Josiah, The Boy King
Chapter 5, Part 1
Josiah lay
in the hall outside his father’s bedroom, trying to catch his breath. All the while his thoughts were racing
through his head like horses on the track up at Galilee. What if the men got away and everyone thought
he had killed his father? What if all
the servants were in on the conspiracy and he was the next one on the death
list. What if?
Suddenly he
heard footsteps coming from the bedroom.
He had to get out of there before they came after him. Jumping to his feet, he tore off down the
hall in the direction of the door to the garden.
“Look,
there. It’s young Josiah.”
“He must
have seen us. Quick, after him.”
Josiah
didn’t turn around to see who was doing the shouting or even how close they were. He just kept right on running as fast as his
eight-year-old legs could travel. He was
moving fast, but Amon’s guards were even faster. He could feel them breathing down his neck as
he rounded the corner and headed for the door.
Just before
he could reach for the clasp the door swung open on its own and more guards
blocked his way.
Josiah
stopped, pulled himself up to his full height, all four feet, eight inches of
him, and said in what he thought was his deepest voice—but which actually came
out like a squeak. “Capture those
men. They just killed the king.”
To his
amazement the guards in the doorway pushed past him and before the three
assassins had time to protest, their arms were pinned to their sides.
“Let me
go,” yelled Josedech. “We didn’t do
anything. We were just trying to protect
King Amon. It’s that boy of his that
killed him. You ought to be capturing
him.”
“Sure,”
came a voice from the doorway behind Josiah.
“And that’s why your daggers are all covered with blood. Try again, Josedech. You and your friends will get just what you
deserve for lifting up your hands against the Lord’s anointed.”
“But he was
a wicked king,” Ben-Ami protested. “You
didn’t like it when he nailed the temple doors shut, Hilkiah.”
Josiah
turned around and stared when Ben-Ami said that. What it really Hilkiah, the high
priest?” To his amazement his
friend Shaphan was standing in the
doorway next to one of the tallest men in one of the most beautiful robes
Josiah had ever seen.
“Shaphan. Boy is it good to see you.”
“You too,
Josiah. Sure are glad we got here before
those men caught you.”
“You’re not
the only one.”
Shaphan saw
then how Josiah kept looking at the man next to him and he remembered that his
friend had never met his own high priest.
“Josiah,
meet Priest Hilkiah. Or maybe I should
say, King Josiah.”
“King
Josiah, it is,” the tall man answered.
“We’ll make it official with a coronation in a week or so. But if Amon is really dead then you, my son
Josiah, are the new king of Judah. I am very pleased to meet you, though I wish
it had been under different circumstances.
You’ve had a very traumatic evening, I’m afraid.”
Josiah
wasn’t sure exactly what a king was supposed to do when he met a high
priest. But his mother had always taught
him that the high priest was the one who spoke to God on behalf of men. And to Josiah anyone who talked with God had
to be one of the most wonderful people in all the earth. So Josiah knelt in the middle of the hall in
front of the high priest and bowed low with his forehead almost on the
ground. Three times he bowed very low
and then slowly rose to his feet and spoke very solemnly to Hilkiah.
“If I am
king, then let the first act of my kingship be this. I hereby proclaim that from this day forward
throughout all my kingdom, it shall be right and good to worship the true God
Jehovah. Let the temple be opened and
let no one forbid any to worship the one and only true God.”
Hilkiah
didn’t wait to hear any more. He simply
reached out and folded the young king into his arms. That was what he had prayed for all of his
life—a king who would worship Jehovah with all of his heart.
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