Love In A Broken Vessel (24 page)

The man’s face lost all color.

“I know I’m being deceived, and I need my friend to tell me the truth.”

Amoz’s breathing grew ragged, and he looked right and left as if fearing harm. “Who told you?” His eyes filled with tears. “We never meant to hurt anyone.”

Hosea’s heart was in his throat.
It can’t be true.

“Who told you?” Amoz shouted. “Did Uzziah tell you?”

“What? You mean Uzziah knew about this?”
How could he know and not tell me?
“No, your nephew did not tell me.”

“Who, then?” His eyes went wide, terror-stricken. “Yahweh? Did Yahweh reveal this to you?”

“No, Amoz.”

“Why would Gomer tell you that I worship Asherah? I kept her secret! I never told you about her harlotry! It couldn’t have been Gomer.”

“Did you say harlotry?” Hosea tried to ask more questions, but Amoz was frantic.

“Please, don’t tell Isaiah. He already hates me. I’ll stop. I’ll—”

Hosea grabbed Amoz’s head, locking him eye to eye. “Tell me again what you said about Gomer. Has she returned to harlotry?”

The potter fell silent, eyes wide at the realization. “I thought you knew you were being deceived.”

Hosea released the man’s head, bowed, and wept.
No, Yahweh. I don’t want to know. I’d rather think of her with Amoz—with one man—than with many.

“I’m sorry.” Amoz spoke to Hosea’s bowed head. “It seems many have been deceived by more than one deceiver.” A deep sigh, and the man of few words spoke again. “I don’t deserve forgiveness, but you deserve the truth. I don’t know when Gomer began—when men started paying her, but I discovered it the morning she came here beaten. That’s when she threatened to reveal my secret if I revealed hers. That’s the last time I saw your wife.”

Hosea grabbed fistfuls of his hair, unable to listen but needing to hear. “You said Uzziah knows? Does he know about Gomer?”

“I’m not sure who knows about Gomer. You know how gossip spreads in camp.” Hosea buried his face in his hands at the thought, and Amoz sighed again. “But Uzziah does know of my idolatry. Isaiah does not—and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Hosea shot him a look that could burn stone. “I will not lie to my best friend—or protect a liar.”

Tears spilled onto Amoz’s cheeks. “I have kept silent all these years to protect us all. When conspirators killed my brother, Uzziah demanded that I abandon Asherah and move Isaiah to Tekoa. I agreed to remain silent—allow others to teach my son of Yahweh. My silence protects Isaiah
and
Uzziah.”

“Your idolatry threatens the nation.”

“Yahweh threatens everyone.” Amoz spat the words.

Hosea saw a stranger before him, a man who had given up everything—his home, his freedom, even his son—for what? For a piece of stone with carved breasts.

Hosea sat motionless.
What should I do now, Yahweh? Find every Asherah and smash them all?
The prayer brought the shrouded wedding gift to mind. “Did you give my wife an Asherah to replace the one I destroyed?” His voice was controlled, though his chest was pounding.

“Yes.”

Hosea’s breath left him, as if he’d taken a blow. “Don’t ever buy her another.”

Amoz nodded his assent and turned away. “What will you do now? Tell Isaiah? Make my idolatry known and endanger my life—Uzziah’s life too?”

Hosea’s stomach rolled. “I don’t know. I’ll spend time with Yahweh before making any decisions.” He pushed himself to stand, took a few steps, and then paused. “Tell me, Amoz. What about Asherah seems so appealing? Why do both you and my wife refuse Yahweh so vehemently?”

“I’ve never seen Yahweh do anything kind. I hear only His demands, His rules, His wrath. He is the destroyer of lives, not the healer of broken hearts. At least I find some fleeting pleasure at Asherah’s altar.”

“Amoz, that’s not—”

The potter lifted his hand to silence the prophet. Hosea nodded, turned, and walked away. He wasn’t going to convince his friend with a few words when kings and prophets had tried and failed to convert him for years.

Yahweh, will I ever convince my wife?

