Isaiah's Daughter

by Mesu Andrews

  Master Isaiah accepted the scroll, careful not to damage the unique seal of Yahweh’s prophets. He offered the basket of supplies in exchange.

  Small baskets hung over both my arms, and I waited for Micah to answer my silent pleading. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ishma. You should leave the baskets with me. I could lead you to Yaira, but I fear it would be fruitless. She’s been silent since yesterday.”

  I looked to Master for permission. He gave it with a nod. “I’d really like to see her, Micah.”

  He drew me close and kissed my forehead. “You’re a good friend to her. Come.” We entered the world of the prophets—Yaira’s world. “Brothers, I bring guests!” At Micah’s declaration, I sensed a stirring ahead. The light grew brighter and the tunnel more spacious as we walked.

  Finally, we entered a large cavern—nearly the size of the palace’s Middle Court. Tents dotted the rock surface, and a stream traveled through the center of the space. Ghostly white faces stared at us, but I didn’t see Yaira.

  Micah pointed to a small tent on an elevated plateau to our left. “She’s there. Most of the time she lives among us, talking, serving, laughing, cooking. But she went to her tent yesterday after your visit and has not emerged since.”

  I started toward my friend’s hideaway, but Master Isaiah touched my arm. “Ishma, I know this is important, but we can’t risk exposing all the prophets by altering our daily routine. We must still return home by dawn.”

  Nodding my understanding, I prayed as I walked. Yahweh, only You can mend what’s broken on the inside of Yaira. I still fear swords and change and so many things, but You are mending my broken places. Mend Yaira’s broken places too.

  Yaira’s home was a simple structure: sticks connected with rope and covered by blankets. It kept her warm and gave her some privacy. I called to her from outside the flap, “Yaira, may I come in?”

  No answer.

  I poked my head inside. She sat, cross-legged, hands in her lap—face red, nose running, eyes swollen. Had she been like this since yesterday? “May I come in?”

  She nodded.

  Careful not to knock over the sticks, I lifted the flap and sat opposite my friend, saying the first thing that came to mind. “Why are you here, Yaira?”

  “This is where I live, Ishma.” She looked at me as though I were five years old again.

  I didn’t want to correct her, but I needed to clarify what I meant. “No. Why are you living with the prophets instead of with Master and Mistress?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m defiled, Ishma. You’re old enough to know what that means. A defiled woman in the house defiles the entire household.”

  “Do you think anyone would remember that about you, Yaira? It’s been nine years.” She said nothing. “Why are you really here, Yaira?”

  “I’m serving the prophets. They need someone to help cook, to tend to their needs as they concentrate on hearing the word of Yahweh.”

  I held my tongue. If that was truly the purpose Yahweh had given Yaira, I didn’t want to challenge it. Instead, I lifted my left sleeve, revealing the brand I’d received as a captive. I pointed to Yaira’s left arm. “Let me see your brand.”

  “Why?” Yaira sounded perturbed.

  “Let me see it.”

  She pulled up her sleeve, revealing the brand.

  I grabbed Yaira’s arm and placed our brands side by side. “You told me Yahweh saved my life in Bethlehem and freed me from slavery in Samaria because He had a purpose for me. Do you think God would give you the same brand but love you less?”

  Yaira jerked her arm away and covered her face, sobbing. “It is not Yahweh’s love I doubt.”

  “Jashub’s love then?” My voice carried, and Yaira shushed me. “He loves you still, Yaira, but because you hide in a cave with prophets, he’s chosen to pursue a different purpose—one he believes is Yahweh’s new direction for him.”

  Yaira buried her face in her hands. “Why can’t I simply be happy for him? I know in my heart I’m not supposed to marry Jashub.”

  I reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face. “But do you know you’ve been called to serve the prophets? Or are you hiding from the world because you don’t want to face Jashub?” Yaira stared at me with an unreadable expression. “What?” I asked. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m so confused I don’t know what to think. Until yesterday, I was certain Yahweh’s purpose for me was to serve His prophets. Now, I’m not sure.”

