by Daron Fraley
“You have my promise. I will do no less.”
“Thank you, Pekah.” Jonathan returned to digging.
When Pekah fell to his knees in order to assist, Jonathan sheathed the blade and set it aside, and with bare hands, the two of them worked together to enlarge the hole. The pit was now about a foot deep. Jonathan picked up the dagger, held the covered blade in his left hand, the hilt with his right, and with a swift, powerful pull, broke it into two pieces across his knee. He handed the sheathed blade to Pekah and tossed the handle into the hole. Pekah threw in his part. The joy in doing so thrilled him down to the marrow in his bones.
The two men then pushed the dirt piles into the hole. After standing and stomping the mound flat, Jonathan reached for a large rock. He dropped it directly on top of the burial site.
“And that is where it will stay, never to be mentioned again!”
Pekah glanced over to where Eli stood near their camp and saw that he had heard the unmistakable declaration. Eli appeared to be surprised. As for Pekah, the moment was exhilarating. Stirring within the depths of his own soul, he felt the healing balm of forgiveness. Jonathan had released him from all responsibility for his association with the tragic death of the old judge.
Pekah beamed with joy, and saw that Jonathan’s demeanor had also changed. Lines of sorrow were softer upon Jonathan’s face, seemingly replaced by peace. The sudden change of mood surprised Pekah. Once enemies, and now friends? He almost smirked at the idea.
Eli walked from the camp to join Jonathan and Pekah at the water’s edge. “I’m glad you two did not attempt to decide this war between you!” Eli rumbled as he reached them and scooped Jonathan into his arms. Jonathan coughed, and Eli let him go.
“I’ve been hugged by a bear!” Jonathan teased, still gasping.
Eli showed all his teeth in a menacing growl, and the three of them laughed.
“I think it’s time we go feed our bear,” Jonathan advised Pekah with a childlike twinkle in his eye. “He looks hungry.”
With that, the three of them returned to the camp and ate. As they talked, the weight of the war briefly lifted from their tired shoulders. Pekah felt as if he had been reunited with long-lost brothers. He noticed every detail of the beautiful morning. Never before had a simple meal of bread and fruit tasted so good.
Chapter 9
Pekah
Jonathan enjoyed their early-morning breakfast, which went on for the better part of an hour. Their conversation was full of reminiscing, much of it centered on the mischievous exploits of Eli and Jonathan as they grew up together in Hasor. The occasional laughter helped to ease some of the heavy emotional burden Jonathan had been carrying. He was glad for the diversion.
At one point, Pekah took the opportunity to thank Eli for telling him the story of the raven. “I’ve never been told why the raven is a symbol to my people. I had always assumed it was chosen because there are so many of the birds in the mountainous areas around our cities. Jonathan, what is the history behind the Serpent of Daniel? Now that I think of it, I don’t know the story of the Ox of Uzzah, either.”
Jonathan scratched his beard thoughtfully. “There isn’t really a story to go along with the serpent… it’s rather just a symbol of qualities my people feel are important. The creature is wise because it is always careful of the path it takes, lest it be trodden. It always knows the way back home to its hole in the ground, and it will not harm another unless harmed itself. Our symbol includes a white circle to remind us that a serpent can also be deadly, and unless wisdom and knowledge are kept within the bounds of truth, we can be led into deadly paths. A serpent should always be treated with respect.
“As for the ox,” Jonathan continued, “it’s a symbol of work and strength. It can bear many burdens, and does not tire easily. Uzzah is blessed with the strength of God as he serves all of Noah’s children in God’s temples. What do you know of temples, Pekah?”
Pekah’s brow lifted with interest, but quickly furrowed. “I know only of the sacrifices.”
Jonathan paused, his forming thoughts interrupted by the sound of the bubbling stream nearby. He felt a strong desire to teach Pekah more about the purpose of temples, but the chatter-like sputters of the water reminded him of their current location in the woods. He thought it might be best to discuss a plan for the day while they were still at leisure to do so.