• H
OSEA
1:6 •

Gomer became pregnant again and had a daughter. Yahweh told Hosea, “Name her Lo Ruhamah [Unloved]. I will no longer love the nation of Israel. I will no longer forgive them.”

G
omer sat beside the oven on a soft rug, trying to stave off the winter chill. She couldn’t stop trembling. Hosea had stormed out of the courtyard before dusk but still wasn’t home. Perhaps he’d abandoned her already—though she couldn’t imagine he’d leave her to enjoy his house and wealth.
More likely, he’s having a divorce decree written or gathering witnesses to have me stoned.
But even as the thought formed in her heart, she knew it wasn’t true. She once thought him too weak to stand against her, but he wasn’t weak.

Hosea loved her.

She doubled over, rocking, keening in tortured prayer.
Why? Why does he still love me? Make him stop, Lady Asherah! I can’t abide it any longer!
Tekoa’s walls weren’t the prison she feared most. It was the love of the people surrounding her that threatened to crush her. She could survive beatings, endure betrayals—but the love she’d found in Hosea, Aya,
and Yuval threatened to drown her. If she allowed herself to wade into their love too deeply, she’d be left gasping like a fish out of water when they took it away.

People always leave.

A gentle knock and quiet “Gomer?” startled her. She turned her back to the door, but not before she saw Yuval with Jezzy on her hip.

“M’ ima!” Little hands patted her, and her baby boy’s head rested on her back. He breathed a contented sigh. “M’ ima.”

His novice pronunciation of her title drew an uncontrolled sob, and she engulfed him, drinking in the scent of candied figs, mud pies, and little-boy sweat. “Thank you, Yuval,” she whispered. Could she leave Jezzy? Hosea would never let him go. If she stole the baby, Hosea would enlist Uzziah’s whole army to find them.

Yuval sat down beside her, the smell of coriander stirred by the breeze of her presence. “What did Hosea say?” Her expression was so transparent, her emotions so close to the surface.

Gomer turned away, unable to see the truth reflected on the woman’s face. Yuval knew she was an adulteress.

“Hosea hasn’t been home yet.” Tears choked her. “I’m not sure he’s coming home.”

A hand tugged at her chin, but Gomer jerked away. “No, I can’t look at you.” Yuval brushed her cheek and tugged her chin again. Gomer relented, allowing those rheumy eyes to bore into her soul.

“I do not condone your sin, Daughter, but I will never stop loving you.” She bent and kissed Gomer’s forehead.

The door clicked, and both women turned. Hosea entered, followed by Isaiah, Micah, and—

Gomer gasped and stood, clutching Jezzy like a lifeline. “What is Commander Hananiah doing here?” Her voice trembled like the rest of her. Had she been wrong about Hosea’s love? Had Lady Asherah answered her prayer?

Yuval slipped a supportive arm around Gomer’s waist.

“I’ve asked all three men here as witnesses,” Hosea said, his features stern. “I spent time with Yahweh when I left here, and the message I received affects each one of us in some way.” He motioned to the goatskins. “You’re all welcome to be seated, though I doubt that what I have to say will feel like a friendly conversation to anyone.”

Gomer glanced at the commander. His stature consumed most of the room, his jaw flexing in a quick, impatient rhythm. Isaiah looked furious, the color of a ripe grape, and Micah appeared as if he would burst into tears at any moment.

“If you brought them here to witness a divorce decree—” Gomer began, but Hosea’s burning glare silenced her.

“I’ve brought them here to speak the word of the Lord in their hearing—and in your hearing, Gomer. Yahweh, the Creator of heaven and earth, says, ‘Gomer will have a daughter. She is to be named Lo Ruhamah—Unloved. For I will no longer love the nation of Israel. I will no longer forgive them. Yet I will love the descendants of Judah. I will rescue them because I am Yahweh their Elohim. I won’t use bows, swords, wars, horses, or horsemen to rescue them.’”

