Life od David Chapter 1

Preface

I can’t remember the last time I saw so many rulers and authorities gathered in one meeting. We can all see this is serious. I could feel a tremble in my legs as we stepped aside to allow two cherubs to enter the hall. I think that’s the closest I’ve ever been to a cherub. They are even bigger than I thought.

There have only been a handful of times the Almighty has called together the entire heavenly council, and there is no small stir among the angels as we make the final preparations.

Gazing around the room, I get chills when I see some of the members of the council—all the chief princes are here, including the archangel. There are authorities, powers, rulers, thrones, dominions, cherubs, and seraphs.

As far as I know, this has only happened once before. It wasn’t long after the devastation of the fall and the Almighty’s curse. Humans had plunged into such depths of evil that the Almighty destroyed all but Noah’s family. That was when he gathered the council to announce his plan to prevent mankind from ever becoming that evil again.

The plan was to call a man out of Ur, give him the name Abraham, and through that one man bring salvation to millions. And through those millions, God would preserve humanity from ever again becoming as evil as they did before the flood.

I would never, ever question the wisdom of the Ancient of Days. But I have to admit, it doesn’t look like that plan is working. Yes, Abraham’s descendants have become a nation and the Word of the Lord is being revealed through them. But when I look at that nation, I don’t see many who trust in or love the Almighty at all. They are even more wicked than the people around them. From what I can tell, this is the worst they’ve ever been.

Everyone is doing what is right in his own eyes, and it’s chaos. They recently had a civil war over a woman they raped to death, then cut into pieces and put in the mail.

We are all assuming this meeting is about what’s next in the Almighty’s plan. And we think it must have something to do with God raising up another man. This man has already been mentioned twice in the Scriptures, and he hasn’t even been born yet. A whole book is devoted to his arrival—the story of the marriage of this man’s great grandparents. Will the arrival of that child change the course of the nation of Israel?

As always, the voice of God sent shivers up my spine when he began. There is no experience that compares to hearing that voice. The sound at once strikes fear and promises shelter. It quickens the pulse and places at rest. It threatens and soothes. It is food for the mind and drink to the soul, and it captivates my entire being.

It captivates—and confuses.

“I will put an end to this cycle of evil and bring deliverance,” he announced, “by closing a womb.”

Chapter 1

“Hannah, take her!” Peninnah’s shrill voice grated on Hannah’s ears. As always, it sounded a lot more like an order than a request. Hannah turned, walked back up the hill she had just come down, and took the 6-month old from Peninnah’s arms. Then she carried the child in her right arm while steadying Peninnah with her left. You live in the hill country. Hannah thought. When are you going to learn how to walk down a simple hill? How is this woman ever going to make it across the wadi?

The journey to the feast in Shiloh wasn’t easy, but this celebration was the highlight of the year for the whole family.

Hannah looked at the baby in her arms and it once again broke her already bruised heart. She had her mother’s eyes—the eyes of that woman Hannah’s husband married when it became clear Hannah couldn’t give him any children.

She had to admit Peninnah was beautiful. And her four boys and their three sisters were well-behaved. But every glance at those children—her husband’s offspring by a rival wife, provoked a wave of loathing in Hannah. They haven’t done anything wrong, she told herself. They are wonderful children. What kind of monster am I, that I would have disdain toward innocent children just because of who their mother is?

Still, their very existence was a perpetual reminder that her rival was right. Peninnah had made it clear to Hannah that without the ability to conceive children she had no value in this family. Only women cursed by God were barren. And Hannah felt it every day—she was a walking curse.

At the bottom of the hill Peninnah took her child from Hannah without a “thank-you” or any kind of acknowledgment that Hannah was even a human being.

Peninnah walked on as Hannah waited for her husband—their husband, Elkanah, to bring the last of Peninnah’s seven children down the hill.

“How will we cross the wadi?” she asked as she took two of the kids by the hand. “The shepherd’s path was washed out last year.”

“I’m sure it will be repaired by now,” he said. “A lot of people have to cross that wadi.”

“I hope you’re right. But it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s even worse than it was last year. It just seems like everything in the country is falling apart. People will do what’s good for their own family, but there’s no leadership for a project that big. When is the last time you heard of a new road being built—or repaired for that matter?”

“You’re right,” he said. “All the roads in our area were definitely before my time.”

“What if we have to go to war?” she asked. “Who’s going to raise an army? The Philistines know we’re helpless. It’s just a matter of time before they invade.”

“You worry too much, Hannah. How many times has Yahweh delivered us from the Philistines in the past? He took care of us then, he’ll do it again.”

“He delivered us in the past when the nation repented and turned back to him. But in times like this, when everyone does whatever they please, aren’t these the times when Yahweh has given us over to our enemies?”

