A Lineage of Grace (44 page)

Often, she would remember her mother’s words:
“The life of a king is never easy. . . . Better to love a poor man . . .”
It was not easy to be the wife of a warrior either, for she never knew from one battle to the next whether she would be left a childless widow. “I live in fear every day, wondering if I’ll lose your father,” her mother admitted when they talked at the community well.

What would happen to Uriah’s household if he died now? Bathsheba had no children, but not for want of trying. She wondered if her husband was disappointed in her, but if he was, she saw no sign of it. Two years had come and gone since their wedding feast, and he still treated her with kindness.

All the tribes of Israel gathered at Hebron, appearing before David and declaring that he was God’s anointed. “We are all members of your family,” the high priest said to him before the people. “For a long time, even while Saul was our king, you were the one who really led Israel. And the Lord has told you, ‘You will be the shepherd of My people Israel. You will be their leader.’”

Bathsheba’s heart swelled with pride as she stood among the crowd and watched David make a covenant with the people and be anointed king of Israel. He was only thirty years old, and yet the elders of all the tribes bowed down before him. And Uriah stood nearby, one of David’s bodyguards and closest friends, raising his hands to heaven and shouting in exultation.

And then David went to war again, Uriah at his side.

* * *

Bathsheba waited with the other wives to receive word about the battle for Zion, and when it came, she cried out in joy with all the rest.

“They’ve taken Jerusalem!”

But neither David nor Uriah came home to Hebron. Instead, they sent a contingent of warriors to bring the families to the newly conquered mountain stronghold. Building commenced all around the City of David, strengthening Zion for defense. Walls were built. Hiram, king of Tyre, sent cedar trees and carpenters and stonemasons to build a house for David. And Uriah chose a stone house near the site of the king’s palace.

Still, peace was elusive. The Philistines gathered against David, spreading out across the valley of Rephaim. And once again, Uriah was called away to war. Bathsheba cried this time, for she had come to care very deeply for him.

“Don’t fear for me. The Lord is on our side!” was his parting exhortation. His words were of no comfort to her. She had no son to carry on Uriah’s name or to take care of her when she was old.

Word returned that the Philistines were defeated at Baal-perazim. When Uriah came home with an idol, Bathsheba protested. It was the first time in their marriage that she dared argue with her husband. But she knew how detestable idols were to the Lord God. “Would it please God to know you have set that loathsome thing in our house?”

“It means nothing. Everyone carried something from the field of battle. It’s a memento of our triumph. Nothing more.”

“David wouldn’t bring something unclean into
his
house. You should’ve destroyed it!”

His eyes darkened with the fierce pride of a victorious warrior. “Don’t tell me what I should’ve done! What are you afraid of, woman? It’s nothing but clay. Did it save the man who owned it?”

“It’s a thing of evil, Uriah!”

He tossed his armor aside and glared at her. “Do you think I don’t know there is only one God? It’s the Lord who has given David victory on every side! And you’ll leave that idol where it stands as a reminder of a battle
I
fought alongside my king, the battle
I
helped win!”

Ashamed of having spoken out so forcefully, Bathsheba said no more.

The Philistines regrouped, and again, Uriah was called away to war. The Philistines were like a plague that lingered. The Lord gave David victory again, and the Philistines were struck down from Geba as far as Gezer. But Bathsheba knew it would never be over. Men’s hearts seemed bent upon war. Uriah’s most of all.

Uriah didn’t return home. It was her mother who told her that her father and Uriah had gone with David to Baalah of Judah to bring the Ark of God back to Jerusalem. Bathsheba ran down the road with the other women and wept in relief when they returned. Her joy was quickly dampened by their manner, for the Ark was not with them. David looked neither to the right nor to the left as he rode by on his mule. His face was dust-covered and tense. When she spotted Uriah, Bathsheba kept pace with him along the road. An air of defeat hung over them. David gave orders to disperse the men and went up to his house and his wives.

Uriah came to her then. She’d never seen him so tired. She lowered her shawl from her face and searched his eyes.

“What’s happened, Uriah?”

“David’s afraid to bring the Ark to Jerusalem.”

“David’s never been afraid of anything.”

His jaw clenched. He took her arm and turned her toward home. “He’s afraid of God. We all are. Uzzah, the priest’s son, is dead. He laid hands on the Ark when the oxen stumbled, and the Lord struck him down. I’ve never seen a man die so fast.” His hand loosened. “He went down as though hit by a thunderbolt.”

