Saturday, January 23, 2016

Joash - The King Who Would Not Die Chapter Eleven



JOASH- THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE






JOASH – THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE
By Robert Allen
CHAPTER ELEVEN

            Queen Athaliah ran like a madwoman along the stone pavement which led from the palace to the temple.  Hundreds of people crowded the street, those who had already visited the temple, those who had heard the shout of the Levites and those who simply wondered about the commotion.  Twelve guards who stood at the door of the palace and heard Athaliah’s screaming dogged her heels.  As they ran the crowd opened to let them through and then closed again behind them like the Red Sea at the command of Moses.
            When the queen and her guards arrived at the triple gates they met the Levites who Jehoiada had posted at the south entrance of the temple.  Athaliah pushed past them so quickly that she didn’t notice what happened next.  The Levites stepped aside to let her through and then stepped immediately back into rank and clasped hands like children do when they play “Red Rover.”  The guards, caught by surprise, ran into the long line of Levite guards and suddenly found themselves sitting on the ground.  The next thing they knew their swords disappeared and in the hands of their captors had been turned against them.  They found themselves suddenly willing to cooperate.  Something about the pointy end of a sword encourages that.
            The queen didn’t even turn to see if they still followed her.  Tearing up the king’s ascent into the courtyard she resembled a bear charging after someone who stole one of her cubs.  Emerging out of the tunnel and into the bright sunlight she finally stopped to survey the scene which greeted her.
            The temple courtyard overflowed with people.  Every gate into the temple from every direction stood wide open and even more people crowded in until it seemed as if they must be standing on each other’s shoulders to find room.  On the far side of the courtyard stood three rows of Levite soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, extending from the west side to the east side of the temple.  Every man carried a sword by his side and a shield in front of him.  And they all stared directly at the queen.
            Behind the Levites, at the very top of the stairs, stood Jehoiada the high priest.  Beside him a very small looking Joash wearing a big crown remained motionless.  The people throughout the temple waved their hands and shouted repeatedly, “God save the king.”  Trumpeters blew their ram’s horns.  Sackbuts and lutes and drums added to the cacophony and a choir shouted praise to God.  If they saw the queen it didn’t matter.  Nothing could prevent their enthusiastic celebration that day.
            Suddenly Athaliah reached up with both hands and grabbed the front of her beautiful royal scarlet robe.  Summoning all her strength she ripped it apart, shrieking at the top of her lungs.  “Treason!  Treason!”
            Fully expecting her palace guards to follow, she plunged into the crowd, fighting desperately to cross the courtyard and get her hands on the neck of the little boy in the crown.  Hatred gave her strength like that of ten women and no one even tried to stop her as she fought her way closer and closer to Joash.  When she came to the first row of temple guards Joash stood less than ten feet away.  Spit shot from her mouth as she screamed again in that terrible, shrieking voice, “Treason!  Treason!”
            Joash wanting nothing more than to run and hide.  But kings didn’t run.  Instead of hiding he stepped forward, raised his hand in the air and called out with a clear command, “Stop her!”
            Immediately the guards obeyed.  Dropping their swords, four of the men grabbed the queen by her arms to prevent her from approaching any closer to the king.  Then they turned to him for further directions while her feet just kept running in the air.  Joash had no idea what to do next.  What do you do with a wicked queen you have just deposed from the throne?  He kept his arms raised, the guards continued to hold her, she kept on fighting, and the crowd grew silent.  Finally Priest Jehoiada came to his aid.
            “Guards.  Let her not be killed in the house of the Lord.  Take her out to the archery range where she must die for all the trouble she had brought upon Judah and the many innocents who have died at her command.  If anyone tries to follow or protect her, let them face the same punishment.”
            Still the guards looked at Joash, after all, he was the king.
            “Do as he said,” Joash commanded in the most kingly tone he could muster.  “Do what the high priest Jehoiada has told you to do.”
            At the king’s command the guards hoisted the queen up onto their shoulders like a bag of flour and set off across the courtyard toward the archery range.  All the way through the crowd Athaliah continued to kick at the guards, spit at the people and yell “Treason!  Treason!”
            The guards carried the wicked queen out of the temple, down past the palace where her soldiers had yielded to the troops loyal to Jehovah and outside the wall through the Horse Gate.  In the archery range, where the palace guards so often trained, Queen Athaliah met the sharp end of a sword at the command of the one son of David she had failed to kill.  Justice had been served for all the death and destruction she had brought upon the royal family and the nation.
