The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

by Lynn Austin

  “Yahweh promised seven years ago that He would deliver you—remember? ‘The Lord Almighty will shield Jerusalem; he will “pass over” it and will rescue it.’”

  “Yes. I remember the day you told me that.”

  “This Passover feast celebrates our physical deliverance from our enemies, but it symbolizes our spiritual redemption, as well.”

  “Our spiritual redemption? What do you mean?”

  “The feast represents Yahweh’s eternal plan to redeem our souls from the sin of Adam’s fall.”

  “I’ve celebrated Passover dozens of times, but I never heard that it symbolizes our spiritual redemption. Will you explain how it does that, Rabbi?”

  “Why don’t we begin, and I’ll explain as we celebrate.” Isaiah’s wife lit the Passover candles, and Hezekiah bowed his head as she recited the traditional blessing. Then Isaiah said, “Just as the woman begins our Passover by providing light, so it will be that the seed of the woman will begin God’s redemption plan, bringing salvation to light. It is written, ‘So the Lord God said to the serpent . . .”I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.”’”

  “Is Yahweh speaking of the Messiah?”

  “Yes, the Messiah, the promised seed of the woman. The people who walk in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned. . . . For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness.”

  “I don’t understand. How can the Messiah—the seed of David—be called ‘Mighty God’?”

  “Don’t you remember what the psalmist has written? ‘O Israel, put your hope in the Lord. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.’”

  “Yes, but—”

  “It was revealed long ago, even to our father Abraham when he told Isaac, ‘God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering.’”

  “Was that when Yahweh provided the ram in the thicket? So that Abraham wouldn’t have to sacrifice his son?”

  “That’s right, Your Majesty.” Isaiah lifted the flask of wine and filled their cups. “This wine reminds us of the blood of the Passover lamb that was shed for Israel’s salvation. As it is written, ‘When I see the blood, I will pass over you.’ The four cups of wine we will drink speak of God’s fourfold plan of redemption: ‘I will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians. . . . I will free you from being slaves. . . . I will redeem you with an outstretched arm. . . . I will take you as my own people.’”

  He set the flask of wine on the table, and they all bowed as Isaiah prayed the blessing. Then Hezekiah raised his cup and drank.

  “Tonight we recall our slavery, Your Majesty, so that we can understand the true meaning of freedom. Yahweh liberated us from bondage to man—and from bondage to sin—so that we would be free to serve Him.”

  Hezekiah looked at Isaiah to see if his words were meant as a rebuke for trusting in the alliance instead of in God, but the prophet held a clay bowl and pitcher out to him, pouring the water over Hezekiah’s hands, saying nothing. When they had all washed, Isaiah passed the plate of parsley and a bowl of salt water to dip it into.

  “This represents the hyssop our ancestors used to paint the blood of the lamb on their doorposts. The salt represents the tears we shed in Egypt and at the Red Sea.”

  After they had eaten the parsley, Isaiah took a basket with three loaves of unleavened bread and broke one of the loaves in two, reciting, “This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt; let all those who are hungry enter and eat, and all who are in distress come and celebrate Passover.”

  He looked up at Hezekiah and said, “In the same way, Yahweh invites us to partake of His salvation, saying, ‘Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? . . . Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.’”

  “Rabbi, I have difficulty comprehending a God who is so generous—so forgiving.”

  “We all do, because we are so unlike Him. That’s what tempts us to make idols. We want to cast God in our own image.” Isaiah poured their second cup of wine and raised his own. “This represents Yahweh’s second promise to us: ‘I will free you from being slaves.’ If the Holy One had not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, we and our children and our children’s children would still be in bondage to the pharaohs in Egypt. But Yahweh our God heard our voice and saw our affliction. Blessed be our holy God.”

  Hezekiah stared into his wineglass, wondering why he had so foolishly trusted in Egypt for help. Pharaoh’s forces had finally come, but much too late for most of Hezekiah’s nation. The enemy had destroyed all his fortified cities except Jerusalem.

  “Do you know the next part of the ritual, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, Rabbi.”

  “Then why don’t you recite the words?”

  Hezekiah cleared his throat. “God’s promise of deliverance has been the hope of our ancestors and of ourselves. For not only one nation, but many have risen up against us in every generation to annihilate us. But the Most Holy God, blessed be He, always delivered us out of their hands—”

  He stopped, unable to finish, and Isaiah continued for him: “Just as He brought us forth from Egypt, with a strong hand and with an outstretched arm, with great terror, and with signs and wonders.”

  Hezekiah bowed his head, reciting the next part of the liturgy from memory as Isaiah and his wife echoed the response: “If God had merely rescued us from Egypt, but had not slain their firstborn . . .”

