The Prophet: Amos Read Online Free PDF Page B

stood still, hoping his anger did not show. Do You see, God? Do You even care about Your people?
    Dark eyes narrowed at Amos’s silence. “Heled has given you every advantage, Amos, and you abuse his kindness. If not for his generosity, your family would still be in debt.”
    Amos understood the threat, and spoke through clenched teeth. “We paid our debt in full, at a rate higher than the Law demands.”
    Joram’s lips whitened. “You could find yourself in debt again. Easily.”
    Fear coursed through Amos’s body. Joram stalked him like a lion, and all Amos could do was stand defenseless. One word of indignation or rebellion and Joram would pounce, setting the teeth of his threat into motion. He could pull Amos down. The priests had done it before. They could do it again.
    Amos raged inwardly while showing nothing on the outside. So this is the way it is. The way it will always be. Freedom earned can be ripped away. This is how You would have it! Power in the hands of a few who do what they want when they want. And poor men who want to do what is right suffer. The guild of priests decides what’s right and wrong. These purveyors of Your Law! They can twist it and use it any way they want. They ignore what they don’t like and add what will give them profits. And they keep adding and adding until the weight of their regulations crushes us! And we are told You are a just God.
    Joram smiled, smug. “I will overlook your small show of defiance, Amos. You have served us well—and profited from our relationship, I might remind you. Bring whatever you have to offer us. The other lambs will be ready for you, and the usual stipend for your labors.” He slapped Amos on the shoulder.
    The wound the lion had inflicted had not yet fully healed and Amos winced. The sharp pain made something snap inside him. “I have nothing for you, Joram.” The lambs might not be blemished, but he would be marked by sin for being a party to stealing from men like himself who had worked hard and done what they thought right only to suffer for it.
    Joram grew frustrated. “We need to add to the Temple pens! I’ve brought you perfect lambs.”
    An indictment of himself and the priest he served. Not that Joram cared. Not that he need care. He was safe, in favor, a Levite born to be a priest, or to serve one. He could play the game any way he chose for the rest of his life and never worry about where he would find his next meal or if he would have to sell himself into slavery to pay an unfair debt levied by a lying priest.
    “Go ahead.” Amos gestured grandly toward the walled fields surrounding his few acres of land. There were other sheep owners in Tekoa. Perhaps one of them would enjoy the arrangement Joram would offer. Let them add their sheep to the Temple flocks. “Talk to the owners over there and there and there.” Thousands of sheep grazed in the pastures of Tekoa. Most belonged to the priests and the king. “These sheep belong to me, Joram. I have built this flock from the portion I earned. And I’ve already made plans for them.”
    “What’s wrong with you, Amos? After all these years . . .”
    Because he didn’t know, he lied. “I guess I feel the eyes of the Lord upon me.”
    Joram’s face went deep red. “Oh, you think you’re that important. Well, someone’s eye is on you. Mine!” Cursing him, Joram turned on his sandaled heel and strode away.
    Amos sat and buried his head in his hands. Will You allow them to strip me of all I’ve worked for, Lord? Is that Your justice and mercy?

    The next morning, Amos headed for Jerusalem. He carried extra provisions for the poor, and one perfect lamb on his shoulders while driving six goats along the road ahead of him. Beggars sat before the gate, calling out for alms. Some were tricksters who had found an easy way to make a living, but others, in truth, were in dire need.
    A crippled man hobbled toward him. “Good Amos. Have you anything for a poor old man?”
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