehemiah gave him a warm smile as they watched Sanballat’s servant, red-faced, make his way toward the Sheep Gate.

“You must hand it to the man. He is persistent,” Darius said.

“They are trying to intimidate me.”

“But you’re not intimidated?”

Nehemiah rubbed his chest. “Of course I am. But this is not about my feelings. It concerns the will of God. They can destroy my name, but what can they do to the Lord? They imagine they can discourage me by spreading rumors and trashing my reputation. They want me to stop the work at any cost. And that, I will never do.”

“Because God wants you to complete the wall?”

“Exactly!” He slapped a hand on Darius’s shoulder. “You begin to understand the Jewish way.”

“I doubt it,” Darius said, his voice a drawl.

“These interminable attacks make me even more determined to push through. As soon as the scaffolding and the doors are ready, I will have them installed.”

When he returned to the quiet of his chamber, Nehemiah prostrated himself on the floor and prayed.
Lord, strengthen my hands. Give me the fortitude to ignore these rumors. You are my vindicator. Enable me to shut my ears to these unjust accusations. Help me not waste my time and vigor by giving in to the desire to defend myself. Don’t let me stop before Your time. Help me push through. When I am at my weakest, lend me Your strength so that I can go on
.

Shemaiah, a self-professed prophet, sent an invitation for Nehemiah to visit him later that evening. In spite of a busy schedule, Nehemiah accepted the invitation, wondering why Shemaiah desired to see him. He did not have long to wait in order to find out. He had hardly had a chance to greet Shemaiah when the man pounced on him, his bent fingers digging into Nehemiah’s arm.

“I’ve asked you here in order to save your life. Here is a prophecy that you would do well to heed. Your enemies are coming to kill you tonight. Let us hide inside the Temple and bolt the doors shut. They won’t dare come against you there.”

“Hide in the Temple? Have you lost your senses, Shemaiah? A layman like me has no business in there. Furthermore, what will the people think if their governor barricades himself in the house of the Lord? Do you wish me to be discredited? I will do no such thing.”

Shemaiah’s face turned stony. “If you prefer to die by the hand of your enemies, go your way. You’re such a stubborn mule, there is no talking reason to you.”

For a moment fear grasped Nehemiah’s heart so that he could not breathe. Were there men out to murder him at this very moment? Facing fear was not a new challenge to Nehemiah. Many were the times he had had to act in spite of being afraid. In the silence of his heart, he asked God for inspiration, and focused on controlling his overwhelming desire to give in to Shemaiah’s warnings.

The more he resisted the urging of fear, the more it faded. With sudden clarity he said, “I don’t believe God sent you to me at all. This is not a prophecy from the Lord, is it Shemaiah? Tobiah and Sanballat have hired you to intimidate me. They were hoping that I would be terrorized by your lies and violate the Lord’s house, and thereby become discredited by my own actions.” He shook his head. “May God remember how you tried to tempt me into betraying Him tonight.”

Walls that had lain in ruin for over a century were restored in under two months. In spite of incessant enemy attacks and internal disharmony, the ambitious rebuilding project was concluded in a mere fifty-two days. Nehemiah’s gaze took in the enormous gates, which had finally been hung that day. A number of them even sported guardrooms that provided shelter for the men who would stand as sentinels over the city’s entrances.

The pale limestone of the walls, washed clean and unblemished by moss, twinkled in the sun. Nehemiah noticed that from certain angles the stones looked golden. Beyond the walls, several farms were visible. It was the early days of autumn, and the last of the crops had come in. The tawny heads of wheat and barley waved in the breeze like a gold band about the walls. A harvest of gold—the walls and the grain—one bringing safety, the other nourishment. God had achieved the impossible. He had provided for Jerusalem. In spite of all their fears, in spite of their faithlessness, in spite of their doubts and self-pity.

God. Had. Provided.

Looking at that sight made Nehemiah want to fall on his face and worship. Never before had he been so utterly aware of the Lord’s provision. His might could overcome every enemy. How often Nehemiah had been told that he chased after an impossible dream.

But God had achieved the impossible. Not Nehemiah. God.

By remaining faithful to Him, by refusing to give up, by persisting, Israel had reaped a harvest that changed its future. A harvest of gold.