The room fell silent, and Gomer sank down onto a goatskin with Jezzy.
Lo-Ruhamah. Unloved.
She glanced up into Hosea’s cold stare and offered a seething smile. “When the gods wish to punish you, they answer your prayers.” She snuggled Jezzy into the bend of her arm and rocked him while Hosea began his explanation to the witnesses.

“Commander Hananiah, you are to inform King Uzziah that Yahweh will have mercy on Judah because of the king’s faithful heart. The Lord will rescue Judah, but without military might.”

“You prophets have no idea what it takes to—” Hananiah’s angry words were cut short, causing Gomer to glance up.

She saw Hosea step closer to the hulking commander, meeting his stare. “Prophets have no need to know military strategy. We need only have ears to hear the Lord.”

He turned to Isaiah next, leaving the commander clenching
his fists. “I know you’re hurt and angry with your abba, my friend.” Hosea placed a comforting hand on Isaiah’s shoulder, and Gomer’s stomach tightened.
He discovered Amoz’s Asherah?

“Now that you know of your abba’s idolatry, you can build a relationship on truth.”

Isaiah shook his head, clearly struggling to restrain his emotions. “I don’t know if I can forgive him. How can I ever trust Uzziah again? They’ve done nothing but deceive me my whole life.”

“They’ve done much more than deceive you, Isaiah.” Hosea’s words were kind but firm. “They’ve loved you, but they made a grave error when they chose deception over truth. Your abba needs to see Yahweh’s love, Isaiah, and I believe your forgiveness and this prophecy can demonstrate it.” When Isaiah’s face showed the confusion Gomer herself felt, Hosea cast a glance at Hananiah and reaffirmed Yahweh’s words. “The Lord will rescue Judah without bows, swords, wars, horses, or horsemen. Amoz said he’d never seen Yahweh do anything kind. I don’t know how Yahweh will rescue Judah, but I believe He intends to prove His kindness to your abba.” He patted his friend’s cheek. “Our Elohim cares enough for your abba to do that for him.”

Gomer’s heart twisted in her chest.
Yahweh cares enough for Amoz, but He hates harlots. He said so. Unloved. No longer forgive . . .
A small whimper escaped, and Yuval tightened her embrace.

Hosea stepped toward Micah, meeting the boy’s sad eyes. “Did Jonah already inform you that you’ll accompany me to Israel?”

The boy nodded, and Gomer squeezed her eyes shut.
He’s leaving again.

“I’ll go now and make sure Jonah knows the full message of God’s prophecy.” Hosea raised his voice, almost shouting in their small, crowded home. “I speak in the hearing of these witnesses. No one except Yahweh’s prophets has authority
to impose legal proceedings or pass official judgment on my wife while I’m away.” He glared at Hananiah. “Yahweh has spoken, and I trust you will make it clear to my friend the king.”

Gomer didn’t know whether to feel vindicated or offended. Was she a piece of property to be tossed about?

Before she could decide how she felt, Hosea dismissed the men and turned his attention to Yuval. He knelt before her, eyes softening instantly. “Jezzy will need you more than ever.” He hesitated, looking away as if struggling for words. When he returned his gaze, his eyes swam with unshed tears. “Gomer will need your love and care when Lo-Ruhamah is born.” Without another word, he pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the door.

“Wait!” Panic seized Gomer. The word escaped before she knew what she’d say next.

Hosea turned, waiting. His eyes so full of anger and hate . . . He’d never looked at her that way before. “I’ve been waiting, Gomer.” He turned and walked out the door.

She choked back a sob, clutching Jezzy to her chest, rocking him to comfort herself.

“I’m sorry, Daughter.” Yuval’s voice pierced the silence, and Gomer realized her friend had been rubbing her back, reassuring her through every painful moment.

She would not—could not—give in to her emotions. Jezzy depended on her, and now she knew a daughter grew inside her womb. Gomer painted on a smile, squared her shoulders, and breathed in with forced control. “It’s all right, Yuval. I’ve come to expect it.” Her mind wandered to the silver she’d saved. It lay hidden in a small pitcher on the top shelf. “Men always leave.”

