Little known Bible Stories #1: Great Aunt Sherah

   Ephraim was very sad. He had heard some awful news. Two men in his family had been killed in a cattle-rustling incident. Yep! Really! Cattle -rustling. In the Bible! Remember how Israel (Jacob) had purposefully placed his right hand on young Ephraim's head and blessed him? Well, at this point in his life, it sounds like Ephraim felt like a failure. His relatives all gathered around him to comfort him, but he was very upset.
 
   Not long after this a baby boy was born into the family. Ephraim called him, Beriah which basically means that his family is a big mess! Evil, shameful things had happened. Where was the blessing? Then, God gave them a little girl. Perhaps Ephraim died believing that he had failed. But, he didn't realize the lasting impact this little girl would have on the whole nation of Israel.

   Maybe when she was a small child she had a different name, but she became known as, Sherah, which means 'our female relative.' Evidently everyone was proud to be related to her. The Bible doesn't say she ever got married, or had kids, but, she built something that lasted hundreds, even thousands of years. Three cities! The foundations of the cities still exist today. Bethhoron the nether, and the upper and Uzzensherah (which means: listen to Sherah).

  The only place she is mentioned is in one little verse in I Chronicles 7:24. It says that she built three cities, but here is a mystery. You see, her people lived in Egypt during her lifetime, but the three cities she built are in the land of Canaan. The future home of her people.

  Did she build these cities in faith that her descendants, or descendants of her nieces and nephews would move there one day? I'm not sure, but, what I do know, is that a descendant of her brother visited these cities many years later. Perhaps you have heard of this little nephew of hers. We know him by the name of Joshua.

  It was this young man who came back to the other Israelites, after visiting the land of promise, and spoke with confidence in His God. "It is a land flowing with milk and honey!" he joyfully reported. But, Joshua, and his buddy Caleb, soon tore their clothes as they heard the crying of the other spies. Everyone else wanted to give up and go home. It was too hard. Too many giants. Too many obstacles. "I wanna go back to Egypt" they cried.  But, I'm guessing Egypt wasn't home to Joshua. I can just imagine him thinking, "My aunt built me a city up north of here. We're almost home. Let's go!"

  It was an old man, Joshua, who said the famous words, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord!" As he finally led a new generation into the Land of Promise! A generation raised on manna and miracles.

  It was an even older Joshua who finally reached the cities his aunt had built for him and his family. There were many of them now.

  Did I happen to mention exactly where those cities were? Have you ever heard of Gibeon, or the valley of Ajalon? Maybe not, but, what about the story of the sun and moon standing still? Sound familiar? Joshua 10 has the whole story. Go back and read it and see if you can find one of Sherah's cities mentioned. (hint: It is Bethoron.)

  There the elderly Joshua stood, still strong in body and faith, fighting against the enemies that were blocking his was to what was rightfully his: The cities built by Sherah!  They were fighting, winning, but it was getting late.

  "Sun! Stand still! Hold it right there, moon!" he requested. And, somehow, they stopped! It was like all of the natural world held it's breath as Joshua and his army fought and got he victory over their enemies.

  It is said that there was no day like that before, or after, that the LORD listened to the voice of a man. The LORD fought for Israel. The LORD fought for Joshua.

  I wonder if God let Sherah see a glimpse of that day. I wonder if, as she drew the plans and directed her workers...as she searched for the perfect stones to build a firm foundation for her cities...if maybe, just maybe she dreamed of a day the sun and moon would pause as her family finally came home.

  The foundation she laid is still there. Her cities stayed!

  So, Aunties, fear not! We do not know the names of Joshua's mother, or grandmother. But, we do know the name of a great-great auntie!

  One of her cities is named: Uzzen-sherah, which means "listen to Sherah." I'm guessing her relatives did listen to her. I'm guessing her nephew, Joshua, listened and inherited her boldness and faith.

 Dear aunties, may your nieces and nephews never forget the foundations you lay for them, nor the great cities you build for them. Thank you for teaching the children in your lives to: reach high; be bold; have faith; and not be afraid,  -while their parents are busy just surviving.

  We are proud to call you our sister, or aunt, or relative! We need you and we will NEVER FORGET YOU!