“Where’s the Ark now?”

“At the house of Obed-edom of Gath, where it will stay until the Lord tells David otherwise.”

With Uriah home, the house became a gathering place again as soldiers came often to pass time with Bathsheba’s husband. Sometimes they lingered late into the night. They could talk of little else but the continuing reports of how God was blessing the household of Obed-edom. After three months of such tidings, David summoned his mighty men and went down for the Ark. Uriah was among them.

* * *

From a great distance came the sound of trumpets and shouting, announcing the return of David’s mighty men. Women swept out into the street and ran to meet the procession. Jubilant, Bathsheba raced down the mountain road with them. Sunlight shone off the Ark and she thrilled at the sight of it. Each time the men who were carrying it had gone six steps, they stopped and waited so David could sacrifice an ox and a fattened calf. Trumpets sounded. And David danced with all his might. Men, women, and children sang and wept. Stripping off his outer garment, David continued leading the procession, dancing in his tunic. The people caught his zeal for the Lord. Men sang out praise after praise to God as women joined David in dancing.

The hard years were over at last. God had protected David and given him victory on every side! God had made him king over all Israel! The nations could not stand against him because God was on his side! The Lord had strengthened him and built an army of mighty men around him, and now the Ark would rest upon the mountain where Abraham had once been ready to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, to God!

Bathsheba’s racing blood sang with joy. She could not stand still and watch. If she didn’t cry out in praise and dance, she would go mad. Laughing and weeping, she tore away her shawl, lifting it high like a canopy over her head as she twirled, dipped, twisted, and was caught up in the ecstasy of the moment.

Peace would reign at last! No enemy could defeat them.

* * *

Yet, crouched at the door was a greater enemy than those who camped around Israel. And a greater battle was coming—one that could tear a nation to pieces. The battle would not take place in the mountains, valleys, or plains of Israel. It would take place in the wilderness of the human heart.

TWO

“Hanun did
what
?”

David leaned forward, scarcely able to believe the news he was hearing. He’d sent ambassadors to show respect for Nahash, the old king who’d allowed his father and mother to live among the Ammonites during the years King Saul had pursued him. He’d intended to make clear to Hanun, Nahash’s son, that he had no intentions of invading. Yet now, he learned that his ambassadors had been insulted. Far worse, they’d been humiliated!

The dust-covered, sweating young messenger stepped closer and repeated his news in an embarrassed whisper. “King Hanun accused your ambassadors of being spies, sire!” He grimaced as he rasped, “He had half their beards shaved off and their tunics cut to their buttocks. While his entire court laughed, he ordered them out of his palace!”

David shot to his feet. The men clustered in small groups around the court fell silent an instant before the room buzzed with whispered questions and speculations.

Joab had watched the exchange between David and the messenger with narrowed eyes, while Ahithophel and Eliam left their companions and strode across the room.

“Quiet!” Ahithophel shouted above the din. “The king speaks!”

David wished he hadn’t shown his anger. He should have left the room with the messenger and heard the news in private. Then he could have heard everything and thought over what course he would take before the men knew what had happened. Joab’s face was rigid. David knew he was ready to go to war, hungry for battle. Looking around the court, David saw they all were. Often he despaired at being around such violent men. Yet, what right had he to grumble to God, when his own blood was hot and crying out for revenge against Hanun?

The fool! Did he think he could insult Israel with impunity? Did he think there would be no repercussions? David would not ignore what had been done to his men. He couldn’t afford to ignore Hanun’s foolishness and risk losing the respect of his men. Worse, the nations around them would hear of any leniency shown and take it for weakness instead. If David didn’t act soon, the Ammonites would think Israel was ripe for invasion. He didn’t need to ask Ahithophel for advice. He knew what he had to do: teach this arrogant Ammonite king a lesson so that no one else would dare insult or attack Israel.

They will know there is a God in Israel!

He’d just defeated the Philistines, he’d crushed Moab and the Arameans under King Hadadezer, and he’d established garrisons in Edom to maintain control of the land. And now, Hanun threw oil on a banked fire. Hanun would burn in the blaze he set!

How long, oh, Lord, how long must I be at war? How long will I have to raise my sword in battle before the nations know there is a God in Israel? I long for peace! I would rather spend my life writing psalms and singing praise to You, my Lord and king, than leading these men of violence into war again. They are too much for me to manage! I’m tired. When will I have rest?