• 2 K
INGS
15:10, 12 •

Shallum, son of Jabesh, plotted against Zechariah, attacked him at Kabal Am, killed him, and succeeded him as king. . . . It happened exactly as Yahweh had told Jehu: “Four generations of your descendants will sit on the throne of Israel.”

H
osea and Micah crouched in the underbrush of the forest, hidden. Five full moons of prophesying judgment in Israel had rendered them criminals. Zechariah had ordered them arrested on sight. But tonight Yahweh’s command overruled Israel’s king, and the prophets lurked near the king’s encampment, close enough to watch the king and his advisors commit abominable acts. Their feasting and womanizing had distracted even the perimeter guards—a blessing and a curse.

“Why do you think they’ve come to Kabal Am?” Micah rubbed his blistered feet, his passion waning. “Why doesn’t Zechariah settle into his abba’s throne in Samaria and rule the nation from there?”

Yahweh had appeared to Micah in a dream, giving him nothing more than a sense of urgency to watch the events of
King Zechariah’s life—and death—unfold. They’d kept a safe distance behind the king’s troops for nearly two full moons.

“Zechariah must convince an entire nation of his power to rule. Kabal Am is safely situated north of the rebellious hill country of Ephraim, so General Menahem can provide rear guard. Secondly, this valley holds great significance for his family’s royal line.” Hosea hesitated, hoping his student would volunteer the rest. “You should have been paying closer attention to your teachers, young prophet.”

“Aahhrr . . .” The boy’s frustration earned a chuckle and a shush from his teacher.

“When Yahweh destroyed Baal worship the first time in Israel, He raised up the general of Israel’s army to kill King Ahab, Jezebel, and their descendants. He also injured the reigning king of Judah, who was visiting his family here at Kabal Am. The general’s name was—”

“Jehu!”

“Shh!” Both men ducked lower into the bushes, fearing Micah’s zeal had revealed their hiding place. After a chastising glance, Hosea continued in a whisper. “Yes, Jehu slaughtered Ahab’s whole clan, and because of his ruthlessness, Yahweh vowed four of his generations would reign on Israel’s throne.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “And who is the end of that fourth generation, Micah?”

“Zechariaaaahhhh.” Like the dawn of a new day, his eyes went wide. “And you named your son Jezreel because Yahweh told you that He would punish Jehu’s line and break Israel’s bows in the valley of Jezreel.”

Delighted satisfaction filled Hosea. “And Kabal Am—where we sit watching the last of Jehu’s descendants—is located at the mouth of the Jezreel Valley near the
city
of Jezreel!”

Micah’s face glowed. “I’m astounded at Yahweh’s sovereignty.”

“And I’m astounded at men’s depravity.” Hosea pointed to King Zechariah and the advisors around him. “Look at
them, Micah. Some of those men have known the king all his life, and yet one of them will kill him—possibly tonight.” The words had barely been spoken when he felt the warmth of Yahweh’s presence fill his whole being.

Micah backed away from him. “Master Hosea, you’re burning up.”

Hosea began to speak quietly, but with a stream of words not his own. “Those men make their king happy with the wicked things they do. They make each other happy by filling each other with lies. Every one of them commits adultery and thinks nothing of it. They are all like a heated oven, an oven so hot that a baker need not fan its flame to bake bread.”

A vision flashed in his memory, and he fell silent. Gomer, kneeling by the oven, baking barley bread. He felt the lust she’d stirred in him that night, the heat of uncontrolled passion matching the heat of the anointing that washed over him now. Words came again, this time silently seared into his being. “On the day of the king’s celebration, the officials become drunk from wine, and the king joins his mockers. They all become hot like an oven and then lie in ambush. All night long their anger smolders, but in the morning it becomes a raging fire. They are all as hot as an oven. They consume their judges like a fire. All their kings die in battle, and none of them calls on Yahweh.”

Hosea was perspiring, his whole body felt like a flame. He covered his face and wept.
Gomer.
That night of their passion—Hosea had known something was different. He’d allowed lust to drive him instead of love, and he’d treated his wife like a harlot.
But she
is
a harlot!
His heart cried out to the God who understood his pain. Why did he still love her? Why couldn’t he stop loving her as God had stopped loving Israel?

