The Strength of His Hand (16 page)

“If I could meet with your trade minister before I leave,” the deputy said, “perhaps I could persuade him to export some of this wine to my country.”

“My secretary of state will see to it,” Hezekiah replied, nodding at Eliakim.

The dinner was an enormous success, and Hezekiah felt proud of the excellent impression he had made on his visitors. But during a pause in the conversation he overheard the deputy ambassador talking to Eliakim.

“Those beautiful women seated over there—are they King Hezekiah’s harem?” The deputy gestured to the women’s table across the room, where the wives of Judah’s leading officials and nobles were seated. Eliakim’s wife and Shebna’s concubine sat among them, but Hephzibah’s place at the head of the table was vacant.

In an instant, a towering wall of grief collapsed on Hezekiah, leaving him stunned and broken. He had managed to push his loss aside during the excitement of the day, but it had taken only the slightest reminder of Hephzibah to bring his sorrow crashing down on him with an intensity that devastated him. When would it go away? When would he be able to forget what she had done?

“No, they are the women of the court, not the king’s harem,” Eliakim answered quietly. “Would you like some more wine, Lord Deputy?”

For a painful moment, Hezekiah imagined Hephzibah sitting in her place at the head of the women’s table. Her extraordinary beauty and elegance would cause the Babylonians to stare, as most men did when they saw her. He remembered how he would catch Hephzibah’s eye across the room on nights like this, and their deep love for each other would pass between them without words. She could convey so much with her smile, her eyes, the tilt of her head, and she would flirt with him shamelessly, tantalizing him until he could scarcely stand to be separated from her. Later, when he finally held her in his arms as he had longed to do all evening, they would laugh as they shared all the things they hadn’t been able to say to each other.

But tonight Hephzibah’s place was empty, and he felt a gnawing, helpless anger at her for destroying the love they had once shared, anger at having to return to his rooms alone, his arms aching and empty. He turned away from the women’s table, vowing not to look that way again.

“Tomorrow I want to take your delegation on a tour of my palace and armory,” Hezekiah said to the ambassador. “I want to show you how I’ve fortified Jerusalem against the Assyrians.”

The ambassador bowed his head deeply. “It would be a great honor, Your Majesty.”

12

“M
AGNIFICENT! ABSOLUTELY
magnificent,” the ambassador said. He stood inside the armory with Hezekiah, gazing at row after row of polished swords and shields and spears. The armory beneath the guard tower was cool and quiet after the heat of the day and the bustle of activity they had observed from the city wall above them.

“This is only a small portion of my weaponry,” Hezekiah told him. “I’ve built many fortified cites throughout my nation, each one garrisoned and well-stocked with food supplies and weapons just like these.”

“Most impressive! Jerusalem is quite a fortress, Your Majesty. No wonder you alone of all the nations have dared to shake off Assyria’s yoke. I bow to you.”

Hezekiah exchanged glances with Shebna as the ambassador and his entourage of servants bowed to him once again. Excitement pulsed through him. He had seen the respect in the Babylonians’ eyes as they had surveyed the thick double walls around the new city and listened to Eliakim explain how he had built them with rubble from the tunnel. He’d heard the Babylonians gasp when he led them inside the new storage buildings and they saw pyramids of jars bearing his seal, filled with grain, oil, and wine. They had been silently awestruck by his treasure house beneath the palace and the stacks of pure gold, shining white silver, and precious stones that he’d accumulated, filling the rooms that he’d inherited empty. The tour had reminded Hezekiah once again of all that he’d accomplished since his father’s death and of how he’d brought his nation from the edge of poverty to renewed prosperity.

“Your Majesty, you are a magnificent example to all the nations, the first king to rebel successfully. The omen we saw in the sky did more than announce your healing. It confirmed your leadership as one who is favored by the gods. Our king longs to gain his freedom from Assyria as you have done. Perhaps someday you might help us, but in the meantime we look to you with honor and respect.”

