“These are the four spirits of heaven, going out from standing in the presence of the Lord, going throughout the earth. Look, those going toward the north country have given God’s Spirit rest in the land of the north.”
Once again, Zechariah felt the Holy One’s peace wash through him. This was a sign to him and to His people that whatever happened—today, tomorrow, or the next day—the Almighty One was in control, working for the good of His people and not for harm.
The sound of the chariots faded in the distance and once again the vision dissolved into blackness. Zechariah found a place to sit down, leaning against the courtyard wall so he could watch the sunrise above the Mount of Olives when it finally came. The next thing he knew, someone was calling his name, shaking him awake.
“Zechariah . . . Zechariah . . .” His grandfather, not an angel. A flesh-and-blood man, not a vision. “Are you all right?” Saba asked. “Why are you sleeping out here in the cold?”
Zechariah slowly pulled himself to his feet. “I wanted to pray, so I got up and came out here. But then . . .” He had no words to describe what he’d seen last night but he knew he had to try. “The Holy One sent an angel who spoke with me, Saba. He showed me things in visions that were so real that I could smell them and touch them. I need to get parchment and some ink so I can write them down and tell everyone.” But Zechariah knew that God had etched the visions on his heart as if on stone. He would never forget what he’d seen and heard. He ran his hands through his hair as Saba stared at him in amazement.
“What you and I are doing here in Jerusalem is so much bigger than we can ever dream, Saba. I saw time pulled back like a curtain last night, and I glimpsed eternity. The things the angel showed me . . . it was like . . . like I could finally make sense of everything that’s happened to you and to me and to our people. And God reassured me that we will finish building His temple. Zerubbabel will lay the capstone himself. Our enemies can’t stop us. The Lord Almighty said, ‘Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit.’ I need to tell Jeshua and the others that the defilement of the past is gone—washed away! The Accuser of men has nothing to say to us now that the Holy One has cleansed us and forgiven us.”
“Praise God,” Saba murmured.
The women joined them in the courtyard as Zechariah spoke. He looked at his beautiful wife and smiled to himself when he recalled the vision of the Babylonian woman who had nearly enticed Yael away. Now the woman of wickedness was gone. Their land was being purified. He gestured to Hodaya to come to him and rested his hand on her shoulder. “The Lord promises that many nations will be joined with Him,” he told her. “They will become His people. You are His, Hodaya. You belong to Him.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.
“Zechariah?” Yael asked. “What . . . how . . . ?”
“The Holy One opened eternity and showed me visions to encourage us, Yael. We shouldn’t be disappointed if the work we do seems small in our eyes. The future will be so much more than this temple we’re building. The Holy One is coming! He is coming and will live among us!”
It was all Zechariah could say. The enormity of it—God with us—took his breath away.
Chapter
44
Iddo watched his team of carpenters shape a cedar tree into a massive beam for the temple, their planes and adzes producing mounds of fragrant shavings. If only they could work faster. If only he had more expert craftsmen like these. Iddo sighed, resisting the urge to rush his workers, telling himself to be patient. The work was going well, considering their limitations and the summer’s heat. The temple was slowly rising from the ashes of Jerusalem, the workers encouraged by the prophecies of Haggai and Zechariah. Iddo’s grandson had just returned from traveling to other Judean towns and villages, calming people’s fears with the messages he’d received from the Holy One, telling them of the glorious future that awaited them. Their salvation from exile had been a mere taste of God’s worldwide salvation to come. The restoration of the temple and the nation was a picture of the restoration that the Messiah would bring one day.
Imagine! Zechariah, his own grandson, a prophet of God. Iddo wondered if his son Berekiah would hear the news someday. Would he be proud of his son and glad that Zechariah had obeyed the Almighty One and returned to Jerusalem? Did Berekiah and Hoshea ever regret their decision to remain in Babylon? Iddo sighed again, knowing he shouldn’t dwell on the past when the future continued to unfurl before him like a magnificent carpet rolled out before a king. Iddo turned his attention back to the cedar beam that was taking shape and saw in it a symbol of the Holy One’s work as He slowly cut and shaped Iddo’s life to fit His purposes. The cutting had been painful at times, but how else could he be made to fit into the place God had for him?
