Prophetess (Daughters of the Promised Land Book #2) , livre ebook

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180 pages

English

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Outspoken and fearless, Deborah has faith in God but struggles to see the potential her own life holds. As an Israelite woman, she'll marry, have a family, and seek to teach her children about Adonai--and those tasks seem to be more than enough to occupy her time. But God has another plan for her. Israel has been under the near constant terror of Canaan's armies for twenty years, and now God has called Deborah to deliver her people from this oppression. Will her family understand? Will her people even believe God's calling on her life? And can the menace of Canaan be stopped?With her trademark impeccable research and her imaginative storytelling, Jill Eileen Smith brings to life the story of Israel's most powerful woman in a novel that is both intriguing and inspiring.

Sujets

Historical romance

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	26 janvier 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493401659
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0432€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2016 by Jill Eileen Smith
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-0165-9
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. ESV Text Edition: 2007
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, Wendy Lawton, Central Valley Office, P.O. Box 1227, Hilmar, CA 95324, wendy@booksandsuch.com
Endorsements
“At last, the mystical figure of Deborah comes to life! With obvious research and attention to detail, Jill Eileen Smith gives vivid voice to the women at the center of Israel’s victory over Canaan. A tale of strength and faith that bears relevance even today. Not to be missed!”
— Tosca Lee , author of The Legend of Sheba and multiple New York Times bestsellers
Praise for The Crimson Cord
“Rahab’s story is one of the most moving redemption accounts in Scripture. The Crimson Cord perfectly captures all the drama of the original, fleshing out the characters with care and thought, and following the biblical account every step of the way. Jill’s thorough research and love for God’s Word are both evident, and her storytelling skills kept me reading late into the night. A beautiful tale, beautifully told!”
—Liz Curtis Higgs , New York Times bestselling author of Mine Is the Night
“The themes of this book—grace, faith, redemption, and healing—are interwoven with an exciting, suspenseful story . . . [Smith] has made Rahab’s dramatic tale newly affecting and vivid.”
— Booklist
“Impeccable research and vivid prose from Smith bring the ancient city of Jericho to life. The author’s reinterpretation of a classic Old Testament story rings with authenticity. Christian fiction devotees who relished Tosca Lee’s The Legend of Sheba , Tessa Afshar’s In the Field of Grace , or Angela Hunt’s Esther: Royal Beauty will enjoy this pleasurable read.”
— Library Journal
Dedication
To Randy, Who inspires every hero in every story. Who instills hope in me with every book I don’t think I can write. Who sees God’s purpose and good in every challenge. And who bakes our Christmas cookies every year. Thank you. I love you!
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Endorsements
Dedication
Part 1
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Part 2
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Epilogue
Note to the Reader
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Jill Eileen Smith
Back Ads
Back Cover
Part 1

