Gate of Heaven (Lions of Judah Book #3) , livre ebook

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212 pages

English

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Much-loved storyteller Gilbert Morris turns an imaginative pen to the lives of the patriarchs. Combining extensive research with an action-packed and skillful plotting, Morris creates believable scenarios in which his fictional characters parallel their biblical counterparts. The Gate of Heaven follows the dramatic journey of Jacob, from deceiving his brother and being deceived in his choice of wife, to his life-changing encounter with God. Meanwhile, Jacob's only daughter, Dinah, buys a slave who is actually an aristocrat from Crete. Will he come to love Jacob's God as well as his daughter? Book 3 of the bestselling Lions of Judah.

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 février 2004
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441262387
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Lions of Judah, Book Three
The Gate of Heaven
Gilbert Morris
© 2004 by Gilbert Morris
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Ebook edition created 2012
Bethany House Publishers is a Division of
Baker Book House Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
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.
Cover design by Lookout Design Group, Inc.
Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
eISBN 978-1-4412-6238-7
To Moody Adams, Evangelist
In one of his lyrics Shakespeare asked the question: “Tell me, where is fancy bred, or in the heart or in the head?”
In other words, does genius come from the intellect or from the emotions?
We all know the penalty of a sermon that is all “head,” for all of us have been bored to tears by sterile intellectualism untouched by passion, just as we have been exposed to teachings that are totally emotional, devoid of serious thought.
Moody Adams is one of those rare servants of God who is blessed with both a burning heart and a penetrating intellect. Whether on the printed page or by means of the spoken word, this man speaks the truths we desperately need to hear with compassion, zeal, and bare-handed honesty.
In a day when some have lost their integrity and set their sails to catch the prevailing wind of popular opinion, Evangelist Moody Adams proclaims fearlessly the Good News that our world is starving to hear.
Our poor world needs men and woman who sound the trumpet with the courage of the Old Testament prophet and with the burning heart and clear vision of the New Testament apostle.
Brother Moody, you are an evangelist in the richest and purest sense of that word. May God continue to use you in the work He has given you to do.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part One: The Brothers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part Two: The Sisters
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part Three: The Family
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part Four: The Stranger
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Part Five: The Daughter
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part Six: The Lion
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
About the Author
Books By Gilbert Morris
Back Cover

