by Mesu Andrews
“Zibah, come away. I’m sorry I asked you to look.” Hezi’s strong arms whisked me off my feet and into our chamber. I buried my face against his chest, trying to hide from the tormenting pictures in my mind.
“Zibah, look at me. Talk to me.”
I looked into his eyes and saw fear as great as mine.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He rocked me back and forth, back and forth, repeating, “Yahweh will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because we trust in Him. We will trust You, Lord, for You are the Rock eternal. Yahweh will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because we trust in Him. We will trust You, Lord…”
The words of Abba’s prophecy nudged aside the fearsome images, and I joined the rhythm of his repeated promise. “Yahweh will keep in perfect peace…” It became a chant, a song, our prayer. And Yahweh answered.
“Look at me Zibah. Let me see your eyes.”
I gazed into the face of one who had returned my words as a child and so often restored my shattered emotions. I saw love—only love. “Yahweh is our grounding,” I whispered.
“And you are my delight.” He brushed his lips across mine like a gentle breeze.
I heard a faint singing and went still, tilting my head toward the sound. Hezi heard it too and did the same. The sound grew louder, and we realized it wasn’t singing—it was wailing. It spread from the southern city, rising on the wind like a storm, brewing and then swirling into the palace.
We sheltered in our chamber together, huddled on our favorite couch, whispering the now requisite section of Abba’s prophecy, claiming peace when our world had none. The chamber door swung open, without a knock or announcement, and in walked the three brave men who had faced the Assyrian officials. Shebna speechless, Eliakim shaking, and Joah weeping.
Eliakim seemed the only one able to communicate. “The Rabshakeh is a skilled negotiator, my king.”
Hezi stood and directed them to the couch across from us. “Tell us what happened.”
Eliakim breathed out a long sigh and began the recounting. “The Rabshakeh spoke faultless Hebrew. When we asked that he speak Aramaic, so our citizens couldn’t hear our negotiation, he spoke louder and clearer Hebrew, saying the people had a right to hear. He looked up at our watchmen on the wall and shouted, ‘If you don’t surrender now, you’ll eat your own filth and drink your own urine by the end of this siege.’ ”
I shuddered. Hezi cast a concerned glance my direction. “Can you bear this?”
Stiffening my spine, I said, “Yes, and I’ll rejoice when Yahweh annihilates them as He’s promised.”
Eliakim closed his eyes. “It’s easier to believe in Yahweh’s deliverance when I’m sitting here than when I was standing out there.”
“All three of you were very courageous.” I was ashamed to tell them of my despair at seeing the army from the safety of my balcony. Yahweh, strengthen our faith to overcome what our senses can’t deny.
“What else did they say?” Hezi focused on his best friend.
Eliakim dropped his head in his hands, and Shebna took over the reporting, his fear turned to sudden fury. “The Rabshakeh said our army and military strategies are inferior, our God is too small, and our king is a liar. He’ll give us two thousand horses if we can put riders on them—which we can’t.” His hands shook as he stared at Eliakim. “Does that about cover it?”
Joah added, “You forgot that he promised if we surrendered now, every person would ‘eat from his own vine and fig tree and drink water from his own cistern.’ That is, until they move us to another land that’s just like ours—except in the new land, the Assyrians won’t destroy us.”
Hezi clutched his hair with both hands. “The Rabshakeh reminds me of King Tiglath-Pileser. When I visited Damascus with Abba, Pileser could reduce a man to tears with just a few words.” His knee bounced with nervous energy, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “What do we do, men? What would Yahweh have us do?”
Eliakim scrubbed his face as if scouring away the memory. “Let’s focus on what we know. The Assyrians are getting their information from someone inside Judah who knows of Yahweh and Isaiah’s prophecies. They knew you’d ordered the high places destroyed—even the ones where Yahweh was worshiped—and he said this attack was God’s retribution, that the Assyrian army is ‘the weapon in Yahweh’s hands.’ ”
My husband’s dwindling peace shattered. “The weapon in Yahweh’s hands?” He looked at me, panicked. “Has your abba done this? Has he sent messengers to the Assyrians?”
“Hezi, no! How could you even think it?”