Why Haven't I Heard This Before? Story #1

EGYPT

            4,000 years ago… maybe a little more, maybe a little less… there lived a young man who was 17 years old. He came to Egypt as a slave. Some men on camels had come by the camp where this man and his brothers were taking care of a huge flock of sheep and goats. His brothers sold him to the men on camels!! They were tired of hearing him talking and telling stories, so they sold him! What a horrible thing to do to your little brother! The men on the camels didn’t care. All they cared about was money.

            This was a very long time ago and there were not as many people on earth as there are now. People were strong and very smart, but there were not very many of them. They did not have very many big cities. They did not have big machines. They had to do most of their work by using their brains and their muscles.

 This slave was very strong and very smart. The Egyptians would like to have such a man as a slave! Don’t worry. Most of the Egyptians at this time in history were very kind to their slaves. The slaves had to work hard, but they had plenty to eat and time to rest.

The men on the camels sold this guy to a very important man in Egypt. He was a captain in Pharaoh’s army. He needed someone young and smart to help him take care of his big house. He soon found out that this man was just the guy he needed. When the captain was gone his slave took care of everything. He was good at math. He kept track of everything the captain had. He figured out how much money and food and other stuff he had. He figured out ways to make it so the captain had even more and did not waste anything. The captain was very pleased.

However, the captain’s wife was not nice! She did not like it that her husband gave this slave so much responsibility. You see, this slave was a Hebrew. Hebrew people were looked down on in Egypt. Hebrew people lived in tents, not beautiful stone houses like the Egyptians. Hebrew people lived in the wilderness and wandered from place to place. Egyptians lived in beautiful, strong cities next to a cool, life-giving river called the Nile River. But, the worst thing of all is: The Hebrews stunk!!! They smelled like goats and sheep, because they were shepherds! The Egyptians were very clean people. They shaved the hair off their bodies, they took lots of baths in the river. The Hebrews had long beards and lots of hair. The looked and smelled nasty!! Also, the Hebrews ate goat meat and lamb meat. What did the Egyptians eat? They ate beef! They thought beef was better. They thought people who ate goats and sheep were gross and disgusting. They wouldn’t even let them eat at the same table with them!

But, this slave boy didn’t mind. He kind of liked to eat by himself. He shaved his beard. He washed his hands and face. He dressed like an Egyptian. He probably even ate beef sometimes.

The Captain’s wife was impressed. Eventually she got a crush on this slave. He looked pretty cute all cleaned up! Sometimes, when her husband was gone, she would to try to get the slave to pay attention to her, or hold her hand, or tell her she was pretty, or maybe even… KISS her!!!! This was very wrong! The Egyptians and the Hebrews both believed that it was wrong!

The slave ignored her and kept diligently doing his job. He did exactly what his master told him to do.

“Why won’t you even look at me?” the lady asked. “Come and sit next to me!” she demanded.

“I can’t.” the slave answered. “My master has given me directions on taking care of everything in this house. There is only one place I am not allowed. That is your room. There is only one person I am not in charge of. That is you. He trusts me very much. I do not want to make him mad. Please go away!”

The Captain’s wife was very angry! She got madder and madder. By the time her husband came home she had thought of a way to get rid of this slave. She told her husband a lie. She said the slave, that disgusting Hebrew slave, had tried to hurt her.

The Captain was very angry!

“Why would you hurt my wife? I told you that she was the only thing you were not allowed to touch. I gave you freedom to do anything else, but the one thing I said no to, you did!”

He did not give the slave a chance to answer. He sent him to prison!

Would the slave live in prison the rest of his life? He wasn’t sure, but he decided that maybe that is where God wanted him to be. He knew he had done nothing wrong. He worshiped one God. The Creator. The Egyptians had many gods and idols. They even worshiped the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh was their ruler. If Pharaoh said something everyone did it! But, the slave didn’t tell the Egyptians they were wrong. He just kept praying to his God. He kept obeying the rules his family followed.

