Purah by Heidi Dru Kortman

Judges 6, 7

 

 

On an ordinary afternoon, back in the time when the Midianites oppressed us, my master threshed wheat—not in the open, for he would have been noticed, but in the enclosed winepress. The breeze swirled there, lifting away the chaff. Gideon thought he was alone, but when he looked up from the work, an angel of the Lord stood there. The angel addressed my master as “Mighty Warrior,” and commanded, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand.”

When my master told me this, later in the day, I could predict his response to the words. He is the least important person in his clan, the least important family in the tribe of Manasseh. The Lord ignored that, and said my master would strike down all the Midianites together.

That night, after a command from the Lord, my master Gideon led me and nine other servants to his father’s shrine to Baal and Asherah. We demolished it, and built an altar to the Lord on that high place. For all the noise we made, we woke no one, and worked undisturbed until we completed the new altar and sacrificed Joash’s second-best bull. Gideon earned a nickname that night: “Let Baal fight with him.”

Before long, we learned the Midianites and their allies had crossed the Jordan, and camped in the Valley of Jezreel. My master blew a trumpet, calling the clan to unite behind him. He also sent messengers to the tribes of Manasseh, Asher, Zebulun, and Naphtali.

It would take a minimum of two days for them to mass with us. On the afternoon of the first day, my master took a wool fleece, and prayed on the threshing floor. He returned without the fleece, and I dared not ask whether I should fetch it.

The next morning, I heard his laughter, and found him sitting with the fleece in his lap, and a brimming bowl of water at his feet. He ordered me to marshal and count the arriving forces, and he took the fleece back to the threshing floor.

Thirty-two thousand men assembled. That night after the dew had fallen, Gideon, his hair and beard wet, tossed the dry fleece at me and said it was time to move out. We marched for the rest of the night until at early morning we reached the spring of Harod at Mount Gilead, and camped.

Suddenly, over the murmured conversations of men settling themselves to rest, my master shouted, “The Lord says, ‘Anyone who is trembling with fear may turn back.’” Man after man chose honesty—twenty-two thousand of them. Then my master sent us who remained, by groups, to the spring to drink.

Most of my group dropped to their hands and knees, put their faces to the water, and guzzled. I crouched, cupped water in my palm, stood and lapped enough to ease my dry throat. It seemed wiser to stand, to see the enemy if they approached, and I knew it was easier to run at them without a bellyful.

“God says to keep the ones who do as you did, Purah. Send the rest home,” Gideon ordered. By nightfall, we’d reduced our attacking force to three hundred men.

The others had left their provisions and gear. Each of us could have burdened ourselves with thirty-three trumpets. We were so ridiculously well supplied that I almost heard God’s laughter.

That night, God invited my master to spy and listen in the Midianite camp with me. We heard a dream and its interpretation: “This can be nothing other than the sword of Gideon son of Joash the Israelite. God has given the Midianites and the whole camp into his hands.”

Gideon rushed our men into position. The three groups of a hundred men took their stands just after the shift change at the middle watch of the night. We carried trumpets, and burning torches hidden in clay jars. When we answered his trumpet with a blast from ours, it sounded like judgment. We shattered our jars on the rocky ground, and snatched up the torches before they went out. By the flaring light, we watched the Midianites slaughter one another. Some fled their countrymen. We sent our reserves from camp after them, and Ephraimites kept the enemy from crossing the Jordan.

 

 

Heidi Dru Kortman DTM

God's gifts and call are irrevocable.

heididrukortman.com.

 

Heidi Dru Kortman, a CWG Apprentice graduate, ACFW member since 2004, and Word Weaver member has published devotionals in various newsletters, and a collected volume of devotionals. Her poetry, flash fiction, and short stories have appeared in small magazines, and a website. She is applying herself to the task of writing smoothly polished fiction.