Jehoram, king of Israel, had been wounded and had left the field and returned to Jezreel in hopes that he might heal. The prophet, Elisha, Bidkar further explained to Yashar, had not only predicted the current conflict during his exciting ministry but had also ended famines, built schools saved lives and anointed a new king in Aram.
“Aram, you say?” Yashar asked.
“The new king’s name is Hazael,” Bidkar told him. “Ben-hadad is dead.”
Who understood God’s ways? Yashar had lived in dread of one Ben-hadad or another for most of his life; now Elisha had anointed his successor. “I feel old,” he told the captain, “is Ben-hadad’s death good or bad for Israel?”
Bidkar nodded toward the sprawling encampment around them. Thousands of men, stacked weapons and armor, war machines and tethered horses were everywhere. “God will decide in the end,” he said, “but, for now, that old king’s passing has simply brought another war.”
“And you asked me to come here in haste, because…?”
Bidkar, surprisingly, shrugged. “I only know in my soul,” he said, “that it was important for you to come.”
In a mess tent, after nodding through introductions to several of Bidkar’s peers, Yashar shared a meal with General Jehu and his staff. After they had finished, while the soldiers relaxed, a man with wild eyes stepped into their midst and announced, “I have an errand to you, commander.”
“To which of us?” Jehu asked.
“To you, commander,” the man said.
“I saw this moment in my spirit,” Bidkar whispered. “Perhaps this is why you are here.”
Jehu rose and followed the man outside. The army had anticipated the general’s anointing but Yashar had eventually dismissed that likelihood, thinking that God had changed his mind.
*
The man led Jehu to his headquarters, a small shack in the woods not far away. The general ordered everyone out except for an orderly to stand witness. When the general sat down the man, with no warning, poured oil on his head. “Thus says the God of Israel…” he shouted.
I have anointed you king over the people, over Israel. And you shalt smite the house of Ahab, your master. And I will avenge the blood of my servants the prophets, and the blood of all the servants of God at the hand of Jezebel.
“Praise God!” Jehu shouted, for he hated the house of Omri with all his soul.
Shouts of Hallelujah! rang outside. His men, who had encircled the building in anticipation, raised their voices in praise. The prophet ran out to face them. “The whole house of Ahab will perish…” he shouted.
I will cut off from Ahab every male and him that is shut up and left in Israel. And I will make the house of Ahab as the house of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, and as the house of Baasha the son of Ahijah. And the dogs will eat Jezebel in the plot of Jezreel, and none will bury her.”
After the prophet ran away, Jehu stepped out and a thousand soldiers cheered him.
“This is what he said to me,” Jehu announced, “I have anointed you king over Israel.”
When God is active, man’s understanding of events sometimes defies explanation. Every soldier removed a piece of his clothing and set it at the stairs at Jehu’s feet. Shofars blew and men shouted, Jehu is king!
“Of course!” Bidkar told Yashar. “You were meant to witness this. And this dog of yours…” He stopped suddenly. “Not everything is clear,” he said, “but you must leave here now for Jezreel.”
“I just got here,” Yashar said. “Forget this adventure, Captain, and come home with me to Zarephath. Win over Sara and live your remaining days with us in peace.”
“This is God’s hour,” Bidkar said. “We have no say. Get to Jezreel now, I say, as fast as you can.”
The captain left Yashar to join the men in honoring Jehu.
Yashar had ridden over a hundred miles for a two-hour visit. In what surely seemed like a sign, Juttah tugged at Yashar and led him to his horse. Halfway to Beth-arbel, when Yashar heard drums beating in the distance behind him, he quickened his pace.
*
At Jezreel, Yashar led his mount to the citadel, flashed Bidkar’s bolt to the soldiers there and gave crisp orders for the animal to be fed and rubbed down. Little Juttah waited outside the city’s gates in the shade, his chin upon his paws, in an eerily familiar fashion at the exact spot where Naboth’s blood had spilled.
When Yashar approached him, Juttah bayed like a wolf. Scores of spitting whirlwinds rose at once across the plaza, some knee-high, others spinning fully half the height of the tower. Yashar shielded his eyes from flying debris.
What, he wondered, had God arranged to take place in Jezreel?