The Comeback King

Dear Readers,

(Note: I hope you enjoy this series of blog posts. I designed the posts to try to encourage you. They are written in story format, and I took some literary license to tell “how it might have been”. This story is based mostly on 2 Chronicles 33.)

King Hezekiah was such a good king in Judah, so I’m not sure what happened to Manasseh, Hezekiah’s son, to turn him into such a scoundrel. I had a first-hand look at both being a military commander. I almost worshiped the ground Hezekiah walked on. He made such a difference in our lives. He gave hope to thousands. Manasseh, however, was a different story.

As I wrote previously I was a young man in my twenties when King Hezekiah appointed me to be a military officer when Sennacherib, king of Assyria, had all his forces situated on the hillsides surrounding Jerusalem. Looking down over the wall at the masses of enemy soldiers made most of us cringe with fear.

But King Hezekiah and the prophet Isaiah were undaunted as they cried out in prayer to the Lord God of Israel. Then from the wall in the darkness of night we all saw a bright light hovering over the enemy encampment. Then we heard shrieking cries of terror. King Hezekiah and Isaiah did not even watch as the angel of the Lord cut down the enemy. They were absorbed in their all night prayer vigil to the God of heaven.

When King Hezekiah died the news spread far and wide among the surrounding nations. He made some mistakes at the end of his life, but Hezekiah was beloved by all of Judah and Jerusalem, and the mourning at his passing was great. Manasseh, Hezekiah’s twelve year old son, inherited the throne.

I was still a fairly young commander of approximately thirty years old when Manasseh became king. I had high hopes at the beginning of his reign. I thought surely he would follow in his father’s footsteps of being a good and godly king. I was very wrong.

He started slowly in changing the religious life of the people of Judah. It started with building a high place to a foreign god. He built it, if you can believe it, at the exact location his father had torn it down. What was he thinking? Then to make matters worse he ordered more high places to foreign gods to be constructed and he openly consulted mediums and spiritists. But nothing can compare with the depravity of Manasseh sacrificing his own children in the fire of the Valley of Hinnom.

I was attributing this lack of godliness to his youth. After all, Manasseh was not born yet during the time when his father and Isaiah prayed and Jerusalem was saved by the hand of an angel. But he persisted with these evil deeds into the twentieth year, then the thirtieth, and even into the fortieth year of his reign. There seemed a deep sadness and a foreboding darkness during that time. The presence of the Lord, so vividly felt during the time of Hezekiah, felt very distinctly missing.

The Assyrians sensed the departure of the Lord from Jerusalem, and they became less and less afraid. They had heard rumors of the angel’s destruction of their armies at the time of Sennacherib, but now it seemed far removed and almost not real. They surrounded Jerusalem just as they had in the past, but the outcome was different. They captured the city and took Manasseh as their prisoner.

I was an old retired soldier by this time and the Assyrians knew I was not a threat to them. They let me and my family alone. But there were stories that the Assyrians humiliated Manasseh by putting a ring and hook in his nose and that they led him around like an animal. They took him to Babylon, as well as the remaining soldiers not killed in the battle.

Several years passed and the Assyrian king assigned a governor and a small regiment of soldiers to rule the city and surrounding lands. Things were relatively peaceful, but there was unrest among the remaining people of Judah as they still felt oppressed by the void of not hearing God’s voice. Several of us elderly former leaders who remembered the prayers of Hezekiah called an assembly. We prayed fervently to the God of heaven.

We did not know what to expect and the spiritual darkness persisted. But we did not give up. After a week of daily prayer we saw a group of about a hundred men walking on foot approaching our city. They had no weapons and did not seem to be a threat to our safety. The man at the front of the group looked vaguely familiar, but I could not distinguish him with his long beard and disheveled clothing.

As he and his companions entered the city gate the straggly man announced himself. He said he was Manasseh; our king who we thought likely dead. I looked closely and it was indeed Manasseh, albeit a scrawny version. Why had he come back? He was an evil king and was the last person I wanted to see return. Manasseh tried to convince us that he was a changed man. He said that he prayed to the God of heaven as did his father Hezekiah before him, and God gave him favor with the Assyrian king. The men accompanying Manasseh confirmed his statements. They said that he had in fact prayed loudly and fervently for the past week from his dungeon. They said Manasseh had no regard whether he would be so annoying to the Assyrian king that he would call down harm upon himself and his men.

They said within one week the Assyrian king had enough. The king reported having a dream with orders directly from God to release Manasseh and every one of Manasseh’s men. The Assyrian king said the dream was so vivid that he knew that he would be destroyed if he did not obey.

So here was Manasseh again in our midst. He seemed different, but time would tell, and I fully expected him to go back to his evil ways. But he didn’t. He started doing things reminiscent of Hezekiah, his father. I never thought I would see a day when King Manasseh would tear down an altar to a foreign god instead of building one. After he tore down the first one he continued to tear them all down and throw the remains outside the city. Then he restored the temple and the wall. He was also often seen lifting his head and his hands to heaven to pray, and he entreated all Judah to do the same.

I was in my eighties when King Manasseh came back on foot to Jerusalem. I thought I had seen the last of God’s glory at the end of the days of Hezekiah. I was gladly mistaken. Where there is prayer to the God of heaven there is always hope.