“Pekah, do you mind if we talk of temples later?” Jonathan asked. “Right now, I would like opinions about our travel plans. For one thing, I have never been this far down the trail toward Ain. Father and I always traveled through Saron. I don’t know exactly how long it will take us to reach Ain, and I’m reconsidering my desire to stay here for the day, even if it is the Sabbath.” He smiled and watched both Pekah and Eli, waiting for their response.
Eli took a deep breath and let it out loudly. He kicked a twig toward the fire. “For some reason, while we have been talking, I too have been getting the itch to move on. I realize it is the Sabbath, however…”
Jonathan shook his head, and prodded him to finish with a drawn out “ Yes…?”
“Well,” Eli stammered, “I just get the feeling we’re supposed to leave. It’s almost as if we’ll be late for something important if we don’t leave soon.”
Jonathan stood up slowly, as if rising from a relaxing afternoon nap. A slight breeze picked up, and he turned toward it and smelled the air. Earlier, he had been quite content to stay where they were, but now that Eli pointed it out, he too felt as if something had changed.
“You know, Eli, I think you are right. Pekah?”
Pekah shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose that would be fine.”
All in agreement, they packed their belongings. Jonathan used a chunk of wood to push dirt over the cooled ashes of their night fire. It let off very little smoke, as most of the coals had gone gray and cold already. Eli toppled the logs previously used for seats into the surrounding undergrowth, and Pekah used a cut branch to mask whatever footprints he could find.
One last inspection proved their work to be satisfactory, so Jonathan waved them on. The three men left the hidden alcove of tangled brush behind them to follow the worn forest path which meandered under the more open parts of the canopy. Littering the trail were the occasional broken remnants of wind-stripped branches and fallen leaves, peppered by acorns from stately oak trees and cones from the pines scattered among them. Now much drier than the previous evening, the path showed little evidence of their footsteps as they hiked together westward. Although the light through the trees had not entirely burned off every patch of ground fog-remnants of moisture from the rains two days before-it was still a beautiful morning.
They traveled in silence for several minutes until the trees began to thin somewhat and the path became wide enough for them to walk abreast. At that point, conversations continued. Eli shared general things with Pekah about his duties at the temple in Ramathaim. He told Pekah about the temple site, the altar of sacrifice, and the throngs of people who would bring their offerings on celebrated holy days. With much expression, he described the smells and the sounds, and even the distinct feelings he felt while serving the people.
“I have never felt such a sacred connection to the divine or a deep reverence in my heart as I have there,” Eli said solemnly. “It’s as if heaven itself is touching the ground, and I am surrounded by it.”
Pekah smiled politely, but did not comment.
Jonathan observed and listened. The temple in Hasor, a place of teaching and worship, did not have a sacrificial altar. His thoughts drifted back to the days when he had traveled with his father and mother to make sacrifices at the temple in Ramathaim. At least twice a year, they would make the long day’s journey to the Uzzahite city for that purpose. The trip was easy, usually uneventful, and the family always enjoyed spending the time together. After the accident when his mother had passed away unexpectedly, Jonathan and his father still made the trip together, even though it saddened them to go without
her.
Now that Father is gone…
Jonathan was almost unaware of his audible sigh. Both Eli and Pekah regarded him with concern. He noticed their gaze, and realized they’d heard him. Putting the memories out of his mind, he kicked a small rock with the side of his boot, sending it skipping through a bush. It startled a bird in the trees above.
Now stopped, Eli stepped closer, threw his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder, and gave him a slight squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”
Pekah offered a thin smile.
“Thank you both for understanding. I’m saddened by the thought of traveling alone the next time I go to offer sacrifice. No offense intended, Eli, but I’m not looking forward to it.”
Eli turned to Pekah to explain. “Jonathan and Samuel would always come to stay with my family for a few days so they could spend time at the temple.”
