Don’t let Manasseh rob you of a lifetime of righteous living by hoarding hatred for him in your heart. There is no place for evil in the presence of a Holy God. Can you imagine yourself standing before Yahweh’s throne tomorrow, asking for His grace, with the ugliness of hatred staining your heart? We must kneel before Him and confess our sin of unforgiveness, confess our hatred and our desire for revenge. Then we must let go of it, asking God to remove it from our hearts. We must choose to cancel the debt of justice that Manasseh owes us. If we do that, you and I will be free.We can go to our Father in peace. We can behold Him face-to-face.”
Deep in his heart Eliakim clung to the hope of a miracle. Maybe God would change Manasseh’s heart. Maybe he and Isaiah would be spared.
It would be easy to forgive Manasseh if forgiving him would allow Eliakim to return to his home and to his family; if he could lie down tonight beside Jerusha again, watch Joshua marry the girl he loved, hold his new grandchild in his arms. If he could continue living the full life he had lived until two days ago, Eliakim would find it much easier not to wish for revenge. But to trust God in the darkness, when the dawn might bring his death . . . this was the most difficult thing Eliakim had ever done. He knelt in his prison cell beside Isaiah and pressed his forehead to the stone floor.
“ ‘Search me, O God, and know my heart,’ ” he whispered. “‘Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. . . .”’
----
Miriam sat on the floor of her shuttered house and sorted through the basket of barley to remove the twigs and stones. It seemed strange 84 that the grandson of Abba’s wealthy master lay propped against her hearth with his wrists and ankles bound, wrapped in her blanket. She hoped he wouldn’t start talking again or trying to bribe Nathan into setting him free. Nathan might do anything for a price. But Miriam believed her father’s story. Abba wouldn’t lie to her. She would keep Joshua tied until Abba came back.
It worried Miriam that Master Joshua wasn’t breathing right. He sounded as if he had just run up a steep hill and couldn’t catch his breath. Miriam stole glances at him from time to time as she rinsed the barley and cut up leeks to make their meal. Sometimes he was watching her, too, and it embarrassed her. She had given Abba her outer robe, which left only her undertunic. She tried to stay on the opposite side of the room so he couldn’t see her. It was dark with the window shuttered. Mattan or Nathan could give him water.
But when the barley was ready, Miriam had to go near him to put the pot on the fire to cook. She knelt beside him warily and poked the coals to rekindle them, then added another stick of wood and made a place for the pot among the embers.
“Miriam, please help me.” His voice was a weak whisper.
“Are you hungry?”
“Let me go home.”
His face was flushed, and he was sweating. Maybe he was too hot by the fire. But no, he was shivering. She touched his brow.
“You have a fever.”
“I need a physician.”
“I can’t pay for a physician.”
“I can . . . my family can. Please . . . send one of your brothers to get my father.”
“Abba said your father is in the palace dungeon.”
Joshua moaned and shook his head from side to side. “He’s not . . . can’t be. . . .”
“My abba doesn’t lie.”
He closed his eyes in defeat, then seemed too weak to open them again. Forgetting her fear and embarrassment, Miriam studied him up close. He would be very handsome if he weren’t so pale and ill. Dark circles rimmed his eyes like bruises. Without thinking, she brushed his curly black hair off his forehead. It felt soft and clean, not greasy and matted like her own hair. But he was burning with fever. What if he died? She couldn’t let him die. Abba had risked his life to save him. Her father was
Deep in his heart Eliakim clung to the hope of a miracle. Maybe God would change Manasseh’s heart. Maybe he and Isaiah would be spared.
It would be easy to forgive Manasseh if forgiving him would allow Eliakim to return to his home and to his family; if he could lie down tonight beside Jerusha again, watch Joshua marry the girl he loved, hold his new grandchild in his arms. If he could continue living the full life he had lived until two days ago, Eliakim would find it much easier not to wish for revenge. But to trust God in the darkness, when the dawn might bring his death . . . this was the most difficult thing Eliakim had ever done. He knelt in his prison cell beside Isaiah and pressed his forehead to the stone floor.
“ ‘Search me, O God, and know my heart,’ ” he whispered. “‘Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. . . .”’
----
Miriam sat on the floor of her shuttered house and sorted through the basket of barley to remove the twigs and stones. It seemed strange 84 that the grandson of Abba’s wealthy master lay propped against her hearth with his wrists and ankles bound, wrapped in her blanket. She hoped he wouldn’t start talking again or trying to bribe Nathan into setting him free. Nathan might do anything for a price. But Miriam believed her father’s story. Abba wouldn’t lie to her. She would keep Joshua tied until Abba came back.
It worried Miriam that Master Joshua wasn’t breathing right. He sounded as if he had just run up a steep hill and couldn’t catch his breath. Miriam stole glances at him from time to time as she rinsed the barley and cut up leeks to make their meal. Sometimes he was watching her, too, and it embarrassed her. She had given Abba her outer robe, which left only her undertunic. She tried to stay on the opposite side of the room so he couldn’t see her. It was dark with the window shuttered. Mattan or Nathan could give him water.
But when the barley was ready, Miriam had to go near him to put the pot on the fire to cook. She knelt beside him warily and poked the coals to rekindle them, then added another stick of wood and made a place for the pot among the embers.
“Miriam, please help me.” His voice was a weak whisper.
“Are you hungry?”
“Let me go home.”
His face was flushed, and he was sweating. Maybe he was too hot by the fire. But no, he was shivering. She touched his brow.
“You have a fever.”
“I need a physician.”
“I can’t pay for a physician.”
“I can . . . my family can. Please . . . send one of your brothers to get my father.”
“Abba said your father is in the palace dungeon.”
Joshua moaned and shook his head from side to side. “He’s not . . . can’t be. . . .”
“My abba doesn’t lie.”
He closed his eyes in defeat, then seemed too weak to open them again. Forgetting her fear and embarrassment, Miriam studied him up close. He would be very handsome if he weren’t so pale and ill. Dark circles rimmed his eyes like bruises. Without thinking, she brushed his curly black hair off his forehead. It felt soft and clean, not greasy and matted like her own hair. But he was burning with fever. What if he died? She couldn’t let him die. Abba had risked his life to save him. Her father was
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