My Beloved King

Dear Readers,

(Note: I hope you enjoy this series of blog posts. I designed the posts to try to encourage you. They are written in story format, and I took some literary license to tell “how it might have been”. This story is based mostly on 2 Chronicles 32, 33.)

I remember my first personal meeting with King Hezekiah. I had seen him from afar, but never up close. I was a fresh graduate from military training. I expected to move up the ranks at some point but never in a thousand years did I dream it would come so soon.

The day started normally. I awakened and began my morning routine. Then I yelled out with surprise at the abrupt, loud knock on my door. My commander on the other side seemed almost in a panic as he barked out orders to open the door immediately. I didn't know what might be the emergency, but there were rumors that Sennacherib, king of Assyria, with all his forces were on the move, and Jerusalem might be his next target.

The summons was from King Hezekiah himself for me to meet him in his palace. I felt honored, but I also felt a tinge of fear. Perhaps I had done something dreadfully wrong. I knew if I had done something to displease the king I could immediately face the fate of others before me who offended the king’s honor. My life that morning starting so much like many others could now be ended in a second of time.

I was heartened when I saw four of my comrades in military training also present. At least I wouldn't be alone with whatever was about to happen. Perhaps they were feeling the same sense of honor mixed with trepidation.

The king, to my relief, thanked us for coming and asked us to relax as we sat down. He explained the nature of our visit. He wanted each of us as young newly trained soldiers to be his personal liaisons between him and the troops. He was appointing us each to be a military officer and assigned us to a regiment of soldiers. He ordered us to be present with our regiment the next morning at the open square of the city gate.

I met my regiment that evening. My insides were shaking, but outside I tried to keep a calm, cool demeanor. The soldiers in my regiment were informed the king had personally appointed me to be in charge of them. That was good enough for them. They revered the king and would be willing to break through a stone wall if he requested it. They verbally assented with a shout of confidence in their new leader. They came one by one, greeted me, and expressed their loyalty to me. Their smiles of approval made my insides settle a bit, but my outside appearance belied the fact that I felt like an insecure youth.

The next morning King Hezekiah spoke like I had never seen anyone speak before. He spoke with such passion, just as if he was speaking the very words of God. He said, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged because the king of Assyria and the vast army with him, for there is a greater power with us than with him. With him is only the arm of flesh, but with us is the Lord our God to help us to fight our battles.” I and my soldiers shouted in agreement with our great King Hezekiah that the Lord indeed was stronger than any earthly king, no matter how vast an army that king assembled.

It's amazing what happened the next few days. King Sennacherib sent envoys to try to discourage the soldiers and the people in our besieged city. I hate to admit my cowardice, but when I looked from the top of the wall down to the huge army ready to invade, and heard their taunts, I cringed inside and wondered if we should not just surrender to our powerful enemy.

But my way was not the way of King Hezekiah. He saw the urgency of the matter. But instead of calling it quits he summoned Isaiah the Prophet to pray for our people and city. Sennacherib’s soldiers heard their cries, mocked them, and called the pair mad. But that did not stop our beloved king and Isaiah from crying out even louder to the God of Heaven.

The next thing that happened was only something I had heard about in stories about our ancestors like Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and King David. There were a few recent rumors of miracles at the hands of some of the prophets in our land, but I had never seen anything like this up close. From the wall in the dark we saw a great light enter the midst of the enemy. We heard screams of terror pierce the night. I had never heard anything like it before and never since.

The next morning we saw in astonishment a hillside littered with dead soldiers. All the enemy fighting men and commanders were killed, not one was spared. But Sennacherib retreated to his own land in disgrace. It is rumored that he was so despondent that he went into his temple and prayed night and day to his foreign god. His god did not answer him, and some of Sennacherib's own sons saw an opening to gain power, so they entered the temple and killed their father by the sword.

In my later years I told the story of King Hezekiah often to my children, grandchildren, and anyone who would listen. He was a godly king and beloved by all his people. But the thing I will remember the most, even over the angel annihilating the enemy, was King Hezekiah and Isaiah crying out to the Lord at the top of their lungs, not worried about what their enemy, or friends for that matter, would think.

Where Does It Come From...Where Does It Go?

Dear Readers,

This morning I felt a deep and meaningful presence of the Holy Spirit. I was at home in my basement, not in church. I was by myself, not with other people. I do not often feel His presence as I did this morning, in fact I can probably count the number on two hands when I have experienced Him so strongly. Which begs the question, “Where does the Holy Spirit come from, secondly where does it go, and lastly why don’t I feel Him more often?”

I am not an expert in theology to excavate the depths of the scriptures to discover the answers. Also, I am not a scientist to lay everything out on the table and by use of repeated experimentation hypothesize a formulary.

I would label myself an “experiential person”. Answers to questions do not come very easily to me. I basically experience feelings. If the feelings are good I want them to come more frequently. If they are bad I pray for them to stay away.

The scriptures do reveal, however, some insight into my questions, although I will never fully understand it. John 3:5-8 (NKJV) quotes Jesus in a conversation with Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews:

“Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I say to you, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

I understand that I cannot somehow conjure up the feeling that I had this morning, and I cannot just wish it upon others. The only thing I can do is apply another scripture found in James 5:16. It states that “the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.” (NKJV) All I know to do is to pray fervently to the Lord that he sends the wind of His Holy Spirit to me on a more frequent basis, and especially for Him to send it to my family members and friends that do not know His wonderful love.

See you next time,
Arlen