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TITLE: Vagabond Prince - Valiant Warrior By Chuck Myers 06/19/06 |
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Vagabond Prince - Valiant Warrior
The Story of Jephthah -
by
C. D. Myers
Copyright 2006
Chapter 1
My country was at war, and I was not there to help! In the past fifty years it seemed as though our nation was ALWAYS at war. Actually to say that we were “at war” was probably a rather large exaggeration; we were actually being systematically annihilated by the powerful Ammonites.
Even though I had been exiled from the country of my birth, I was able to send one of my own spies south to look over the situation. He had arrived back just the night before, and as I held the scroll asking me to come home, in my hand, I knew I needed to hear from him.
“Call Micah and ask him to report to me at once.” I said to my valet.
“Has he gotten back from Rabbah yet?”
“He got in last night, and that’s what I need to talk to him about.”
“When do you want him to report?”
“Immediately!”
It wasn’t ten minutes later that Micah, my most experienced spy, sat in my tent. “What did you find in Rabbah?”
“I don’t think there is any way that Gilead will be able to resist their attack!”
“And why is that?”
“From my lookout to the west I saw two divisions of archers, a division of charioteers, and at least three divisions of swordsmen.”
“Are you sure?”
“I watched them going through exercises on three different occasions. There could easily be 300,000 warriors in the valley south of the capital!”
This confirmed my worst fears. It was no wonder that the leaders of Gilead were making such sweeping promises to me. They needed someone to lead the army.
I had been exiled from the country, and - as one of the best warriors the country had - I felt a certain amount of responsibility to the country of my birth. I’m not being cocky or proud in saying that I was one of the best, the simple fact was - at that time, our country was not really known for its warriors.
Throughout our history we had always been the whipping boys of the earth. As a result, we were not at our peak as far as developing our fighting skills as warriors. I had no doubt that I would have been a big help in this struggle if I had been there, but I had been content to stay away because of the circumstances surrounding my exile. Now this letter had arrived and I was not sure what to make of it. The letter indicated that the very people who had wanted me out of the way, were now wanting my help!
What was I to do? Did I have a responsibility to those who had forced me away from my home? Could I sit by and allow my home to be destroyed? These were the questions I was searching for an answer to; but maybe you need to hear my story before you can understand the struggle I was having.
It had been years ago that the tale of my life had begun. My story actually started long before I was born! To understand my confusion in responding to this letter you have to understand the circumstances that had taken place many years before. The land where I was born had been part of a larger conquest; part of a larger war that took place between my nation and an evil nation bent on conquest and filled with religious atrocities.
They possessed the territory that we had been promised many years before, but had never really inhabited. The land itself was one of extreme contrasts; from the stark hills and valleys of the desert, to the lush beauty of the Jordan River, the tranquility of the Sea of Galilee, to the majesty of the northern country. It could grow on you as you journeyed its beautiful paths and watched the sheep grazing, or it could tear you apart as you experienced the harshness of everything that made this land one of a kind.
The only way to comprehend the depth of feeling that the Promised Land created was to live there - or to grow up with the training that went along with being a member of the Israeli people. During the conquest of Canaan; Reuben, Gad and half the tribe of Manasseh had remained on the eastern side of the Jordan River. My tribe was that of Gad, and our ancestors had settled in the area around Mizpah. They had begun shepherding sheep and goats in the hills leading down to the Jordan River. Life had been easy and the grazing had been the best, so our families prospered.
Because of the increasing prosperity and greater visibility in the community, a marriage was arranged very early in the life of my father, Gilead. Years later I would sit down with my father - he was about the only one in the family I could talk to about anything important.
“Father, how did you get the name ‘Gilead’?”
“It was given to me by my father, your grandfather Levi.”
“Were you the first one’s to come here?”
My father was beginning to wonder where this was going. He was beginning to fidget as he thought of the things he had to do outside.
“Jephthah, what are you really wanting to know? I need to get back to work!”
“I want to know if our family was the first one here!”
“Yes, our family was the first one in Mizpah.”
“So, that’s why they named the whole country after you!”
It had taken me years to understand why my father had walked away laughing. I had thought he would compliment me. But at least I knew that I had made him happy with what I had said!