  “It would have been enough.”

  “If He had merely slain their firstborn, but had not parted the sea for us . . .”

  “It would have been enough.”

  “If He had merely parted the sea, but had not fed us with manna . . .”

  “It would have been enough.”

  “And if He had merely fed us with manna, but had not brought us to this land . . .”

  “It would have been enough.”

  “Yes, Rabbi, it would have been more than enough.”

  “But we know that Yahweh has done so much more. Someday, Your Majesty, on this very mountain the Lord Almighty will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever.”

  “God will swallow up death, Rabbi?” Hezekiah thought of Molech’s gaping mouth, swallowing his victims in death. “How is that possible?”

  Isaiah set the Passover lamb on the table in front of him for the next part of the ritual, then held up the shank bone. “This is the Passover lamb our forefathers ate, because the Holy One, blessed be He, spared the houses of our ancestors from death. Even so will the Messiah—the Lamb of God—destroy the power that death holds over us.”

  “Has Yahweh shown you the Messiah, Rabbi?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Can you tell me what you saw?”

  “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

  “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like
sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

  “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. . . . Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer, and though the Lord makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand. After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities.

  “Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”

  A tear glistened in Isaiah’s eye as he finished. Hezekiah stared at the Passover lamb on the table in front of him and murmured, “But that can’t be—I’m not worthy of such a sacrifice. Why would Yahweh do that for me?”

  “Because He is your Father. Unlike your earthly father, who sacrificed his children to save himself, your heavenly Father will sacrifice himself to save His children.”

  “I can’t comprehend such love, Rabbi.”

  “None of us can. If we could, what different lives we would live!” He raised the cup, reciting, “Therefore, we praise Him who performed all these miracles for us. He brought us from slavery to freedom, from sorrow to joy, from mourning to dancing, from servitude to redemption. Let us therefore sing a new song in His presence. Hallelujah!”

  They sang the traditional Passover psalms together, but as Hezekiah pondered what Isaiah had told him, he knew that the words had never meant so much to him before. Then, as he sang the last verse of the hymn: “He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children,” Hezekiah suddenly thought of Hephzibah, and he felt the pain of her betrayal shudder through him. He scarcely heard the rabbi recite the blessing on the unleavened bread and bitter herbs as he stared down at the table, thinking of Hephzibah. When he finally looked up, Isaiah’s wife had taken the pots with the Passover supper from the hearth and laid the meal on the table in front of him. He began to eat, as his hosts were doing, but he barely tasted the food.

  “What are you thinking about?” Isaiah asked gently.

  Hezekiah was ashamed to confess that he still thought about Hephzibah, an idolatress. “I was thinking of the words we just sang: ‘Who is like the Lord our God?’” he said instead.

  “Yes, our God is a God of miracles—the slaying of Egypt’s firstborn, the parting of the Red Sea, the manna in the wilderness—God intervenes in the affairs of His people precisely when He’s needed. No other god does that.”

  “I know. I’ve experienced Yahweh’s miracles in my own life, Rabbi. He saved me from Molech when I was a child, He healed me when I nearly died, and now He has saved Jerusalem from Assyria.”

  Isaiah nodded. “The gods of the nations around us must be bribed to perform, with sacrifices and rituals and offerings. The people try to earn the attention of their gods through their own good works. They try to bend the gods’ wills to conform to theirs. But our God can’t be coerced by good works. We can’t earn His favor.”

  Hezekiah thought back to when he first became king and how he had renewed Judah’s covenant with God in order to earn His blessing on his nation. “Is that what I’ve tried to do?” he asked.

  Isaiah pierced him with his gaze. “You tried to earn peace and prosperity for your nation with your reforms, but you should have made those reforms out of love for God, not because of what He would give you in return.”

  Hezekiah stared in surprise at the prophet’s frankness, but he knew he deserved the rebuke.

  “You tried to earn an heir by following every letter of the Law,” Isaiah continued, “marrying only one wife; then you became angry with God when He didn’t reward your faithfulness.”

  “But . . . I thought . . .”

  “When you begged for your life, you reminded God of all your good works, as if you could bribe Him to change His mind.”

  “Rabbi—”

  “You’ve been trying to earn God’s favor and blessing all your life, Your Majesty, and you’ve used the Law and the sacrifices the same way your father used idols to get what he wanted. But you can never do enough or try hard enough to win God’s love. No one can keep the Law perfectly. We all fail. As Solomon has written, ‘There is not a righteous man on earth who does what is right and never sins.’”

  “Then how—?”

