Love Amid the Ashes (32 page)

For the first time in over a year, Job felt no pain in his body, yet his spirit ached to be forgiven. He had been so certain of his righteousness. Now his only certainty lay in his desire to please the merciful God who had spared his life after he had spoken so recklessly. He placed his forehead into the ashes and waited for God’s judgment. Whatever Yahweh decided, he was convinced the punishment would be just.

The relatives’ whimpering had ceased in anticipation of Yahweh’s imminent response, and the ragged breaths of eight awestruck believers kept rhythm as the snow ceased and the lively patter of raindrops returned. Job raised his head from the mire and heard the thunderous Voice. Surprisingly, Yahweh’s rebuke shifted to the elders.

“Eliphaz the Temanite, I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken of Me what is right, as My servant Job has. So now take seven bulls and seven rams and go to My servant Job and sacrifice a burnt offering for yourselves. My servant Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly.”

The Voice imposed judgment, and the red cliffs resounded with finality as the shimmering light throbbed. Job was breathless. Had El Shaddai really said the elders had spoken wrongly and he had spoken what was right?

But El Shaddai, I challenged You carelessly.
His heart squeezed in his chest. How could he be judged innocent and the others found guilty?

Looking up, Job saw Uncle Eliphaz ensconced in an ethereal glow, his face turned heavenward, tears like raindrops streaming down his white beard. But Zophar lay in a fetal coil, face covered, weeping incongruent vows of allegiance and defiance. Bildad wept like a child in Elihu’s arms and then suddenly beat the sludge with his fists, crying, “Elohim, I have studied Your teachings. I spoke the truth!” Elihu, seemingly shocked and ashamed, tried to quiet the old man, but Bildad shoved him away and wept alone in the melting pile of dung.

El Shaddai
, Job prayed,
Eliphaz shows a repentant heart, but Bildad and Zophar seem unchanged by Your rebuke.
Job watched the shimmering light for some response. Nothing. He waited for the stabbing pain in his chest or the buzzing sensation in his body—a second command or confirmation of Yahweh’s forgiveness. None came.

My servant Job will pray for you
, the Voice had said
, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly.

Job glanced at Aban. The captain looked full of anticipation, the blowing rain creating rivers down his ash-and-dung-covered face. “I will summon a cart to carry you to the mountaintop altar, my friend,” he said softly, as if coaxing Job’s obedience.

Dinah must have heard Aban’s offer over Bildad’s and Zophar’s din. “We could use some blankets to soften your ride, Job.” Her words were pleading too.

Job turned to Nogahla. Gazing into those big, bold eyes was like looking into an obsidian mirror. In hesitating to forgive, he saw his reflection in those he resented. He was Zophar, allowing anger to soar into hatred. He was Bildad, carving his opinions as sacred rules into stone. He was Eliphaz, elevating his holiness to alienate those he loved.

Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly.

It was only by Yahweh’s mercy that
anyone
was forgiven. No one was worthy. No lamb or goat was a sufficient sacrifice. Only El Shaddai’s loving favor made it possible for any human to come before Him.

“Do my brothers have the seven bulls and seven rams for their sacrifice?” Job shouted, his voice resounding in the canyon.

Elihu looked up, face alight. “Yes, Abba. They brought a small herd for offerings.” Bildad and Zophar stilled. Eliphaz opened his eyes, awaiting his nephew’s direction. The shimmering column of light remained, and the miraculous summer rain continued its steady drumming on the canopy. A crowd had gathered at the mouth of the canyon, and servants stood outside Aban’s home in awe of the spectacular.

Job turned to Dinah, whose face was radiant. “I will pray for my relatives,” he whispered, “but I ask that you pray for me, dear friend.”

Tears flowed in rivers down her cheeks. Dinah nodded her understanding. Of all Job’s friends, she knew best the lasting scars of inner battles. Dinah knew him best in every way.

~Job 42:10–11~

After Job had prayed for his friends . . . all his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him over all the trouble the
Lord
had brought upon him, and each one gave him a piece of silver and a gold ring.