  I cradled her hands in mine. “I’m about to say something, but I mean it in the most loving way, Yaira.” I hesitated, hoping she wouldn’t take offense. “If you are serving the prophets because it’s Yahweh’s purpose and calling, why are you sitting in this little tent crying because Jashub is marrying another?” Yaira looked as if I’d hit her in the stomach. “But if you’re ready to consider that Yahweh may have a different purpose for you, perhaps it’s time to come out of the caves and become a part of Master Isaiah’s household again. Why not come home with me?”

  She blinked. Blinked some more. “I can’t just leave, Ishma. Who would care for the prophets?”

  My heart skipped. Would she really consider coming home? “Perhaps we should begin to pray together for a solution.”

  Yaira nodded. “Yes, perhaps. Let me talk with Micah. I want him to understand.” She studied her hands. “When does the wedding ceremony start?”

  “At sunset.” Now my tears invaded. “We needed to allow plenty of time for the streets to clear after Hezi’s regiment leaves for Philistine territory.”

  “Oh, Ishma! How could I forget?” She pulled me into a ferocious hug. “I’m sorry. You must go. Hurry.”

  I wiped my cheeks. “Yes, but are you sure you’re all right? Will you talk with Micah about leaving the caves?”

  “I will. Yes. Today.” She hugged me, and I hurried from the tent wiping tears.

  Master Isaiah gathered me under his arm. “Is she all right? Are you all right?”

  “I’m better,” I said. Then looking at Micah, I added, “Yaira and I may both be better after she talks to you today.”

  Micah’s brow furrowed, but there was no time to explain. He gave us instructions for departure and reminded us as we left, “Keep your hand on the rock. It will lead you to the light.”

  18

  No longer will they call you Deserted,

  or name your land Desolate.

  But you will be called Hephzibah,…

  for the LORD will take delight in you,

  and your land will be married.

  —Isaiah 62:4

  Assyrian soldiers filled the valleys surrounding Jerusalem, and King Ahaz opened the Horse Gate, allowing King Shalmaneser’s chariot to ride directly into Temple grounds. Assyrian soldiers held Hezi between them, tied and gagged, beside the beastly altar of Rimmon in the Temple court while King Ahaz laughed and danced with priestesses toward the altar. Drums pounded louder and louder.

  I stood on the portico of the Temple, trying to scream, trying to free myself of the chains that held me. But I couldn’t make a sound.

  Suddenly, my chains fell off, and I ran. Down the stairs. Across the sacred court—but I couldn’t reach Hezi in time. The guards lifted him off his feet, and King Ahaz drew back his spear to thrust it through his son. “Nooo!”

  “Ishma!” Someone shook me. “Ishma wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  I bolted upright, gasping for breath, and grabbed Yaira in a strangling hug. “It was the same dream, Yaira.” I couldn’t stop shaking.

  “It was just a dream, Ishma. It’s not real. Hezi is safe.”

  “We don’t know that!” I hugged her tighter. We both knew Yahweh spoke through dreams. My nightmares began soon after Master Isaiah received his first letter from Hezi. He’d been with the army less than a month, and King Ahaz had assigned Hezi’s regiment to the front lines, fighting the Philistines on Judah’s western border. Hezi wrote that his abba hoped to give him this battle experience t
o make him a more seasoned officer quickly. I feared it was King Ahaz’s insecurity that placed his handsome, intelligent eldest son in the heaviest fighting.

  I shared my suspicions with Yaira when she moved back to Master Isaiah’s household shortly after my nightmares started. She tried to reason with me, but when my dreams continued she volunteered to sleep in a separate room with me so Dinah and Leah could rest. My screams need not keep everyone awake.

  Tonight I looked at the dark circles under Yaira’s eyes and realized the cost of her compassion. “Go rest in the extra bed in Dinah and Leah’s room. I’ll be fine.”

  She gave me that worried-ima look. “I’m never leaving you again. I told you that. Now what do you think the dream means?”

  I didn’t want to believe it and certainly dared not speak the words aloud, but I was convinced King Ahaz was willing to sacrifice his son to mollify Assyria. “I fear for Hezi’s safety. Should I tell Master Isaiah?”

  “Tell me what?” Startled, Yaira and I jumped as if we’d been bitten by a viper. Both the master and mistress stood in the moonlight, looking apologetic.

