Joash - The King Who Would Not Die Chapter Nineteen

THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE

THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE

By Robert Allen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

            The crowd pouring into the courtyard of the temple in pursuit of Zechariah had become a mob.  Incited by Matt and his cohorts their rage had grown completely out of control.  Some of the priests and Levites serving in the temple attempted to rush to the protection of Zechariah, but so many people had entered the court that they could not even get close to him.

            “Stone him!” A voice from the crowd urged them to action.  “He is the one who is troubling Judah.”

            “Stone him!  Stone him!”  Others took up the cry.

            Using the rocks picked up from the street outside, the men Matt had planted in the crowd turned the vicious cries into action.  Only a few stones at first, but then more and more, hitting the back, arms and even the head of the young priest.  Instead of protecting himself from the barrage, Zechariah stood upright in the middle of the angry crowd.  “God will look upon you and require a punishment on the nation for your sin,” he called to them.  Just as he spoke those words someone threw a heavy rock from high above him on a balcony and struck him hard on the back of his head.  With a cry of pain he pitched forward  and fell head-long into the middle of the mob.

            When they realized Zechariah lay dead at their feet a hush fell over the people.  Men started backing away from the corpse and then filing quietly out of the temple, avoiding looking anyone else in the face as if they had no desire to remember who had been involved in the evil deed.

            Matt, who had been the one in the crowd to first call out “Stone him,” rushed out of the courtyard and ran down the street toward the temple.  He wanted to be the first to bring word of Zechariah’s death to the king.  On the way into the palace he met Haggith, still in her chair, and the two of them entered the throne room together.

            “Oh, Joash, what a wonderful day this has been.”  Haggith reached out with her scepter and rapped the servants carrying her chair on the head so they would set her down more quickly. “So exciting.  Our people have demonstrated their love for me.  I was so scared.”

            “Scared?  Why scared, my dearest?”  Joash rose from his throne and wrapped his arms around the queen.

            “That terrible prophet.  The one who has been harassing me.  Why, you wouldn’t believe all the terrible curses he called down upon me this morning.”

            The king turned to Matt.  “Can you tell me what is going on?  What happened to the queen.”

            “My lord,” Matt bowed low before the king.  “Your queen has just witnessed a great victory over one of her greatest enemies.  In the very midst of his stronghold, surrounded by his most loyal supporters, the priest Zechariah has been struck down by the very hand of Jehovah-God Himself.”

            “In the temple?” the king gasped.

            “Sure,” shrugged Haggith.  “Why not?  That’s where he had been starting all of those terrible stories about us.”

            “But the temple is sacred.  A holy place.”

            ‘You’re right, Joash,” Matt spoke in a quiet voice, trying to calm the king.  “But perhaps that is all the more reason why it should have happened there.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, you know how Zechariah and his father Jehoiada told you that only Jehovah God can protect the nation of Judah.”

            “Certainly.  Jehovah the God of Hosts, the All-Powerful One.”

            “All powerful.” Matt repeated and the stopped as if he needed to think about that.  “They also told you that Jehovah dwells in the temple.”

            “In the holy place, between the cherubim.  You know that as well as I do.”

            “Now, if God the All-Powerful dwells in the temple, surely He must be the most powerful, the strongest, near to the place where He makes his home.”

            Joash realized Matt sought to make a point, but still didn’t know exactly what point.  However, he had to agree.  “Yes, Jehovah would be most powerful near his dwelling-place.”

            “Then,” Matt drove home his argument, “why was He not strong enough to protect Zechariah right there in the temple?  Why did he allow the people, simply protecting your queen, to stone His own prophet, if Zechariah really was a prophet?”

            “I guess I never thought about it like that,” said the king.

            “Let me tell you what I think,” said Matt.  “God didn’t protect him because God didn’t call him to be a prophet.  He belonged in the priesthood and sought to take on a role for which God had not equipped him.  Zechariah and the priests have a limited view of God.  His belongs to all the world.  He lives in the stars and the planets.  He lives in the hills and the mountains.  Haven’t you also learned that God is omnipresent?  That He is everywhere?”

            “Yes,” said the king, but Matt had not finished.

            “If God dwells in every place, then He must be worshipped in every place.  God allowed Zechariah to die because He wanted people to know that they must not limit Him to one certain dwelling-place.  He doesn’t just live in temples made by men’s hands.  So people must worship Him on every hill, in every grove, in every city.”

            “You think that is why Zechariah died?”

            “I am convinced,” said Matt.  “Now that his narrow view of God has been eliminated we can trust the people to honor Him throughout the entire nation.  We will see a revival of worship not known since the days of Solomon.”

            “You think God will be pleased enough to protect us from the Syrians?”

            “Absolutely.  I promise you that Judah will enjoy a prosperity unlike anything this country has seen for years.  I know that God rejoices over the kingdom of Judah this day.”