Elkanah stopped, turned to face Hannah, and took both her hands in his. “What’s really bothering you, Hannah? This isn’t like you. Is it really the Philistines or the roads? Or is it …”

Tears welled up in Hannah’s eyes. She studied the ground, then withdrew her right hand, wiped her tears, and whispered, “Let’s just go.” She took the children’s hands again and started down the “road,” such as it was.

Three hours later they all stood at the rim of the wadi. The sides were steep—sheer walls in some places, and no sign of any path. Hannah drew a deep breath. This could be deadly.

Elkanah went first. He held a rope that was anchored at the top and dropped over the side, kicking as much of the earth loose as he could on the way down. When he reached the end of the rope, he climbed back up and repeated the process. After the fourth descent, he had moved enough dirt to begin bringing the family down. Hannah was first, then the oldest boy, Simeon.

Hannah and Simeon watched in silence as Elkanah pulled himself back up to help the other children.

Simeon rarely spoke to Hannah. She assumed this was to comply with his mother’s instructions. When he did speak to her, it was usually some kind of insult or disrespectful remark.

“Why do you stay?” he asked.

Hannah looked at him, but he kept his gaze on the activity above.

“Stay where?” she asked.

“In this family. Wouldn’t you rather go somewhere you are wanted? Nobody wants you in this family. I know my mom doesn’t. And none of us kids do. And obviously dad doesn’t—why else would he have married my mom?”

Hannah looked back up at her husband, who was still shuttling the children down the side. She had learned long ago that nothing good came from responding to remarks like this.

After a few minutes of silence, Simeon spoke again. “What did you do to make God mad at you?”

“Why do you think he is mad at me?”

“You can’t have kids, right?”

Again, she looked at him. “Why are you asking me this, Simeon?”

He looked at his feet. “I don’t know.” He kicked at the dirt for a moment and added, “It would just be nice to know in case … so I’ll know …”

“Simeon, are you afraid maybe God is angry with you?”

Simeon still would not meet her eyes. He turned and faced the bottom of the wadi and sat on the ground. Hannah sat next to him and waited. He threw a rock and watched it bump down the side.

“If I tell you something, will you tell my mom?”

“It’s never smart to make a promise without knowing what’s being promised. All I can say is if you don’t feel like you can trust me with it, then it’s best not to tell me.”

After a long silence, Simeon spoke again. “Sometimes I have really bad thoughts about God. I say bad things to him in my mind. I try to stop, but the more I try, the worse it gets.”

Simeon glanced up at Hannah, eager to know her reaction.

“All of us do bad things, Simeon. We do things that make God angry. Just like you do things that make your father mad. But I watched you walking with your dad today. He didn’t seem like he was mad at you, right? Weren’t you both laughing about something?”

Simeon nodded.

“Your dad doesn’t stay mad at you. When you repent, he forgives you. God is the same way. If you confess those things to God, and you hate them like God hates them, then God forgives you.”

Even as she spoke the words, a tinge of sorrow struck Hannah as she was reminded once again of the unrepentance of the nation. It seemed hardly anyone even knew how to blush before God anymore, and she longed for God to send a judge who would set an example for the people of what true repentance looks like. She had no idea that it was her very misery that God would soon use to do just that.

After tossing a few more stones, Simeon asked, “Don’t you want to know what the thoughts are?”

“Not really,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what they are. What matters is that you think about them the same way God thinks about them. You can think about anything as long as you think and feel about it the same way God does.”

“Are you going to tell my mom?”

“Do you think your mom would be able to help you think the right way?”

“She would just get mad.”

“What about your dad?”

“Yeah, he would probably know how to help me, I guess.”

“I think you’re right. Just remember, repenting means doing all you can to change. If you think telling your dad will help, if you really want to defeat this sin, you’ll do it.”

A trickle of gravel made them both turn to see Elkanah arriving with Simeon’s two youngest sisters—one on his left hip and the baby in a pouch on his back.

After five more trips, everyone had made it safely down the most difficult part of the descent into the canyon. And after so many trips, enough dirt had been moved that he was able to return to the top, untie the rope from the anchor, and slide down to the others.

As they waited for him to make it down, Peninnah glared at Hannah, then at Simeon. “What were you two talking about?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” he said.

She took hold of his arm and gave it a jerk. “Don’t lie to me! I saw you talking. What were you talking about?”

“She … she told me not to talk to you about it.”

Peninnah’s eyes burned through Hannah with even more hatred than usual.

Hannah started, “I didn’t—”

“You are so pathetic,” Peninnah interrupted. “Just because Elkanah keeps you around doesn’t mean you can interfere with my parenting. And if you ever try to turn one of my kids against me again—”

“Peninnah, I …” Peninnah had already turned and was walking away. Hannah laid her head back and covered her face with her hands. It was just another day in this family, but she didn’t know how many more of these days she could take.

By the following evening they had made it to Shiloh. As usual, Elkanah spared no expense on the sacrifices. He saved all year for this trip, and this year he bought two lambs and a goat.