When new gods were chosen, then war was in the gates.
Deborah, poet, prophetess, and judge in Israel
And the people of Israel again did what was evil in the sight of the L ORD after Ehud died. And the L ORD sold them into the hand of Jabin king of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor. The commander of his army was Sisera, who lived in Harosheth-hagoyim. Then the people of Israel cried out to the L ORD for help, for he had 900 chariots of iron and he oppressed the people of Israel cruelly for twenty years. Now Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel at that time. She used to sit under the palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim, and the people of Israel came up to her for judgment.
Judges 4:1–5
Prologue
1126 BC
Early morning dew tickled Deborah’s sandaled feet on the path to the village well, and palm trees waved their stout leaves as if in greeting. She tugged the donkey’s reins closer to the well’s open mouth and smiled into the dawn’s pink rays.
Today would be a good day.
She patted the donkey’s neck, then undid the ropes holding several goatskins. “You wait right here for me now.” The donkey lifted its head, and she scratched its ears, laughing. “I won’t be long.”
She hummed a soft tune and glanced back at the beast once she reached the well. First she would fill the trough to give it drink, then fill the goatskins for her father’s journey to Shiloh the next morning.
“Oh, Adonai, I wish I could go with him.” The prayer came from a place deep within her, one of longing to see the tabernacle of the Lord again, to worship Him there. But she could not go, a virgin alone with just men, even if they were her family—not without her mother’s agreement. “Why does she not see the beauty of Your holiness in that place, Adonai?”
The breeze kissed her face as if in answer, and Deborah closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the water filling the skin, while her mind sifted through memories of her past visits to that place where God had put His name. If only she had been born into a family of scribes who copied the pages of the law, or stood near enough to smell the incense and see the golden lampstand glowing through the curtained veil.
She released her longing in a heavy sigh. Perhaps next year she would be wed and could accompany her husband on the yearly journey. Please , Adonai, let it be. The face of her cousin Amichai flashed in her mind, accompanied by a quick flush to her cheeks. Surely he would speak to her father soon. At fifteen, Deborah should already have the promise of betrothal in hand, but still she waited. Why? Had not Amichai indicated he would call, that he wanted her to be his?
Deborah heaved the last of the water skins up the side of the well, the heaviness of change filling her heart. Perhaps she had misread his comments or had not listened with a discerning ear. But . . . was that possible? Surely his promise of “I am coming soon” meant exactly what his light kiss to her cheek indicated. She had not misread the ardent look in his eyes.
Then why? The fault could only lay with her, as her mother repeatedly said. “Save your opinions for after you are wed. Why do you argue with the young men who would speak with you? You tell them what to do! Ach! Is it any wonder they are not standing in line to speak to your father?”
Deborah ’s cheeks heated and her eyes stung with the mem ory. Her mother’s sharp words were a slap to her face, and Deborah had tried to heed the rebuke. Truly she had. But advice just slipped past her tongue, and sometimes even her father had come to seek it when her mother was not within earshot. Did that not mean that her words held worth?
The breeze tugged her headscarf, and she yanked hard as the skin reached the well’s lip. She quickly tied its leather strings, carried the heavy sacks to the donkey, and draped them over the sides. She glanced heavenward, fearful that her thoughts had taken more time than she had been given. But the pinks of dawn still shivered on the edges of the horizon, just now fading to the sun’s yellow glow.
“We must hurry,” she said, taking the donkey’s reins, knowing the animal cared not a whit what she said to it. But she had chores she must attend to before her father left the next morn, and she dare not delay.
Still, the longing to linger remained, and the wind picked up, its breeze no longer gentle as it whipped the scarf behind her head, her hair blowing with it. She stilled, gripping the donkey’s reins, fear curling in her middle. One glance about told her she was alone, but even the donkey’s fur bristled and it did not move.
“Is someone there?” Deborah ’s bold call disappeared with the rush of wind. She braced herself in the face of its battering, her heart pounding strangely as she stared into the hills around her. She should run for cover. But her feet would not obey her sluggish thoughts. What was happening to her?
She placed both hands on her knees and sought to draw breath. Please. Fire heated her middle and she doubled over, sinking to her knees.
Do not turn to idols or make for yourselves any gods of cast metal: I am the Lord your God.
She gasped, the voice loud in her ear. But I don’ t . . . Her weak words fell away.
Consecrate yourselves! The command jolted her and she planted her face to the earth, her breath heaving.
Be holy, for I am the Lord your God. Keep My statutes and do them. I am the Lord who sanctifies you.
Her whole body trembled as the light of day suddenly blinded her already closed eyes.
I am the Lord your God. You shall not fear the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell.
Deborah’s breath came in great gasps even after the light faded. She remained prostrate, waiting for more, but the air around her returned to its gentle breath, and her heart slowly found its normal rhythm.
I am the Lord your God , the voice had said. Had God Himself spoken to her?
The words were those she recognized from the Law of Moses, but clearly they had not come to her from mere memory.
What do You want from me, Lord? Even her thoughts carried the remnants of fear as they asked the silent question.
But she heard no more in response.
She placed both hands in the dirt and pushed her trembling body from the ground, sweat tracing little beads down her back. She looked up at the waving palm fronds overhead and glanced about the area surrounding the well. Nothing seemed out of place, as though the day were like any other. She drew a breath, then another. But despite the normalcy of her surroundings, the soun