His brother Hanani was with him. Awe had kept them both silent, sunk in their private reveries. “Nehemiah, is it real?” Hanani said, his voice a whisper.

Nehemiah laughed. “I hope so.” His voice shook with emotion.

“This should silence our enemies.”

“You would think so. But when it comes to the work of God, I am learning that the battle never stops. Tobiah, who has many ties to Israel, continues to send me letters, trying to intimidate me. I don’t know what he expects me to do. Run out with a hammer and personally bring the wall down because I’m so afraid of him?”

Hanani grinned. “If your friends are as faithful as your enemies, you are a blessed man.”

“I
am
a blessed man. In the meantime, we must return to work.”

Hanani looked dismayed. “What work? Everything is finished.”

“This is just the beginning. We cannot stop with the wall. We need to rebuild houses and roads. If we wish for Jerusalem to grow its population again, we have to provide a well-ordered city with sufficient habitation to attract more citizens. And Hanani, this has never been about a mere building project. God wants to restore the people back to Himself. He seeks to draw our hearts to Him.

“With so much to accomplish, Jerusalem needs someone who is in charge of it. I was thinking of you, little brother.”

“Me!”

“You. Along with Hananiah, the commander of the citadel. He is a man of integrity who loves God above all else. I trust you both.”

“How could you trust me with a position this significant?” Hanani dropped his head, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “Over the past two months, I have doubted you many times. You must have found me trying on more than one occasion.”

Nehemiah shook his head. “The worst character defect that can plague a leader is arrogance. Do you know the cure for arrogance?”

“What is it?”

“Failure. The Lord loves to place those who have failed in positions of power. They know their limitations and rely on Him more. You have grown through the trials of the past weeks. You have seen how God can surpass our weakness. It has humbled you, Hanani. You won’t ever make the mistake of being arrogant.”

“I am honored you believe I make a good leader for Jerusalem, even if you think my only qualification lies in the fact that I am a failure.”

Nehemiah gave a hearty laugh. “Perhaps you have other valuable qualifications as well. Here are your first orders, then. The gates of Jerusalem are not to be opened until later in the morning when the sun has grown hot. Set the gatekeepers from the Temple on guard duty, for they are not needed as often in the house of the Lord. Make sure that they shut the doors and bar them in the evening. Furthermore, appoint residents of Jerusalem as additional guards, some at their posts, and others near their houses. Men are bound to be more vigilant when their homes are at stake.

“I also intend to register the people of Judah by families. We need a record of those who have returned from captivity. There must be over forty thousand people living in the area surrounding Jerusalem.”

Hanani gave a weak nod.

From the corner of his eye Nehemiah saw a glint of color. Turning, he found Darius waiting. He was surprised at the young man’s humble patience. As the king’s cousin and a high lord in his own right, Darius would have been within his right to walk right up, unconcerned with interrupting a conversation.

Nehemiah left Hanani and approached Darius. He hadn’t had a chance to open his mouth in greeting when Darius spoke.

“You were right about me.”

His arm about Darius’s shoulder, Nehemiah drew the young man to the privacy of a hill and settled them under a myrtle tree with a twisted trunk. The silence stretched. After seeking him out and spitting out his initial confession, Darius seemed to have lost the power of speech. Nehemiah waited with patient compassion. It wouldn’t be easy to break the discipline of a lifetime and begin to express deeply private thoughts.

“Lord Nehemiah … You said that my childhood was like the foundation of Jerusalem’s walls, bearing a damage that time had not erased. You were right. I have … no idea how to … to be the man I want to be. I don’t … love my wife the way she deserves or wants.”

He exhaled a tortured breath. “In order to survive the pain of losing my parents and living in the harsh isolation of the palace school, I learned to shut down my heart. Every time I come close to giving Sarah my whole heart, I find an excuse to … to run. I have blamed her for the trouble in our marriage. But I’m as much to blame. And I don’t know how to change. I am … I am afraid.”

Nehemiah could imagine what such an admission had cost the young man. “Of what?”

“Of never being able to change. Never becoming the kind of man who is worthy of true respect.”

Nehemiah sighed. “My young friend, you won’t like my solution.”