Dinah’s sandals clicked on the tiled hallway of Aban’s home. “Hurry, Nogahla. We mustn’t be late for the sacrifice again this morning.” Two of the last seven mornings, they’d arrived at Job’s mountaintop altar after dawn’s rays had peeked over the eastern cliffs. Walking from Aban’s fourth-story halls, across the canyon, and up to Job’s mountaintop altar was the equivalent of a morning’s journey for some merchants.

The fact that she and Nogahla were sequestered alone in a spacious bedroom on the fourth floor, while Aban’s servants slept six in a chamber on the ground floor, irritated Dinah like a splinter under her fingernail. Aban’s reasoning seemed sound—to create as little upheaval for his household as possible—but Dinah could hardly stomach the thought of her expansive rooms and woolen mattress while serving maids slept huddled on reed mats. Aban had reserved the second story for Job and the personal servants he intended to hire as soon as Job was sufficiently recovered. But Job’s healing was slow, and the restoration of his wealth would take time.

“Mistress, your frown is back.” Nogahla’s concerned voice broke into Dinah’s thoughts as they hurried down the stairway.

Dinah wished she didn’t wear her heart on her face. “Here,” she said, reaching into her pocket and offering a clove leaf to Nogahla. “Chew on this. It’ll make your breath even sweeter than you are.” Dinah winked and slipped one into her mouth as well, noting Nogahla’s eyebrow lift in understanding.

“I still want to know why your frown is back,” the girl said, crushing the leaf between her teeth.

The two women emerged from Aban’s home and reverently skipped over the steady red stream flowing through the canyon floor. The miraculous summer rains had continued in Uz, though traveling merchants reported the drought had nearly crippled every neighboring region.

Dinah and Nogahla stepped into Job’s home, which now showed distinguishable renovation progress since reputable craftsmen had replaced the Nameless Ones. On their way to Job’s tower steps, Nogahla pressed her concern. “Mistress, are you going to tell me about your frown?”

But Dinah hurried through the curved hallway toward the first stairs they must conquer. “Nogahla, if we use all our breath for talking, we’ll never reach the mountaintop in time for the sacrifice.” They fell into amiable silence, concentrating on their climb, and soon the small rectangle of lavender at the mountaintop entrance exploded into morning.

“430, 431, 432! Whew!” Dinah had adopted Elihu’s childhood habit of counting the tower steps aloud, but when she lifted her eyes to the stares of Bildad, Eliphaz, and Zophar, she nearly swallowed the clove leaf she was chewing.

Elihu stepped forward, extending a friendly hand. “I’m glad to know the workmen haven’t added an extra step.”

Dinah felt her cheeks grow warm. Nogahla grabbed the back of her robe, following meekly behind, and the women settled on a bench beside Aban. Dinah allowed Nogahla to sit between them, casting a sidelong glance at the big man.
I suppose I must finally admit you are trustworthy.
And she couldn’t deny Aban’s unquenchable thirst for El Shaddai.

Elihu took his customary position, kneeling beside the lamb and making the initial cut. Then arranging the carcass on the altar, he waited while Job blessed the offering and patiently answered each of Aban’s questions.

Dinah stole glances at the three elders, who sat directly across from her, but they never lifted their gaze. The visitors seemed changed somehow—Eliphaz older, Bildad weaker, Zophar thinner. In the week of God’s miraculous rain, Aban had offered fine meals, though it was discovered that Sayyid’s grain storehouses were badly depleted by the drought. The elders accepted only watered wine, however, and returned their food trays untouched—a fast of repentance, they said. Dinah wondered if it was meanness, but she asked forgiveness for that thought at the next morning’s sacrifice.

“Uncle Eliphaz,” Job said, “would you like to explain to Aban the reason we allow fire to completely consume the lamb?” The old Edomite smiled but declined, graciously listening to Job’s explanation that the completeness of the offering illustrates the dedication of the worshiper to God and His teachings.

