Heavenly Lights: Noah’s Journey
This story carries on from where Lioness leaves off. Another amazing story which almost goes behind the scenes of the Bible story. You don't need to have read Lioness, which is book one, but it will help a little.
Noah is essentially doing a man's job, but one she loves. She takes care of her flock the only way a true shepherd(ess) can and under her care they thrive. Her fellow shepherd, Jeremiah, is deaf and dumb, yet the two of them communicate almost flawlessly. But with ongoing war, and the judgement of God falling on the tribes of Isreal, a path to more than friendship isn't going to be an easy one.
Ms Britton has done an amazing job and it's gone right back into my TBR pile.
The daughters of Zelophehad travel further into the book of Joshua (Joshua 5-8).
Noah bat Zelophehad might have broken tradition by being able to inherit her father’s land, but her heart’s desire is to have the finest herds in all of Israel, something an orphaned and unmarried woman has never achieved.
Jeremiah ben Abishua cannot speak, nor hear. God has made his thoughts captive to his mind. But he can communicate with one shepherdess, a woman who sees his skill with animals and treats him like a man worthy of respect.
When their people disobey God and incur his wrath, Noah and Jeremiah must overcome tragedy in order to change perceptions in the tribes of Israel. Will their kinship desire to care for one another and the four-legged creatures God has placed in their care, be able to flourish in a land filled with enemies of the One True God?
God gave Noah bat Zelophehad four sisters, a way with four-legged creatures, and a strong spirit. She will need all three gifts to thrive in the Promised Land of God and find love with a special shepherd.
Fast as a hungry hawk, Noah sprinted in the moonlight. Past tents and watering jars. Past sleepy-eyed men and women. She raced toward their place of worship.
A Levite stumbled beside the ornate curtain of the Tabernacle, clutching at his garment.
“Adonai has abandoned us,” he wailed.
Another man slumped to his knees and wept into his hands.
Fighting men trudged into camp. Torches lit their faces, but no battle scars were revealed.
“Hebrew blood has been spilled on the rocks of Ai,” a sword-carrying man said. His recount hung in the haze of smoldering campfires.
How could this be? The walls of Jericho fell with a shout. Ai held few soldiers. Her people should be celebrating a victory, not mourning a defeat.
She climbed atop crates which held the gold and silver spoils from Jericho. The height removed her from the rush of elders and forlorn leaders congregating near the courtyard of the Tabernacle. She gripped a tent lead for balance.
In the distance, a column of carts neared the pathways between the tents of the tribe of Dan. Donkeys carried their burdens closer to camp. Were their burdens dead bodies?
How many had died? And from which tribe?
Her heartbeat flooded her ears, drowning out the cries of nearby women.
Joshua marched toward the returning troops. He stumbled as carts of the dead lumbered closer. Dropping to his knees in the center of the camp with the Tabernacle curtain at his side, and woven wings of cherubim floating above his head, their valiant leader tore his robe and cried.
Priest upon Levite upon leader, ripped their garments. A Tabernacle servant rubbed ash on his hair.
“God has forsaken us,” a Levite said for all to hear. “Our camp will be overrun by our enemies.”
A falsehood. God had given her sisters land in this very place. Twice God confirmed their inheritance of land. He would not take it away. He would not take away her future, or the future of His people.
Her cheeks flamed. But why God? Why the dead? Why from Ai and not Jericho?
Leaping to the ground, she ran toward the carts, the open tombs of the slain.
She recognized a man from the tribe of Judah.
“How many?” she asked, her voice rough as the pitted ground.
“Thirty-six fell.” The Judahite scanned the path.
Was he looking for kin? “They cut us down on the slopes outside of the city.”
Her stomach threatened to spill. Jeremiah couldn’t hear a pursuer’s footfalls. He should never have gone. How foolish of her to allow it. She could have petitioned Nemuel, or Abishua, or even Joshua. She should have balked like the hen they claimed her to be.
Thap, thap, thap. She kept running and searching for that familiar face. Those eyes that sparkled like a sun-bathed river. The smile that chastised her and rejoiced with folly.
Maybe only Judahites were slain? They were the first to go into battle.
She passed a cart and gazed upon a man whose face was hidden by linen. Who was he? Who would mourn his passing? I will.
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Barbara M. Britton lives in Wisconsin and loves the snow—when it accumulates under three inches. She writes Biblical fiction and enjoys bringing little known Bible characters to light in her stories. Barb is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, Romance Writers of America and Wisconsin Romance Writers of America. She has a nutrition degree from Baylor University but loves to dip healthy strawberries in chocolate. Find out more about Barb and her books at http://www.barbarambritton.com/.
Barb also enjoys Twitter: https://twitter.com/BarbaraMBritton