Return to Me (37 page)

They managed to clear away a good portion of the undergrowth by the time the first raindrops began to fall. Neither Iddo nor his students stopped working. The rain felt refreshing
after the long, hot summer. “Why does the Holy One need this temple?” Iddo asked the group. “What does Scripture tell us?”

He listened with satisfaction to the lively buzz of voices as his students discussed the question for a while, offering Scripture verses that supported their arguments. One of the brightest boys replied that the Almighty One didn’t need it, quoting from King Solomon’s prayer during the dedication for the first temple: “‘The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built!’”

Another student shouted out, “It says in the psalms to ‘Exalt the Lord our God and worship at his footstool; he is holy.’”

“So, if the Almighty One’s temple is in the heavens and if earth is His footstool,” Iddo challenged, “why does He need us to rebuild the temple?”

The discussion continued, the students’ voices loud at times as they argued and quoted Scripture. At last, one of the young men summarized their collective conclusion: “Because we’re the ones who need it, not Him. It’s a place where our sins can be forgiven so we can approach the Holy One. A place where we can meet with Him and recover the fellowship we lost in Eden.”

“It’s a privilege and a blessing to have the Holy One dwelling among us,” another added. “He promised Abraham that He would be with him and his descendants always.”

“Very good. But do we really want the Holy One to be with us?” Iddo asked. “Do we want Him badly enough to work with all our strength in spite of persecution or threats from our enemies? Is our longing for Him so great that we’re willing to defy an emperor’s decree?”

Every young man and boy agreed that obeying God at all costs was more important than giving in to fear. The rain was falling harder now, but no one wanted to stop the discussion or the work. If the winter rains truly had begun, Iddo was determined to build throughout the entire rainy season.

“Now comes the hardest question,” he told his students. “This temple was destroyed because our ancestors stopped obeying God’s Law. They became just like the Gentiles—promiscuous, filled with hatred and greed, worshiping false gods. Are we willing to live in such a way that the Holy One will remain with us this time? Will we make sure He won’t turn His back on us in wrath again? Each one of you needs to answer that question in his heart and then decide if you want to come back and work here again tomorrow—and the next day, and the next. Will you come back when our enemies attack us and try to discourage us?” The rain poured down now. Everyone was getting soaked. But so was the land. They continued working until time for the evening sacrifice, singing psalms of praise as they did.

Dinah reprimanded Iddo when he returned home that evening. “You’ll make yourself ill! You’re too old to be standing outside in the rain and getting soaked.”

“It isn’t rain, Dinah, it’s God’s blessings. We obeyed Him, and He heard our prayers.”

“But look at you! You’re drenched to the skin.”

“And it feels glorious!” Iddo went to bed that night knowing that if he was the only man who showed up tomorrow, he would pull weeds and prepare to build all by himself.

He awoke the next morning to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. In spite of the weather, an enormous crowd assembled for the morning sacrifice, not caring that they were getting wet. The clouds still poured when the sacrifice ended and Iddo walked back to the temple’s foundation to resume clearing weeds. He stared in astonishment. Not only his yeshiva students, but young men of all ages filled the site. And they already had begun to work, filling baskets with weeds that pulled easily from the rain-softened earth.

O
n the first day of the seventh month, Zechariah stood in the rain on a special platform and blew the silver trumpet to announce the Feast of Trumpets for the first time in his life. As the sound echoed off the distant mountains, the Holy One’s presence filled him, just as it had back in Babylon. He closed his eyes and thanked God for the rain and for speaking through His prophet, Haggai. Work on the temple had resumed. The first course of cut stones would soon be ready to place on the foundation.

Zechariah had waited all these silent years, wondering why God wouldn’t speak to him again, and now he understood. The Holy One hadn’t been silent—He simply hadn’t changed His mind. He had told Zechariah to leave Babylon and rebuild His temple, and those instructions hadn’t changed. Today Zechariah sounded the trumpet with all his might, praying that it would awaken God’s people from their spiritual slumber, praying that they would believe He was the God of the impossible.

