Love Amid the Ashes (13 page)

Job leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips, but they were interrupted by the trilling sound.
Oop-oop-oop.
When he lifted his head, Sitis’s expression was almost peaceful.

She spoke in a reverent whisper. “Do you remember how Ennon put mud on Letush’s cheek so he could tell the difference between his new twin brothers?” She chuckled quietly and looked up, her eyes glistening and swollen, her cheeks rounded in a soft smile.

Job marveled at the beauty their life had etched into her features. The resplendent royalty of his Ishmaelite bride, the weary glow after each birth, the doting grin of a proud ima watching ten children grow into esteemed adults. “You’ve never been more beautiful than you are at this moment,” he said, stroking her tawny cheek.

Another gentle kiss prodded Sitis to recite a fond memory of Uzahmah. An evening of terror transformed like healing balm into a night of remembrance. Tears mingled as husband and wife lovingly mourned one night’s torturous events by speaking of life’s joyous memories.

While his wife recounted another story, Job glanced at the hoopoe and offered a silent prayer.
Thank You, El Shaddai, for uniting us in memories and for teaching me to love without knowing all the answers.

The night grew long, and the couple returned to Sitis’s chamber. Job slept atop the woolen blanket, Sitis beneath her linen sheets, her head pillowed in the bend of his arm.

Dinah woke with a start. The red hues of a pre-dawn glow stained the sandstone walls of her chamber, and she instinctively checked her hands for her husband’s blood. At almost every waking, she still relived Shechem’s horror.
El Shaddai, will I ever forget that moment in time?
Nogahla’s deep, steady breathing stole Dinah’s attention. She wondered if last night’s bloody herdsman and the burned shepherd would live as vividly in the little Cushite’s memory. Oh, how she grieved this young girl’s tainted tomorrows, stained by yesterday’s ghastly scenes and sounds.

Voices in the hallway interrupted her brooding. Nogahla stirred, and Dinah slipped out of bed, wrapping her robe around her shoulders. Her toes tingled on the cold tiles as she crept toward the door. “What’s happening?” Nogahla whispered. Dinah motioned for the girl’s silence as she opened the door slightly, listening. The hall was too dimly lit to see faces, but she distinguished two male figures.

“I’ll meet you at the sacred altar before the sun rises.” Job’s voice. “Have Shobal and Lotan bring a torch and stack the wood.”

Another male voice. “We found only one goat last night in the courtyard behind the kitchen. Shouldn’t we save it for milk?”

There was a slight pause, and then Job said, “Jehovah-Jireh, Elihu. Yahweh provides. He can give us milk from any goat, but we can give Him our single goat only once.”

Dinah heard fading footsteps and closed her door. “Nogahla, hurry and get dressed. We should be ready for the first caravan leaving Uz when—” A quiet knock on their door curtailed her instruction, and the sleepy Cushite maid bolted upright and was on her feet, her robe thrown hastily around her shoulders.

“Yes, who is it?” Dinah called out and took one of the lamps from the wall niche.

“Dinah, I’m sorry if I woke you.” Job’s voice was low and urgent. “May I speak with you?”

As Dinah opened the door, she noted Job’s swollen, grieving eyes and the nicks on his head and face from the flint knife. “You didn’t wake us. May we help you with something?”

“I’m going to make a sacrifice to El Shaddai. Would you and Nogahla like to join us?”

Dinah was honored, stunned. Abba Jacob had never allowed women to observe his sacrificial offerings, and Grandfather Isaac had been too ill to offer sacrifices by the time Dinah arrived in his camp. “Why would you include us in your sacrifice?” The cry of Dinah’s heart escaped, but she managed to restrain the words that would expose her true feelings, her deepest fear. She would never ask Job when he expected them to leave.

Job’s features softened, lighted only by the dim rays of his flickering lamp flame. “Because you are a part of my family now. You and Nogahla are my responsibility before Yahweh.”

Emotion strangled Dinah, and only one word escaped. “Wait.” She slammed the door and leaned against it, pressing her fists to her eyes and holding in silent sobs. He couldn’t have meant she and Nogahla could
remain
as part of his family. It was too much to hope for.