Anyhow, because of our important place in the community, my father was espoused in marriage very early in his life to a young woman from our own town. For years they did not know that they would be married; and so they attended school together, passed on the street in walking to and from the market, and even teased each other as they grew older.
Finally, at age 18, Gilead was told that he would be espoused to Esther; and he was devastated. The woman was short, over-weight, and continually whined about her supposed lack of prominence in the town. As another of the more important families in the community, she had come to believe that her own respect was inherited along with that of her father. He was held in very high respect after years of wonderful leadership in Mizpah. Because of this, she felt that she had a right to expect certain concessions from others, and this had caused her to become quite cynical toward those around her.
She was not well-liked, and much of that was based on the fact that she had developed a very poor attitude. As the day of his wedding drew near, my father wondered if he could ever be truly happy with this woman. But the idea of not going through with the arranged marriage never really occurred to him, and so the wedding took place. Their life together had now begun, but it was a beginning that would have amazing consequences.
For the first few years things went along fairly normally for my father and his new wife. Esther was willing to make some concessions to remind my father that she was a good Jewish girl. They had a couple of young sons, and were enjoying them immensely; but their life together was without passion or interest of any kind. They spent their days in their own worlds, and their nights in separate beds.
It was not surprising, then, that Gilead began allowing his eyes to look in the direction of a beautiful young woman who lived across the street.
This young lady was beautiful, outgoing, and abundantly blessed with those physical features that caused a man to look twice. This woman was single, but never lonely! There were consistently men coming to her small apartment just about the time that the sun would go down.
It so happened that one night, following another of those verbal battles that my father and his wife would enter into over the rejection that she felt she had experienced in the town, that my father decided that he had had enough. That night my father was one of the men who entered the front door of the young woman’s house!
In the days that would follow, my father would come to regret his moment of indiscretion. He knew the law allowed for his death if he were ever discovered, but his conscience demanded that he take responsibility for what he had done. It was only natural, then, that he would take responsibility when that moment of indiscretion resulted in a pregnancy.
About twelve months later I entered the house of Gilead, but it would never be my home. I was not yet six when my father came to me long after bed-time. I had heard my parents arguing in the other room so I could not go to sleep. My father had whispered as he approached.
“Jephthah, I have something important to tell you.”
I looked forward to those times when my father would greet me in this way. It always meant he had something to tell me that made me feel like a man.
“What is it, father?”
He could not meet my eyes as he continued, “Your mother is not Esther!”
I had learned that I was not to call Esther, “mother” as soon as I could remember, but this was something new!
“Father, what do you mean?”
“Your mother lives across the street.”
There were three houses across the street from ours. One was the home of a aged man who was blind and mute. For a few years I was scared of him. Then, after one of my brother’s friends dared me to knock on his door, everything changed. I was caught before I ever reached the door, and the man invited me inside. The things he made out of figs were unbelievable, and we became friends. It could not be him!
The second house was that of a wealthy old lady that yelled at me whenever I walked on her lawn. She would come to my father whenever I played too close to her house. She was cold, loud, and very mean - to my way of thinking. I hoped that it was not her!
The final house was one that I had always been told to stay away from. If Esther so much as saw me looking at the house she would slap my head. She would even yell at my two brothers if they glanced that way - but they were never slapped! The only reason I knew who lived in that house was because of something that happened quite off-hand.
I had been left to myself on my way home from the synagogue one day. My brothers had decided to run off and play with their friends, and I could not keep up. I had finally given up at the market, but I didn’t know how to get home. That’s when a pretty lady came up to me and asked me my name.
“I am Jephthah, of the house of Gilead,” I said. “This country was named for my father!”
“Is that right?” the lady said. “He must be quite a man.”
“He’s the greatest man in this town.”
“I believe you. Come, I will take you home.”
As we walked toward home the lady asked me many questions. They were strange questions for me to answer. Some were things that Esther said I was not to tell, but she was nice. I found myself wanting to tell her about my brothers. I also told her that my mother’s name was “Esther” and that it was that name I was commanded to call her.
The lady seemed worried by these words, but I did not know why. When we arrived on my street the lady waved “good-bye” and I had never seen her again. “Could this be my mother?” I didn’t know what to believe, and my father would say nothing more! As he turned away I thought I saw a tear in the corner of his eye.
Over a period of three years I was able to figure it out! From then on I found myself trying to come up with ways to see “the lady” - my mother!
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