No Woman So Fair (31 page)

“I think it will be much more difficult,” Abram said urgently. He loved this young man as if he were his own son. “It's hard to hear God's voice through all the noise of the city.”

Abram did his best to dissuade Lot, but he soon discovered it was useless. Finally he said, “Well, I will pray that you will prosper, Lot, but I will pray even harder that you and your family will stay true to the Eternal One.”

Lot felt a sense of despair. He had no desire to live in Sodom. He would much rather stay in the desert. He was that much like his uncle Abram, but he felt he had no choice. “I'll take care of myself and my family,” he said stiffly. He knew it sounded churlish and said, “Uncle, I'm well aware of your generosity. You couldn't have treated me better if I were your own son.” He turned then and was shocked to find tears forming in his eyes as he walked away from Abram. He knew, somehow, that he was doing a wrong thing, but he could find no way to avoid it.

****

“Oh, this is a beautiful house!”

Meri was ecstatic over her new home. It was one of the finer homes of Sodom. She walked through the rooms, followed by her two older daughters and Lot. When Meri finally tore herself away from the plans she was making, she turned to her husband and said, “Isn't your father a wonderful man, girls?”

The two girls, Tamar and Camoni, were as happy as their mother. They had been thoroughly indoctrinated by her to desire town life and now were beaming. They came over to kiss their father, one girl on each cheek. “It's going to be wonderful! There'll be so much to do.”

Lot was less happy. “I don't care much for the men here in town. I think I'll have to stay out with the flocks a great deal.”

“But you've got a good chief herdsman to take care of that,” Meri said firmly. “It's time for us to enjoy life a little.” She nodded and smiled happily. “We have to make our place here in this wonderful town. You're going to love it, Lot!”

****

The voice of the Eternal One came without warning:
“Abram!”

Abram was alone, standing outside the camp. He often rose early in the morning to pray alone. Now he said at once, “Speak, O Eternal God!”

“Abram, lift up your eyes from where you are and look north and south, east and west. All the land that you see, I will give to you and to your offspring forever.”

The voice was so strong! Abram had treasured every memory of those times when the Eternal One had spoken to him, and now it seemed to him that the voice was magnified.

“I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if one could count the dust of the earth, then your offspring could be counted. Go, walk through the length and the breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.”

The voice grew still, but Abram did not move. The promise seized him with its strength and its scope. He stared out at the land and tried to imagine a mighty host of people—
his
descendants. But he could not, and he bowed his head and whispered, “Your will be done, O mighty God!”

After he split the land with Lot, Abram had led his people to Hebron, where he had finally settled around Mamre. Settled, that is, as much as nomadic shepherds are ever settled. The flocks and herds had to be moved from time to time, but Mamre had become more like a home to Abram than anyplace since he had left Ur. The land was not as fruitful there, perhaps, as other places, but he somehow drew comfort from the territory.

One morning, several months after settling near Mamre, Abram wandered among the flocks, stopping to talk to his herdsmen. He knew them all intimately and was involved in their problems. They all knew they could come to their master and he would do whatever he could to help them. Now as he crested the top of a rise, Abram stopped and looked out over the land. His gaze turned to the plain where Sodom and Gomorrah were located. His mind went to Lot and with that thought came a piercing grief. He had been hopeful that Lot would tire of the city life and would return, but he knew there was little chance of that with a wife like Meri!

A flash of something to his right caught Abram's glance, and when he turned, his blood ran cold at the sight of a poisonous serpent rearing up to strike. The snake was no more than two feet away, but Abram's stroke with his staff was quick enough to stop its strike. The staff caught the snake just below the head and sent it flying. The long, lean body flashed for a moment, then stiffened and grew still.

Abram disliked snakes intensely. He harbored a fear of them that he did not often allow to show. For a moment he felt a coldness in his veins, and then his knees felt weak and his hands trembled. He stared at them hard as if willing the shaking to stop, and then, taking a deep breath, he shook his head. “Thank you, Eternal One.”

Praying at all times and in all places was a habit Abram had learned over the years. At times he set aside special places for prayer by building altars, but they always had to be left behind, so he had learned to pray as he went. Many times during the day he would turn his thoughts to the Eternal One and breathe a prayer of thanksgiving for whatever circumstance was before him. He would give thanks to God for the safe birth of one of his animals and for deliverance from wild beasts, as from the snake just now. Sometimes out of sheer joy he would pour out his heart, thanking God for his wife and his possessions, and at times he was simply caught up in wonder at the majesty of the great God he served.

As the day approached noon, Abram was conscious of a pressure building up inside of him. He did not know what to call it, but he had experienced it from time to time. It was like the way a stew cooks over a fire. At first the heat stays toward the bottom and the stew shows no sign that it's heating up. But if the fire continues strong, the surface of the stew will eventually begin to swirl and bubble, finally bursting forth like an explosion.

Something like this process had been going on in Abram for weeks. Only Sarai had noticed the change in him, however, and she simply observed that he was quieter and more thoughtful. As the days had passed, the feeling in his spirit had grown stronger, and he would pause many times a day, staring into space and praying silently,
What is it, Eternal One? What is it you would have me do?

As the pressure intensified, Sarai had become more aware of it, and she asked him repeatedly what was troubling him. “Oh, nothing,” Abram would reply, his answer not satisfying his wife one bit.

Abram wandered all day, but by the time he returned home to the tents late that afternoon he knew what he must do, and he announced to Sarai, “I don't know why, but I'm going to have to make a journey.”

Sarai looked up from her mending. “A journey to where?”

“I'm not quite sure.”

“Is it something God wants you to do?”

“I think it is, but I don't know why. I don't know how long I'll be gone.”

