Faith of My Fathers (Chronicles of the Kings Book #4)

Lynn Austin

Description

Memorable Bible-Era Fiction From Award-Winning AuthorKing Manaseh and his friend Joshua were nurtured together in the faith of their godly fathers. but anger toward God smolders in Manasseh's heart after his father's unexpected death, and his insecurity makes him easy prey for the false claims of sorcery and divination.When Joshua stands up for the truth, the battle lines are drawn, and Joshua must flee his life of privilege. Unable to understand why his boyhood friend has turned against him, and why he must stand alone in the face of such opposition, Joshua comes perilously close to losing his faith.Can Joshua rescue the faithful remnant from Manasseh's persecution? Has it all gone too far..or will he rediscover his father's God?Faith of My Fathers is a riveting story of intrigue, deception, danger, and suspense.

Sujets

• Sagas

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 01 février 2006
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441203007
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

© 2006 Lynn Austin
Originally published under the title My Father’s God
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan. www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2010
Ebook corrections 09.22.2015, 07.25.2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-0300-7
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover design by The DesignWorks Group, John Hamilton
Dedicated to my friend Catherine Pruim. God must have known I would need a special friend like you.
The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.
E XODUS 15:2
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Part Two
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Epilogue
A Note to the Reader
Sneak Peek of Book Five in the Series
About the Author
Books by Lynn Austin
Back Cover
Prologue
“C OME ON , J OSHUA , just tell me the main points,” twelve-year-old Manasseh pleaded.
“You didn’t read any of the Torah lesson?” Joshua asked.
The look of horror on his face annoyed Manasseh. “You’re such a goody-goody! It’s not like I broke one of the Ten Commandments or anything. I just didn’t get around to reading it.”
“Rabbi Gershom is going to be furious when he finds out,” Joshua said, his face solemn.
“So? Who cares what that old tyrant thinks. He can’t do anything about it. I’m the king of Judah, remember?
“You’ll feel his wrath, believe me. He can make you feel guilty without even raising his voice.”
“If you tell me what the passage is about before he gets here, he’ll never know.”
“Oh, he’ll know—” Joshua began, but Manasseh tapped his finger on the scroll impatiently. “All right, all right,” Joshua said with a lopsided grin. “But just this once . . . and only because you’re my friend, not because you’re the king.” He unrolled the Torah scroll and found his place. “The passage we read yesterday told about the curses that God will send on us if we abandon Yahweh’s covenant, but this part says if we turn back to God, He’ll restore our fortunes and have compassion on . . . Hey, you’re not even listening.”
Manasseh had risen from the bench and crossed to the tiny room’s only window. He opened the shutters, bringing in a gust of cold air. The window faced east, with a view of the Mount of Olives across the Kidron Valley.
“That’s because you’re boring me to death,” he told Joshua. “I don’t see why we need to study all these ancient rules and regulations, anyhow.”
“Because they’re part of God’s Word. We—”
“Oh, spare me the lecture! You’re as bad as Rabbi Gershom.” It irritated Manasseh that his friend showed such a keen interest in all this stuff. To Manasseh it was as dry as old bones. “What else does it say?”
“This verse sums up Moses’ entire speech to the Israelites: ‘I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live. . . . For the Lord is your life, and he will give you many years in the land he swore to give your fathers.’”
“But He didn’t do it,” Manasseh said softly.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He was reluctant to voice the bitterness he felt, even to his best friend. Manasseh had been thinking of his father, King Hezekiah, who had been faithful to Yahweh—more faithful than all of Judah’s kings since David. But God hadn’t given him a long life. Hezekiah’s life had ended abruptly, five months ago, at the age of fifty-four.
“Look! The sun is shining!” Manasseh said. The gray clouds that had muffled the late winter sky for days suddenly parted to reveal a small patch of blue along with the blinding sun. He turned to his friend. “It’s an omen. Come on, let’s go.”
Joshua stared at him in surprise. “Go where?”
“Who cares! Anywhere but here.” He pulled Joshua’s hand away from the scroll, and it rolled up by itself. “Come on, Ox. Let’s get some fresh air.”
“But the rabbi will be here any minute. I don’t think we should—”
“You’re so predictable. Don’t you ever get tired of playing by the rules? I do!”
“But we can’t just walk away from our lessons.”