On the twenty-second day of Tishri, the last day of the Feast of Ingathering, Zechariah stood on the temple mount again for the sacred assembly. The festival celebrated a harvest that had never come, and instead of slaying multiple sacrifices, the high
priest offered a single male goat for a sin offering. Yet Zechariah and the others praised the Almighty One, joining with the Levite choir and musical instruments in singing,
“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever.”

Zechariah hated for the service to end, but when it finally did and the last strains of music died away, Haggai stepped forward from the crowd once again. Zechariah’s heart sped up. The milling worshipers who had been preparing to leave fell silent.

“Who of you is left who saw God’s house in its former glory?” Haggai asked, gesturing to the newly cleared foundation beyond the altar. “How does it look to you now? Doesn’t it seem like nothing to you? ‘But now be strong, O Zerubbabel,’ declares the Lord. ‘Be strong, Jeshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest. Be strong, all you people of the land,’ declares the Lord, ‘and work. For I am with you,’ declares the Lord Almighty. ‘This is what I covenanted with you when you came out of Egypt. And my Spirit remains among you. Do not fear.’”

Zechariah saw determination and renewed hope in the faces of the priests and the people in the courtyards. Haggai gazed solemnly at the temple’s foundation as if seeing into the future as he continued to speak. “This is what the Lord Almighty says: ‘In a little while I will once more shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. I will shake all nations, and the desired of all nations will come. I will fill this house with glory,’ says the Lord Almighty. ‘The silver is mine and the gold is mine,’ declares the Lord Almighty. ‘The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house. And in this place I will grant peace.’”

It was what Zechariah hoped for, longed for. Not only would God’s presence return, but the Messiah would come to this temple. And unlike the kingdoms of the world that God was about to shake from their places, His kingdom would never end.

Haggai turned to walk back into the crowd, and once again
Zechariah chased after him. “Haggai, wait! May I speak with you, my lord?” The prophet looked exhausted as he shivered in the cold, autumn rain. “Let’s go someplace dry,” Zechariah said. “The yeshiva is vacant today because of the holiday. We can go there and talk. Will you give me a few minutes to change out of my robes and meet you there?” Haggai agreed and a short time later they sat together at one of the yeshiva’s study tables.

“I know you’re a prophet because your words carry the anointing of God,” Zechariah said. “It isn’t you we hear speaking, but the Almighty One. Did you notice that we’ve obeyed God’s word and resumed the construction?”

“Yes, I did notice. Clearly, God has stirred men’s hearts.”

“But even before you spoke that first time, I felt something . . . unusual . . . going on in my life. When I was a boy back in Babylon, I once felt the Holy One’s presence in a very dramatic and powerful way. The experience made me decide to come here and help rebuild the temple so I could worship in His presence again and again. I’ve been searching for Him all my life, and ever since I discovered that I could know Him through the Scriptures, I’ve been reading and studying them with renewed diligence. Whenever I open the pages to read, He is there. Not quite in the way I experienced Him as a boy, but I hear Him speaking to me, teaching me, just the same.”

Zechariah paused, afraid to ask if he was making sense. But Haggai nodded and said, “I understand. Go on.”

“And now, even when I’m not reading but ministering as a priest—especially then—I hear His voice clearly and forcefully. It’s like I’m hearing Scripture verses that I’ve memorized . . . ‘Thus saith the Lord’ . . . But the words I hear aren’t found anywhere. I’ve searched all the prophets and the writings.” Zechariah gestured to the Aron Ha Kodesh, where the Torah and the other sacred scrolls were kept. “I keep looking for the words I’ve heard to no avail. I’m beginning to think that maybe
I’ve studied too much and I’m losing my mind. But along with the words in my head I felt an urgency to start rebuilding the temple, even before you spoke to us. An urgency to tell the others that we need to return to God. To seek Him with all our heart and soul and mind.”

