THE KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE
THE
KING WHO WOULD NOT DIE
By
Robert Allen
CHAPTER
TWENTY
The news of Queen Haggith’s death
cut Joash as if he had himself faced the sword.
His beloved Haggith, who just that morning he had kissed goodbye at the
gate of the palace, lay dead on a road in the Judean hills. He regretted ever allowing her to leave with
bands of Syrian soldiers roaming the countryside. She should have been in the safety of the
palace in Samaria before nightfall but now she was gone and his heart hurt
within.
The king refused to return to his
bedchamber. Instead he paced up and back
across the throne room, weeping and trying to pray. Many times he headed toward the door in order
to make the journey up to the temple, but each time he hesitated. He had not been in the temple when Zechariah
had been killed. He had not known about
the attack in advance. But the rumors in
Jerusalem said that the blood of Zechariah stained the stones of the courtyard
and started to bubble anytime a person guilty of his death came near. Even though he didn’t really believe the
rumors he didn’t dare take the chance.
Besides, he had no assurance that God would hear him even if he did pray
in the temple. He had joined Haggith in
worshipping the golden calf and now he feared he had waited too long to return
to Jehovah.
When the dawn first broke over the
horizon King Joash, eyes red from crying and swollen from lack of sleep left
the palace and crossed over to the grove where Haggith had placed her golden
calf. He knew the God of Judah resided
in the temple, but he had to pray to someone.
All alone he fell on his face before the golden calf. For almost an hour he pled with God to hear
him, but his heart still felt no peace.
Haggith had worshipped the golden calf all her life, he thought, and the
idol hadn’t protected her. Yet Matt
often told him how God had failed to protect Zechariah as well.
“Joash.”
The voice seemed to come from
nowhere and at first the king thought he must be dreaming. Slowly opening his eyes he saw Matt standing
next to the golden calf.
“King Joash. Stand on your feet. You are still the king of Judah. Is this any way for a king to act?”
“But Haggith…” Joash began.
“I know. Haggith is dead. But you are still the king and there remains
much work to be accomplished. God has
tested you, has tested your mettle. He
desires to know if you really believe He dwells in all places. He tests your ability to accept His presence
in this golden calf your queen so adored.
The reason Haggith died lies within this test. God has not been convinced of your faith and
trust.”
“God resides in the golden calf?”
“See. You question already. You told me of your conviction that God lives
everywhere, yet you question His presence in this holy place. God wants to give Haggith back to you, but
you must believe.”
Joash stared into the eyes of his
friend with a deep longing to believe what had been said. “He wants to give Haggith back to me?”
“Of course. The god of the golden calf desires your joy, your
bliss. He does anything for those who
worship him in truth. Returning your
queen to your arms would not even begin to tax the power of God. She will be restored if only you believe that
God lives in the calf.”
“Oh, I do believe. I do believe.
Anything to get my beloved back again.
Tell the god I believe in him, Matt.
Tell him I believe.”
“I will do as you have commanded, oh
king. You, on your part, must promise to
announce to everyone in your kingdom that you now worship the God of the golden
calf.”
“I promise. Yes, I promise. Anything to bring my queen back from the
realm of the dead. Thank you Matt. You have brought great joy to my soul. I will send out a proclamation. Even better, I will issue a decree that the
entire kingdom must join me in the worship of the golden calf. When can I expect Haggith’s return? Tell me, please.”
Matt’s face revealed no emotion, but
he smiled within. He had worked for this
goal since the day his father Mattan had been killed. Another year and he would have the king
worshipping Baal as well as the golden calf.
“Not long. The wait will not be long.” Just until the God decides for certain that
you have demonstrated the sincerity of your belief.”
“But I am sincere. Tell him I am sincere,” tears ran down
Joash’s cheeks as he pleaded for the life of his beloved.
Instead of answering him further,
Matt turned and walked away, leaving the king alone in front of the false god.
For the next two days King Joash sat
in the gate of the palace waiting for Haggith to return. He had seen her body placed into the grave,
but when his servants tried to feed him or reminded him of those who waited to
see him in the throne room he sent them away.
“I will attend to that when Haggith
returns,” he said.
On the third day a messenger arrived
who refused to be ignored.