The man in charge of the prisoners was very impressed with this young man. He soon found out he could trust him to do whatever he asked him to do. Soon this slave was pretty much in charge of whatever happened in the prison. Do you think the prison was a nasty place to be? It was not a fun place. But, the Egyptians did not torture their prisoners. If what they did was really bad, the Pharaoh would have them killed. They would get beaten as a punishment sometimes too. If they were really bad criminals that did not deserve to be killed, they might put them in a hole in the ground by themselves for a while. But, the prison this slave went to was just a building with lots of rooms. They weren’t allowed to leave, but, they were fed and taken care of.

One day the man in charge of the prisoners called the Hebrew slave to him. The slave’s beard had grown. His hair had grown. His clothes were ragged. But, the man still liked him.

“It is Pharaoh’s birthday in a few days.” The man said. “Pharaoh was planning a party for himself and something happened. I’m not sure if he got a belly ache, or what, but he got very angry. He thought one of his servants tried to poison him. The Chief Baker and the Chief Butler are both here as new prisoners. Your job is to take care of them while they are here.”

 The Chief Baker was supposed to make sure Pharaoh’s food was not poisoned. The Chief Butler was supposed to make sure whatever he drank was not poisoned. One of them had not done their job! The Pharaoh sent them both to prison while he could think of what to do.

Some times and places in history, the King, or Emperor, would have just killed them both! But, the ancient Egyptians tried to be fair.

While they were there the baker and butler both had dreams. The Hebrew slave told them what the dreams meant and they both came true! The Baker was in trouble! The Butler was cleared. The Baker was killed. The Butler could leave the prison to go back to the palace to work for the Pharaoh.

“Please.” The slave said. “Don’t forget about me. Tell the Pharaoh I am stuck here in prison and I didn’t do anything wrong. Ask him to set me free.”

“I will tell him.” The Butler promised. He knew the Hebrew slave was good and kind.

So, the Butler left. Do you think he told Pharaoh? Do you think Pharaoh felt sorry for the Hebrew slave and let him come out of prison? Yes and no. The Butler forgot all about that slave who had helped him so much during those dark days in prison. He got back to the palace and worked harder than ever. He was very careful about everything he did. He spent every day right next to the Pharaoh. They talked about many things, but they never once talked about the Hebrew slave.

Years went by and the Hebrew slave got older, and hairier and stinkier. He kept praying to God. He kept doing what was right. He kept being kind, even to people who were not kind to him.

One day someone came running to the prison with a very important message directly from the Pharaoh. It was a message about the Hebrew slave! He was to shave his hair and take a bath. He was to put on clean clothes. He must hurry very quickly!

The Butler had finally remembered. The Pharaoh had had a dream. Some people say the Pharaoh’s name was Djoser. We will say that was his name.  Pharaoh Djoser needed the Hebrew slave to tell him what his dream meant.

Joseph (the Hebrew slave) hurried and got ready. He didn’t look, or smell, or sound like a Hebrew. He had learned many things during his years in prison. He could probably speak different languages from being around the prisoners. He could read and write. He was still very smart and very good.

“I cannot tell you what your dream means.” He told Pharaoh. “But, my God can!”

      Pharaoh listened. He liked this man. He was not young anymore. Maybe he was even older than the Pharaoh. Pharaoh looked up to him for advice. He called him his father. He called him many names. Egyptians often had more than one name. Their names told different things about them. One name the Pharaoh gave him was Zaphnath-paaneah which might mean that he could reveal secrets or save life. Another name might have been Imhotep which means the voice of God. In English we call his name: Joseph which means: He shall add.

             

            He helped Egypt prepare for a famine that was coming. He built a city for storing the grain. He might have even built the first pyramid that the other pyramids were patterned after.

    When the famine came, Joseph’s family heard that there was grain in Egypt. They went down there to buy food. They didn’t know that the man in charge of selling the grain was their little brother.

Joseph was kind, even to them. Soon the whole family moved to Egypt. The Pharaoh let them come and even bring their stinky goats and sheep. They couldn’t live too close to the palace though, of course. So, Joseph asked for them to be allowed to live in an area called Goshen.

  Joseph’s family was very happy. They were sorry they had been so mean. Their children grew up looking up to Joseph. The Egyptians also looked up to the man they called Imhotep. He taught them to use medicine to help people, not hurt them. He lived to be 110 years old! The Egyptians made his body into a mummy. Some people think they made have found his grave near the first pyramid that was built in Egypt. The pyramid he might have built! But, some people say that wasn’t it. Either way something is missing. Do you know what is missing? His body. They cannot find the mummy of Imhotep. No one has found the mummy of this famous and well-loved Imhotep.