“Hez, I’m sure they’ve planted spies.” Eliakim spoke gently. “It’s what we’ve done to our enemies.” He waited until Hezi met his gaze. “Somehow, the Rabshakeh also knew about the prophecies that predicted this invasion.”
Hezi began to tremble, and Eliakim fell silent. Every eye was on the king, and now, even I wasn’t sure what he might be thinking. My husband cried out, grabbed his collar, and rent his garment. “Yaira!” He launched himself off the couch. “Get our sackcloth robes. The queen and I will wear them until Assyria is defeated.” Yaira appeared at her door, nodded, and disappeared again without a word.
At least my husband wasn’t completely despairing if the robes were to be worn until Assyria’s defeat—or was he putting on a brave face for his advisors? “The three of you will also change into sackcloth and go to Isaiah, demanding an answer: Will Yahweh deliver us or not?” He pinned Eliakim with a pleading stare. “Tell him if this invasion is because of my sin, let God’s wrath fall on me, not my people.”
“Your sin?” I said. “Hezi, only the Egyptian prophecy condemned your sin, and the prophecy Abba spoke since then was one of redemption. Yahweh promised not to destroy Jerusalem.”
“But Zibah, what if your abba has been right all this time? What if Yahweh is punishing all of Judah because I allowed unconsecrated people to eat at Passover? Built a tunnel. Involved Egypt. What if the Rabshakeh is right and tearing down the high places was offensive to our God?”
I left the couch and framed my husband’s face between my hands. “Hezekiah, Yahweh’s judgment is on the nation of Judah. If God had chosen to discipline you, His child, He would have given you clear instruction on what you’ve done wrong, not left you guessing.”
My husband pulled away and began pacing. “Isaiah will tell us if this is my fault and if I can fix it. Perhaps I should have listened to his opinions. Maybe they weren’t opinions.”
Shebna began pacing with Hezi, his face as red as our enemy’s flag. “Are we to make decisions for Judah based on the whims of an old prophet? Do you think Assyria cares about your sins, King Hezekiah?”
Hezi stopped pacing. “Samuel!” The mere name on his lips doused Shebna’s insolence.
Hezi took a single step toward the palace secretary. “Shebna, you will wear sackcloth with Eliakim and Joah to Isaiah’s home, or you can grow old counting rats in my dungeon.”
Samuel entered the chamber. “How may I serve you, my king?”
Hezi lifted one eyebrow, and Shebna answered the big guard. “King Hezekiah would like you to escort Eliakim, Joah, and me to Master Isaiah’s home after we change into sackcloth.”
The four men exited our chamber quickly and left my husband to resume his pacing. “What if this invasion is judgment for my sins? Did Yahweh really speak to the Rabshakeh? The Lord has spoken to pagan leaders before—like Abimelech in the days of Abraham or Balaam on his donkey. But why would He tell Isaiah one thing and the Rabshakeh another?”
“Hezi.”
He looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten I was in the room.
“The dark cloth is distorting your view. Trust Yahweh, and trust Abba. They both love you very much.”
52
When King Hezekiah’s officials came to Isaiah, Isaiah said to them, “Tell your master, ‘This is what the LORD says: Do not be afraid of what you have heard—those words with which the underlings of the king
of Assyria have blasphemed me. Listen! When he hears a certain report, I will make him want to return to his own country.’ ”
—2 Kings 19:5–7
Hezi woke to the sound of thundering hooves outside his balcony, and he shot out of bed. Grabbing his belt, he strapped on his sword over his tunic and flung open the balcony tapestries. Dawn had just touched the eastern sky, but clouds of dust dimmed its glow. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. Was this a dream?
Thousands of Assyrians, riding under the Rabshakeh’s black and red standard, sped away from Jerusalem on horseback. Dust filtered up to his balcony; he coughed and waved it away. He didn’t cough in dreams.
“It’s happening, just like Yahweh promised.” Zibah stood beside him, wrapped in her robe. She turned and appraised Hezi’s condition, a mischievous grin appearing. “Or perhaps they were terrified when they saw you in your undergarment with your sword girded about your waist.”
Hezi was not amused. “The scroll your abba sent said the Assyrians would hear a report that made them return to their own country.” He pointed west, the direction the horses went. “Assyria is in the opposite direction, Zibah. They’ve either forgotten how to get home, or this is not the fulfillment of your abba’s prophecy.”