“You’re hearing the same message from God that I’m hearing.”

“I know! When you spoke that first time I wanted to shout along with you. We should be dissatisfied with the stale, routine way we’ve been worshiping and seek His presence. We should build the temple and build a relationship with Him that’s genuine and real.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Haggai listened intently, leaning toward him. His dark eyes seemed to read Zechariah’s heart. “Go on.”

“I thought this . . . this craziness I’ve been experiencing would end once we started building, once the others decided to listen to you and obey God. But if anything, it’s becoming more intense. The words surge through my mind like . . . like a pot boiling over on the hearth. I can hardly stop them from coming, let alone ignore them. And God’s presence and warmth always come with them, the same way I experienced Him as a child. And so I wanted to ask if . . . if you can help me figure out what’s going on. Am I losing my mind?”

“No, Zechariah. Far from it! From what you’ve described, I believe the Holy One wants to speak through you the same way He speaks through me. He’s calling you to be His prophet.”

“His . . . His
prophet
?” Zechariah shook his head, unable to grasp it. “That’s impossible. I’m not old enough or mature enough . . . Certainly not righteous enough!”

“None of that matters. You said yourself that you’ve learned to know God and to understand what He wants from us. Now you need to open your mouth and allow His words to flow through you.”

“Is . . . is what I described . . . is that what happens to you?”

“Not exactly, but it’s similar enough.”

Zechariah hesitated, wanting to pepper Haggai with questions, yet he was afraid of exposing his own shallow faith. “May I ask . . . how did you know it was the right time to come forward? Where did you get the courage to speak?”

“You’re afraid that people will ridicule you,” Haggai said.

“No, I’m not afraid of ridicule, exactly. . . . My concern is that everyone knows me. They’ve watched me grow from a boy of twelve into a man, watched me become a priest, watched me make mistakes. Many of these men are the rabbis who taught me the Torah. Prince Zerubbabel and the high priest are both older than I am, and have far more wisdom and maturity and experience. How dare I come along, saying outrageous things, daring to speak for God? You came as a stranger to nearly all of these men. Your anonymity gave you a measure of credibility. They listened to you.”

“It’s the Spirit of the Almighty One speaking through me that gives me credibility. Speak His words, Zechariah. People may laugh, they may refuse to listen, but every prophet of God has faced those reactions.”

Zechariah had read the stories of Jeremiah and Isaiah and Ezekiel. He knew Haggai was right.

“But if God wants to speak through you,” Haggai continued, “how can you keep silent? Trust His Spirit. Be faithful to the message He puts in your heart and on your lips. After that, every man who hears you is accountable to God for heeding His word or for ignoring it. If they judge the message by the messenger, that’s to their shame, not yours.”

“May I share with you what I hear God saying? To confirm that I’ve truly heard?”

“Certainly.”

Zechariah inhaled. “I believe the Almighty One is saying,
‘Return to me!’ We’ve slowly drifted away from Him and become distracted by things in our lives that just aren’t important. We’ve allowed fear of our enemies and our own lack of faith to distance us from Him. We’ve been enticed away from Him by the temptations of the surrounding nations, first in Babylon and now here. God says ‘Return to me.’ He’s waiting to bless us when we do.”

A slow smile spread across Haggai’s face. “Yes. You’ve heard from God. I see His Spirit in you. We’ll accomplish His work together, my friend. The Almighty One now has two witnesses to speak for Him.” He stood and embraced Zechariah as he prepared to leave.

“Wait . . . I have one more question. How will I know when it’s time to speak?”

“You’ll know. The Holy One will tell you.”

Haggai’s words both encouraged Zechariah and terrified him at the same time. Was it truly possible that he, Zechariah son of Berekiah, son of Iddo, was called to be God’s prophet? It seemed impossible, like counting the stars. He told no one about his conversation with Haggai—not his grandfather, not even his wife. But he continued to pray, asking for God’s will, offering himself as His servant.

