Josiah, The Boy King Chapter 1, Part 1

Chapel at Bible Baptist Christian School always involved excitement when stories of the kings reigned supreme.  A few days into the telling of Josiah, The Boy King, elementary students were bringing their own wooden swords to school and re-enacting scenes from the chapel lessons out on the playground.  The Josiah series has been used in camps from Montana to Pennsylvania as well as in youth groups and worship services.  A condensed version appeared in take-home papers from Regular Baptist Press.  This is the complete story as it was first told in Christian School chapel.  Share it with your children or use it in your ministry.  You may experience the clashing of swords on your playground as well.

JOSIAH, THE BOY KING

CHAPTER 1, PART 1

            “Hurry Josiah.  Get up quickly and put on your best robe.  Your grandfather is coming back and there is going to be a parade.”

            Four year old Josiah didn’t know what a parade was, but it sounded exciting so he jumped quickly out of bed and pulled his tunic over his head.  His mother Jedidah had placed his best robe, the one with the wide purple stripes, on the end of his bed and he hurriedly slipped that on and tied the belt.

            “Where has grandfather been?” he asked his mother as they ate their breakfast of cheese and cucumbers and hard rolls.

            “To  Babylon.  He went there before you were born and we didn’t think he would ever be back.  This is a great day for Israel.”

            “Never come back?  What do you mean?  Doesn’t he like us?  Doesn’t he like my father Amon?  Doesn’t he like you, Mommy?  Doesn’t grandpa like me?  Why would he want to stay in Babylon?  Huh, Mommy?  Why? Why?  Why?”

            “Never you mind.  There isn’t time to tell you the whole story right now.  Hurry up and finish your cheese so we won’t miss the parade.”

            Josiah still had some cucumbers left on his plate when they heard the sound of the ram’s horn announce the start of the parade.  Jedidah was tired of his questions and his dawdling by that time so she grabbed his hand and hauled him behind her down the stairs of the palace to the street.  Most of the streets in Jerusalem were just dirt paths that wound their way between the houses.  But the street in front of the palace was wide and made out of cobblestones, thousands of rocks laid side by side and worn smooth by the horses and chariots and carts which had rolled over them for hundreds of years.

            Again they heard the ram’s horn sound.  Then shouts from further down the street, “Here they come.  The king is coming.”

            Josiah pulled his hand away from his mother and darted out into the street for a better look.  But just as quickly Jedidah grabbed the back of his robe and lifted him up into her arms.  Squirming around until he could see, the boy stared far down the street in the direction of the ram’s horns and the shouting.

            “Horses, Mommy.  Look at the horses.”

            Jedidah was almost as excited as her son.  She had seen horses before, but none as beautiful as these.  She had always wanted a horse.  In fact, when her father came to their home in Boscath when she was thirteen and announced that she was pledged in marriage to the king’s son Amon all she could think of was that maybe now she would get a horse.  But they had been married for five years now and she still didn’t have a horse of her own.

            “They’re so beautiful, Mommy.”  Josiah squirmed until she finally set him down.  But she still kept a handful of the back of his robe to keep him from disappearing into the crowd.  The horses were definitely the most striking specimens of horseflesh she had ever seen.  Arabians.  Tall, fast steeds, unlike the work horses she had grown up with on her father’s farm at Boscoth.  But what really added to their beauty was the decorations.  Over each horse’s back was thrown a blanket, brilliant in color and decorated with the royal coat of arms.  Each was slightly different, one with green palm leaves, another with red and blue lotus flowers and a third in yellow rosettes.  Some even sported purple images of the sacred bull which people worshipped in Babylon.  Around the neck of each animal hung a gold chain and the ends of each blanket bore fringes which trailed almost all the way to the ground.  The riders were just as magnificently attired.  Large swords hung on diagonal belts worn from the shoulder to the hip over the top of pure white linen tunics.  Large hunting bows with a quiver full of brightly colored arrows adorned the back of every soldier.  Tied to the side of each horse was a leather covered shield, variously decorated with lions and bulls with wings.

            “Mommy, those aren’t our soldiers, are they?”

            Quickly Jedidiah slapped her hand over Josiah’s mouth and gazed around to see if anyone had heard his question.  The soldiers were definitely not Hebrew boys.  Their hair was bushy and curly and their beards came to a long point almost down to their waists.  A headband of white and gold cloth twisted together held their hair back out of their faces.  And they wore trousers, something no self-respecting Hebrew man would ever consider wearing.

            ‘No, Josiah, they are not our soldiers.  They are Babylonians.  But be quiet.  I’ll tell you about it later.”

            Slowly the horses and soldiers moved up the street.  Ten, twenty, forty, one hundred, two hundred.  Never had either of them seen so many horses in one place.  Just as Josiah began to get tired of horses they were followed by chariots.  Two abreast the huge war chariots rolled down the street, each pulled by a mighty stallion and driven by a soldier who stood far to the back and controlled the horse by means of a whip and long leather reins.

            “When is Grandfather Manasseh coming, Mommy?”

            “Shh!  Just wait and see.”

            The chariots were succeeded by foot soldiers.  Suddenly there was none of the gold and silver richness of the horsemen and charioteers.  No gold chains, no blankets with fringes, no long swords.  The foot soldiers wore grey tunics that covered their arms, and a hood around their necks.  The robes were pulled up around their waists and tied with a cord to make it easy for them to march.  Grey trousers and sandals with a single leather thong running over the big toe completed their uniforms.  Each man carried a long javelin and a short dagger bound into his belt.  Occasionally a jewel flashed from the hilt of a dagger, but otherwise it was all gray.  Josiah quickly tired of the foot soldiers.

            “Let’s go back to the palace, Mommy.  I’m tired and hot.”

            “Quiet, Josiah.  Here, sit down on the street and lean up against me.  Grandpa Manasseh, the king, will be here pretty soon.”

            Marching ten abreast the Babylonian foot soldiers passed by the palace in Jerusalem for more than two hours.  Josiah had given up and fallen asleep when the cries from far down the street finally rose to full strength.

            “Manasseh.  King Manasseh.  Here comes the king.  Long live King Manasseh.”

            Jedidah reached down and shook her little son awake.   “Here he comes Josiah.  Grandpa Manasseh is coming back.”

            Josiah sat up, rubbed his eyes and scrambled quickly to his feet.  More horses and riders could be seen behind the foot soldiers.  As they came closer Josiah could see that there were eight of them, and in the middle of the horses, walking slowly, was an old man in a simple white robe but wearing a beautiful crown on his head.

            “Is it grandpa, Mommy?  Is that the king?”

            “Yes, Josiah.  King Manasseh has come home.”  Reaching down she placed him on her shoulders where he could get a better look.

            “But Mommy?  What are the chains for?  Why are grandpa’s hands chained together?  Huh, Mommy?  Why?  Why?”

            “Hush, Josiah.  I’ll explain later.  Just be quiet and watch.”