“King Joash, you must listen to
me. We came upon the army of the Syrians
at the city of Gath.”
“Impossible. Gath lies to the west
of us. You know the Syrians still fight
against Israel up to the north.”
“Apparently they marched right
through Israel with no one to stop them now that King Jehoahaz is dead. That’s not the worst of it. Hazael of Syria completely defeated the city of
Gath and has directed his troops to attach Jerusalem.”
“What have we ever done to him? I have no beef with him. You must be mistaken.”
“I wish that were true, your
honor. But I saw the army with my own
eyes. Other scouts remain alert and will
be reporting in on their progress very soon.”
“How many men does Hazael lead?”
“More than the sand of the sea,”
said the scout. “They move across the
land like grasshoppers, like tree leaves blowing in the fall. We must seek help from God if we hope to defeat
them.”
King Joash remembered the many times
in his life when help had come from the temple, but he also remembered the
blood of Zechariah and Matt’s promise concerning Haggith.
“Send for Matt,” he instructed his
bodyguard.
Matt still served as the priest of
the queen’s grove and the guards found him almost immediately just across the
street from the palace, but he made the king wait for over an hour before he
responded to the command to come to the throne room. He wanted the king to know that he could not
order a priest of the golden calf around like any other subject. By that time another scout had arrived with
the word that the Syrians still advanced on Jerusalem and would arrive before
the end of the day.
“What can we do?” said the
king. “You promised that God would bless
us now that we worship correctly.”
“But he does want to bless you. He has revealed to me a plan.”
“A plan?” The king had not been able to think of any
plan, and was ready to try anything.
“Tell me the plan. Quickly.”
“The plan comes directly from the
God of the golden calf,” said Matt. “As
I sacrificed a lamb this morning the smoke of the fire turned bright gold, like
pure sunshine. In the center of the
cloud of smoke appeared a beautiful calf with the face of a man. ‘Speak, oh calf,’ I heard myself say and the
voice came back to me like the thunder of the waters of the Jordan above
Galilee in the time of the rain.”
“Thus saith god, the god of the
golden calf, the god of gods whose name is the name of every god. Jehovah is my name. Elohim is my name. Ashtaroth is my name. Baal is my name.”
Matt glanced sideways at the king
when he said that, but Joash didn’t even blink.
He stood ready to accept anything if only he could see Haggith again and
get some help against Syria. So Matt
continued to recount the vision.
“Thus said the god of the golden
calf. Tell Joash my servant that he has
received my blessing. I am pleased with
his allegiance to me. Haggith will
return to him before the month has passed.
But first he must listen to my voice in the matter of the Syrians.”
“I will listen,” said Joash. “Did you tell him I will listen?”
“The Syrians will come upon
Jerusalem without fail,” Matt told the king in the words of the talking
calf. “Here is what you must do. Take all the vessels of gold from the temple. Take all the candlesticks of silver. Strip all the gold from off the altar. The forks and the tongs and the instruments
for sacrifice must be gathered. When everything
has been assembled offer it as a tribute to the Syrians. For this they will return from Jerusalem and
bother you no more forever. The god of
the golden calf has spoken.”
Immediately Joash sent a contingent
of soldiers up to the temple. All the
restoration which had been done years before, all the vessels of gold and
silver, all which had any value, they piled onto large wagons. The wagon drivers exited through the western
gate and stopped just outside the city on the road to Gath. When Hazael king of Syria rode over the top
of the nearby hills and saw the wagons he realized that all the wealth of
Jerusalem could be his without even engaging them in battle. He simply replaced the Judean drivers with
his own men and headed back to Syria leaving a badly shaken city and a
scared-to-death king behind.
During the next few months
conditions in the land of Judah went from bad to worse. The advisors feared the return of the Syrians
so every man from eighteen to thirty faced conscription into the army. The crops had to be planted by the women and
the young boys. Since the king needed to
feed his enlarged army he raised taxes.
That frustrated the people because they made less on their crops now
that the men were gone.
Matt kept telling the king that the
god of the golden calf would bless him, that Haggith would soon return. So Joash stayed away from the holy temple,
but the weeks grew into months and still no Haggith. Actually very few people ever went to the
temple. The condition of the house of
God continued to decline. Every day the
king grew more and more depressed. He
spent many days in bed without ever getting up at all. Other days he commanded his servants to take
him to the summer palace in a place called Millo since he didn’t feel safe in
the palace. But as soon as they arrived
in Millo he would change his mind and travel back to the Jerusalem the next
day.