Hezekiah saw the opportunity he had waited for all morning. He casually folded his arms across his chest, holding back his mounting excitement. “Do you have the authority to speak for King Merodach-Baladan?” he asked.

“In most matters, yes.”

“Then let me ask you this, Ambassador—how badly would your king like his freedom? Badly enough to sign a treaty with his neighboring nations and risk a rebellion?”

Nebo-Polassar appeared worried as he considered the question for a moment. “We would dare to take such a risk only if a stronger nation such as yours were to lead that rebellion.”

Hezekiah glanced at Shebna. “Then if I assumed leadership and proposed a treaty, would you be willing to sign it on behalf of King Merodach-Baladan and Babylon?”

The ambassador’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “You would be willing to accept us as your allies, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Then we would be honored to sign your treaty!”

Hezekiah wanted to shout in triumph, but he held back. “Good. Let’s go back to my palace, and you and Shebna can negotiate the details.”

————

Hezekiah stared at the Babylonian seal on the treaty he held in his hands. “You did it, Shebna!” he said, thumping him on the back. “This is unbelievable!”

“And it is only the beginning. As head of the alliance, you will soon take your place as a world leader.”

“When I remember the mess I inherited … well, I never dreamed this day would come.”

“None of your forefathers since King Solomon has signed a treaty of alliance with a great world power like Babylon. And you signed as equals. You will owe Babylon no tribute.”

“Unbelievable!” Hezekiah breathed. “Listen, I’m too excited to sit still! I’m dismissing court for the day so we can celebrate this—” A shout by the throne room door interrupted him. Hezekiah looked up in time to see Isaiah push past the chamberlain and stride into the throne room unannounced. Shebna leaped to his feet.

“Just a minute. You do not have permission to come in here!”

“What did those men say?” Isaiah demanded to know. “Where did they come from?”

Shebna grabbed the prophet and tried to force him back toward the door. “You cannot barge in here asking questions. Get out!”

Isaiah’s face displayed a mixture of bewilderment and fear, and it unnerved Hezekiah. “Shebna, wait,” he said. “Let him come in. We have no reason to hide the truth from him. The men came from Babylon, Rabbi.”

Isaiah groaned. All the excitement that had crackled through the throne room a moment ago suddenly vanished. Isaiah looked up at Hezekiah, and his face was filled with dread.

“What did they see in your palace?”

“They saw everything I own. The armory, the storehouses—I didn’t hide any of my treasures from them.”

Isaiah closed his eyes, a look of despair written across his face. But when he opened them again, they flashed with anger. “I have some very hard words for you, King Hezekiah. You might prefer to hear them in private.”

“Who do you think you are, talking to the king this way?” Shebna shouted. “Get out!”

“No, let him speak,” Hezekiah said quietly.

The prophet walked toward the throne, his eyes never leaving Hezekiah’s. “Early in your reign you asked me to speak Yahweh’s Word, didn’t you, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, I did, but—”

“Then
hear
the Word of God, King Hezekiah! Alone or in front of all these people?”

“Alone.”

Isaiah’s slim body seemed to tremble with the effort of restraining himself until the last of Hezekiah’s officials had left the room. Then his words poured out with a fury that stunned Hezekiah.

“You showed the Babylonians
your
treasures,
your
great riches, but did you acknowledge the Source of all your wealth? When you took them through your storerooms, were you praising God for all that He has given you, or was Yahweh far from your thoughts? Did you tell the Babylonians that Yahweh is your greatest treasure, not your gold and jewels, or did pride silence you?”

Hezekiah cringed as he recognized the truth of Isaiah’s accusations, but he hurried to defend himself. “I didn’t invite the Babylonians to come here. They heard about my illness, and they came—”

“They came to marvel at your miraculous healing! But did you give God the glory for your renewed health? Did you testify to His unearned mercy and grace in restoring your life? Or did you let their flattery convince you that you must be a very important man since God listened to your prayers?”

Hezekiah remembered how he had let the Babylonians bow to him, calling him “favored one,” and he turned away from Isaiah’s probing gaze.