“David,” Ahithophel said quietly.

Gritting his teeth, David shut his eyes, struggling for control over his rage and frustration. He knew what his men wanted: war. How they loved battle! How they delighted in shedding blood! Joab and Abishai were like wild donkeys, kicking and fighting the restraints of peace. And many of his mighty men were as bent upon violence as they. They stood restless, discontented with peaceful pursuits, eager to go out into battle where they could unleash their passions. They sought any excuse, and now Hanun had given just cause.

Oh, Lord, how I yearn for the days of my youth!

He wanted to weep as he remembered the freedom of tending his father’s flocks. In those days, he had spent countless hours meditating on God’s precepts and the Law. He’d walked over pasturelands by day and gazed at the stars by night, experiencing God in everything around him. No one had interfered with his thoughts. No one had distracted him from his praise. Hour after hour, he had delighted in the Lord and felt the presence of God all around him.

Now, burdened with responsibilities, he had to struggle to find time alone. He ached to write psalms for God and set them to the music of his harp. He longed for the days when he’d been no more than a shepherd over his father’s flock, responsible merely for finding food and water for his sheep and protecting them from predators. Now, he found himself surrounded by predatory men!

Bowing his head, he gripped the back of his neck.
Oh, Lord! Will there ever be an end to war? I am so tired of living among people who hate peace!

“Sire,” Ahithophel said, stepping closer.

David raised his head. He felt bone weary and depressed. Every decision he made cost human blood. And yet, what other choice had he? He was the king!

“We’re going to war again, Ahithophel.” He saw the man’s dark eyes catch fire. “Come into the inner chamber and we’ll discuss it.” David motioned to the messenger to approach him. “Joab, Abishai. Both of you as well!” He saw the eagerness in them.

He drew the dusty messenger close. “Rest tonight and then go back. Tell my ambassadors to sojourn in Jericho until their beards grow back.”

He was going to make Hanun regret he’d ever laid eyes on them.

* * *

King Hanun hired Aramean mercenaries to come to his aid, but David went out against them, defeating them and moving on the Ammonites without mercy. They fell by the thousands. The following spring, David gave Joab orders to lay siege to Hanun’s city, Rabbah.

Bathsheba stood with her mother at the city gates as the men mustered yet again. David remained astride his mule as he spoke to his commanders and captains. As Uriah stood among them, she felt pride in her husband’s position. The thirty mighty men dispersed and returned to their units.

Every time the Ark was carried out of the city and into battle, Bathsheba felt strangely vulnerable. She knew that God could not be put into a box, and yet the Ark represented His presence among the people. And God’s presence was going with the army.

Her mother wept when Bathsheba’s father marched by. “Each time he leaves, I wonder if I’ll ever see him again,” she said through her tears. All the women were solemn as fathers, brothers, and husbands went off to war. Bathsheba wept as well. Uriah had given her a home of her own on the street beside the palace, although the palace itself was where he spent most of his time. Sometimes Uriah surprised her with gifts of jewelry to show he loved her. She was proud of the respect he commanded, even more proud that he had earned the respect of her father and grandfather. Many men were courageous in battle, but few had the integrity of her husband. Uriah was a man of his word and a favorite among the king’s captains, many of whom had spent an evening in her home, eating a meal she had prepared, while she sat in her private chamber with her maid.

If only she loved him . . . if only she could feel more for him than just affection and respect.

She had only to look at David to know her feelings for him had not diminished with time.

Her mother took her hand. “I pray Uriah will come home to you safely.”

“God protect him.” She noticed that David was turning his mule away, riding back into the city instead of going out with the men. “David isn’t going with them?”

“No. Your grandfather hoped he would change his mind, but David said he’s tired, and tired men make poor decisions.”

Uriah had said nothing about this.

“You needn’t worry about your husband, my dear. Joab and Abishai have proven their ability to command. I suppose the king didn’t feel his presence was necessary.”

Bathsheba heard the gravity in her mother’s voice. Was she criticizing David after all these years of thinking him above reproach? “Is it so wrong for him to remain behind?”

“Unwise. But who am I to say what a king should or shouldn’t do?” Her mother turned her face away and spoke wistfully. “If only all men were sick of war! But it seems that will never be. Men live to fight, and women live to bear sons for a king’s army.”

