SHAMMAH IN HIS BEAN FIELD | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: SHAMMAH IN HIS BEAN FIELD | Previous Challenge Entry
By Celeste Duckworth
09/13/07
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SHAMMAH IN HIS BEAN FIELD

I, Shammah, and my entire village had worked vigorously all planting season to bring our bean crop to harvest. There was only a slight chance this crop would feed our family. The past year’s crops were plentiful and rich but with incident. The fierce Philistines descended upon our fields every harvest time.

The last three crops were stolen from us to feed their dreadful Philistine army. That left our children to starve after the pillage. I saw many die. The raging in my bones started again at the thought. Their hordes stole every bean from every stalk. Our women wept. Dread filled the village because now the harvest was here again.

We moved the fields to a more obscure location. And even took turns watching the fields at night for fear of our enemy’s eminent approach. This bean crop was our last hope to recover from the pillages of our past. The townsmen and I met to come up with something to stop this atrocity from happening again.

“Enough! They would find us again,” I knew it. I, Shamma, could not allow this to happen again!

“Look, the Philistines will come. It is impossible to hide our fields. We have to protect our families and the fields. I, for one am done with giving away my children’s lives and my harvest to thieves. Do you not all feel the same?”

A resounding roar filled the tent with hope and terror together. We would fight then. Though we were without horses or camels, we would first seek Yahweh’s help for our eminent battle. With our faces to the ground our voices filled the night air as our Protector received our petition for help. He alone is strong. We were only farmers, but the Mighty Yahweh was Supreme. Tomorrow was the first day of harvest and our day of trial as well.

A plan was put in place the next morning as we armed ourselves to stand and protect our bean field. Yahweh would help, of this I was sure. We would make a wall of men to stand against the awful thieving horde who despises our God and us.

We praised our Yahweh on the march to the lintel field. I felt our resolve was firm and true. A militant wall of men was formed around the bean field as we griped our makeshift weapons of field rakes, shovels, and hoes. A meager defense at best but was not our God with us? My heart was strong with desire to save the fields and our families.

Dust began to swirl over the new ridge. A sure sign the Philistines were rapidly approaching, likely angered the field had been moved. The morning sun ridged at the peak of the northern hill. A darkened trail of horses and camels with billowing trails of turban fabric filled the sky as the horde paused to survey their prey. The scene was ominous and foreboding.

My own heart hammered inside my chest, “This day I could die.” There must be thousands of them. Impossible.

“Ancient of Days be with us!” I bellowed into the wind.

I looked to my right and left and behold, my fellow countrymen had dropped their makeshift weapons and fled. I alone stood in the bean field. My feet wanted to flee but my heart’s resolve wouldn’t allow a movement. A decision made in a moment, “If I die, I die. I’ll not let them take the field.”

The grip on my sheath tightened and my eyes squeezed tight, I heard the bellowing war cries of Philistines as they descended upon our field. My sheath had a movement of its own and I clenched it mightily. Minutes or moments I do not know, but it was silent suddenly. As I opened my eyes, I saw Philistines slaughtered all around me, not one alive. Yet, I stood alone with blood on my sheath. Yahweh had won the battle and it was His! Our bean field was saved and our children would eat.

Great praise and violent rejoicing enveloped the town that night and the morrow held a bean harvest for us. Yahweh is Great and greatly to be praised!

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