She hurried inside and returned with the scroll from his bedside table, pointing out the wording. “It says when he hears a certain report, Yahweh will make him want to return to his own country. Perhaps whatever report he’s heard is sending him in another direction.” She looked up, hope lighting her features. “I don’t care where they’re going, Hezi. They’re leaving Jerusalem.”
“Not all of them are leaving. Look.” He pointed to the northern half of the Assyrian camp. “None of their tents have been moved, and the supply animals—camels and donkeys—are still tethered on the far side of the camp. At least some of the Assyrians are staying.”
Joy drained from his wife’s face. He wished she would argue. Think of some explanation for the lingering Assyrians. But her silence confirmed his fears. They’d waited a week since the Rabshakeh’s threats to see how Yahweh would fulfill the promise on Isaiah’s newest scroll. Hezi could wait no longer. He needed to visit Zibah’s abba.
He hugged his wife close to his side. “I’m going to Isaiah’s house today. Would you like to come?”
She was quiet for several heartbeats. “Do you want me to come?”
It was a good question. Would she take Isaiah’s side on every argument? Hezi’s confidence was already shaken. He questioned his decisions, God’s promises, even Isaiah’s loyalty. “Yes, I want you to come.” There was no one else he trusted more than his wife.
Hezi and Zibah invited Yaira to join them on their visit to Isaiah’s household. Yaira seemed as eager to see the family as Zibah—perhaps even more so. Samuel relieved Amram of his overnight guard duty at their chamber to escort the royal couple himself. Late-summer birdsong made the stroll through Jerusalem’s bustling streets all the more pleasant. The exodus of half the Assyrian troops had rolled back the city’s shroud of fear, and Yaira even whistled as they walked.
The sound reminded Hezi of Zibah’s doves. “Do you still tend your dovecote in the royal courtyard?” he asked. “Or do I keep you too busy with court business for you to enjoy your beautiful birds?”
She reached for his hand and hid it between their robes as they walked in public. “I sit in the courtyard and feed them occasionally, but they don’t know me like they used to. They don’t come to me for comfort anymore.” She looked up at him with a smile. “Nor do I rely on them for my peace since Yahweh provides it.”
He wanted to kiss her, but it would be a scandalous breech of decorum. “Maybe if I kissed you, here in Jerusalem’s market, we’d give our citizens something other than Assyria to talk about.”
She laughed, the sound mingling with the chatter in the market. Hezi inhaled deeply and let the sun bathe his face. It was good to escape the palace. Why hadn’t he done that more?
“Shalom, Jashub!” Zibah waved to her brother as they approached Isaiah’s courtyard gate.
He waved back, but his smile bloomed for Yaira. “I’m glad I lingered after the midday meal.” He opened the gate and swept his hand toward the courtyard. “Ellah and I have been waiting for you.”
Hezi was smitten by the little girl with inky-black curls, who ran directly into Yaira’s arms. The woman beamed. “This is five-year-old Ellah, Jashub’s youngest,” she said. “Ellah, this is King Hezekiah. You must bow in respect when you see the king.” The little one nodded and then shyly hid her face against Yaira’s shoulder.
Jashub bowed also, his expression kind. “Welcome, my king. It’s been a long time since you’ve visited. We were excited to receive the message that you were coming. The women in our house have been preparing a ‘snack’ for you.” He directed them toward the family table, where Isaiah and Aya waited. Then bowed again and placed his hand gently at the small of Yaira’s back, directing her into the house.
Hezi raised his brows and looked at Zibah, who chuckled and shushed him until her brother and his guest were out of sight.
Isaiah grinned. “I think it won’t be long until we have a wedding.”
The cheerfulness felt good as they sat down to a table strewn with grapes and figs, dates, almonds, and pistachio nuts. Isaiah pointed to the bounty. “I told Aya we’d just eaten our midday meal, but”—he held Hezi’s gaze—“what brings the king of Judah to my courtyard after he’s stayed away for more than ten years?”
Setting aside his defenses, Hezi reached for a grape, maintaining a serious expression. “An Assyrian army outside my balcony provides significant motivation to visit Yahweh’s prophet.” He popped the grape in his mouth and winked at Isaiah.
