Love’s Sacred Song Read Online Free PDF

toward the well and awkwardly halted—but not before knocking over four or five slow-moving officials. The men seemed about to raise a fuss, but the messenger atop his perch cried out, “My lords!” The panic in the young man’s voice gave everyone pause.
    “Speak, sir,” Jehoshaphat said from the front of the crowd.
    “King David is dead!” the young man sobbed more than shouted. He tapped the camel on the shoulder, and it knelt. The messenger rolled off the beast and made his way to the front of the gathering, where Jehoshaphat awaited him.
    Confusion reigned, giving Arielah a chance once again to slink to the same donkey cart where she’d found cover before her attack.
    The torchlight revealed the royal messenger as a chubby young man who must have been twenty years old to be in the king’s service, but he looked more like twelve. Tears streamed down his round cheeks. “Our king is dead!” he cried. “King David rests with his abbas and will be buried in the City of David tomorrow morning.”
    Silence hung like a shroud as each man weighed the effects of those words. David had reigned in Israel for forty years, and his would be the first royal burial in Israel. Saul, the nation’s first king, had been killed in battle by the Philistines and his bones buried in Jabesh-Gilead. How does one bury a legend? Arielah wondered.
    What do we do? was echoed in the chill wind of silence.
    What do we do? was written on the furrowed brows of the elders.
    What do we do? was even etched on the faces of Jehoshaphat’s rebellious sons. They too had found their way into the noble crowd.
    What would become of God’s chosen people now that God’s chosen leader was dead?
    What do I do? Arielah’s question was more imminent. Would Abba reveal his plan tonight? Would her future still be decided at this meeting of Israel’s northern officials?

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    •  Psalm 22:10  •
    From birth I was cast upon you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
    J ehoshaphat scanned the sea of frightened faces surrounding Shunem’s well. “Take heart, my brothers. King David has died; God has not.”
    His own heart was breaking at the thought of the great man’s death, but he dare not show it. Not yet. “Remember that God has placed young Solomon on the throne, and competent men—Benaiah the captain, Zadok the priest, and Nathan, God’s prophet—stand at his side.”
    He stepped up on the well curb to regain control before the mournful beating of breasts and rending of garments began. “Listen, brothers. Those of you who wish to honor the years of King David’s faithfulness, meet me at the southern city gate as soon as you can pack your camels. Only dromedaries for this swift trip, and only one man per beast. If we leave soon, we should arrive in Jerusalem by midmorning tomorrow to join the burial procession of our king.”
    Stunned faces in the crowd remained silent, and Jehoshaphat knew he must address the raw emotion that still bubbled beneath the surface. “Our king’s death does not make right the wrongs done by his household, but he was God’s anointed.” A few muted tongues began to whisper, and heads nodded their assent. “All of Israel will grieve the customary thirty days, and then I will return to Jerusalem a second time to offer condolences to King Solomon personally. At that time, I will present the concerns of our northern tribes.” Relief eased the tension on the elders’ weathered faces as Jehoshaphat offered his final remark. “If our young king is a righteous man like his abba, he will hear our grievances and my plan for peace.”
    At the mention of a plan for peace, the crowd seemed to lean forward as if waiting for more details. When no explanation came, one official voiced the group’s collective concern. “Good Jehoshaphat, we know you are wise, and your past faithfulness persuades us to trust you, but we would sleep easier tonight if—” The man stammered, but nods and jabs from his peers spurred