Micah’s hand rested on his shoulder, startling him. “Did you receive another message from the Lord?” he whispered.

Hosea nodded but delayed, considering what—how much—to disclose to his young student. He shrugged off his
robe and used it like a towel to wipe away the sweat, then sat in the summer night, covered only by a loincloth. “I believe the advisors will kill Zechariah in the morning.” His heart thudded in his chest. Should he ask one so young about the struggle of his heart?

Micah stared at him. “Does Yahweh always visit you that way—with such heat?”

“It’s different every time.”

They sat in silence then, listening to the revelry in the king’s camp, watching as women were passed from one drunken official to the next.

Hosea’s stomach rolled. “I want to hate Gomer, Micah.” He pointed to one of the harlots. “
That
is what she was—what she has chosen to become again. If Yahweh no longer loves Israel and no longer forgives them, can
I
refuse to love and forgive?”

Micah pulled his knobby knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, brow furrowed in the moonlight. “Can a man’s heart be as pure as Yahweh’s? Can you refuse to love without sinning? Can you refuse to forgive without becoming bitter?”

It wasn’t the answer Hosea wanted. “Hmm.” Perhaps the boy had been paying attention in class.

“So, what do we do now?” Micah asked.

“We watch Israel’s king die in the morning.”

Gomer’s hands trembled as she wrapped Rahmy’s sling over her shoulder and around her waist. Thank the gods, her daughter had entered the world easier than Jezzy, but Gomer was still a bit weak. Yuval had attended her, of course, and this time Aya helped. Isaiah came later to pronounce the baby’s name: Lo-Ruhamah—Unloved.

Gomer leaned down to nuzzle her soft cheek. “But Ima loves you, so we’re calling you Rahmy, aren’t we, precious one?”

She heard a crash in the other room. “Jezzy, what are you doing?”

No answer. She secured Rahmy’s sling and then wrapped her linen veil around her head and shoulders. Was there no end to all a woman must wear? Today was her first day out of the house since the birth, and she thought it more trouble than it was worth, but when the king calls . . .

What could Uzziah want?
She was two days from being declared clean by the priests. Perhaps he simply wanted to hold her hand or feel the touch of another who was unclean. She couldn’t blame him. The ridiculous ritual had nearly driven her mad in less than two Sabbaths. She couldn’t imagine what Uzziah had endured for more than two years. No one else had contracted his skin disease, but raw flesh appeared in his sores with each priestly examination, so he remained in his rented prison outside Amos’s farm.

“I thought I had washed more loincloths for Jezzy,” she murmured while looking through a pile of clean linens. She hurried into the main room and found her son chasing the cat. Sampson jumped onto the table, knocking over a jar of barley flour.

“Jezzy, leave the cat alone. Come on, we’re going to visit King Uzziah.” She had no other choice than to take him with her. Yuval had accompanied Amos on another merchant’s trip, and Aya refused to come near her for fear she might become unclean and unable to touch her husband. Gomer rolled her eyes, rushing toward the door, and Rahmy began to cry. She couldn’t be hungry.

“Uhhhh!”

Jezzy looked up at her, his eyes round. “M’ ima?” Then he began to cry.

She knelt down beside him, trying to console. He was such a sensitive little man—a trait he’d inherited from his abba. He wouldn’t stop crying, so she grabbed his hand and started walking. “That’s enough, Jezreel. No more crying. Quiet!” Her final word ended his sobbing, and gentle sniffing wafted on the wind as they walked the rocky path in the afternoon sun.

King Uzziah awaited them in his open doorway, his son Jotham at his side, and the well-muscled commander stood guard behind them. This was the first she’d seen Jotham since Isaiah’s wedding. Her stomach twisted. Did he know about Rahmy’s parentage? Was she just another harlot to him, an object of Yahweh’s prophecy? Or did he understand the friendship between his abba, Hosea, and her?