            By this time nearly everyone in the city seemed to be crowding into the temple to catch a glimpse of the new king.  The porches had filled, the balconies overflowed and the courtyard looked like one vast sea of heads.  Jehoiada decided the time had come to re-establish the authority of Jehovah God over His people.
            “Listen to the Word of the Lord today,” he shouted to the crowds.  “This day is the day of new beginnings for the land of Judah.  Your new king worships Jehovah God.”
            “Hooray,” shouted the people.  “Hooray for Joash.  God save the king.”
            Jehoiada held up his hands for silence before continuing.  “This morning very early your new king entered into a covenant with Jehovah.  King Joash offered a sacrifice to God and promised to worship and obey Him all the days of his reign.”
            “Yeah! Hooray! Hallelujah!” rang through the crowd.  Even many of them who had never worshipped God themselves felt happy to see the end of Queen Athaliah.  Anyone who promised a change from her wicked ways deserved to be cheered.
            “Now your turn has come to make a covenant with God,” the high priest continued.  “Join with your new king in a promise to serve the Lord God and Him only.  As the smoke of the daily sacrifice ascends to heaven, accompany that smoke with your solemn promise to serve God as a nation and be His people once again.”
            “We promise,” shouted the Levites and all the people echoed their cry, “we promise.”
            “Do you promise to keep God’s holy assemblies and feast days and to stop observing the feast days of Baal?”
            “We promise,” shouted the crowd.
            “Do you promise to bring the first-fruits of all your crops to the temple as an offering to God and refuse to offer your sons on the false altars of Baal and Molech?”
            “We promise!”  Each cry from the people grew louder as more and more of those in the crowded temple took up the cry.
            “Do you promise to train your children in the law of Moses and keep his commandments before you in rising up and sitting down, when in your house and when walking by the way?  Do you promise to bind them upon your hand and keep them as frontlets between your eyes?  Do you promise to write them on the posts of your house and on the gates?”
            “We promise!”
            “Then beware lest you forget the Lord.  You shall fear the Lord your God and serve Him and swear by His name.  You shall not go after other gods, of the gods of the nations which surround us.  For the Lord our God is a jealous God among us.  You shall diligently keep the commandments of the Lord your God and His testimonies and His statues which He has commanded us.  You will do that which is right in the sight of the Lord, that it may be well with you.”
            And all the people shouted, “Amen!”
            The excitement of the crowd in the temple spread out through the gates and across the entire city of Jerusalem.  When a small group of men suggested they do something about the temple of Baal built by Athaliah the idea spread like wildfire.  Men poured out of the Western Gate, over the bridge which led to the Southwest Hill and quickly turned from a crowd to a mob.  Queen Athaliah compelled them to worship Baal but her reign had ended and they decided Baal needed to go as well.
            “Death to Baal,” someone shouted and the cry echoed throughout the city.  “Death to the Lord of the Flies.”
            Sanchuniathan, the doorkeeper, heard the crowd swarming up the hill with their cries of “Death to Baal,” and decided it would be best to shut the doors.  The heavy doors, however, never moved quickly even under the best of circumstances and he still hadn’t had time to slide the metal lock into place when the first of the mob arrived.  They didn’t even bother to knock.  Shoving their shoulders against the door their combined weight quickly overpowered the doorkeeper.  Slowly the heavy doors re-opened, trapping Sanchuniathan between the door and the wall.  As more men crowded through, rushing into the temple of Baal the doorkeeper found himself crushed to death behind the very doors he had opened and closed for so many years.
            Once inside the temple the mob mentality removed all sense from the crowd.  Wall coverings ripped from their place littered the floor.  Doors lifted from their hinges became battering rams.  Oil lamps shattered.  Anything made from gold suffered a similar fate with the broken pieces passed around so everyone could share the wealth.
            Priest Mattan heard the noise from within the inner sanctuary but had no idea what transpired until the doors opened and the mob entered the altar room.  When he realized the danger he sought escape by climbing on to the base of the large image of Baal which dominated the room.  Grasping the rim of the altar he pulled himself out of the reach of the angry crowd.  One of the invaders grabbed a knife used in the sacrifices to the false idol and threw it right at the red-robed priest, knocking him off his feet.  With a terrible cry he fell backward into the flames consuming the sacrifices he had just been offering to Baal.  Quickly the fire destroyed him in the same manner as they had destroyed so many who had been offered to his god.
            A dozen men crowded behind the large statue of Baal and tipped it over onto its face where it shattered into a thousand pieces.  With the doors they had removed from their hinges they battered the walls, breaking them apart piece by piece.  Before the mob had been satisfied the entire temple of Baal lay in ruins on the Southwest hill of Jerusalem.

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