When Iddo looked up again, he saw Zechariah weaving his way across the work site, coming to fetch him.
“I know, I know,” Iddo said as Zaki approached. “I’m late. And I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
Zechariah grinned, holding his hands up as if in surrender. “Don’t ask me, I’m just the messenger. Safta sent me to tell you—and these are her exact words—that you will still be building the temple tomorrow and the next day, but this is the only day that Hodaya will ever get married.”
“But not until this evening. There’s still plenty of time.”
“Do you really want to risk Safta’s wrath?” Zaki asked. “I certainly don’t, and I’m under orders not to come home without you.”
Iddo gripped Zaki’s arm for support as they began the long walk across the plaza. Hodaya was getting married. Unbelievable. She had turned seventeen this spring, and Dinah had run out of excuses to make her and Aaron wait any longer.
As he and Zaki descended the stairs from the mountaintop, Iddo caught sight of a small caravan approaching the city from the northwest with horses and chariots and banners waving. “Look at that,” he said, stopping to catch his breath. “That’s not something you see every day.”
Zechariah shaded his eyes. “Those are the banners of the Samaritan governor. Maybe he finally received a response from the Persian emperor. It’s been nearly eight months since Tattenai sent his letter.”
Iddo’s stomach suddenly felt hollow. “I’ve been dreading this day. And it’s not a good sign that the governor himself is bringing the news. If the Persian king has ruled against us, Tattenai probably came in person to gloat and to force us to comply.”
“He can’t stop us, Saba. The Almighty One assured us that Zerubbabel himself will complete the temple.”
“We need to go to the palace and hear the news. Dinah will have to wait a little longer for us.”
“I agree. But no matter what happens, Saba, we can’t let the news spoil Hodaya’s wedding.”
“I know, I know.” They turned up the street to walk the short distance to the governor’s residence, meeting other priests and city leaders along the way. News of the caravan had traveled quickly, and Zerubbabel didn’t need to call for a meeting as the chief priests and elders stopped working and streamed to the reception hall. Governor Tattenai hadn’t come after all, but had sent his administrator to read the Persian king’s letter. Zerubbabel wasted no time on formalities with his Samaritan visitors but called the secretary up to the platform to read the letter aloud. The hall quieted. Iddo held his breath, gripping Zaki’s arm.
“In response to Governor Tattenai’s letter,” the secretary read, “King Darius ordered that the archives stored in the treasury in Babylon be searched. In them, a scroll was found from the first year of King Cyrus concerning the temple of God in Jerusalem. King Cyrus’ proclamation said: ‘Let the temple be rebuilt as a place to present sacrifices—’”
Iddo exhaled and leaned against his grandson. “So. They found the original decree after all.”
“‘It is to be ninety feet high and ninety feet wide, with three courses of large stones and one of timbers. The costs are to be paid by the royal treasury. Also, the gold and silver articles carried to Ba
bylon by King Nebuchadnezzar are to be returned.’
“After finding the original proclamation,” the secretary continued, “King Darius then took the matter under consideration and sent this letter to Governor Tattenai, stating the Persian king’s decision: ‘Now then, Tattenai, governor of Trans-Euphrates, you and your fellow provincial officers, stay away from there. Do not interfere with the work on God’s temple.’”
A great shout went up from the assembled men, drowning out his words. Iddo couldn’t stop his tears. They could continue to build! The Persian king himself had said so. Eventually the hall quieted again when they saw that the secretary was waiting to read more:
“‘Let the governor of the Jews and the Jewish elders rebuild this house of God on its site. Moreover, I hereby decree that the expenses of these men are to be fully paid out of the royal treasury, from the revenues of Trans-Euphrates, so that the work will not stop. Whatever is needed for their offerings to the God of heaven must be given them daily, without fail, so they may offer sacrifices and pray for the well-being of the king and his sons.’”