She hid a wry grin as she neared the house. Even she wasn’t certain she understood the friendship between the three of them.

“Unclean! Unc—” Uzziah’s pronouncement was interrupted by Gomer’s.

“Unclean! Unclean!” She approached the house, holding Jezzy’s hand, and bowed before both of Judah’s kings. “It is an honor to see you again, King Uzziah.” She ruffled Jezzy’s black curls and leaned over to instruct him. “We must bow to our new king as well. It is an honor, King Jotham.”

Uzziah offered a warm smile. “It is we who are honored, Gomer, by the service of your husband in Israel.”

All blood drained from her face. “Hosea?”

“Jotham, will you take the boy back to camp and play with him within the security of the walls? We don’t want any accidents with beasts or vipers.” He pointed to one of the small houses in his encampment.

“No, wait.” Gomer shielded Jezzy behind her. “My son has touched me, so his uncleanness will make King Jotham unclean as well.”

Uzziah reached up and squeezed his son’s shoulder, his eyes welling with tears. “Jotham hasn’t believed my sores to be infectious for some time, and he has chosen to make the sacrifice of uncleanness to have physical contact with me. When he visits, he understands that he is unclean until evening.”

Uzziah’s voice broke, and he was unable to go on. Jotham turned to Gomer, his expression so warm she nearly melted. “I would be happy to play with Jezreel.”

She stared at him, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. A son who willingly made himself unclean to embrace
his abba? “Thank you,” she said. The words were barely a whisper. His reply, barely a nod.

He swept Jezreel into the air and caught him above his shoulders. “Whee!”

Jezzy giggled and squealed with delight.

“My little boy likes that too.”

Jotham planted him back on the path, and Gomer watched them walk away, feeling a fresh ache of loneliness. When a hand rested on her shoulder, she didn’t even mind that it was leprous. She turned and found herself staring instead at the handsome face of Judah’s commander.

He nudged her onto the stool he’d placed beside the king. “Please, sit here.” The concern on his features suddenly registered, and Gomer looked to Uzziah with a questioning glance.

“We have news from Hosea that you need to hear.” The king’s voice was forced calm.

“No. I don’t want to hear news of Hosea.” She alternated glances between the two men. When they hesitated, she leapt to her feet, cradling Rahmy in the sling. “Hosea wants nothing to do with me, and my life is quite fulfilling without him.” She took one step and heard Uzziah’s voice.

“Hosea was captured near Kabal Am.”

The sun dimmed, and a terrible roar sounded in her head.

“Hananiah! Grab her!”

Gomer felt strong arms embrace her, and then she was weightless.
Rahmy!
In an instant, she clutched the babe around her middle, and the roar inside her head faded.

“I’ve got you and your little one.” A deep voice wrapped around her, and she looked up into caring eyes. She felt small in Hananiah’s arms—but safe.

“Get a tapestry,” he shouted at a guard. Then, settling her on the rug, he said, “Let’s keep you and the little one closer to the floor.” His kind smile breached the walls around her heart, and tears began to fall.

Uzziah sat beside her, consoling her as best he could. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about Hosea more delicately.”

Hosea.
“You said he’d been captured. Where is he now? Is he dea—”

“No, oh no! He’s not dead. Hosea was captured in King Zechariah’s camp. But he’s safe now.”

A thousand thoughts raced through Gomer’s mind, but one overshadowed them all.
Why do I care when Hosea doesn’t love me?
“That’s good news, but . . .” She folded her knees beneath her and started to rise.

“The prophecy of Jezreel’s name was fulfilled a few nights ago,” he said, ignoring her attempt to leave. “King Zechariah, the fourth and last of Jehu’s descendants, was killed in a town in the valley of Jezreel. The valley for which Yahweh named your son. And if my spies are accurate—and my spies at Shiloh are always accurate—it happened the night of your daughter’s birth.” He paused, locking eyes with Gomer.

A cold chill raced up her spine. “So Hosea’s god is using
my
children as omens for His amusement?” Anger bubbled up in her maternal soul. “Why do the gods think they can use humans for their sick games?”