As Job’s account unfolded, Dinah pondered the ways in which his life had imitated the lamb during the past seven days. As if preparing a clean altar for Job’s sacrifice, Yahweh’s summer rain had washed away the piles of ash and dung from the kitchen courtyard, leaving no traces of the pain that had seeped into it for so long. Then, displaying sacrificial grace, Job had dedicated himself completely to healing relationships with Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. The four men spent hours under the new tent Aban provided as Job’s temporary dwelling on the mountaintop. Amid tears and forgiveness, Dinah witnessed Job’s inner healing manifest outwardly. Fresh, pink skin replaced over half the sores on his body, and worms died by the hundreds, rolling away with his soiled bandages.

Aban was anxious to welcome Job into his home, assuring his friend he cared nothing about the odor or remaining worm infestation. “Fleeting afflictions, my friend!” Aban raved. “Look how El Shaddai has healed you already! In no time you will be herding your own flocks and plowing fields with your own oxen.” But after all the men had left the mountaintop tent, Dinah and Nogahla remained, drying Job’s tears and bandaging his wounds.

“I have no right to mourn,” he told Dinah one evening as the three watched the sky change from orange to red to purple. “Look at the miracles God has worked on my behalf.” His face stretched into a mask of false strength, fighting the tears that would aid his healing.

Dinah placed a single finger under his chin and turned his gaze toward her. It was the first time she’d touched him without a bandage or herb. “Remember your words, my friend.” Her voice quivered as she spoke. “‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. Yahweh gave and Yahweh has taken away; may the name of Yahweh be praised.’ You mourned that night the tragedies struck, but your tears were shed in complete surrender.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “I believe trusting Yahweh with our tears is our greatest offering.”

The floodgates of his tears burst free, and Nogahla placed a comforting hand on his newly healed shoulder. But Dinah released his chin, and her hand fell limply to her lap. One of his tears wetted her wrist in the glimmering sunset.

And then she realized it.
I love you, Job.
Her cheeks burned at the thought. Her own tears fell, cool streams across fiery beds of self-doubt. Was she betraying Sitis? How would Nogahla feel about this—Elihu, Aban, Nada? Then Dinah remembered Sitis—her friend, Job’s wife, whom they both loved with devotion.
No, Sitis, my friend. You know my feelings for your husband have always been pure.
Sitis wouldn’t want to see her husband’s heart broken by loneliness for the rest of his life.

Dinah looked into Job’s grief-stricken face and ached to heal more than his outer wounds. Their eyes met for just a moment, and renewed weeping overtook him. This man had faced tragedy and death, yet Yahweh prevailed in his life. How could she ever love another man after loving a man like Job?

But the next realization stole her breath as if she had fallen with a thud from a runaway camel.
A man like Job could never love a woman like me.

Dinah was summoned back to the morning’s sacrifice by a familiar voice. “Mistress?” Nogahla leaned close, whispering. “Are you crying for the lamb?”

Dinah looked up and realized the lamb had almost completely burned away. She wiped tears without realizing she had shed them.
What is wrong with me today?

“Abba, look!” Elihu rose to his feet, his hands still dripping with sacrificial blood. The first rays of dawn revealed a distant line of caravans converging on Uz from both north and south, extending as far as the eye could see.

The elders stood, as did Aban. “I don’t think it’s an army,” Bildad said. “I see too many women and children on donkeys for a military attack, and I see a great number of flocks and herds.”

“Then what could it be?” Elihu was breathless, fear evident in his voice.

“When Sayyid and Bela paid the Chaldeans to attack Job’s camels and servants, they came disguised as a caravan.” Aban glanced at his sandals, and Dinah recognized shame clawing at the integrity Yahweh was crafting in the man.

“Now is not the time to consider the past,” Job said softly.

Offering a grateful nod, Aban turned to Bildad and Eliphaz. “Gather your armies, and I’ll muster my troops. If the caravans have come for battle, we must stop them before they enter the siq.” Elihu ran ahead of the elders to the tower stairs, offering help to each man as he descended.