“ ‘Pride goes before destruction,’ ” Isaiah told him, “ ‘a haughty spirit before a fall!’ Pride says, ‘
I
did it!
I
accomplished everything by
myself
!’ Pride leaves out God!”

Hezekiah groped behind him for his throne and sank down. He recalled how many times in the past few days he had marveled at all that he had accomplished during his reign. At the Temple, during the banquet, in the armory and storehouses—he had forgotten God and never once acknowledged that He was the One who had brought renewed prosperity to his nation. Hezekiah knew he deserved Isaiah’s rebuke. But the prophet wasn’t finished.

“
God
should have been glorified in the Babylonians’ eyes, not
you,
King Hezekiah! What do you have that He didn’t give to you? What do you own that wasn’t a gift from Him?”

“Nothing, Rabbi.”

“Yes, nothing. And God can take everything away from you again in an instant, leaving you just as you started. Would you like proof of that?”

“No.”

“If you truly understood the holiness of God, you would have a proper attitude about yourself! Now, hear the word of the Lord Almighty.”

Hezekiah lowered his head and gripped the armrests, bracing himself for more.

“‘The time will surely come when everything in your palace, and all that your fathers have stored up until this day, will be carried off to Babylon. Nothing will be left,’ says the Lord. ‘And some of your descendants, your own flesh and blood who will be born to you, will be taken away, and they will become eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.’ ” Hezekiah never doubted that every word of Isaiah’s sobering prophecy would come true. But two thoughts filled him with quiet hope—it would take place in the future, not during his reign; and God would give him descendants, sons of his own flesh and blood.

“The word of the Lord you have spoken is good,” Hezekiah said quietly. “I’ve done wrong. I should pay for my sin.” He looked up and saw the prophet shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think you realize what you’ve done,” Isaiah said. “When the Babylonians come back someday, I don’t think you understand what they’ll do to this holy city … they’ll—” He stopped, unable to finish, then turned and strode from the throne room.

13

“Praise the Lord, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

Praise the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits.”

Jerusha stood in the Women’s Court, listening as the Levites sang her favorite psalm. She wished she were a Levite so she could sing glorious songs of praise to God; for when He had spared King Hezekiah’s life, He had spared her husband’s life, as well. Now she and Eliakim could go on as before, sharing their love, watching their children grow.

God had given them such beautiful children, so bright and strong. And now a new one would be born next spring. She touched her abdomen, which already showed signs of the baby she carried, and thanked God again for all the happiness He had given her.

“Who forgives all your sins
and heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the pit
and crowns you with love and compassion.”

The crowd in front of Jerusha parted slightly, and she caught a glimpse of Eliakim standing beside the king on the royal platform. She couldn’t help feeling proud of him, standing there so tall and handsome. That important man was her husband! How could she ever thank God for such a miracle?

Someone stepped in front of Jerusha and she lost sight of Eliakim for a moment, but now she had a clear view of King Hezekiah. His illness had left him paler and thinner than before, and she saw a few streaks of gray threaded through his hair and beard. But even more noticeable than the limp in his step was the lingering sadness in his eyes and in the slant of his broad shoulders. It seemed as though part of his spirit had died even though his body had recovered.

Jerusha shook her head, wondering if the king still mourned for his wife. She also wondered how Hephzibah could have done such a stupid thing—to worship a pagan idol. Why would she deceive her husband, knowing how hard he had fought against idolatry, how hard he had worked for reform? Without warning, Jerusha found herself thinking that Hephzibah deserved to die.

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in love… .

He does not treat us as our sins deserve or
repay us according to our iniquities.”

“O God, forgive me,” Jerusha prayed when she heard the words the Levites were singing. She had deserved to die as much as Hephzibah did. But God had forgiven her. She wondered if Hephzibah had found the same forgiveness. Eliakim told her that the king had banished his wife to a villa with his former concubines. Hephzibah would live out her days there, childless and forsaken. Jerusha recalled her own desolate existence as an Assyrian slave and knew that hopelessness and despair would be Hephzibah’s constant companions for the rest of her life.