The Fall of Jabesh Gilead

Joktan’s lungs screamed for breath. His feet bled. He left sandal-shaped blood prints behind him on the dusty road. His legs wouldn’t be able to support him much longer. Still, still he ran.

He was his city’s last hope.

The hills descended to the river. He splashed across it. He crawled up the bank on the other side.

Seven days. He only had seven days, or his city would die.

Joktan stumbled down the road. Keep moving.

A man called out to him. Joktan spun, searching, and finally found the silhouette of a man atop a nearby hill. Sheep scattered around him. Joktan grinned and fell over.

---

When the darkness faded from his eyes, he saw a grizzled face. “Ey! I’ve bound your feet best I can. Poured oil on them, I did. I hope it helps. You need to stay off them a while. I’ve seen sheep’s feet go bad like that. Won’t be good for you.”

Joktan sat up, shaking his head. “How long ago did I pass out?”

The shepherd looked up at the sky, noting the sun’s position. “Oh, an hour or so.”

Joktan swore.

“Ey now! None of that. The LORD won’t appreciate it, will he?”

“I don’t have time to lose. Where’s the king?”

“The who?”

“The king. King Saul. I need to find him.”

“Gibeah’s about twenty miles that way,” the shepherd pointed.

“Then I’ve got twenty miles to go.” Joktan hauled himself to his feet. He cried out in pain, but he stood. “Thank you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jabesh Gilead. My city. It’s going to be conquered by the Ammonites. They’ve given us seven days to find help, or they’ll wipe us out.” He swallowed. “Or they’ll pluck out the right eye of each of us if we surrender.”

“Gilead? Why would any Israelite help them? They don’t even really belong with us, over there on the other side of the Jordan.”

“The king is our only hope.” And Joktan set off again.

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He knew that most of Israel thought that way about any city in Gilead. Any city across the river. But they were Israelites, even if no one else realized it. And their only hope was that the king himself would choose to help them. He had to reach the king.

Twenty miles. Shouldn’t be that hard, should it? He was the fastest runner in the city. He could run faster than Shem or Manasseh or any of the others. He could do this. He had to.

And it all turned into a haze. Up and down hills. Stumbling along the road. The sun set. Thankfully it was a full moon; he could still see the road. The cold of the darkness wrapped around him. With chattering teeth he went on. Slowly, but he would not stop.

Finally the dawn. Finally he saw the city. Gibeah, the home of Saul, the king of Israel. Joktan stumbled into the city.

He collapsed at the city well.

A crowd gathered around him. Someone poured water down his mouth. Men mumbled questions at him. He gasped answers. Men cried out in grief. No, they considered the men of Jabesh Gilead their brothers. And now who would be able to protect that city?

“What about the king?” Joktan asked.

Just then a man entered the town gates leading a yoke of oxen. Mud clung to his feet and shins. Sweat stained his robes. Clearly, he was a farmer returning from the fields.

One of the men at the well waved to him. He spat, “Look, there’s your king. There’s your hope.”

The man approached. As he did, Joktan realized how very tall he was.

“What’s happened?” the tall man asked.

The man at the well gestured to Joktan. “He’s just come from Jabesh Gilead. It’s been attacked. It’s under siege. It’s going to be destroyed.”

The face of the farmer became very, very calm. Joktan held his breath. His only hope. The next words would determine the fate of his city. Of his father. Of his sisters. He prayed silently. He prayed that the LORD himself would lead the king to help.

And King Saul spoke, “Jabesh Gilead belongs to the LORD. Gather the men. We’ll go forth to rescue it.”

This story is based on I Samuel 11:1-6.