Song of Redemption (49 page)

Shebna cleared his throat, then spoke haltingly, as if forcing out the words against his will. “Eliakim shares your faith. Now that his tunnel is a success, I am sure he would be pleased to have my job.”

Hezekiah had seen the enormous stress the tunnel had placed on Eliakim and the heavy toll it had taken on his health. Eliakim needed a long rest before he would be ready for the pressures of Shebna’s job. Hezekiah couldn’t deny the resentment he felt toward Shebna, but he needed him. There was no one else.

“I can’t stop you from resigning if that’s what you want to do, but I won’t accept your resignation tonight. I’ll give you three days to reconsider. Maybe by that time …” He paused, admitting only to himself the tremendous fear he felt. “Maybe by that time, this crisis will have passed.”

Shebna didn’t reply. He continued to stare miserably at the floor. In spite of his anger, Hezekiah wanted to do something to heal the breach between them. There was no one he trusted as much as Shebna, except Hephzibah. Hezekiah pushed his chair back and stood up. He saw the first few stars shining in the sky through the open window.

“I’m going up to the north wall to watch for the signal fires. Come with me, Shebna.”

Hezekiah saw sorrow in Shebna’s eyes. “Very well, Your Majesty.”

Neither of them spoke as they left the palace and walked up the hill to the Temple Mount. Below them, the city seemed unusually quiet and still. Instead of entering the Temple enclosure, they climbed the steep steps to the top of the city wall and followed it along the eastern side of the Temple grounds. They turned at the northeast corner of the wall and continued until they came to the watchtower that Eliakim had constructed. The sheer drop to the Kidron Valley was dizzying, but from the top of it, they would have an unobstructed view of the signal fire on the next watchtower to the north. Three young Judean soldiers, posted at the watch, halted their lively banter and bowed nervously as Hezekiah and Shebna approached.

“Has there been a signal yet?” Hezekiah asked.

“No, Your Majesty. It’s still too light.”

“Good. We’ll wait for it.”

Although the stars hung brightly above the Mount of Olives to the east, Hezekiah could still see the faint glow of the sun behind the mountains to the west.

“According to the message we received last night, the Assyrians still haven’t broken camp,” he told Shebna. “But I expect that the first few divisions will begin marching any day now.”

He leaned against the wall, resting his arms on the top of the parapet, and gazed out at the dark silhouette of the mountains to the north. A hushed expectancy fell over the waiting men, a feeling of suspense that was familiar to Hezekiah. He remembered standing on the platform before Molech, waiting, with Isaiah’s promise of salvation as his only hope. He had waited, interminably, for the hand to grab him and hurl him to his death. But the hand of Yahweh had rescued him instead.

Now he stood facing another enemy, and once again Isaiah’s promise from God was the only hope he had. He listened to the night sounds in the valley below him, rigid with suspense, as the sunlight gradually faded into darkness.

Suddenly one of the soldiers leaped to attention. “There it is, Your Majesty!” He pointed to a blinking light on the horizon. Hezekiah’s heart felt like a cold stone in his chest. He didn’t know how to read the signals. He could only wait tensely for one of the soldiers to decipher them.

“The first Assyrian divisions have broken camp. They have begun to march… .”

“Which direction?” Hezekiah whispered.

He waited—an eternity—but the distant mountaintop remained dark. Then the tantalizing light flickered once again.

“Northeast!” the soldier cried. “They’re marching northeast! Back to Nineveh!”

A cheer went up from the soldiers beside him, but Hezekiah closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, numb with relief.
“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.”

The soldiers were rejoicing, embracing one another and clapping each other on the back. Shebna looked unnaturally pale, as if he might faint.

Hezekiah’s eyes bored into his. “Another coincidence, Shebna?”

“Perhaps not,” he whispered.

Shebna found Gedaliah and the elders of Lachish in the palace, planning the government they would soon form. As Shebna burst into the room, the door slammed backward against the wall, nearly rocking it from its stone sockets. The startled men stared at him fearfully. Before he could speak, the shofars began to blast from the Temple walls.

“That is the sound of your defeat, Gedaliah. There will be no Assyrian invasion, just as your brother’s God has promised.”

Gedaliah stared at him, too stunned to speak. The triumphant cry of the shofars sounded on and on in the background.