“Mistress, what’s wrong?” Nogahla tried to hold her, comfort her. “Tell him you don’t want to go to the sacrifice.” The poor girl was grasping at consolation, but Dinah held up a silencing hand. Trying to explain would only make controlling her tears more difficult.

Breathe. Breathe.
Silently coaching herself into calm, Dinah forced the mask back into place and offered a half explanation to Nogahla. “It’s a great honor to be included in another time of worship with Master Job.”

Nogahla’s expression showed her utter confusion. “I thought he shaved everything last night.”

Dinah laughed in spite of herself and brushed the girl’s cheek. A stab of regret pierced her that she hadn’t confided in Nogahla the significance of the burnt sacrifice during their journey from Hebron. How much did the girl know of El Shaddai? Had her Cushite maid ever witnessed a burnt offering in Grandfather Isaac’s camp? With Job waiting in the hallway, there was no time for Nogahla’s lesson.

The creak of the opening door alerted Job. “Please forgive us for making you wait,” Dinah said. “We would be honored to join you in worship.” She bowed slightly, and Nogahla followed her example.

“I’m pleased.” Job bowed in return, the slight curve of a smile on his face.

“Can you wait just a moment while we get our sandals?” Nogahla was hurrying to gather them even as Dinah asked the question.

“All the preparations have been made, so dress quickly.” He offered a kind smile and closed the door. The women cinched their robes and flung open the door, scooting their sandals onto their feet as they walked.

With eyebrows raised and an approving nod, Job chuckled. “My, my! That was quick indeed.” Leading them down the dimly lit hallway, he explained, “Elihu, Shobal, and Lotan will join us at the altar.”

“Will Sitis and Nada be coming too?” Nogahla asked. Dinah issued a chastising glance. The girl had not yet learned to apply a winnowing fork to her questions and comments, separating the timely from the intrusive.

Job stopped abruptly, and Dinah wondered if her maid’s words would reap his anger. Instead, the weariness that had marked his features last night returned, his tears glistening in the lamplight. “No. Sitis and Nada have refused to come.” He paused as if he wanted to say more, but then turned and continued down the hallway. Nogahla mouthed a soundless
I’m sorry
, and Dinah hoped the girl would learn to be more sensitive.

Job led the two women up one flight of stone stairs and through a corridor of what appeared to be guest chambers. Like a grand monument, a beautifully carved cedar door at the end of the fourth-story hall marked the farthest boundary of this rock-hewn palace. As he opened the door, Job’s lamp illumined only the first few steps upward. Far above them, Dinah could see a small orb of red light. As they climbed the countless stairs, the light beyond grew larger and changed hue, and Dinah realized the glow was the morning sky shining through an entryway at the top of a towering stairway. Her legs burned after hundreds of steps, and they finally emerged through a rectangular opening in the rock. Her breath caught. They stood atop the center mountain ridge of Uz.

“Look around you,” Job said, stretching his arms wide, “and see the glory of God.”

“Ohh.” Dinah and Nogahla spoke in unison, both turning in circles, taking in the scope and breadth of Job’s sandstone city with its emerald plains. Dinah saw the first sector’s marketplace, still quiet before the day’s trading began. Her eyes traveled to the narrow siq that split the great red cliffs through which their caravan had passed. In the second sector, dawn’s light shone on the grand fountain and over the grasses of the great plain that stretched north and south between the mountain ranges. Little specks, most likely servants, scurried to begin the day’s tasks around the opulent rock-hewn palaces and tent homes. And for the first time, Dinah saw the rubble of Ennon’s once beautiful home, where Job’s children lay entombed. Her stomach rolled.

“It was my custom to come here after my children had enjoyed a time of feasting,” Job was saying, and when Dinah turned, she found him looking at her. “I would send servants to summon them, asking if they were willing to offer a sacrifice—much like I asked you and Nogahla this morning.” Turning his attention to the men waiting by the altar, he added, “Just as I asked Elihu, Shobal, and Lotan to come this morning.” Elihu knelt near the sacred altar, cradling the goat’s neck under his arm.

