The Chronicles of the Kings Collection

by Lynn Austin

  “I lost my temper. Some of my discipline was . . . Some of it was done in anger. I’m sorry.” Nathan didn’t respond. “The elders are meeting in a little while to decide what to do,” Joshua continued. “I’m supposed to present your defense.”

  Nathan gave a harsh laugh. “Good luck.”

  “Is there anything you want me to tell them?”

  “I was drunk out of my mind.”

  “That’s a contributing factor, but it’s not a defense.”

  Nathan uncovered his face and stared up at the ceiling. “They probably won’t believe me, but I wasn’t worshiping idols. I just went there to . . . because I . . .”

  “You wanted an Egyptian girl.”

  Nathan closed his eyes. “I’m so bored here.”

  “I understand. But boredom doesn’t exempt you from obeying God’s Laws.”

  “There are too many laws! Life here is just too stinking strict. I’m hemmed in with rules and ‘thou shalt nots’ until I feel like I’m suffocating. I can’t stand it anymore! Why can’t I have a little fun like everyone else in the world?”

  “Do you really want an answer, son? Or are you just blowing off steam?”

  Nathan sat up, propped on his elbows. His eyes met Joshua’s. “No, I really want an answer. Why can’t we be like everyone else?”

  “Because we’re God’s chosen people, His covenant people. The psalmist says, ‘He has revealed his word to Jacob, his laws and decrees to Israel. He has done this for no other nation; they do not know his laws.’ I made you say the Shema last night. Did you really believe those words, Nathan? Do you really believe there is only one God?”

  “Yeah, I believe it. It’s just that sometimes it seems like the priests made up all those rules, not God. Other religions don’t have so many laws.”

  “Moses wrote, ‘Who among the gods is like you, O Lord? Who is like you—majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders?’ Our God is holy—none of the pagan gods is called holy—and we’re made in His image. He demands holiness of us because it’s the only way we can have fellowship with Him. The Law is there to remind us to be holy in everything we do—the way we dress, what we eat, how we live. It’s true that other gods don’t have laws for people to follow. That’s what makes them so appealing. And it’s also what proves they’re false. Man creates those gods in his own sinful image. People don’t want rules and laws; we don’t want holy living. Tell me—if you were going to invent a god and a book of rules to live by, would you invent one that is as demanding as Yahweh?”

  “His laws are impossible to keep.”

  “Yes, they are. That’s why He gave us the Temple and the sacrifices; that’s why a lamb dies in our place every time we sin. You’ve been sheltered here. You only see the immediate rewards of sin, the instant gratification it can bring. But if you went out in the world for a while and saw the long-term results of adultery or covetousness or living a life apart from God, you’d see how sin eventually destroys us. All that fun and freedom you witnessed last night are illusions to lure you away from the truth. Shall we go back to the mainland this morning and see the consequences of last night’s fun? Most of those men probably feel as sick and miserable as you do right now. And what about the long-term consequences? Some of those women probably became pregnant last night. Do you know what the pagans do with the children they conceive at their orgies? Do you know what that girl last night would have done with a child of yours? She would sacrifice him in the fire. In fact, if your mother had been a pagan instead of a Jew, she would have sacrificed you. Children are loved and cherished among our people because they’re precious to God. Do you still want to call the world’s way ‘fun’ and our way too strict?”

  “There must be a compromise somewhere in the world.”

  “There isn’t. This is a struggle between life and death. Yesterday at the Feast of Pentecost we celebrated the giving of God’s Law at Mount Sinai. That’s to remind us that ‘man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.’ His word offers us life and protects us from the sin that will destroy us. The Evil One wants to enslave us to sin, but God gave us the Law because He wants us as sons. Moses said, ‘Take to heart all the words I have solemnly declared to you this day. . . . They are not just idle words for you—they are your life.’” He tried to meet his son’s gaze, but Nathan wouldn’t look at Joshua. He sat with his head lowered, staring down.

