“There it is again,” the man said to no one in particular. He was a tall man, though it did not seem so at the moment due to his squatting position next to the worn fence rail he was fixing. He looked up and stared toward a distant ridge. The barren open countryside was a canvas of various shades of brown, dotted only here and there with splotches of green. A few meager goats and a donkey were fenced in near the house, separating them from the olive grove beyond. Three teenage children worked in a small garden filled with the family’s favorite vegetables and herbs.
The man cocked his head to the side, listening intently. His eyes squinted as he tried in vain to see what it was he had heard. “Zimari! Zimari, did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” came a woman’s voice from inside the house.
“That...that sound.”
The woman stepped out of the door and looked at her husband. Although not very tall, Zimari was a muscular woman. Dark complected, with fiery eyes, she was not beautiful but very intriguing. The woman listened for a moment, looked at her husband and responded, “What sound?”
Her husband seemed a bit bewildered. He looked at her and then toward the hills. “I don’t know. It... it sounded like...” He stopped suddenly as he heard the sound again. And by the look on Zimari’s face, she heard it too. “That sound,” he exclaimed and stared toward the distant hills.
The children in the garden stopped their work and looked toward the hills also. “What’s that noise, Father?” asked the youngest. The sound grew louder and soon other children came out of the house, and they, too, stared toward the distance.
Suddenly, over one of the hills, appeared a procession of people—a parade. Scores of people walked, marched and danced along the dusty road. There were soldiers with spears. A group of Levites were clad in their ceremonial garments. Musicians, singers and dancers. It was the most festive looking event they had ever seen. Music cascaded through the hills as the procession serpentined along. Shouts of joy interspersed the songs.
Zimari and her husband and children stood with their mouths hanging open. They had never seen anything like this in their lives. They have never even imagined such a scene.
Of course, every year they made a four-day pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Others joined them along the route and ultimately became a procession of sorts. In Jerusalem they had encountered hundreds—perhaps thousands—of people. But this…this was different. Never had they viewed a parade with music and dancing. And certainly not one coming toward their house. They didn’t know what to think.
“What it is it, Obed? What’s going on?” Zimari glanced back and forth from her husband to the approaching procession.
“I... I don’t know...” The man looked concerned. The suddenly he blurted out, “Wait! Look, Zimari. That must be the Ark of God!”
Right in the middle of the parade, where Obed pointed, was a wooden cart pulled by two oxen. On the cart was a large golden box with great golden angelic figurines on the top. The Ark of God was Israel’s prized possession: the place where God chose to make His presence known. To those who really understood, this was, without question, the most significant object on the face of the earth. The Ark was the place where the Lord Himself was revealed to His people.
Of course, thought Obed, they’re bringing the Ark back to Israel. That’s why all the music and dancing. The presence of God is returning to His people.
Obed, Zimari and their children stood staring as the procession approached. The sights and sounds were almost more than they could comprehend.
As the procession drew closer, the family soon recognized their king, David, God’s chosen. He was a little above average height with a muscular build and a ruddy complexion. He was a handsome man and looked very regal in his kingly garments. Obed and Zimari had seen him before from a distance in Jerusalem, but now he was about to go right past their house.
“The king of Israel, in front of our home, Obed” gasped Zimari. “Maybe we should offer him something to eat or drink.”
“I don’t know if that would be appropriate. Perhaps he...” Obed never finished his sentence. He looked on as one of the oxen pulling the cart stumbled. The cart lurched forward, then tipped slightly to one side. Had it not been for the quick action of the man walking next to the cart, the Ark would have ended up on the ground. Just in time he reached up a firm hand and steadied the Ark in place. But just as suddenly, Obed heard the most horrific, deafening sound he had ever encountered in his life. A lightning bolt broke through the clear blue sky and the man who had steadied the Ark lay dead in the road.
Silence. Long, forceful, eerie silence. No one moved. No one breathed. No one dared to be the first to break the stillness. Everyone stared motionless at the dead man. Then a loud, long, primal scream. And King David ran to the man and fell to his knees on the ground next to him, shouting, “No!!” He paused and shook his head madly and looked up toward the sky. Then came an angry shout, “Why, God?! Why?!”
The smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. No one danced. No instruments played. Still no one dared even to move. Eyes darted back and forth between the king and the dead man, but no one spoke. No one knew quite what to do. This was certainly not what they bargained for when the day began.
Those who were near the Ark tried to shuffle away very slowly, unnoticed. They weren’t certain, but the Ark seemed somehow connected to all this. The object that moments before had been a cause for celebration now became an object of dread.
Finally, David, as if in slow motion, stood up. He stood staring at the ground for several minutes. At last he turned to a few of the men nearby. He spoke with kingly authority, “Find poles to move the Ark into this house. We’ll leave it here for now.” Then he walked slowly toward Obed and Zimari with eyes to the ground. As he got close to them, he looked up. “Is this your home?” David asked...