“You can see why I brought my children here early in the morning,” Job said, pointing to the pink and lavender hues cast over the sandstone altar where the men waited. The round pile of rocks, flattened on top, was surrounded by a trench and a carved bench in a perfect circle.

“Dinah, you and Nogahla kneel by Elihu and place your hands on the animal.” Dinah noticed a silent exchange between Elihu and Job. The younger man seemed to challenge his teacher but finally acquiesced. Job ignored the subtlety and knelt on the other side of the goat, mirroring Elihu’s grasp on the animal. “Shobal and Lotan, please kneel beside me and place your hands on the sacrifice.” The two herdsmen knelt directly across from Dinah but avoided her gaze. She had the sickening feeling that all the men knew her identity this morning. Last night she’d been an anonymous face united in grief. This morning she was the shamed Dinah of Shechem.

Job spoke softly now to the little group. “It was my practice to offer a separate lamb for each of my children—” His voice broke. “Ennon, Epher, Letush, Leum, Jokshan, Jetur, Zimran, Manathah, Alathah, and Uzahmah. But since we have only one animal, I believe El Shaddai will know our hearts and accept the one sacrifice for us all.” Elihu placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. Job returned an appreciative nod. “Just as I feared my children might have cursed God in their hearts, I offer this sacrifice now if any of you cursed God in your hearts last night. It would be understandable, after hearing my wife’s open curses against El Shaddai.” He bowed his head as if pondering his next words, and when he looked up, tears streamed down his face. “I cannot make this sacrifice for my wife or her maid. They have refused its atoning power.”

Elihu wept aloud. Shobal and Lotan exchanged pained expressions. Sitis’s rebellion had shocked Dinah, but she had assumed it was the restatement of a longtime conviction. Judging from the sorrow on these men’s faces, Sitis’s and Nada’s refusal to participate this morning was as surprising and devastating as the deaths and blasphemy had been last night.

Job used his free hand to wipe the tears from his face before continuing. “I praise El Shaddai that the rest of you have agreed to come for cleansing through the offering of blood.” Turning his face toward heaven, Job cried out, “El Shaddai, please hear from heaven and forgive these in my household if we have secretly blamed You or cursed You in our hearts.” Gazing intently at each of those present, Job said, “If any sin weighs on your heart, confess it now to El Elyon, silently.”

Job lifted the goat’s chin and drew his flint knife across its neck. Nogahla gasped, and Dinah looked into her maidservant’s eyes just in time to see horror bubble up. “No, Master Job!” the girl cried, burying her head in Dinah’s chest.

The men looked up in surprise, but Job spoke with compassion. “Nogahla, my little friend, this is the way El Shaddai allows His people, who deserve death, to be forgiven for sin.” Job’s hands deftly pressed the animal’s neck over the stone-carved drainage trough.

Nogahla lifted her head, her face stricken. “The goat had to die because I hated your mean old steward, Atif?”

Shobal hid a grin behind his big, callused hand, while the others worked hard to maintain reverence in the face of such unabashed innocence.

“The goat had to die,” Job said with tenderness, “because each one of us has sinned in some way and needs to be forgiven.”

Dinah listened in rapt wonder while the greatest man in the East, the priest of his household, explained El Shaddai’s plan of redemption to a young Cushite slave. Dinah regretted that she’d neglected to share her own forgiveness experience at Elath, the joy she’d felt and her fleeting moments without shame.

Why were they fleeting?
she asked herself, still listening to Job’s confident words of restoration. Glancing at Elihu, Shobal, and Lotan, she wondered,
Why do I reclaim the shame of Shechem each time a man averts his gaze or looks at me scornfully?

Job lightly touched her hand, and instinctively she jerked away, startling everyone. Her cheeks aflame, she lowered her chin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Again, she heard only compassion in the gentle voice carried on the morning breeze. “It’s all right,” Job said. “I think we’re all a little anxious this morning.”