“Your horse is being saddled. Take your men and get out. Go back to Lachish now—tonight! Or I swear by Hezekiah’s God I will kill you myself!”

Hezekiah stayed on the wall alone after all the others had left, gazing out from the watchtower toward the darkened hills. Only forty miles to the north the land of Israel lay destroyed, and except for the grace of God, the land of Judah would have met the same fate.

As the Temple shofars blew, announcing the joyful news, Hezekiah watched the city come to life as the people flooded from their homes into the streets to celebrate. In a few minutes he would go down as their king and lead them in worship. But first he knelt beneath the starry sky and bowed with his forehead to the ground before his Heavenly King.

“We have heard with our ears, O God—our fathers have told us what you did in their days, long ago. You drove out the nations with your hand and planted our fathers here. You crushed the peoples and made our fathers flourish. It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them.

“You are my King and my God, who decrees all our victories. Through you we push back our enemies; through your name we trample our foes. I don’t trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory; but you give us victory over our enemies, You put our adversaries to shame. In God we make our boast all day long, and we will praise your name forever.

“Hear O Israel, Yahweh is our God. Yahweh alone.”

Epilogue

J
ERUSHA SAT IN THE FLOWER-DRAPED
chair in Hilkiah’s garden with a carpet of flower petals beneath her feet. She heard the joyful music of the groom’s procession and recognized the song—the same one she’d sung on the morning of her cousin’s wedding so long ago. Maacah stood beside her, and as the sound of the music drew closer, she bent to hug Jerusha tightly.

“You look so beautiful! I wish Mama and Abba could see you. They’d be so proud and so happy that you’re marrying Eliakim.”

Suddenly the music stopped. Eliakim stood in the doorway of the courtyard. His curly black hair was tousled as usual, but he looked like a prince in his wedding robes. When he saw Jerusha, a boyish smile lit up his handsome face, and she wanted to run into his arms. Beside him, General Jonadab wore the uniform of the King’s Royal Army. Dozens of Hilkiah’s relatives and guests crowded into the courtyard behind them.

Eliakim’s eyes never left hers as he took her hand and squeezed it gently. Jerusha rose to her feet to stand beside him, silently thanking God for all He had done for her—for the miracle of her restored life. For forgiveness. And for the greatest miracle of all: Eliakim’s love.

She saw tears of joy in Hilkiah’s eyes as he took Jerimoth’s place, as father of the bride. How Jerusha loved the dear little merchant! Hilkiah laid his hand on her head as Abba once had, and she remembered her father’s words:
“Someday God will turn these tears into
joy.”

Hilkiah’s hand rested on her head for the blessing, but as he spoke the words, Jerusha heard Abba’s voice: “May Yahweh bless you and keep you. May Yahweh cause His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. May He make you as Sarah and Rebecca. May He favor you and grant you His peace. Amen.”

Behold the tunnel. Now this is the story of the
tunnel; while the workmen were still lifting up
the pick, each towards his neighbor and while
there was yet three cubits to excavate, a voice
was heard of a man calling his fellow, since there
was a split in the rock on the right hand and on
the left. And on the day of the excavation the
workmen struck, each towards his neighbor, pick
against pick, and the water flowed from the
spring to the pool for twelve hundred cubits,
and a hundred cubits was the height of the rock
above the heads of the workmen.

O
LDEST HEBREW INSCRIPTION
EVER DISCOVERED, CARVED
IN THE SILOAM TUNNEL,
JERUSALEM, 8TH CENTURY BC .

C
HRONICLES OF THE
K
INGS
—Book 3

The Strength of His Hand

The Strength of His Hand
tells of King Hezekiah’s later reign and the climax of events surrounding the Assyrian invasion. God has brought him great wealth and power; but after many years, Hezekiah still has no heir. His wife, in desperation, makes another vow to Asherah, the fertility goddess, betraying all that Hezekiah believes in and works for.

As his international stature increases, Hezekiah is tempted to side with Egypt and Babylon in a military alliance against Assyria—an alliance that the prophet Isaiah warns him not to join. As the Assyrians march westward with a lust for vengeance and conquest, Hezekiah will discover whether or not his faith in God will sustain him against an overwhelming enemy.