“Yes, our trips were always a family occasion. It won’t be the same with my father gone,” Jonathan said as they resumed their journey. “But I know he has found peace in the arms of the Promised One.”
“Yes, he has,” added Eli. “I’m sure of it.”
Pekah brushed a low-hanging branch away from his head. “I don’t mean any disrespect, Jonathan, but tell me more of this Promised One. Is He the same who should come and rule? How is it that you’re sure the king is with Him?”
Jonathan slowed his pace and raised an eyebrow at hearing Pekah call his father “king.” He didn’t expect such an admission from a Gideonite. He dismissed it, however, and answered the question sincerely.
“Yes, Pekah,” he replied. “The Promised One is the same as the One who will come and rule in righteousness. He is the True Great King. He is also The One Who Would Suffer. Do you know of Whom I speak?”
“Yes-my mother taught me of this Great King.”
“Did she teach you He would suffer and die?”
“I don’t recall hearing that, but she said that one day a Great King would come and He would heal the sick and unite the tribes into one people. There are many among the Gideonites who believe this, but I didn’t know He would die.”
“Pekah, we call the Great King ‘The One Who Would Suffer’ because He will suffer pains and sorrows, and will be put to death by cruel and wicked men. Before Father Noah died and entered into his eternal rest, he told Daniel that the Promised One will not be of this world, but one far away. There are many worlds under the Creator’s care, and our world is but one of an innumerable host of them. He also said there will be a sign given when the Great King has been born, and this sign will point our eyes and our hearts to His mortal home in the heavens. After He fulfills His mortal time, He will die, but will be raised up with new life, never to die again. Then He will come to rule and reign among us for a time, here on Gan. He will visit all of His kingdoms, because He cherishes them all.”
Jonathan glanced sideways at Pekah, whose expression was earnest.
“I had no idea, Jonathan. I have never considered that the Great King would not be a man born among us. You say He lives in the heavens, and yet will find His way to our world?”
“Yes.”
Pekah paused. “Why will He die?”
Jonathan gathered his thoughts. The three men stopped underneath an immense oak tree and felt the mid-morning breezes whisk around them, rustling the leaves above. Azure and Aqua were now fully eclipsing, burning brightly together in the sky, and the shade felt good to Jonathan. Hearing water, he noticed that the trail had brought them close to the bubbling stream of the night before, but here the stream ran much slower and larger, having been joined somewhere by other sources.
“The answer to that question could be a long one. Do you mind if we stop to get a cool drink?” Jonathan asked.
They left the trail and drank, then refilled their water skins before returning to the shade of the tree, feeling refreshed. Jonathan saw that Pekah patiently waited for the conversation to continue, and he cleared his throat and began again.
“He will die for us. We sacrifice to remind ourselves that He will one day provide a lasting sacrifice, that we might live again.”
“We will live again, like Him?”
“Yes. The Great King will take up His body again, and He promises the same for us. Our bodies will then be whole. They will be immortal.”
Pekah frowned. “I have heard Him called the Holy One before, but I don’t understand. If He is holy, why will He do this?”
“You mean, because we are not holy like Him?”
“Yes.”
“Let me try again. We die, and we sin. The Great King will not sin, and yet He will die in the flesh and then live again that we might have mercy. He does it because He is merciful. Does that make sense?”
Pekah nodded.
“Not only that, but He claims all justice by this act. Justice and mercy-He claims them both. This way, we can come to Him, fully justified by Him, and find our rest, if we are willing to ask for His mercy. We will live again to stand before Him, to be judged of our actions in this life.”
Pekah was thoughtful. “Tell me more. How does this mercy come?”
“Let’s walk.” Worried about the time, Jonathan motioned toward the trail and took the lead.
Eli broke in at that point. “We are obedient. When we do wrong, we make it right. But we must covenant with the Great King that we will follow Him. He expects us to do as He will do. But to truly make claim on this mercy, there must be water, and blood, and spirit.”