Work on the temple site resumed after the feast, and Zechariah met his grandfather there at the end of each day so they could walk home together. The noisy site bustled with activity, and he could see the rapid progress they’d made, the piles of stones that had been cut and shaped, the newly repaired crane ready to lift them into place, the support timbers sized and waiting. Today, like many days, Zechariah had difficulty getting Saba to quit and come home. As they descended the stairs from the temple mount, Saba asked him, “Will you come with me to the house of assembly tomorrow morning? Jeshua and Zerubbabel called for a meeting after the morning sacrifice, and
I’m dreading it. I’m too old to waste my remaining years and dwindling strength arguing with dolts.”

Zechariah couldn’t suppress a smile. “Which dolts is the high priest meeting with?”

“Jeshua described them as ‘concerned citizens’ from several Jewish villages. He suspects that their concern is that we’ve angered the Samaritans by rebuilding.”

“I’ll be happy to come,” Zechariah replied, and he felt a strange stirring rustle through him, the same restless anticipation he’d felt on the night before his ordination and on the morning that he’d sounded the silver trumpet for the first time. The odd feeling continued to distract him after he reached home and washed his hands and gathered with the others to eat. Yael called his name three times before he heard her.

“What’s the matter with you, Zaki?” she asked. “You’re a million miles away.”

The people he loved sat gathered around him—his grandparents, his wife and children, young Hodaya—and he didn’t know what to say to them. They had readily accepted Haggai as God’s prophet, believing that he spoke the Almighty One’s words. But what would they think if he told them he might be called to be a prophet, too? He could scarcely believe it himself—why should they?

“Nothing’s wrong,” he finally said. “I just have too many things on my mind.” He smiled and joined the conversation. But he awoke before dawn the next morning and went out to sit alone in the courtyard to pray. He felt the same unease as when the weather was about to change and a thunderstorm was about to rumble through. He ate breakfast without tasting a bite of it, kissed his wife and children, and left with his grandfather.

The visiting men who gathered to meet in the house of assembly with the prince and the high priest later that morning revealed their concern in their restlessness and angry voices.
Their spokesman, a portly man named Adin from the village of Lod, began without preamble. “Why weren’t all the family heads and local leaders consulted before the rebuilding began? You’ve put all of us in danger—our wives, our children. The construction must stop immediately until we receive proper authorization from the Persian emperor.”

“Were any of you here when we sought the Holy One in prayer for the drought?” Prince Zerubbabel asked. “Or for the Feast of Ingathering? Did you hear God’s prophet, Haggai, speak?”

“No, but we heard reports about him. Even if this man is a prophet, your decision to immediately resume building was foolhardy and premature. Samaritan settlements surround all of our villages,” he said, gesturing to the other men. “We’ve lived in peace with them these past few years because you obeyed the emperor’s edict and stopped building. But now that word of your violation has spread, we’re back to living on a knife’s edge!”

Iddo slowly stood to address the men, and Zechariah could see his barely controlled fury. “Why did you gentlemen return to this land with your families?” he asked.

“Because the land belongs to us,” Adin said. “The Almighty One gave it to our forefathers.”

“Were you afraid of the Samaritans when we first arrived and began to build?”

“Not at first. We had permission from King Cyrus to be here. Then you foolishly refused the Samaritans’ offer to help and unleashed a firestorm of trouble.”

“Did the Samaritans also cause the drought and the famine we’ve been experiencing?” Iddo asked.

“Of course not!”

“Then why do you suppose we’ve been suffering? Why have our crops and our harvests failed?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking these foolish questions? Are you going to listen to our concerns or aren’t you?”

“I’m asking,” Iddo said, “because I’m trying to determine what the Holy One’s promises mean to you and what part you believe He plays in all of this. Did you return to the land because you wanted to walk with God the way our father Abraham did or because you were tired of living in Babylon? Because you thought you’d have a comfortable life here?”