  “I know why you want to leave Elephantine, Nathan. You think you can leave all your problems and your unhappiness behind, but you can’t. The problems are inside your own heart. You’ll be taking them all with you wherever you go. You never got over your past and the fact that your father abandoned you. I admit I wasn’t a very good example for you because I had trouble forgetting the past, too. I was angry with God for allowing Abba to die. But God knew he would die. And God knew exactly what kind of a home you would be born into. Can you forgive Him for allowing that? Can you accept His will? Because everything that happens in our lives can help shape us into the persons God wants us to become. Yes, He allowed my father to die and your father to abandon you—but He gave us each other. We’ve both been so busy mourning what we’ve lost that we’ve failed to see all that He has given us in return.”

  Nathan continued to stare down at his sleeping mat, tugging on a loose thread in the blanket. Joshua waited for him to speak, wondering what he was thinking.

  “I know I haven’t been the father you wanted or needed,” Joshua finally said. “I couldn’t fill that empty place he left when he abandoned you. But you’ve been looking in all the wrong places, trying to fill the hole he left. It won’t work. Only God can fill that place. He’s the Father you’ve longed for all your life.”

  The room fell silent. “Nathan, look at me,” Joshua said softly. He waited until Nathan looked up. “Do you still want to leave the island? Leave Miriam and me?”

  “No,” he whispered.

  Joshua swallowed the lump in his throat. “Then I’ll try to convince the elders to let you stay. . . . Is there anything you want me to tell them?”

  Nathan’s eyes swam with tears. “Yes . . . tell them I’m sorry.”

  Joshua nodded. “You need to get washed up. Then it’s time for us to go, son.”

  The elders and Levite judges sat waiting in Joshua’s newly built hall of justice on the temple grounds. Joshua felt a growing tightness in his chest as he stood beside his son, listening to the charges against him. Nathan had stolen a boat and gone to the forbidden mainland. He had taken part in idolatry. He had broken Yahweh’s commandments to honor his father, to flee from adultery, to worship no other god but Yahweh. There was nothing Joshua could say in Nathan’s defense. Reuben, Caleb, and Colonel Simeon testified against him, and Joshua knew all the charges were true. But to Colonel Simeon, the worst crime Nathan had committed was to entice other young people to sin.

  “In the past Nathan has acted alone,” the colonel stated, “but now he poses a threat to all of our children. The Torah clearly says that if our very own brother entices us to worship other gods, we are to show him no mercy. We are to stone him to death!”

  Joshua shuddered when he remembered how he had used the same Torah passage to justify assassinating Manasseh. He stared at the ground, unable to face Nathan’s accusers, knowing that his own sin and rebellion had set a poor example for his son.

  “The Torah also says,” Simeon concluded, “that if a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who does not obey him, if he is a profligate and a drunkard, ‘Then all the men of his town shall stone him to death. You must purge the evil from among you. All Israel will hear of it and be afraid.’ If you’re too cowardly to obey the Torah, then the very least I demand is that Nathan never sets foot on this island again! We must purge the evil from among us!”

  As Simeon’s shouts echoed off the walls and died away, Joshua finally looked up. “Sin isn’t ‘out there’ somewhere, Simeon . . . on the mainland . . . among the pagans . .
. in my son. Sin is inside each one of us. You can banish Nathan from Elephantine Island or even execute him, but that won’t protect your sons from sin. The Evil One will always seek a way to tempt them away from God. It happened to the generations that came before us—it happened to our own brethren back in Judah—and it will happen to the generations that come after us, too. The answer isn’t to shelter our children from every bad influence that might lead them astray. The answer is to allow them to experience God’s goodness and faithfulness for themselves. Let them ask difficult questions, then stand back and allow God to work in their lives. Let your children ‘taste and see that the Lord is good.’ Our generation experienced God’s deliverance firsthand, and so we have a relationship with Him based on faith. But we can’t pass our relationship on to our sons. We can point them in the right direction, but they must experience God themselves and decide whether or not to embrace Him. Do you want your sons to make that choice out of fear? Because they’re afraid they’ll be executed or banished like my son was?”