Dinah heard a whine beside her and turned to find Nogahla’s face a mask of terror. “No crying!” Dinah shouted, relying on her traditional command. It had worked before, but today the words carried no weight.

Aban nudged Dinah aside and knelt before his beloved Cushite. “Nogahla, listen to me. I’ll return as quickly as I can, but you and Dinah must remain on the mountain with Job. I’ll send servants by way of the mountain path with camels and a litter on which to carry him.” Looking up at Dinah, he said, “You must promise that you’ll escape at the first sign of battle. Do you understand?”

Dinah nodded soberly and then retreated to the carved stone bench alone, heart pounding, watching Aban comfort Nogahla. Her heart yearned to be comforted too. If she approached Job, would he hold her and speak reassuringly as Aban did to Nogahla? When her gaze met Job’s, she found him staring at her. As if reading her thoughts, he turned away quickly, his neck flushing as red as the canyon’s mud river.

The sting of rejection pierced her.
Why can’t you love me?
she thought.

Dinah leapt to her feet. “I’m going with you, Aban!” she shouted, startling everyone including herself.

“You can’t go with me.” He grimaced as if she had suggested he swallow fish eyes.

She started toward the stairs, tears already brimming on her lashes. “I can ride a camel as well as any of your soldiers and lead two beasts on a bridle.”

“Dinah! Come back here!” Aban’s demands were soon drowned out by the dark, close walls of the tower stairway, but another more daunting voice followed.

“Mistress, you cannot run away from me. Tell me why your frown has now turned to tears.”

Servants cleared away scraps and dirty dishes from the midday meal while Job sat idly in Aban’s grand banquet hall, listening to another embellished story from one of his Edomite cousins. The grandson of his uncle’s firstborn had been gushing feats of valor since he’d arrived with the first caravans six weeks ago. “The lion rushed at me from behind the boulder, and . . .”

Smiling patiently at the windbag, Job scanned the men and women seated at the finely carved tables, hoping to find a genuine smile amid the milieu of forced merriment. Bildad and Zophar had left two weeks ago to tend business and household concerns, and Eliphaz, Elihu, and Aban often avoided larger gatherings. The steady patter of rain kept rhythm with the incessant drumming of his cousin’s endless stories. Job nodded occasionally when the younger man drew a breath, but he used these moments to ponder all that weighed heavy on his heart.

When Job had first glimpsed the caravans, he too had been concerned about imminent danger. He had watched Aban soothe Nogahla’s fears but became as awkward as a camel in sandals when Dinah looked in his direction. He wanted to comfort her, but he felt more than that. For the first time in his life, he yearned to hold a woman other than his Sitis. Without warning, passions rushed in like a flood. Guilt said that he was betraying Sitis’s memory by yearning for another so soon. Humiliation told him that Dinah would be repulsed by his embrace. Grief reminded Job that he missed Sitis’s voice, her touch, her laugh. Fear returned his thoughts to the invading caravans after Dinah fled down the tower stairs in tears.

When the caravans arrived, full of Job’s Edomite family and friends, his life altered dramatically. Joyful descendants of Esau offered gifts of grain, silver kesitahs, and gold rings in celebration of God’s miraculous works. Job knew he should rejoice at the encouragement and divine restoration of his wealth, but Dinah’s hysterical flight from the altar haunted him.

The caravans continued their relentless arrivals and blessing, but Job’s emotions raged just as insistently. When a full moon had passed and still bands of Edomites clogged the trading thoroughfares of Uz, Job asked Dinah and Nogahla to journey with him to Widow Orma’s cave. “Master Job,” the precious Cushite had said, “perhaps your body has healed enough to make this journey, but has your heart healed enough?”

Job wiped his face as if he could wipe away the memory and then was rudely jolted back to the present by his cousin’s bawdy laughter. “What’s the matter, Job? Can’t you take a story with a little blood and guts?” The man slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, did I ever tell you about the time I went down to Egypt to hunt a behemoth . . .”