  Mistress Aya knelt beside us. “We heard Ishma scream, but we were already awake.” Master Isaiah knelt too, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

  My stomach started to churn. Something was wrong. “Is it Hezi? Have you received word from the palace?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I’m sure Hezekiah is well.” A slow grin appeared on Master Isaiah’s face. “In fact, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  I felt a little better when Mistress Aya sat down, relaxing against the wall. “Do you want to tell us about your nightmare? Was there anything different about it tonight?”

  Recounting the horror in my mind, I halted when I remembered my chains. “I was freed.” I glanced at Yaira. “Instead of remaining chained, as I had in every other dream, tonight the chains fell off, and I ran to Hezi.”

  Yaira turned to Master Isaiah. “Do you think the change is significant?”

  He and Mistress Aya exchanged a glance, and they settled onto two cushions beside our sleeping mats. Mistress began first. “Master Isaiah and I had dreams tonight too—quite different from yours.”

  I looked at her, expectant.

  “In my dream, I walked into the Throne Porch, and it was filled with people, dressed in their finest robes and jewels. When I looked at the throne, Prince Hezekiah was seated there, a grown man, handsome and regal looking.”

  My stomach did a flip at the thought. Hezi, the king of Judah. Of course, he was recognized as heir apparent throughout Judah, though there’d been no coronation ceremony to affirm him as official co-regent. Evidently, Yahweh would be the first to confirm King Hezekiah through His prophetess. The thought thrilled me, and I covered a smile.

  “Keep smiling, my girl, because the rest of the vision concerns you.” Mistress appraised me with a grin.

  “Me?” I chuckled. “Was I scrubbing the palace floors?”

  She leaned forward, all mischief gone. “You, Ishma, were seated beside Hezekiah on a smaller throne with a crown on your head.”

  I blinked a few times to be sure I wasn’t still dreaming. Yaira’s mouth gaped. Master and Mistress waited with hope-filled faces. I stared back, having no idea how to respond to such nonsense. “At least yours was a happy dream.”

  “Ishma!” she said, cupping my cheeks. “It wasn’t a dream. It was a vision. Yahweh told me clearly—”

  “No!” I pulled away, throat tightening with emotion. “You already explained that Hezi must marry a nobleman’s daughter, and I’ve made my decision to remain single like Yaira, Dinah, and Leah.” Tears threatened, but I sniffed them away. “Why would you tempt me with the thing I want more than breath?”

  The master sat cross-legged and leaned over on his elbows. He closed his eyes and sighed. I could tell he was praying, and my frustration mounted. How was I supposed to argue while he spoke to the Creator of all things?

  When he opened his eyes, he asked, “May I tell you about my vision?”

  I swiped at stubborn tears, wishing I had the strength to refuse. I’d been asking Yahweh to reveal my purpose for years, and not once had He spoken clearly. Had He really spoken to Master and Mistress about my future? Was He speaking through my dream about Hezi? Feeling defeated, I nodded at Master Isaiah and bowed my head to listen.

  “I saw Jerusalem and a jeweled crown descending from heaven upon it. The voice of Yahweh spoke and said, ‘You will be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will bestow. You will no longer be called Desolate Ishma, but you will be called Hephzibah and your land Beulah, for the Lord takes delight in her and she will be married.”

  Something deep inside me shattered. The vision was too lovely to imagine, too beautiful to be true. I wept quietly in awed despair, grieving the impossibility of a prophet’s fine words.

  Master Isaiah tipped my chin, but I couldn’t look up and let him glimpse my brokenness. I had worked so hard to discover Yahweh’s purpose for me. Favored learning companion to the crown prince. Diligent servant in Isaiah’s house. Even a member of this family as Master and Mistress included all those under their care. I’d spent long evenings with my doves to find the secret of grace and peace. But I could never be a queen. Never marry the boy I loved. How could Yahweh take delight in an orphan branded for life? How could He love a girl called “Desolation”?

  “Hephzibah.”

  That name on my master’s lips was more than I could bear.

  “Did you hear me, Hephzibah? Yahweh also says, ‘As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.’ He has named you Hephzibah because He delights in you and rejoices over you as His bride.”