  “I want that boy off this island,” Simeon shouted. “There is no room here for anyone who rebels and disobeys God!”

  “Then why didn’t you banish me? I disobeyed God. I rebelled when I sought vengeance against King Manasseh. My sin led to the deaths of thirty of your sons. Why wasn’t I banished from the island? Why didn’t you condemn me to death?” None of the men would look at Joshua. “I repented of my rebellion. I asked God and all of you for forgiveness. If Nathan confesses his idolatry and his sin like I did, if he offers his sacrifices at the temple, God will forgive him . . . right?” When the Levites didn’t answer, Joshua felt his temper soar. “You’re Yahweh’s servants—you should know the answer! Does He forgive our sins when we repent, or doesn’t He?”

  One of the chief Levites finally nodded. “If the repentance is genuine, yes, He forgives us.”

  “And aren’t we commanded to forgive one another?”

  Simeon spat with fury. “I don’t believe that his so-called repentance is genuine. That boy is a liar and a thief! He deserves to be executed! I saw him at that festival. I saw everything with my own eyes.”

  Joshua lowered his head in shame. “Yes, I saw him, too. My son is guilty. I know that justice demands punishment.” He slowly sank to his knees in front of them. “But I’m begging you—”

  Appalled, the elders quickly stood and tried to drag him to his feet. “Joshua, don’t beg. Stand up. . . . Don’t do this. . . .”

  He shook them off as tears streamed down his face. “I’m begging for mercy. I’m begging for forgiveness. ‘As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.’ Please have mercy on my son.”

  The elders gave up their attempts to get him to his feet and decided to gather in a huddle to discuss a verdict. “Give us a minute, Joshua.”

  He heard only the mumble of voices as they turned their backs to him and left him kneeling, alone. In his mind he could imagine Nathan turning his back, as well, heading out into the world alone. In spite of all the pain his son had caused him, Joshua knew that he couldn’t bear to lose him. How could he live the rest of his life never knowing what had become of him? He struggled to draw a breath, and in his pain he was suddenly aware that God had answered his prayer. For more than ten years he had prayed for a father’s love for Nathan, prayed to love him as if he were his own flesh and blood. Now he knew that God had answered. The grief he felt was a father’s grief for his beloved son. He was about to lose Nathan—his son—and he couldn’t bear it.

  He was still slumped on his knees when the elders returned with their verdict. He heard their words as if they stood at a great distance.

  “When someone sins repeatedly then claims to repent, only a change in his actions will prove that his repentance is genuine. Has Nathan truly turned away from his sin and turned toward God? He will have six months to convince us. But this will be his final chance.”

  Joshua looked up at Nathan and saw tears falling down his bruised face. Then Joshua covered his own face and wept.

  20

  Miriam struggled to be brave, to hold back her tears as she limped into Jerusha’s darkened bedchamber. The unthinkable was happening: Mama Jerusha lay dying. The physicians had all said it was so. Now she had asked to speak with Miriam alone.

  “What am I going to do without you, Mama?” Miriam asked as she took her mother-in-law’s hand in her own. “I need your advice to know how to live, how to be a good wife. I need your wisdom.”

  Jerusha smiled faintly. “I don’t have any special knowledge, my daughter. Wisdom comes from God. He’ll give you all that you need to guide this family for me.”

  “For you? But I could never take your place.”

  “You’re taking your own place, Miriam, continuing the role God gave you years ago when He brought you into our lives. You kept us all alive and moving forward through our grief back then. And I know you’ll do the same after I’m gone.”

  “But what about your daughters? Tirza is the oldest, surely she—”

  “I love all of my daughters, but you’re the one who’s the most like me. Tirza and Dinah were raised in luxury and spoiled shamelessly by their father. . . .” Jerusha smiled the way she always did whenever she remembered Eliakim. “I know my children think of me as a nobleman’s wife, but in my heart I’ll always be a poor farmer’s daughter. You and I are simple, practical women. And that’s what this family needs to hold everyone together. You’re the strongest one, Miriam. I’m leaving my family in good hands.”

