Love Amid the Ashes (9 page)

Job followed closely behind the guide, Dinah and Nogahla on the third camel, with the rest of the caravan following as close as was safe in the raging wind. He kept a watchful eye on Dinah and Nogahla. The women moved gracefully as one, wrapped in a blanket to shield against the cold wind and flying dust.

No rain, only wind and lightning
, he marveled.
An odd storm indeed.

When the caravan finally reached Uz’s city gates, Job’s sense of dread deepened. The market was empty, the merchants’ stalls deserted. At this time of day, the city was usually buzzing with activity—last-minute haggling, merchants closing their booths, children hurrying home with full water jars. But tonight the natural plateau on which the city’s first sector sat resembled a graveyard. Small stones rolled by like desert scrub.

“Come on. Let’s get into the siq!” Job’s guide shouted above the distant thunder, leading the caravan toward the narrow split in the high red cliffs. “Single file! Leave plenty of space between the animals.” The guide shouted his instructions but waited for no one. He disappeared into the narrow cleft between two towering walls of rock.

Job turned and saw terror in both women’s eyes. Dinah began shaking her head. “No!” she cried. “This can’t be Uz!” The rest of the caravan arrived on the plateau and entered the city gates, anxious to continue home. But Dinah’s fear halted them. “What are those caves carved into the mountainside? Where are the houses?” She pointed at the tattered curtains flapping at the entrance of the beggars’ dwellings and then spotted the empty merchants’ booths. “Where are all the people, Job? I’m not going into that . . . that . . . siq until you tell me what’s beyond it. I don’t even think my camel will fit between those rock walls!”

Job tried to imagine Dinah’s first impression of his city—a deserted market, a violent storm, and troglodyte dwellings dotting the mountain’s face. He guided his camel toward Dinah and Nogahla, trying to calm them before panic spread. “Dinah, look at me!” Job shouted above the storm. “I promise your camel will fit through those walls. A new life awaits you beyond that siq.” Both women seemed to calm some. “Now listen. There is a slight descent as we enter the siq. Lean all the way back on your saddle. The camel knows the way, and its footing is sure. Close your eyes if you’re frightened.”

The little serving maid nodded readily, but Dinah didn’t look as quick to trust.

“Dinah,” Job said, “if you can’t trust me, at least believe that El Shaddai has brought you here for His purpose. Can you do that?”

Dinah paused. Job was learning that her answers were never impulsive or halfhearted. “I trust you and El Shaddai for whatever lies beyond the siq,” she said.

In the courage he saw in her misty blue eyes, Job too believed he could trust El Shaddai for what lay ahead.

~Job 1:13–14~

One day when Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, a messenger came to Job.

Dust and debris stung Dinah’s face as the desert wind continued its fury. “Mistress, I’m scared.” Nogahla leaned back into Dinah’s chest, and she could feel the girl’s whole body trembling.

Job’s camel slowly made its way into the narrow siq, stepping down and skidding on the red sandstone grade. Dinah watched as he followed his own instructions, leaning back on his saddle, his broad shoulders resting against his Bactrian’s second hump. Dinah’s camel languidly chewed its cud from side to side and then began its descent without prodding when Job’s beast cleared the path.

Nogahla cried out above the noisy wind gusts. “Miss . . . nah! I . . . scared!”

“No crying!” Dinah sounded braver than she felt, but she had to maintain some level of composure or dissolve into another fit of hysteria. Grasping the reins with white knuckles, she squeezed her eyes shut as Job suggested. Trying to think of anything but tumbling into oblivion, Dinah began reliving her most recent humiliating display. Fear had overwhelmed her when she saw Uz. She was a seasoned traveler with Abba Jacob’s camp through many terrains in all kinds of weather. But these red Edomite mountains were as imposing as Uncle Esau himself, and the eerie caves and deserted market sent dread racing through her. An unspoken voice had warned her of unseen danger.

“Good, Dinah! You’ve almost reached level ground,” Job shouted, giving Dinah courage to open her eyes.

Noting the lessening incline, she poked Nogahla’s side. “Look above us!” The red cliffs of Edom surrounded them, and below she could see a sandy gravel path running parallel to a wadi full of water. Warm, damp air fused the dirt and sand to their scarves. The muscles in Dinah’s stomach ached from leaning back so long, but her heart was growing lighter.

As the path leveled and widened, Dinah saw no more caves. Instead, stunning homes carved into the mountainside lined both sides. Each home boasted beautiful courtyards and gardens—yes, gardens—with leeks and garlic and figs and date palms. Amid the protection of the siq’s high walls, the wind’s fierce breath faded to a whisper. Torch flames danced gently, illuminating a lifestyle as luxurious as that of Shechem’s merchants.

“Nogahla, have you ever seen such a beautiful place? Do you see?”

“Yes, mistress. I see a miracle in the desert.” Nogahla pointed to a large fountain where the siq spilled into a long, level plain stretching north and south between two mountain ranges. Several modest tents, battered by the intensifying storm, formed a meandering village following the wadi through the plain. Small flocks and herds stirred nervously, and children ran to their mothers’ arms for shelter.