  I covered a sob at the unimaginable thought. His delight is in me—as His bride. How could the master believe Yahweh deemed me His bride? The imagery of marriage blossomed in my mind—a husband’s love and faithfulness, the security marriage offered. Even if Hezi never made me his queen, to be Yahweh’s bride meant eternal blessing. His delight is in me. The words nestled into my heart and quieted my weeping, giving me strength to lift my eyes.

  Master Isaiah was waiting. “We delight in you even as Yahweh delights in you, Hephzibah. King Ahaz will only agree to marry Hezekiah to a maiden with royal parents, so—”

  “It’s all right,” I said and meant it. The news wasn’t as devastating as it had been moments ago. “Hezekiah and I will always have a special bond. We’ll remain friends—”

  Mistress Aya pressed her finger against my lips. “We will legally adopt you.”

  Yaira stifled a squeal behind her hands.

  “There’s no legal precedent for adopting a girl,” I said before thinking.

  Mistress Aya covered a grin, and Master Isaiah had a ready answer. “You’re right, as usual, but it’s not against the law to adopt a girl. It’s not done because there is no legal benefit for the family. It’s the sons who inherit and pass down family wealth—not the daughters.”

  “What about your boys? Will an adoption affect your sons’ inheritance?”

  Mistress patted my hand. “Ish—I mean, Hephzibah, only you would want to discuss every legal detail before letting us call you Daughter.”

  My breath caught at the word. Daughter. I pressed my fingers against my lips to keep from quaking.

  Master Isaiah tilted his head, his expression softening. “Yahweh will work it all out, my girl. Jashub can draw up the documents, and the royal recorder will approve the transaction in a stack of daily tasks without King Ahaz’s knowledge.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, you become our daughter! A royal maiden more than qualified to marry the next king of Judah.”

  Yaira’s eyes filled with tears. “Yahweh has given you a new name as he did for Sarah and Abraham and Jacob. You are now Hephzibah.” She hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe. “And you will marry the love of your life and have a dozen beautiful babies that I will help you raise. Perhaps this is God’s grand purpos
e for us both.”

  I hugged her till my arms ached, grateful for such a friend, but I still struggled to take it all in. How could all this really come to pass? Yahweh, I’m not sure which is more difficult to believe—that I could be Hezi’s bride or Yours.

  I laid my head on Yaira’s shoulder, amazed at her gracious heart. How could she be so happy when she would never marry the man she loved? I pulled away, searching the windows of her soul. No envy. Only joy stared back at me. “No matter what happens,” I said, “we’ll always be together. I promise.”

  PART 3

  [King] Ahaz gathered together the furnishings from the temple of God and cut them in pieces. He shut the doors of the LORD’s temple and set up altars at every street corner in Jerusalem. In every town in Judah he built high places to burn sacrifices to other gods and aroused the anger of the LORD, the God of his ancestors.

  2 Chronicles 28:24–25

  19

  The king of Assyria invaded the entire land, marched against Samaria and laid siege to it for three years. In the ninth year of Hoshea, the king of Assyria captured Samaria and deported the Israelites to Assyria.

  —2 Kings 17:5–6

  Hezekiah wadded up the scroll and tossed it at the messenger who knelt before him. The nation of Israel was no more. Assyria had triumphed again.

  “My lord, King Ahaz awaits your answer.”

  Hezekiah sat up on his mat, bone tired. “Tell Abba I will return to Jerusalem for the first time in a year just to attend his ridiculous banquet.”

  The messenger’s eyes softened. “I’ll tell the king his bravest captain will follow his command.” The man was gone before Hezekiah could argue.

  Bravest captain? What courage was required to obey his abba and fight Philistines? Perhaps true courage would have been to defy Abba and Assyria and rush to Israel’s aid because they, like Judah, were God’s chosen people. The twelve tribes had been one nation when Yahweh ransomed Jacob’s descendants from Egypt hundreds of years ago. Now, Assyria would exile most inhabitants of the northern ten tribes and import foreigners to work the land God had given them. Israelites sprinkled among many tribes and tongues would never be able to unite and rebel. Their nation was now only a memory and sad proof of the prophets’ warnings.