Another cry of joy filled the hall. Some men hugged each other, others shook their heads in disbelief. “Did you hear that, Saba?” Zechariah asked above the noise. “Not only does Tattenai have to let us build, he has to help us pay for it with tax revenue!” Again, the clapping and cheering quieted when they saw that the secretary still wasn’t finished:
“‘Furthermore, I decree that if anyone changes this edict, a beam is to be pulled from his house and he is to be impaled on it. And for this crime, his house is to be made a pile of rubble. May God, who has caused his Name to dwell in Jerusalem, overthrow any king or people who lifts a hand to change this decree or to destroy this temple in Jerusalem. I Darius have decreed it. Let it be carried out with diligence.’”
Deafening cheers rang in Iddo’s ears. This final portion of King Darius’ decree meant that the work could proceed without fear of reprisals or terrorist acts from their enemies. “This is more than I dared to hope for,” Iddo murmured as Zechariah hugged him tightly. “God is with us . . . He is with us.”
“Yes! And since Governor Tattenai has to share his tax revenue with us, you can hire more laborers, Saba. The work will go faster.”
“Spread the news!” Prince Zerubbabel shouted. “Tell everyone in the city and in all the villages and towns. We must celebrate this good news!”
“We need to go back up to the temple, Zaki. I need to tell all my workers that—” But Zechariah didn’t seem to be listening as he released Iddo again. Without a word, he pushed his way to the front of the hall, weaving between the cheering men before leaping onto the platform beside the prince.
“This is what the Lord Almighty says,” he shouted, and the hall quickly grew quiet. “‘I am burning with jealousy for Jerusalem! I will return to her and dwell in Jerusalem, and the mountain of the Lord will be called the Holy Mountain. Once again men and women of ripe old age will sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with a cane in hand because of his age. The city streets will be filled with boys and girls playing there. I will save my people from the countries of the east and west and bring them back here to live; they will be my people, and I will be faithful and righteous to them as their God.’”
He paused, and Iddo could see tears on Zechariah’s face as he took another deep breath to continue. “‘You who were there when the foundation was laid for the house of God, let your hands be strong so that the temple may be built,’ declares the Lord Almighty. ‘Before that time, no one could go about his business safely because of his enemy, for I had turned every man against his neighbor. But now I will not deal with the remnant of this people as I did in the past. The seed will grow well, the vine will yield its fruit, the ground will produce its crops, and the heavens will drop their dew. I will give these things as an inheritance to the remnant of this people. As you have been an object of cursing among the nations, O Judah and Israel, so will I save you, and you will be a blessing. Do not be afraid, but let your hands be strong.’”
Iddo’s joy and pride welled up as he watched the prince and the other leaders come forward to embrace Zechariah, talking with him, rejoicing together. At last Zechariah stepped down from the platform and made his way back through the crowd to where Iddo waited.
“Come with me to the temple mount,” Iddo said again. “I need to tell—”
“The wedding!” Zechariah interrupted. “We forgot all about Hodaya’s wedding! Safta must be wondering where we are!”
“I know, I know, but let’s go up to the temple first—”
“Not on your life,” Zaki said, laughing. “I’d rather face a den of hungry lions than Safta when she’s mad at me.”
Iddo felt as though he was floating as they made their way home. Dinah not only forgave them when she heard why they were late, she wept with joy on Iddo’s shoulder. Then she quickly dried her eyes again and gave Iddo a list of things to do to prepare for the wedding. “I should put you in charge of rebuilding the temple,” he told Dinah. “It would be finished in no time.”