Why not? Do you know?

Well, IF Imhotep was Joseph, then it is because his body is farther north! Joseph asked his grandchildren and nieces and nephews to take his body with them when they left Egypt. He wanted to be buried in his home country. So, 400 years later they took his body with them and buried him in Shechem. This is in the land of Canaan.

This all happened a very long time ago. The only facts we can be sure of are what we read in the Bible. But, it would make sense if Imhotep was Joseph and the pictures on the following links, are from the place he built to store grain 4,000 years ago.

  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBDbDeepyS4 Joseph in Egypt Ron Wyatt

Saqqara Pharaoh Djoser pyramid and complex

http://creationwiki.org/Pharaoh_Djoser_%28Netjerikhet%29_was_the_Pharaoh_of_Joseph

http://creationwiki.org/Joseph_and_Imhotep

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kX3S4aQ0khM

http://apxaioc.com/article/ancient-egyptian-setting-joseph-story-0

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/imhotep.shtml

https://www.wakingtimes.com/2015/11/12/imhoteps-legacy-in-the-age-of-weaponized-medicine/

Pharoah Djoser 16^th paharoah of 3^rd dynasty

In the bend of the road

It is 2:00 AM. It has been a long time since I got out of bed in the night to write. It has been even longer since I stayed up to finish a good book! I knew I would write today. -tonight. I have so much on my mind, my heart. I don't know what it is.... during the day I can't seem to focus. I didn't remember my blog site, or name, but this computer remembered it for me, and here I am. I really need some quiet time. Long stretches of thinking and meditating and pondering. "The Apothecary's Daughter" by Julie Klassen calmed my mind and helped me gather my thoughts.

There seems to be something about reading a fictitious story and living many years in just a few hours time, that helps me make sense of what is going on in my world too! I don't understand it yet, but reading and writing are my way to process things, so hopefully it will make sense in a page or two (hopefully it won't take 200 pages!!).

Real life! It is harder to guess, to understand. Who are the good guys and who are the bad guys? No, that isn't my question. My question is: Why must there always be good guys and bad guys? Why can't everyone be good? I really want to believe that everyone wants to be good. I want to believe that even the bad guys would become good if just given a chance.
 If they were loved.
If it was explained to them in just the right way.
If someone showed them how good being good feels.

Do they really want to be evil? Do people, in this story that I am in, really want to destroy innocent people?

I want to rewrite the story... or maybe finish it from where it is...
No, not the one I just read. The true story. The one about my neighbors. People from my town. A night exactly two weeks ago that shook us. A night when a stranger was on the loose in our woods. An invader who came in and shot a young, brilliant, loved, local policeman. A night when my neighbors locked their doors and loaded their guns. But, I slept. I was sad, but not really too scared. And the next morning when we learned the name of the stranger. One of our own. Not someone from the city. But, an evil one in our midst. Even as I write this it feels wrong. I cannot say that someone is evil! I do not know them. I am not their judge. I do not know their hearts... or do I? But, a voice of accusation whisper in my head: "Your town raises cop killers!"
"No!" I shake my head. We are kind people. We like our solitude. Maybe we don't always follow all the rules exactly (I mean, the speed limit used to be 40, instead of 35), but we respect the law and our public servants. We take care of our own and call authorities as a last resort, but we respect authority figures.
I look at my son playing with toy soldiers after coming home from visiting the memorial along the side of the road where 'it happened.' What can I say?  How can I raise him to be good and law-abiding and respectful?
It is easy to grieve for the policeman's family. They have so much support. But, what about the bad guys' family? They are not allowed to grieve his passing. He deserved to die. I was relieved to read he was no longer a threat. - that we wouldn't have to endure hearing about endless court case like we did with his brother. But, part of me is very sad too. A weary feeling that I don't understand.
Someone said something that reminded me of a verse:

Romans 5:7 King James Version (KJV)

7 For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to die.

8 But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

It is not shocking at all that our community reached out to the fallen officer's family and other officers. The support for our public servants is overwhelming. But, if we really want to be Christlike, we should show love to the murderer's family too. But, how can we? They hate us! The are evil! We cannot trust them!

