Gods And Kings by Lynn Austin

record of sins, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness… .”’
    Zechariah stopped. He had sung the words of this psalm all his life without hearing them. Could they be true? Would the Almighty One really stoop down to where he lay and forgive him? Molech’s image suddenly reared before Zechariah, and it seemed to mock the psalmist’s words. He continued reciting to drive the image away: “‘I wait for Yahweh, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope …for with Yahweh is unfailing love… .”’
    Zechariah remembered once serving a God of unfailing love and forgiveness. If only Yahweh’s forgiveness could end this bitter cycle of sin and punishment and death for Zechariah’s children and his children’s children. His soul wanted that, longed for that, more than life itself. He shut his eyes, reciting with the choir: “‘O Israel, put your hope in Yahweh … with him is full redemption. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.’”
    Full redemption. Zechariah suddenly realized that redemption was the bridge that would lead him back across the chasm of sin, back to God. And Yahweh himself would provide that bridge. Zechariah fell on his face before Him, pleading with God to forgive him for what he had done.
    “‘Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love … Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin … Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight… .”’
    Zechariah understood now. His life had been dedicated and consecrated to Yahweh, yet he had lived only for himself. That was his greatest sin—wasting the life that belonged to God. Zechariah cried out, praying King David’s prayer of repentance from the depths of his heart and soul. “‘Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness … Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity… . Restore to me the joy of your salvation… . Then … then …”’
    Zechariah paused, stumbling over the words. Outside, the sun was rapidly sinking below the western hills. The light was fading, the shadows lengthening. He felt as though time was running out.
    “Then … then …” What came next? What could Zechariah possibly promise God in order to make restitution for all of his sins? “‘You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings …”’ The blood of a thousand lambs and goats could never bring Eliab back or give Zechariah another life to live over again. He struggled against the pain in his heart to remember the rest of the psalm. “Then … ‘Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will turn back to you.
    ’” “O God, forgive me!” he pleaded. “Forgive me and give me another chance. Let me make up for the wrong I have done. I will teach transgressors your ways, Yahweh. Please give me another chance to serve you. Please!”
    The shofar sounded again in the distance, signaling the end of the sacrifice. As Zechariah opened his eyes and looked around, he realized that the images of Molech had all fled. He remained where he lay on the floor, reveling in the peace he now felt, afraid to disturb it—until he heard a soft knock on his door. He rose to his feet and stumbled across the room. Had he forgotten something? Was he supposed to be on duty at the Temple?
    He opened the door to find his daughter, Abijah. Her lovely face was streaked with tears, her eyes red with grief. Zechariah drew back, expecting hatred and reproach for his part in Eliab’s death, but Abijah fell into his arms.
    “Abba, please help my son Hezekiah,” she begged. “Night after night he dreams about the sacrifice to Molech. And now that he’s witnessed it for a second time, he … I don’t know if he’ll ever be the same.”
    Zechariah shuddered. Images of the fire god had tortured his own mind for weeks. How much worse it must be for a child.
    “His mind isn’t the same,” Abijah said.