Hodaya looked radiant as she sat in her flower-adorned chair later that evening, waiting for her groom. They could hear the shofars, flutes, cymbals, and drums of the groom’s procession long before it arrived at the house, making its way up the ramp to the city, winding through the lanes and streets. The music swelled as Iddo’s friends and neighbors and fellow priests joined in the parade to his home, singing of brides and unquenchable love. The feast would be held in Iddo’s courtyard since Hodaya wasn’t able to walk in a procession all the way to Aaron’s home in Bethlehem. And what a feast it was! Dinah and Yael and the other women had outdone themselves, loading the tables with food and wine.
Iddo watched Aaron lift Hodaya’s veil and claim his beautiful bride, and saw a picture of the Holy One’s love for His people, His bride. Aaron didn’t care about Hodaya’s twisted foot or the fact that she was adopted from the Samaritans. He loved her and accepted her and took her to himself, so they would become one. And even though the Holy One had punished Iddo and His people with exile for a season, they were still His beloved, betrothed to Him once again.
Late into the night, Iddo danced with joy beneath a canopy of stars too innumerable to count.
Chapter
45
THREE YEARS LATER
Zechariah lay in the darkness beside Yael, staring up at the ceiling beams. The temple was finished. Complete. Rebuilt from the ashes seventy years after the Babylonians destroyed it. He thought back to all of the events that had led to this day and could scarcely believe that more than twenty years had passed since King Cyrus allowed him and the other Jews to return to Jerusalem. They’d made such a promising start before the work stalled for sixteen years. Zechariah remembered his long search for God’s presence, and how their lives had become as dry and barren as the drought-scorched earth. Then the Almighty One sent Haggai to them like a cloud bursting with rain, bringing renewed life and purpose. The construction had resumed in spite of danger and threats, and now the temple was finished. They would celebrate its dedication today.
Today the golden lampstand would be lit in the Holy Place for the first time and left to burn continually before God. Today the priests would light the incense on the altar and the fragrance would ascend to heaven along with the prayers of the people. The bread of God’s Presence, one loaf for each tribe, would be set on the table in the Holy Place today, replenished each week for as long as this temple endured. Zechariah would play the shofar as the priests offered sacrifices and prayers. Joy and anticipation made it impossible for him to sleep.
He rolled over to climb out of bed, trying not to awaken Yael or their newest son, Johanan, born eighteen months after Joshua. But Yael stirred and opened her eyes. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve been lying here thinking of everything I need to do and worrying that I’ve forgotten something, so I figured I may as well get up.”
“I’m so excited for you, Zaki. And f
or Saba. You longed for an adventure when we were young, remember? Is this adventure grand enough for you?”
“I could never have imagined a thrill greater than this.” He bent to kiss her and said, “Go back to sleep, love. You don’t need to get up yet.”
He dressed in the dark and felt his way out to the courtyard, shivering in the chill of early springtime. He wasn’t surprised to see that his grandfather was awake, as well, gazing at the dark outline of the mountain to the east as if willing the sun to rise from behind it so the day could begin. “Hard to sleep, isn’t it, Saba?”
“I’ve been standing here praising God that I’ve lived to see this day.”
“I know.” Zechariah stood beside Saba in the silent darkness, wondering what it was like for his grandfather to have come full circle. To have seen Jerusalem and the temple destroyed, their people slaughtered in an outpouring of God’s judgment—and then to feel the cleansing of His grace, to see the city and temple rebuilt, his family reborn. Even as they watched, the sky gradually grew lighter, the familiar outlines of their courtyard became clearer.
“Well, there’s no sense in standing around here,” Saba said. “We may as well go up to the temple and get an early start.”
“Not without something to eat, you won’t.” Zechariah turned at the sound of Safta’s voice, surprised to see that she was awake and dressed, too. She yawned as she bent to rekindle the fire. “Just give me a moment.”
“Safta, you don’t have to cook—”
“Of course I do! Do you think I would let you leave home on such an important day without food in your stomachs?” She frowned as if to say the question was too absurd to deserve an answer.
Zechariah crouched beside her. “You’ve played a part in rebuilding the temple, too, you know. All the meals you faithfully provided day after day were just as important as the work of shaping stones and lowering them into place.”