The caravan traveled southwest through the plain, wind and dust punishing Dinah’s eyes mercilessly. She’d never before wished to be a camel, but a protective second eyelid would have been helpful while she took in the sights of Uz. Farther south, clustered around private fountains and standing nobly against the storm, were exquisite house tents, made of a design she’d never seen before. Each home was constructed with red stone walls as tall as a man. A goat’s-hair weave stretched to a peak over large wooden beams was joined to the walls by large posts a cubit tall. The resulting structure appeared as a red cube with a black tent hovering on stilts above it, allowing sunlight and breezes to enter the home from every side.

Job began pointing wildly at one elegantly built house tent, its cut red stones and tall roof standing like a soldier in the storm. “Ennon! Ennon!” he shouted above the noisy wind. Dinah’s heart nearly leapt from her chest when she realized Job was pointing to her new home.

All too quickly, their guide veered south into a private canyon surrounded on three sides by majestic cliffs and rock-hewn facades. The camel drivers and servants hurried forward, and soon the animals halted.

“Mistress, the whole western cliff is a palace!” Nogahla’s neck stretched to its limit, searching the heights of Job’s impressive four-story fortress.

“Come, ladies!” Job was already off his camel and prodding Dinah’s camel to its knees. “I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow after the storm blows over.” A streak of lightning split the darkening sky. “It appears we’ve made it just in time,” he said, guiding Dinah and Nogahla toward a canopied courtyard.

An elderly Ishmaelite steward welcomed Job just outside an ornately carved wooden door. “Greetings, Master Job,” he said, “we thank Al-Uz—we’re thankful you’ve arrived safely.”

Dinah saw Job’s face cloud over like the darkened sky, and Dinah noted the Ishmaelite steward’s near mention of his god. She wondered if this was part of Job’s “history of differing opinions” with his steward.

“I see you’ve brought more servants of Yahweh to distribute goods to the poor.” The steward stared condescendingly at Dinah, and she glanced down at her dust-covered robe of Jacob’s tribe. Why would he immediately assume both she and Nogahla were servants?

But one more glimpse of Job’s stormy expression, and Dinah realized the servant’s venom had little to do with her and everything to do with her God. “No, Atif,” Job said calmly, his jaw flexing. “I’ve brought home a new wife.” He paused, engaged in a silent battle with his Ishmaelite steward.

Atif gulped and seemed to swallow his arrogance. For some reason, Job’s threat of a second wife dashed cold water on the old steward’s fire.

“A wife for Ennon,” Job added, after reminding the steward who was master.

Dinah stifled a grin and reached for Nogahla’s hand. Though the mountains of Edom were strange and new, it seemed the tensions of a household ran deep even here. She had no idea why a servant would care that his master took a second wife. And why would Job allow such insolence from a pagan steward? She squeezed Nogahla’s hand.
Thank You, El Shaddai, for my Cushite friend’s determination to stay with me.

Job took a step inside his front door, and Atif moved with him like a dance, blocking the way. Holding Atif’s gaze, Job held out his hand to Dinah and said, “Come, dear. I want you to meet my wife.” The old Ishmaelite stared daggers at Job but stepped back, allowing Dinah and Nogahla to follow into an ornately decorated hallway.

Dinah’s mouth was suddenly as dry as the desert. Job’s wife would be the first family member she would face—but not the last. Would her new mother-in-law know her by reputation? Would Job reveal her secrets?

The hallway curved, and Nogahla gasped. “Mistress, look!” Dinah remembered Ima Rachel’s long-ago warnings to remain placid in the presence of splendor. But Ima Rachel had never seen Job’s home. Bronze lamps in wall niches cast sparkling light on golden threads in the tapestries lining the way. Abba Jacob’s lamb’s-wool rugs silenced their sandaled feet, and the sandstone bench running the length of the hallway was embedded with gemstones, reflections dancing in the lamplight. This hallway was a living thing—a dreamland in which Dinah floated amid shimmering lights above and billowy softness below.

Suddenly, abruptly, the dream ended in a large square dining area. Thirty or forty starkly built tables stood empty, and two stunningly elegant people stood alone. Job staggered back as if he’d been struck in battle. When Dinah saw the regal man and woman turn in surprise, she knew the war had begun long before this night.

Job blinked twice, three times. Had Sayyid been touching Sitis’s face? The two of them stepped apart quickly, and Job searched his wife’s expression. Was it guilt he saw there, or something else?

“Job, you’re home!” Sitis hurried across the room, arms outstretched, tears forming. “I was worried about your travel in this storm.” Sayyid sneered at Job and then watched Sitis—every step, every sway, every curve—as she moved toward her husband. Job said nothing, trying to remember how to breathe.