  Miriam could no longer halt her tears. Jerusha had said that she was the strongest one, but Miriam knew it was only because she was the weakest. She bent to hold Mama Jerusha in her arms one last time.

  “You taught me so much about Yahweh and about living by faith. . . . Whom will I turn to?”

  “Turn to God,” Jerusha whispered.

  Two days later Miriam stood with her husband beside Jerusha’s grave, unable to comprehend that she was gone. Joel recited the prayers for the dead, and as Miriam listened, she studied each of Jerusha’s children, gathered to mourn her. They were her legacy, so different from one another, yet so much alike. Jerimoth, the successful merchant, stood with his enormous brood of offspring. Tirza cradled the newest of her five priestly sons in her arms. Dinah, who was pregnant with another child of royal blood, clung to her husband, weeping softly. Joshua, the architect and leader, clasped Miriam’s hand so tightly it ached, as he battled his own grief. As Jerusha had so often reminded her, they had their tasks to do for God, and Miriam had hers.

  When the service ended, Joshua released Miriam’s hand and bent to toss a handful of dirt onto Jerusha’s grave. The other family members did the same. Miriam was grateful that her crippled body prevented her from bending. She couldn’t bring herself to bury Jerusha, even in a symbolic gesture. While everyone else said their farewells and left for home, she and Joshua lingered beside the grave. Miriam saw by the slump of her husband’s shoulders, the lines of sorrow around his eyes, that she needed to lay aside her own grief for a while to comfort him.

  “I’m so glad Mama is buried beside our baby,” she said. “It helps me remember that they’re together now.”

  “She should be buried beside my father. I don’t even know where he was buried—or if he was buried.”

  She recognized the old bitterness trying to draw him into his private darkness, and she leaned against him to keep him from slipping away. “What difference does it make, Joshua? Your mother isn’t inside that discarded body anymore. She and your father are together, resting in Abraham’s bosom.”

  “I wish you could have known Abba.”

  “But I do know him. He was part of you and part of Jerusha, part of your whole family. His love helped make you the people that you are. He’s as real to me as your mother is.”

  He took her hand again and held it tightly in his. “Why don’t you ever doubt or question God? Don’t you ever wonder why your legs never got
stronger? Why our child is lying here in this grave? Why Mama is? You’re always helping others, always giving, and now here’s another loss, something more God has taken from you.”

  “Do you remember what your mother always used to say? ‘I will thank Him for all that He has given me, not curse Him for all that I’ve lost.’ She taught me that God doesn’t always give us what we want, but He always gives us what we need.” She looked up at his solemn, handsome face and watched as he rubbed his hand across his eyes, then smoothed the patch into place again. “Sometimes I wonder what you see in me, Joshua. My mind is so different from yours, with your deep thoughts and probing questions. I’m just a simple woman. And my prayers and my faith are simple, too.”

  “But that’s exactly what I love about you. In spite of all my years of Torah study, I think your faith is much stronger than mine in the end.”

  “Why? Because you ask questions and I don’t? It takes a very strong faith to ask hard questions of God.”

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to get into another wrestling match with God over Mama’s death, and yet . . . and yet I can’t pretend that I accept it. I know how much you loved Mama, too. What’s going through your mind now that she’s been taken from us?”

  “I loved her. I miss her already. But I accept that Mama’s death was God’s will even if I can’t see what the reason is. And you will, too, just as you learned to accept your father’s death.” A tear rolled down Miriam’s cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. “I know that with all of the reading and studying you’ve done, you see God’s hand shaping the nations. But sometimes you forget that He also cares about you and me. Everything that happens in our life is under His control and serves His purpose. Your mother taught me that. She always said that even when she was captured by the Assyrians it served His purpose. And she used to say that someday we would understand why we’ve had to struggle so with Nathan.”