“Why not? Who’s going to stop me? I can do whatever I want, and right now I want to go outside and enjoy the sunshine, not stay cooped up with a bunch of ancient scrolls. And you’re coming with me.”
Joshua lumbered to his feet, knocking the bench over, reminding Manasseh why he had nicknamed him Ox. Thirteen years old, Joshua was tall and gangly, and although he seemed to grow a little taller each night, he never grew any fatter. Manasseh, at twelve, was still built like a child, slender and small-boned. Joshua always stood stoop-shouldered beside him, as if embarrassed to stand a head taller than the king.
Manasseh peered out of the doorway, looking both ways, then motioned for Joshua to follow him toward the back stairway.
“Where are we going?” Joshua asked again. “Shouldn’t we find somebody to escort us if we’re going outside?”
“We’re going alone. I want to escape from this place, and I don’t want any servants hanging around us.”
“But—”
“Shh! Follow me. And pick up your feet when you walk. You sound like an entire troop of soldiers.”
“Sorry.”
Manasseh crept through the harem, passing his mother’s closed door. She was still in mourning for her husband. The only person allowed to visit her from outside the palace was Joshua’s mother, Jerusha. But the rain had kept even Jerusha away for the past few days.
He continued through the nursery, passing the room that had been his before he became king. Manasseh had been reluctant to move into his father’s huge rooms, unable to accept the fact that his father was gone and would never use them again. At first the king’s chambers had been filled with Hezekiah’s presence and with his familiar scent—a combination of the incense from the Temple that permeated all his clothes, the fragrant soap he used to wash his hair and beard, and the aloe balm he massaged on his hands every morning. But Manasseh hadn’t been able to stop his father’s scent from slowly fading away, along with the memory of his voice and his reassuring touch.
Manasseh had almost made it through the nursery without being seen when he passed his younger brother’s open door. Amariah looked up from his reading.
“Hey, where are you two going?”
“He probably heard your big feet,” Manasseh whispered to Joshua. “Walk faster.”
“Wait for me!” Amariah hurried into the hallway, following along behind them. “Where are you going?”
“Never mind. You’re not invited.”
“I thought you had to study Torah with Rabbi Gershom.”
“Get lost.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“No!” Manasseh turned and gave Amariah a shove that nearly sent the ten-year-old sprawling to the floor. “Go back to your room! And you better not tell anyone you saw us or you’ll be sorry. Understand?” Amariah nodded fearfully and retreated to his room.
“Why can’t he come with us?” Joshua asked.
Manasseh didn’t answer. He didn’t need to give a reason—he was the king. He had been slowly realizing that fact for the past five months and had started doing whatever he pleased, gradually testing his authority. When no one questioned his decisions, he’d grown more daring. But today would be his boldest action—abandoning his boring Torah lessons to escape from the palace. No one could punish him for it, either. Joshua’s father, Eliakim, served as his guardian and as the palace administrator until Manasseh was old enough to govern the nation by himself. But even Eliakim didn’t have the authority to discipline the king.
He hurried down the flight of stairs that led to the palace courtyard, his feet skipping like a mountain goat’s, while Joshua plodded along behind him, gripping the railing. Manasseh smiled as he opened the outside door. He was the king. He was free!
Huge puddles spanned the courtyard and more water ran in streams down the steep streets, washing the city clean. Manasseh dodged most of them, but Joshua’s sandals were soon soaked. No one stopped the boys as they continued past the armory and the guard tower. The courtyard where they practiced their military training resembled a lake. They headed toward the Water Gate, which still bore that name even though the Gihon Spring had been closed for many years. The scent of almond blossoms and damp earth filled the wintry air as the wind tried in vain to chase away the clouds.
“Come on, Ox. I’ll race you to the bottom.” Manasseh sprinted down the steep ramp, well ahead of his friend. To slow an invading army’s momentum, the road curved first to the left, then to the right before leveling off at the bottom. Manasseh savored the freedom of the wind in his hair and the power in his pumping legs as the ground raced past. He easily reached the olive grove first and flopped down on the wet grass. Joshua staggered up a few minutes later, breathless, and sank down on a low stone wall nearby.
“You win, Manasseh.”
“That’s because I’m the king. You’re not supposed to beat me.”
“No, it’s because you’re faster than I am.” Joshua was still puffing hard from the race. His lungs made a rasping sound like a shutter hinge blowing in the wind.
Manasseh stared at the meadow, where he knew the spring had once flowed. “Too bad m