His teary-eyed wife slowed as she noted Job’s silence. She stopped dead when she saw Dinah. “And who is this woman, Job, with her little Cushite handmaid?” Her voice had become shrill and accusing.

Job let his gaze wander from the defiant Ishmaelite to his demanding wife. “I will speak of it when the bread merchant leaves.” His words escaped through clenched teeth.

Deep puddles formed in Sitis’s eyes. “But Sayyid just came to warn me about the storm, that it might delay—”

Job grabbed her arm, leaned in close, trying without success to keep the venom from his voice. “When will you see him, Sitis? Truly
see
him for who he is?” Not waiting for her answer, he stepped around his wife and toward his adversary. “Sayyid, I thought I made myself clear. I don’t ever want you in my home again. Not when I am present nor when I am absent.” Job stepped aside and lifted his hand, directing Sayyid to the door. “I will remind
all
my servants of this, not just the Edomite servants loyal to me, but also the Ishmaelite servants loyal to Sitis.”

Job turned and eyed Atif, who watched from the shadows. The old steward studied his brown feet. Job returned his attention to the arrogant merchant in his dining hall. “You are not welcome anywhere on my property or the properties of my children, Sayyid. Leave now.” Job bowed slightly, waiting for his response.

Sayyid didn’t move.

Every bone, muscle, and sinew in Job’s body screamed for revenge. This man had deceived his wife into idolatry, teased his sons with greed, and undermined his authority as a city elder.
Please, El Shaddai, let me spill this man’s blood.
But years of studying God’s ways reminded Job that vengeance was Yahweh’s alone. Job would not use the skills Esau had taught him to inflict harm on another human being.

“Atif!” Job shouted, and everyone in the room jumped—except Sayyid. The man’s hand moved to his belt, under his outer robe, where Job saw the glint of a dagger.

The steward’s words snapped the tension. “Yes, Master Job?”

“You will escort Sayyid out of my home for the
last
time.” Job held Atif’s gaze. “Do you understand?”

Before the steward could answer, Sayyid stormed past him and through the hallway. Atif bowed and said quietly, “If I may be excused, I’ll be sure Master Sayyid finds his way out.” And the old man was gone.

“Job, it’s not what you think.” Sitis clutched the front of Job’s robe, her voice trembling. “Sayyid came to warn me—”

Job placed a quieting finger on Sitis’s lips and embraced her, hoping his arms would quiet her words and her heart. He saw Dinah standing near the wall with Nogahla, both looking as if they wished they could melt into the cold stone. Their welcome had been anything but planned or proper, but perhaps the struggles they’d seen would assure them that everyone needed El Shaddai’s grace.

Job too was trembling. His unspent anger and the desire to whisk his beautiful wife to safety were overwhelming.

When he drew Sitis away, he kissed the tears from her cheeks. “We will speak more of this later, but right now I must introduce you to your new daughter-in-law and her maid.”

Sitis straightened and wiped her cheeks. Understandably embarrassed, she approached Dinah timidly and introduced herself.
Always the prince’s daughter
, Job marveled.

“Please forgive me for this misunderstanding, my dear,” Sitis said. “I certainly would have wished for a better welcome for you. Please don’t judge us too harshly by what you’ve seen.”

Job extended his hand, inviting Dinah to join him and his wife. “Dinah knows that circumstances aren’t always what they seem at first glance, Sitis.”

Dinah offered a gracious bow.

“So, your name is Dinah,” Sitis said, studying her new daughter-in-law in the lamplight. “Job, isn’t that the name of Great-Abba Esau’s niece, who—”

“Yes, my love,” Job interrupted before Sitis made any regrettable remarks about Dinah’s reputation. Lifting one eyebrow, he tried to communicate discretion to his wife. “This is Uncle Jacob’s daughter, Dinah.”

Shock. Accusation. Questions. All in Sitis’s reflexive glance at the recognition of Dinah’s name. Zophar had known her by sight, but the rest of Job’s family would identify her only by name—and by rumor.

Dinah looked stricken, her face gray, but she bowed again, hiding her reborn discomfort admirably. “It is a great honor to meet you, mistress.” Lifting her gaze, she resembled a prisoner awaiting a verdict.

Sitis’s expression softened, and she grasped Dinah’s hands. “Which of my sons will be blessed to call you his wife?” Job watched Dinah’s tortured features relax under the caress of Sitis’s approving words—but was his wife sincere?

Before he could study Sitis further, he heard the rustling of a robe in the hallway, running footsteps, heavy breathing. Had Sayyid returned, planning vengeance? His attention fixed on the entry, Job reached for the dagger strapped to his calf.

“I’m here, Ima Sitis!” Elihu’s tall, wiry frame came bounding into the room, nearly knocking Nogahla to the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry, who are you?” He stopped abruptly, mouth agape, his eyes as big as ostrich eggs. “Abba Job! You’re home.” His gaze darted toward Dinah, his cheeks coloring three shades of crimson. “Forgive me, I didn’t know you were entertaining women—a woman—I mean . . . guests.”