Sarai did not show her concern. “Well, you be careful and don't worry about us here. Eliezer will take care of everything.”

****

As Abram made his way south, he felt rested and at peace. He had resisted all efforts of Eliezer and Sarai to take a servant with him. Something deep inside his heart demanded solitude, and he did not want a babbling servant along to disturb his thoughts. He had no specific idea of his destination, but as he moved south, he was aware that this was the journey that had been laid out for him. Now as he moved along the banks of a small stream, sitting easily on his faithful donkey and leading another bearing his small tent, food, and other necessities, he began to wonder what it all meant.

Abram had an innate interest in all things, and Sarai often teased him about it. He would grin sheepishly, knowing that he had more curiosity than any five men, but this was part of what made him Abram.

He stopped beside the stream, dismounted from the donkey, and allowed the animals to drink long and deep. He filled his water bag and then sat down, letting the animals graze on the sparse grass that flanked the stream. As he did so, his mind began to reach out, becoming almost unaware of the donkeys and the scene around him.

I know that the Eternal One wants me to go on this journey. I wonder how long ago it was that He decided this. Is He like a man who makes plans? This must happen and then that must happen, and then I must do something to make another thing happen. That doesn't sound likely. He's not a man. Why should He think like one?

I believe, O Eternal One, that you must have known about this journey I'm on long before it even came into my mind. Why, you might have known about it when I was a child—even before I was born. And if you know that about me, then you must know everything about Sarai and Eliezer and everyone else. All of the Canaanites, the Egyptians, the people across the Great Sea. All the teeming nations—you know every one of them perfectly well. Every thought they've ever had. Every word they've ever spoken. What a God you are to hold all of this in your mind at the same time!

Abram was lost in such thoughts when one of the donkeys brayed, and he came to himself with a start. He grinned at his own foolishness and got to his feet. “All right, I know it's time to go. You've got a foolish old man for a master.” Getting on the donkey, he kicked its sides and looked ahead eagerly. Somewhere out there lay a destination that had been chosen by the great Creator of all things, and both anxiety and joy filled him, knowing that he was doing exactly what his God wanted him to do.

****

Abram looked up at the walls surrounding the city that stood before him. He knew in his spirit that he had reached the end of his journey, and a quiet sense of satisfaction filled him. “Well, we're here, O Eternal One. I don't know why, but you do. So put whatever you have for me in my way.”

He followed the road that led to the city, and when he came to the gates, he found himself under careful scrutiny by four guards who eyed him suspiciously.

“What's your business, stranger?” one of the guards demanded.

“Just traveling,” Abram said easily. He was aware that these men were competent soldiers and wondered why there was need for such caution. But he also knew that the desert was full of tribes, some of them large enough to be considered dangerous to a small city such as the one before him.

“Traveling where?”

“I'm not sure,” Abram admitted. “I would like to stay in here for a few days and rest my animals and buy some supplies.”

The leader of the guards approached Abram and stood in front of him. He was a big man, muscular and scarred by his trade as a soldier. “What is your tribe?”

“I'm a wandering shepherd. My name is Abram. My people are the Hebrews.”

“Never heard of them!”

“We're just a small group. No danger to you, soldier.”

“You're an Amorite, are you?”

“No, we have no loyalties to any of the tribes in Canaan.”

The guard continued to pepper Abram with questions and finally seemed satisfied. “All right. You can go in.”

Abram hesitated. “I would like to worship while I'm here. What are the gods of your city?”

The guards suddenly grinned. “Worship, is it? Well, you've come to the right place for that.”

“You have a great many gods?”

“Not like those of Sodom and Gomorrah. Some people will have their own little idol, but our king is the high priest of the one God.”

A feeling like lightning ran through Abram. “The one God?” he managed to say. “What is His name?”

“Our king simply calls him God Most High.”

“What is the name of your king?”

“King Melchizedek.”

“This Melchizedek…I've heard rumors about him, but I know very little.”

“He's our king, but he's also a priest.”

“The priest of God Most High.” Abram spoke the words softly. “I am eager to meet him.”

“The king is always glad to meet seekers after God, but he has no time for idolaters. That's why Salem is different from any city in this land. Go in with you, now. You'll find our king an interesting man, I'm sure.”

Abram thanked the soldier and then entered the city. It was not as impressive as the fabulous cities of Egypt he had seen. It was not even as large as Ur or Haran. But there was something about it that pleased Abram. The walls were not as high as other walled cities, but they were well built and strong. The people there seemed much like any other people. The streets were crowded, and Abram rode his donkey through the main thoroughfare, studying the faces of the dwellers of the city.

He stopped in the marketplace and asked a seller of cloth about a place to stay.

“My brother has a good place,” the vendor said. “He can quarter your animals and feed them, and he has a room that he lets out from time to time.”

Abram followed the vendor's instructions and found that the owner of the house was a pleasant man whose name was Beor. The price was not exorbitant, and after Beor had taken care of the animals and Abram had refreshed himself with clean water, washing his face and hands, he came into the main part of the house. Beor's wife was a cheerful woman. She talked as she fed him an excellent meal of mutton and fresh vegetables.

Abram answered her questions and then finally said, “I would like to meet the king, but I suppose that would be very difficult.”

“It depends,” Beor said, stuffing his mouth full with a huge chunk of mutton and talking around it. “Why do you want to see him?”

“I understand he is a religious man.”

“Yes, he is. If you want to talk religion, you've come to the right place. Men come from all over this part of the world to listen to him. He's the wisest man you'll ever find.”

“How would I get an audience?”

“Go to the palace. Tell them what you want. You may have to wait a bit, but he'll see you sooner or later.”