As he was preparing the lambs, two young men appeared in the doorway. They wore priestly vestments. One carried a sword and the other a rod.

When Elkanah saw them, he let out a sigh and went back to his work. “There will be plenty for you at the sacrifice tonight. You don’t have to—”

“Looks to me like there’s plenty for us right now,” said the one with the sword.

Hannah had heard about corruption in the priesthood but had never seen it in person. Once the fat was boiled off the meat, God allowed the priests to push a large fork into the pot and keep whatever portion they pulled out for themselves. There were rumors that Eli’s sons, Hophni and Phinehas, showed contempt for God by taking whatever portions of the meat they wanted—even before it was boiled.

“Does your father know what you’re doing, Hophni?” Elkanah said to the man with the sword.

The second man closed the space to Elkanah with three quick steps, put his rod against Elkanah’s chest and drove him backward and up against the wall. The muscled priest put his face inches from Elkanah’s and pressed with such force that Hannah wondered if he would break her husband’s ribs.

“Ask another question about our family, hillbilly.” Then he looked toward Hannah, Peninnah and the children. “Do you want to shut your mouth and give us the lambs? Or do you want to talk some more about our family and watch me take this rod to your family?”

Unflinching, Elkanah set his grizzled jaw. The priest’s threat had filled Hannah with fear. But she saw no trace of fear on Elkanah’s face, and she admired that. What she did see on his face looked more like sorrow.

“Do you have no fear of God?” Elkanah asked.

Hophni laughed, sheathed his sword, and stepped toward the sacrifices. He heaved one of the lambs over his shoulder and said, “We have nothing to fear from God. He loves us. We’re priests!”

Phinnias gave one final press of his rod into Elkanah’s chest, then turned and effortlessly picked up the other lamb and they left.

Hannah ran to Elkanah’s side. She gently placed her hand on his chest and asked, “Are you okay?

Elkanah took her hand in his and shook his head. “We are supposed to be the people of God. What have we come to when we can’t even worship because the priests themselves steal the sacrifices?”

Peninnah went to the door and checked to make sure they were gone. Then she turned and asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I have a gold ring,” Elkanah said. “I’ll go back to the market and trade my ring for two more lambs. This is the biggest holiday of the year, and we’re going to celebrate.”

“But they stole our lambs. Aren’t you going to—”

“That’s between them and God. He will bring his own vengeance on them. There’s nothing we can do.”

The sheer volume of delicacies on the table that night bordered on ridiculous. The rest of the year, Hannah didn’t see this much food in an entire month. The portion in front of her was twice the amount anyone at the banquet had been served—her husband’s well-intentioned but misguided attempt at cheering her up. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful, but she couldn’t bring herself to put a single morsel into her mouth.

On her right sat Elkanah. To his right, Peninnah and her children. The women around Peninnah fawned over the six-month-old girl on her lap as everyone but Hannah enjoyed the celebration.

“Hannah, why don’t you eat?” Peninnah said, leaning forward to look around her—their husband. “Maybe if you ate a little more, you’d be healthier.”

Hannah intended a polite smile, but her face refused to form one. She knew what Peninnah meant by “healthier.” That woman rarely said anything to Hannah that wasn’t some kind of dig at Hannah’s barrenness. She seemed to take more delight in Hannah’s barrenness than she did in her own fertility. Peninnah’s greatest fear, Hannah thought, was probably Hannah conceiving a child. But it was Hannah’s greatest desire. Her only desire.

Hannah was determined not to react to Peninnah’s provocations. All it did was encourage more. But Hannah felt the familiar wave of uncontrollable emotion begin to rise. Desperate to deny that woman the satisfaction of seeing her cry, Hannah rose and hurried toward the back of the hall.

Elkanah called after her but didn’t leave his seat. She knew it hurt him that he wasn’t enough to make her happy. But there was no escaping the truth. He wasn’t. Nothing was. Hannah could not imagine anything in the world that could make her happy as long as she remained childless.

As she made her retreat, she could hear that woman cackling like a … Lord, forgive me, Hannah prayed, beating back the hatred that threatened to take over her heart.

Paralyzed with grief, Hannah couldn’t even make her hand go to her face. She watched her tears drop from her eyes onto the base of the pillar that held her up.

Hannah’s prayers for a child had been virtually nonstop in recent months, but this was different. Leaning against that pillar, Hannah cried out to God from depths she didn’t know were there. The prayers that rose from her soul to heaven came from such intense desire that it felt as though the prayers were pulling her very soul with them into God’s dwelling place.

“O Yahweh Almighty,” she pleaded, “if you will only look upon your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to Yahweh for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”

As the season of intensity finally began to fade and awareness of her surroundings gradually returned, Hannah opened her eyes and was startled to see a huge figure across the room looking at her. She was startled again when her eyes focused on his face and she realized who it was.