Bathsheba took her mother’s hand and squeezed it. “Perhaps it will not always be so. Perhaps God will allow David to conquer all our enemies and we’ll have peace on all sides.”

“No good comes from an idle king.”

Bathsheba let go of her. “David has never been idle!”

Her mother looked at her. “No, he hasn’t. But whom can he conquer inside his own palace walls?” She walked away.

* * *

The days passed slowly for David. He couldn’t recline for a simple meal without hearing constant bickering and whispered complaints from wives and children. His daughters and sons competed for his attention until all he wanted to do was escape to a quiet place and be alone. And when he was alone, restlessness took hold of him. He was discontented and uneasy. Was this all there was to life? He tried to write psalms, but no words would come. Every note he plucked on his lyre was discordant. He tried to rest, but the more he slept, the more tired he felt. Soul tired.

A messenger came with news that Joab and Abishai had defeated the Arameans and were following David’s orders to lay siege to Hanun’s city, Rabbah. David felt no jubilation. He knew months would pass before the Ammonites would be starved into submission. Attacking the walls might hasten their destruction, but it would needlessly cost lives. He was sick of war!

Bored and melancholy, the king walked the palace walls, gazing out over the city named in his honor, desperate for distraction.

* * *

The days crawled by as Bathsheba waited for Uriah to come home from the war. When word came that the army had laid siege to Rabbah, she had no illusions that this meant the war was over. Many months could pass before the Ammonites surrendered and Uriah returned home.
If
he returned home. Each time he marched away to war, she lived with the uncertainty that he might be marching out of her life forever, leaving no son behind to carry on his name. She longed to have children. But how could she conceive when her husband was seldom home?

Loneliness became her greatest enemy. It grew to an intolerable ache inside her. Sometimes she sat in the quiet of her chamber and wept over her plight. Yet, what choice had she? Happiness was out of reach.

The city felt empty, populated only by women and children, a few men too old to go into battle, and a king who had decided to remain home, while the war raged on elsewhere.

When she looked up at the wall of David’s palace, she imagined him surrounded by doting wives and concubines. A dozen sons and daughters would be delighting him with their attention. Who could be unhappy with so many family members surrounding him? But here she sat, childless and alone, her husband away. How many months had it been since she had laid eyes on Uriah? How many months since she had felt his arms around her? How many more months would come and go, her chance for having a child passing with each one?

She cupped water and pressed it to her flushed cheeks. She knew what was wrong. Every time her menses passed and it was time to take the ritual bath of purification again, self-pity took hold of her. What was the point of making herself ready for a husband who was never home? Another month would pass and another and another, and her arms would remain empty of children. Tears welled. Anger stirred. Frustration abounded.

“Your bath is ready, my lady.”

Bathsheba removed her gown and stepped into the basin prepared for her in the privacy of her courtyard. Beneath the gauze canopy that protected her from the harsh afternoon sun, the handmaiden slowly poured water over her body, while Bathsheba washed. She stepped out of the basin and stood waiting as her handmaiden emptied it. Enjoying the coolness of the drying droplets on her body, Bathsheba lifted the heavy mass of curling hair from her back and shoulders. Her handmaiden returned and Bathsheba stepped into the basin again. She drew in her breath as the refreshing water cascaded over her heated flesh. Bathsheba closed her eyes and lifted her head as she stroked the water from her body.

The city was quiet, so quiet she felt a strange sense of expectancy.

Her skin prickled strangely. She sensed someone looking at her. Disturbed, she glanced up and saw a man standing on the wall. Gasping, she covered herself with her hands and ducked beneath the gauzy shelter that did little to hide her. It was afternoon, a time when most people were inside their homes resting and avoiding the heavy heat. What was the man doing on the palace roof?

Angry, she leaned forward to see if she recognized the guard intruding upon her privacy. Uriah would hear of it, and when they returned so would her father and grandfather. As she peered up, her heart jumped.

It was not a palace guard staring down at her, but a man in a white linen tunic with purple trim.
David!

Her heart pounded as she hid beneath the transparent canopy. Yearning flooded her. Even the sound of the canopy flapping gently in the wind made her senses spin. She remembered how David had looked at her the day she was given to Uriah in marriage and felt all over again the shock of attraction she’d seen in his eyes. If he had noticed her sooner, he could have taken her as his wife instead of looking at her like a starving man.