Jehoaddan tried hard to get him to
pay some attention to his sons, especially Amaziah her first-born, but all he
could think about was Matt’s promise that Haggith would return.
Our son Amaziah nears his
twenty-fifth birthday,” she told the king.
“Someday he will be the king and he will not be ready unless you train
him.”
“Do you think I was ready to be king
at age seven?”
“Yes!” said the queen. “Jehoiada prepared you for that day. You had been taught the Word of God. You had been trained to lead. He helped you when you need help the most.”
“Don’t even mention that man’s name
to me,” the king yelled. “And don’t
bother me any more about your son. He’ll
be king when I am finished being king and not before. You just want him to be trained so you can
get rid of me. You’re all in a
conspiracy against me. All of you.”
King Joash trusted no one except
Matt. Convinced that people wanted him
dead he sat up in a chair with his hand on a sword most nights. He didn’t even trust his own family. But he still listened to Matt.
“You are doing right,” said the
false priest. “The gods remained pleased
with you. Keep it up and you will be
blessed. Haggith will reappear and you
will reign for many years to come.”
Only Matt told the king what he
wanted to hear and so he listened only to Matt.
The prophets of God still roamed the streets of Jerusalem but the king
ignored them. The priests still
sacrificed in the temple, but he refused to go there.
Then one day the news Joash feared
the most arrived. A soldier stationed on
the northern border rode into town with the news that the Syrian army advanced
once more toward Jerusalem.
“The army this time is much smaller,”
said the scout. There can’t be more than
ten thousand of them. The large force
you have assembled will surely defeat them, but we wanted you to know.”
Joash listened to the report and
immediately sent out another squadron of men to support those already in the
field. By the time they marched north to
the battlefield the Syrians had already decimated the first defenses and were
even closer to the capital than before.
“Charge!” commanded the captain of
the second unit, confident that will superior numbers they could stop the
Syrian army. But God was not on the side
of the Judeans that day and at the end of the fierce battle most of those
soldiers lay dead and the Syrians still advanced toward Jerusalem.
Desperate now, Joash sent out his
remaining forces, 50,000 strong, but the small Syrian attack party routed them
as well. All this time Matt busily
offered sacrifices to the god of the golden calf but the idol remained just as
powerless in the face of the approaching army as it had in bringing Haggith
back from the dead. By nightfall the
Syrian army encamped at the gates of Jerusalem.
“Gather the entire household,
everything which can be carried,” the king ordered. “We must make our escape to the house in
Millo.”
All night they worked, moving valuables
from the palace onto carts and wagons which rolled out through the south
carrying the king and his family to safety.
Early the next morning the Syrians attacked Jerusalem, scaling the
walls, forcing open the gates and plundering all that remained in the
capital. Since the gold no longer
decorated the temple they turned to the houses of the wealthy. Those who had served as advisors to the king
had great riches but they could not protect their possessions from the
Syrians. By the end of the second day
the city resembled a ghost town. Nothing
remained for the army to steal so they headed back to Damascus.
When the royal family arrived in
Millo, King Joash went to bed. Sick and
heartbroken he turned his face to the wall and tried to sleep. He didn’t want to see anyone and he didn’t
want to be bothered. The only two
servants allowed into his room were Zabad and Jehozabad, brothers who had been
with him since chosen by Jehoiada himself to protect the king. As Joash lay in a fitful sleep the two trusted
servants guarded the door. Then, after
several hours, they approached the royal bed by mutual agreement. Removing their knives from their scabbards
they simultaneously plunged them into the sleeping king’s heart.
“That is for the death of our friend
Zechariah, the prophet and priest of the one true God,” said Jehozabad quietly,
pulling out his knife and cleaning it on the king’s robe.
“And that is for Judah itself,”
whispered Zabad. “May your son Amaziah
become the godly king his father once was.”
Then the two guards walked silently
to the door, locked it behind them and escaped under cover of darkness into the
wilderness. The reign of the king who
would not die had come to a bitter end.
THE END
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