Pekah scratched his head, obviously very confused. “What do you mean by water, blood, and spirit? I have never heard such a thing before.”
“Eli, may I?” Jonathan inserted.
Eli nodded.
“Under priestly authority, water is where we make our covenant. We lay down our body in the water, and promise ourselves to the Holy One. He then raises us up, a new creature. Blood is where the price of mercy is paid. The sacrifice of clean, unblemished animals shows us the price He will pay. It is by His blood that we will find mercy. By our covenant and commitment to do His will, we are His forever. And then if we do these things, we will feel the Spirit of God purging all desire to sin from our hearts. We will know for ourselves the love He has for all His creations. This is why He will die.”
Pekah was silent.
“You seem perplexed,” Jonathan observed.
“I’ve felt some of these feelings before in my life. My mother taught me about the Great King. Somehow, I think I have always known she was right. I felt this way when you and I talked by the stream-I felt my burdens lifted as we made our oath of peace and buried the weapon of Sachar. Is that the mercy to which you refer?”
Jonathan felt warmth in his soul. “Yes. That is exactly what I am talking about.”
“I think I understand. But…”
Jonathan pressed him to finish.
Pekah’s gaze fell, and he stopped walking. “I’m embarrassed to ask.” He stared off into the trees.
How can I help him? Jonathan silently prayed. I must not have explained it very well. Father was so much better at this than I am. Then an idea came to him-Pekah wasn’t confused about the Great King or why He died. He moved next to Pekah so he could see his face.
“This covenant can be made by any man or woman… or a Gideonite soldier who wishes to repair wrongs,” Jonathan said.
Pekah’s eyes went wide. “How did you know what…?” he stammered. He could not even finish the question.
“Sometimes I get ideas, especially when I pray. The Great King teaches me what to say and do. He loves you, Pekah. I have no explanation other than that.”
Tears filled the Gideonite’s eyes. He turned away to wipe them.
Jonathan stepped back to stand by Eli, who seemed pleased. He waited for Pekah to compose himself.
“Thank you,” Pekah said as he faced them.
Jonathan wondered if he wanted to talk more, but Pekah began walking again. Jonathan patted Eli on the shoulder, and the two of them followed.
Th
e morning passed with very little conversation, each man lost in his own thoughts as they went along. Jonathan tried not to dwell on memories of his family, but couldn’t help it. Even the simplest of things-the sound of a bee, a green sapling leaning next to a fallen log, a round rock displaced from the stream-reconnected him to nearly forgotten experiences of long ago. Some of the memories brought back the loneliness he had felt at the passing of his mother. Others, like the memory of felling trees with his father for their winter store, strengthened him.
When they finally left the trail for a rest, it was mid-day. Jonathan was starting to get hungry. He attempted to suggest that they eat, but stopped short when he noticed the strange look on Pekah’s face. Before Jonathan could ask him what he was thinking, he spoke.
“I feel as if my eyes have been shut all of my life, and have just opened… it’s as though I’m seeing the light of day for the very first time. I think my mother tried to explain all of this to me, but just didn’t know how.” He looked at Jonathan, then at Eli, and then back again, his grin widening. “What must I do?”
“I believe you have been well taught by your mother. She sounds like a very special woman. Have you thought about what we discussed?”
Pekah nodded. “I have. When I remember the things I learned as a child, everything you have told me makes perfect sense. I want to make things right. But I need help. I need His mercy.”
Jonathan searched Pekah and found his expression earnest, sincere. “You may make this covenant. It’s your choice.”
Eli leaned to peer around Pekah, his red beard stretched into a grin. “There’s some water!”
Pekah acknowledged the unspoken suggestion with an eager nod. “May I?” he said.
“If you desire,” Jonathan confirmed.
“I do. Can Eli do this for me, as a priest of the temple? I assume these things must be done properly.”
“I can, Pekah.” Eli answered. “But so can Jonathan. He too is a priest, and on the day he is made king, he will become the High Priest of Daniel.”
