by Janele Williams based on Isaiah 36-37

“Just wait,” Amos said. “We’ll fight the Assyrians.”

I shook my head. “But the prophet says we shouldn’t.”

Amos insisted: “Joel, we have to fight! The Assyrians have already conquered all the cities around Jerusalem.”

I rubbed my sandal in the dirt and bit my lip. Amos just wouldn’t stop talking.

“My father is a city recorder,” he ranted. “He talked with the Assyrians, and they told him if we don’t surrender they will attack Jerusalem.”

I looked up, squinting in the sun. “It doesn’t matter what the Assyrians say,” I said. “King Hezekiah asked the prophet Isaiah what we should do. Isaiah said we should trust the Lord and not fight.”

Amos stood with his arms folded. I turned and left.

That evening I ran up the stairs to the top of Jerusalem’s city wall. I tripped on the top step, but Dad was waiting and caught me with his strong arms.

“Ah, here’s my son,” Dad said. I handed him the small bundle Mom had sent. “And this must be my favorite dinner. Thank you for bringing it. Let’s sit and eat.”

After a brief blessing, we ate dinner—flat bread filled with spicy lentils and chickpeas.

It was dusk when we finished. I positioned myself next to the wall and peered at the Assyrian army camp. Campfires glowed like the lamp in our window at home. Mom always kept the lamp lit whenever Dad was stationed at the watchtower.

“Dad,” I asked, “do the Assyrians worship Heavenly Father?”

“They worship a pagan god, but not the True and Living God,” he answered.

The bows and arrows stacked near the watchtower were covered for protection from the weather. I stared at them, deciding if I should tell Dad about Amos. I took a deep breath. The words gushed from me like water from a knocked-over pitcher. “Amos says the Assyrians will attack us if we don’t surrender. He says they might destroy us.”

Dad sighed. “Amos is 12 years old. It’s hard to know what to do when you’re 12.” He paused a long moment before he continued, “And sometimes it’s hard to know what to do when you have a 12-year-old son.”

I didn’t understand why having a son would make it difficult to know what to do. Was Dad wondering if he should fight?

Dad thumped the bulwark on the wall and said, “When King Hezekiah knew the Assyrians were coming, he had us prepare. We built this wall strong so they couldn’t come inside. We also built a tunnel to bring water into Jerusalem. And we stored food, so we will have plenty to eat.”

Dad looked me in the eye. “King Hezekiah is wise,” he said. “He prepared for battle, but then he asked the prophet Isaiah what the Lord’s will is. And you already know what the prophet said.”

I nodded, then asked, “Will the Assyrians come inside Jerusalem and destroy the temple?”

Dad shook his head and said softly, “I don’t know what will happen, but I trust the Lord God and follow His prophet.” A smile creased his face. “Why don’t we pray for our prophet and for our city?”

We knelt together and bowed our heads. Dad’s words hummed in my ears. In my heart I prayed that the men at Jerusalem’s wall would be protected. I also prayed for my family, the prophet Isaiah and the temple.

At home I watched the lamp’s flame flicker as I fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning when bright rays of light danced across the floor. The blanket Mom covered me with during the night flew off as I ran to the doorway. I held my breath and listened for the trumpet call of battle. All I heard was chickens clucking.

My lungs filled with relief.

“I’m going to see what’s happening at the city gate,” I called to Mom. “Bye!”

I dashed outside. As I neared the wall, I saw Amos climbing the stairs.

“Amos,” I called out, “are the Assyrians attacking?”

“I don’t think so,” Amos cried.

I gulped air as I climbed the stairs. A row of men looked over the wall. The bows and arrows were still stacked by the watchtower.

Dad leaned against the wall. I rushed next to him to survey the Assyrian army.

“Are the Assyrians leaving?” I asked. “Why aren’t they taking all their tents and supplies?”

Dad scrutinized the Assyrian army. “We sent a scout to find out what the Assyrians are doing,” he said. “It might be a ploy to lure us out and then attack. Look, here he comes.”

The scout ran toward the city gate. It opened and he almost collapsed when he came inside. Crowds gathered around him while he panted the news.

“The Assyrians. Dead. Thousands struck down. . . . They’re leaving. The Assyrians are leaving!”

Everyone around us cheered. Dad and I just headed home to put out the lamp.

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