  “Yahweh’s forgiveness and blessings are free. You already have His love, and you always did. He saved you from Molech long before you did one good work for Him, because He loves you. Not because of anything you did to deserve it, but because you’re His child.”

  “I know I’ve sinned, Rabbi—I know I have. I never should have put my trust in the alliance. I should have trusted God.”

  “You made Yahweh your God a long time ago—now you must let Him be the sovereign Lord of your life.”

  They finished the meal, and Isaiah’s wife quietly cleared away their plates. Then Isaiah bowed his head. “Let us say the blessing for our food. ‘Blessed be He of whose bounty we have eaten and through whose goodness we live. Amen.’” He filled their cups a third time and lifted his up. “This is the cup of redemption, God’s promise to redeem us with His outstretched arm. Just as He purchased Israel’s firstborn by the blood of the Passover lamb, even so will the Messiah buy us back, redeeming us from sin with His blood.”

  Hezekiah drank the wine, aware of his sin and disobedience, aware that he was unworthy of such a sacrifice. As soon as he set his cup down, Isaiah filled it for the fourth time.

  “The final cup is the cup of praise, for Yahweh has promised, ‘I will take you as my own people, and I will be your God.’ How, then, can we keep silent? How can we fail to praise Him for such amazing love as this?”

  Isaiah began to sing the final Passover psalms of praise, and as Hezekiah joined him, the words seemed to tell the story of his own life, his own redemption, and he relived each memory as he sang:

  Not to us, O Lord, not to us

  but to your name be the glory,

  because of your love and faithfulness.

  Hezekiah remembered how he had accepted the Babylonians’ praise for himself instead of rightfully praising God, and he felt ashamed.

  Why do the nations say,

  “Where is their God?”

  Our God is in heaven;

  he does whatever pleases him.

  But their idols are silver and gold,

  made by the hands of men.

  The psalm reminded Hezekiah of the Assyrian Rabshekah’s taunting words. But Yahweh was the only God, a God of miracles, a God of love.

  O house of Israel, trust in the Lord—

  he is their help and shield.

  Again, Hezekiah wondered why he had put his trust in other nations instead of in God. He vowed never to do it again.

  The cords of death entangled me,

  the anguish of the grave came upon me. . . .

  Then I called on the name of the Lord:

  “O Lord, save me!”

  Three times Hezekiah had almost died, first in Molech’s flames, then by Uriah’s hand, and finally during his illness after the fire. But each time he had cried out to Yahweh, and God had given him back his life.

  How can I repay the Lord

  for all his goodness to me?

  Hezekiah knew that if he lived for a hundred years, he could never repay God. As they began the final praise song, Hezekiah sang the words with heartfelt love for God. They were the words of his own testimony:

  The Lord is with me; I will not be afraid.

  What can man do to me? . . .

  It is better to take refuge in the Lord

  than to trust in man. . . .

&nbs
p; All the nations surrounded me,

  but in the name of the Lord I cut them off. . . .

  I was pushed back and about to fall,

  but the Lord helped me.

  The Lord is my strength and my song;

  he has become my salvation.

  Hezekiah saw Yahweh clearly for the first time in his life—a God of power and love, a God of salvation. And even though he’d lost everything he’d worked for these past fourteen years, he knew that he still had Yahweh’s love—and that was enough. If he needed to lose everything to finally see God face-to-face, then it had all been worth it.

  “Now the Passover celebration is complete,” Isaiah recited, “even as our salvation and redemption are complete. Just as we were privileged to celebrate it this year, so may we be privileged to do so in the future.”

  “Amen, Rabbi. In the future.” But Hezekiah knew that at this moment his nation’s future was very uncertain. “How did I stray so far from what was right?” he asked quietly. “When did I begin to sin?”

  “Your sin began after you severed your relationship with Yahweh.”

  “But how, Rabbi? How did I sever it?”

  “You became separated from Him by unforgiveness.”

  “But I made all the right sacrifices; I confessed my sin every day. Which sin wasn’t forgiven?”

  “Not God’s unforgiveness, Your Majesty—yours. The unforgiveness in your own heart.”

  “You mean Hephzibah?”

  “Bitterness not only destroys you but it cuts you off from God. How can He forgive us if we can’t forgive one another?”

  “But how can I forgive her for what she’s done to me?”

  “What has she done?” Isaiah asked gently. “She put her faith in something other than God. Is that sin unforgivable, Hezekiah? Because if it is, then you have condemned yourself by your own confession. If she can’t be forgiven, then neither can you.”

  Hezekiah leaned his elbows on the table and covered his face.

  “Hephzibah isn’t evil, Your Majesty, only weak and human like all the rest of us. God couldn’t stop loving her because of her sin any more than you could.”