            “I’m sure too,” said Haggith.  “I think it would make Him even happier if we would build a grove right here on Mt. Zion.  It’s such a long trip across the valley to the Mount of Olives.  I know that if I have a grove nearby I could worship much more often than I do now.  Why, I could worship three times a day, and you could join me as well.”

            “All right, Haggith dearest,” said the king.  “Whatever your little heart desires.”

            So they planted a grove opposite the courtyard of the king’s palace and Haggith’s golden calf made the trip back to Mt. Zion from the Mount of Olives.  Matt dressed in priestly garments in order to serve as the queen’s private religious counselor and priest.  Soon Joash began worshipping with her in the grove and the next time the advisors met they started their meeting by offering a sacrifice to the golden calf.  King Joash forgot all about the kindness of Jehoiada and Jehoshabeath and the friendship of Zechariah.  Matt and Haggith convinced him that if he allowed the people to worship any way they desired God would be pleased and as a result would protect him from his enemies.

            About one month after the death of Zechariah, Joash came down for breakfast to find Haggith weeping as if her heart had broken.

            “Haggith dearest.  Please don’t cry.  Is there something you want?  Something more I haven’t given you.”

            Haggith shook her head and continued to wail loudly.  Frustrated, Joash turned to her personal attendant.  “What has happened?  Why is she weeping?”

            The maid bowed low before the king.  “A messenger arrived this morning from Samaria.  My queen has been weeping ever since his arrival.”

            “Bring me the scroll.”  Almost before the words left his mouth the young girl scurried out the door and returned almost immediately with the parchment.

            “Dearest Haggith,” read the king.  “My lord King Jehoahaz is dead.   Only Jehoash, the king’s son and I remain.  The Syrians attack on every side.  Please come to see us before all is lost.  Your best friend, Beni-baali.”

            “Jehoahaz dead?  Haggith, why wouldn’t you tell me?  You should have told me immediately.”

            “Don’t yell at me,” Haggith wailed.  “My best friend’s brother has died.  How could this be?  How could God have allowed such a tragedy?”

            Joash left the queen in the care of her maid and sought out the captain of his guards.

            “I must know the truth,” he said.  “Send a party of men to Samaria immediately and another group of scouts to discover the whereabouts of the Syrian army.”

            As the guards turned to carry out his orders, Haggith rushed into the throne room, grabbed his robe and hung onto him like a little child, screaming through her tears.  “I have to go.  Beni-baali needs me.”

            “But Haggith, the journey would not be safe,” the king pleaded.  “The Syrians may be anywhere.  We may be under attack next.”

            “I don’t care.  I must go.  You can’t stop me.”

            “Guards,” ordered the king.  “Instruct the stables to hook up the tent on wheels.  Assemble fifty men to serve as escorts.  Queen Haggith must leave for Samaria immediately.”

            Frantic actions characterized the next few hours in the palace.  Haggith changed her mind four times about what she wanted to take and each time the maids had to re-pack the wagon with the tent on top.  The soldiers had simply mounted their horses at the command of the king without packing any more than bare necessities and waited impatiently until the queen finally climbed into the wagon and give them the order to move out.

            The scouting parties did not need to wait for the queen so they left long before the queen’s entourage exited the gates toward the north.  Joash knew it would be at least a day before anyone from the scouting party returned but to his surprise a horseman galloped into the palace courtyard later that night.

            “Halloo!” shouted the scout.  “I have an urgent message for the king.”

            “Leave it with me,” the king heard his bodyguard reply.  “I will deliver it in the morning when the king has risen from his sleep.”

            “This message cannot wait.”  Still half-asleep, the king recognized the voice of the messenger.  This man had not accompanied the scouting party.  Instead he had been part of the entourage traveling with Queen Haggith.  The king rose from his bed and called to his bodyguard.  “I will see him in the council chamber.  Bring him there immediately.”

            The king hurriedly dressed with the help of a servant and entered the chamber to find the messenger pacing restlessly across the room.

            “What is so important that you needed to see me tonight?”

            “Forgive me, my lord,” the messenger bowed.  “Only this morning I and my companions left for the city of Samaria to escort the queen on her visit.”

            “I know that.  I know that.  Get to your point.”
            “We had ridden for almost three hours and neared the border with Israel when we spotted what seemed to be a small skirmish in the valley before us.  A group of Syrians had attacked the scouts you sent out earlier in the day and our men fought hard for their very lives.  Immediately our captain signaled for us to join the fight on behalf of our fellow soldiers.  With our fifty men the Syrians would be greatly outnumbered.  Charging down the hill we entered the fray but somehow the Syrians could not be defeated.  I alone have survived to report to the king.”

            As Joash listened a senses of dread grew upon him.  “And the queen?  What about Queen Haggith?”

            The soldier bowed his head.  “The driver of her wagon followed our men down the hill.  We all thought the Syrians would be easily defeated.  The odds lay in our favor.  But it was not to be.  The queen, my lord, is dead.”