The old man grinned. Zibah and Aya laughed out loud, reaching across the table to embrace each other’s hands. Surely, their two wives had suffered most while tension kept the men at odds.
Letting his true concern rise to the surface, Hezi held his teacher’s gaze. “I need to know what your latest prophecy meant, Isaiah.” He pointed toward the eastern Valley of Kidron. “Have you peeked over the wall to see what the Assyrians are doing?”
“I didn’t need to see them,” he said. “Aya and I felt the ground shaking when they left at dawn.”
Aya reached for Isaiah’s hand, smile fading. “Dinah, Leah, and I heard talk in the market. They say only half of the troops are gone.”
“That’s right, Mistress Aya. That’s why we’ve come.” Hezi turned again to Isaiah. “The Assyrians rode west, not north toward Assyria. Where are they going?”
Isaiah’s brows shot up. “That seems a question better suited for Commander Jokim, Hezekiah, not God’s prophet.” He didn’t seem angry or defensive.
“You never answered Hezi’s original question, Abba.” Zibah’s words sparked with tension. “He sent Eliakim, Shebna, and Joah to ask if the invasion was Yahweh’s judgment on Hezi’s personal sins. The scroll offered the good news of Yahweh’s deliverance but no answer on Hezi’s personal standing.”
The prophet lingered only a heartbeat on his daughter before turning toward the king. “Perhaps I can best answer the question of your sin and God’s judgment by addressing your accusations that I prophesied my opinions.”
Hezi started to moderate the word accusations, but Isaiah lifted his hand to halt his protest. “Please. Let me explain, and you can argue with me afterward.” Hezi grinned, trying to ease the tension again, and let him continue. “When I hear Yahweh’s voice echo in my spirit, I write on a scroll exactly what I hear, or I repeat it word for word to whomever God specifies. Interpreting prophecy is an entirely different matter. Our understanding is still God directed but is, unfortunately, subject to human fallibility. Opinion—as you, Hezekiah, have so frequently pointed out—comes completely from my own intellect.”
Hezi prodded his teacher, “So, has Yahweh told you directly that this invasion is because of my sin?”
One side of Isaiah’s lip
s curved up in a grin. “Good question. No. He has not.”
“Have any of your prophecies been a direct correction of my sin?”
Isaiah paused a moment and then studied his hands. “I believe the only prophecy that specifically condemned your actions was in regard to the treaty with Egypt. That, Hezekiah, was not pleasing to the Lord.” He held Hezi’s gaze but offered no commentary, no fiery judgment, and for the first time, Hezi felt remorse for that decision.
“What can I do about it now?” he said.
“You must do what Yahweh expects of us all. Only the blood of a lamb can cover our sins.”
Hezi stared at him for a long while, thinking, praying, pleading. “How can I know I’m forgiven?”
Isaiah laid his arms across the table and opened his hands, waiting for Hezi to place his hands in them. The king did, and the prophet held them tight. “You must go directly to Yahweh with your questions, Hezekiah. I was your teacher for a while. I’m the prophet God has chosen for this time. But Yahweh is your God for eternity. It’s best to strengthen that relationship now.”
53
Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.
—Psalm 119:105
Each morning at dawn, Hezi split the tapestries and peered into the Kidron Valley. Each morning there were new stakes with writhing Judeans to number his failures as king. Commander Jokim said the victims had lived in surrounding villages, taken captive for this very purpose—to weaken the king’s resolve, to get him to open the gate. Hezi would never open the gate. He’d seen what Assyrians did to royal officials and their wives.
This morning, he slipped out of bed, leaving Zibah undisturbed. He slid through the heavy curtains, leaving the room dark so Zibah could sleep since they’d both tossed and turned into the wee hours. Morning dew on the balcony wet his bare feet as he moved toward the edge. He stared out over the valley that now had exposed spaces barren of tents. They’d received no information yesterday on where half the Assyrians had gone. Was there anyone left outside Jerusalem’s gates who would dare give Judah information on Assyria? His spies were likely in hiding. Their fortified cities could no longer send pigeons with messages or use flags for signaling. Jerusalem was cut off from the world with half an Assyrian army still camped outside its gates.