They too have children who lost their father that night. Some to prison, some to death. One child also lost a Grandmother the same day.

I know where some of them live! Chance are pretty good I may pass them in the store, or at a park. I might not know it is them.

I don't want them to be my enemy. 

I can hear a small child's voice, in my imaginary story, playing with his toys. "Bang, bang! I shoot you dead! Hahaha!"  I saw a kid play like that at a day care center where I once worked. Very disturbing! "No!" I shout at the page. Delete that!  This is how it goes: The child grows up loved and befriended and encouraged. The community raises funds to send him to college to follow his dreams. He grows up to follow his passion. Not of killing, but something helpful. Productive to society. Someone we can be proud of. 

In my story someone starts some kind of program to help families of criminals  to change. To become GOOD people! 

But, somehow it doesn't even work on paper. Even made-up stories have bad guys. If the bad guy starts to turn around and be good, do you know what I do as a reader? I ask, "Well, if that guy isn't the bad guy, who is?!" 

I guess I know, deep inside. There is evil and there is good. There are vessels of honor and vessels of dishonor.

We recently watched a video called: "The End of the Spear" Sometimes violent, blood-thirsty men do turn their lives around. If we kill them they lose their chance to choose good. Missionaries willingly died, so that cannibals could receive the Good News!

It's not fair!!!!!

It's not fair that a sweet baby girl lost her strong, smart, loving Daddy because some fool wanted to kill a cop!

It's not fair that a couple families in our town have huge messes to clean up because the SWAT team thought they might find some evidence in their house. It's not fair that people had their privacy invaded because of something a friend, or neighbor did.

It's not fair that a family is in debt because they bailed their son out of jail for helping a friend. 

It's not fair that a family can't have a public memorial for their loved one because no one wants to host a memorial for a cop killer.

But.

 It isn't right for people to kill other people, especially for no reason. 

It isn't right for people to plot against authority figures, our government, or our public servants.

This story isn't finished. 

I can't stay up late to see the ending.

All I can do is wait for the next page to be revealed and hope that it gets better. The middle of the story is the worst!! 

(I found this in my files. I probably wrote it about 25 years ago. If you find something that I have recorded incorrectly please tell me! I tried to base the beginning of  the story on Ruth in the Bible. I took some liberties to use some favorite lines from Ruth in Grandma's story. I hope my readers can tell what is verifiable facts, and what is added )

Here is my version of the story of Ruth.. I mean Retta!

...Now, it came to pass in the days when Rutherford B. Hayes ruled our great land, that a certain man of California went to sojourn in the county of Spokane, Washington. He, his wife, and his four children.
The name of the man was Frank Sterling, and the name of his wife, Isabelle. The names of his daughters were, Lillian May, Ella Francis, and Isabelle. And, the name of his son was Loren.
As they sojourned, they came to the town of Cheyenne and continued there until the days of Washington statehood.
In the process of time Lillie and Ella took themselves husbands from the men of Spokane. The name of the one, Robert Thomas Johnstead. The name of the other Peter Anton Stevens Wagner.    
 After this, Isabelle bare a daughter to Frank, in his old age. They named the child Margretta Victoria, but they called her 'Maggie'. She was a beautiful child and well-loved [spoiled] by all.
In 1889 a great disturbance came to the family, insomuch that Isabelle fled to the land of her nativity.
So, Isabelle arose, with her youngest daughter, that she might return to her parents' house in Michigan, for she had heard how the Lord had blessed her parents in giving them peace and brotherly love. (Besides, she missed them a lot!)
Therefore, she went forth out of the place where she was, her youngest daughter with her, and they continued on their way to the train station. And, when Isabelle was about to board she saw Frank had followed them and she cried, "Go! Return to your own house! May the Lord deal with you, as you have dealt with the children and with me!"
Frank sighed guiltily and kissed the babe on the forehead ` and softly said, "I hope you have a nice trip darling!" and "The Lord grant that you may find rest in the house of your grandparents." Then he kissed her and Isabelle sharply and impatiently declared, " Surely Retta will return with me unto my people." Her voice softened as she addressed her daughter, "Turn away my daughter!