Chapter 1
A war chariot cut a path between low-lying hills, its wheels swirling up a pillar of dust and crushing the delicate wild flowers that dotted the land. The horses’ hooves thundered across the valley, breaking the silence of late afternoon. With reins in one hand, a whip in the other, and a fierce- looking sword dangling from his belt, a dark-skinned man wearing a bronze helmet drove the animals without mercy. Beside him lay a double-convex war bow, flanked by newly sharpened arrows, their bronze tips gleaming in the sunshine.
The driver yanked the horses to a halt and turned to the two men behind him who were clinging to the sides of the chariot.
“Magon, what’s that camp up ahead?” he demanded as he sliced the air with his whip, indicating the tents and flocks they were approaching.
“I don’t know, sir, but I hope they’ve got food. My stomach thinks I’ve been dead for hours!” The speaker was the shorter and stockier of the two men in the back of the chariot. A scar distorted his features, dragging his right eye downward into a squint and pulling the right side of his mouth up into a perpetual sneer. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight and peered toward the camp. “Oh, they’re nothing but a bunch of Hebrews, Captain Ahad. They won’t have any food fit for real men.”
“Magon, you’d eat a dead buzzard,” Ahad snorted.
The soldier shook his head. “They eat lentils and milk, sir. A man needs meat.” He laughed. “We’ll take one of those fat sheep over there and the best wine they’ve got, eh, Remez?”
The third man in the chariot was tall and lean, with sharp, hawklike features. He wore a bronze helmet like his two companions, but his face was not as marked by cruelty. He gave the camp a quick examination and shook his head slowly. “I know this tribe,” he said. “This is the camp I tried to tell you about, Captain Ahad. From what I hear, their leader is a man with strange powers.”
Ahad stared disdainfully at Remez. “You told me, but it made no sense.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Magon retorted. “The Hebrews are all crazy!”
“These Hebrews are a strange people,” Remez said thoughtfully, ignoring his companion. “I know a little something about them.”
“What do you need to know?” Ahad shrugged. “They’re like those stupid sheep out there. Which gods do they worship?”
“Well,” Remez said slowly, “they say there’s only one god.”
The two men stared at Remez and then Ahad guffawed. “They probably can’t afford more than one.”
Magon joined in with the joke, but Remez made no reply; he simply shrugged as the three men surveyed the scene again. Black tents sprawled across the landscape, and a line of donkeys waited patiently for their masters to finish loading them for a trip. Farther on, a boy drove six white goats into a shed built of saplings. Nearby, a woman was churning cream in a goatskin suspended over a wooden frame. As she rocked it back and forth her eyes turned toward the strangers, as did the eyes of others throughout the busy camp, until gradually everyone was staring at the war chariot.
“We’ll take whatever goods we want,” Ahad sneered, winking lewdly and adding, “We may even borrow some of their women for a while.”
Magon smiled broadly. “I’ll take that one over there.” He indicated a young woman with glossy black hair who was grinding grain with a round stone. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go take what we want. If they don’t like it, we’ll cut their throats.” He pulled a wicked-looking dagger from his belt, licked the blade, and laughed.
A troubled look crossed Remez’s face. “I don’t know how wise that would be. As I told you, their leader is an unusual man and one not to be trifled with. I’ve heard my grandfather tell about him.”
“Humph!” Ahad snorted. “I’d fight their chief any day.” Then as if doubting his own hubris, he asked Remez, “What else do you know about this chief of theirs?”
“Well, I know his name is Abraham and that he’s very old now, but my grandfather told me he came up against him in a war once.”
“What kind of a war?” Ahad grunted with disdain, gesturing toward the Hebrew men who stood watching, armed only with shepherds’ staves. “They’re obviously not fighters.”
“My grandfather said the army he was with thought that too. They captured one of Abraham’s relatives some fellow named Lot. Abraham came tearing after them with a small army of Hebrews and rescued him.”
“Your grandfather must not have had much of an army, then.” Ahad shrugged.
“On the contrary, sir. My grandfather said the fighters he was with were the best. But this Hebrew leader this Abraham he’s got some magical powers, or so my grandfather believed.”
Ahad slapped the backs of the horses with his whip and laughed coarsely. “A magician, eh? Well, we’ll make him do some tricks for us, then!” His white teeth gleamed as he grinned. “Mind you, the prettiest woman belongs to me!”

“Isaac, look! A war chariot with three soldiers in it.”
Isaac turned to look in the direction Rebekah indicated. “Those are Hittite warriors,” he said uneasily. “They’re always causing trouble.”
“Don’t worry about them. We’ll feed them and they won’t bother us.”
Isaac looked carefully at Rebekah, who was sitting on a wooden chest, holding her belly. He noticed the pained expression on her face and asked, concerned, “Are you hurting, dear?”
Even this late in her pregnancy, Rebekah was a beautiful woman, with skin like alabaster, dark, lustrous eyes, and coal black hair. But the pain she felt now was clearly etched in the lines of her face. “It’s like a…a war going on inside me, Isaac,” she whispered. “Feel.”
Isaac leaned forward and put his hand on Rebekah’s swollen abdomen. His eyes opened with astonishment as he felt the movement. “That’s not natural, Rebekah!”
“I know it. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Have you talked with the midwife?”
“Bethez insists that having twins is just harder,” Rebekah said, shaking her head.
“But even so, they shouldn’t be giving you such pain already.” Isaac would have said more, but he saw that the chariot had drawn up to the center of the camp. The three warriors got out, and one of them pulled the horses and chariot to a nearby scrub tree to tie up the animals. “I wish they had gone on,” Isaac murmured.
The trio wandered brazenly around the camp, making crude comments about the women. Isaac kept his eyes on the largest soldier, taking him for the leader. The shortest of the three grabbed a girl, who kicked and screamed for help. Isaac stepped forward and spoke to the leader. “Sir, my name is Isaac. Tell your man to release the girl.”
“My name is Ahad,” the captain announced boldly, ignoring Isaac’s demand. “We require food and wine.”
Isaac kept his eye on the big man but was most concerned about the girl. The short, swarthy soldier was laughing at her attempts to escape. “Have him turn the young woman loose,” Isaac implored. “Then we’ll sell you some food.”
“Sell! Nothing was said about selling! We’re your guests.” Ahad put his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes mocking the small