A Lineage of Grace by Francine Rivers Read Free Book Online Page A

with tears. “You are the head of this household.”
    Color surged into Judah’s face and his mouth tightened. Grimacing, he searched her face. He frowned slightly, then spoke softly. “The God of Jacob turns rock into springs of water. Or can crush a man’s life with a thought.” His eyes were bleak.
    “Where does he dwell?”
    “Anywhere He wants. Everywhere.” Judah shrugged. “I can’t explain what I don’t understand.” He frowned, his gaze distant. “Sometimes I don’t want to know. . . .”
    “How did your people come to know of him?”
    “He spoke to Abraham, and He has spoken to my father.”
    “As you and I are speaking? Why would a god of such power lower himself to speak to a mere man?”
    “I don’t know. When Abraham first heard Him, He was . . . a voice. But the Lord comes anytime and in any way He wishes. He spoke to Abraham face-to-face. My father wrestled a blessing from Him. The Angel of the Lord touched my father’s hip and crippled him forever. Sometimes He speaks in . . . dreams.” The last seemed to trouble him deeply.
    “Has he ever spoken to you?”
    “No, and I hope He never does.”
    “Why?”
    “I know what He would say.” Judah sighed heavily and leaned back, tossing the bread onto the tray.
    “Every god demands a sacrifice. What sacrifice does your god require?”
    “Obedience.” He waved his hand impatiently. “Don’t ask me any more questions. Give me peace!”
    Blushing, she murmured an apology. She was no better than Bathshua, battering him with her needs, her desires. Ashamed, Tamar withdrew. “Do you wish me to ask Bathshua to serve you?”
    “I’d rather be stung by a scorpion. I want to be alone.”
    Acsah followed her from the room. “What did you say to upset him so?”
    “I merely asked a few questions.”
    “What sort of questions?”
    “Just questions, Acsah. Nothing that need concern you.” Acsah would not comprehend her quest for understanding the God of Judah’s fathers. Acsah worshiped the same gods Bathshua and her sons did, the same gods Tamar’s mother and father and sisters and brothers worshiped. Why was she so different? Why did she hunger and thirst for something more?
    “Everything you do concerns me,” Acsah said, clearly annoyed. “I am your nurse, am I not?”
    “I don’t need one today.” She couldn’t tell Acsah that she wanted to know about the God of Judah. While everyone around her worshiped idols of stone, wood, or clay, she merely pretended. The gods of her father and mother had mouths but never spoke. They had eyes, but could they see? They had feet but never walked. Could they think or feel or breathe? And she had seen a truth about them: Those who worshiped them became like them, cold and hard. Like Bathshua. Like Er. Like Onan. Someday, Shelah would be the same.
    There was nothing cold about Judah. She felt his brokenness. She saw his anguish. Why didn’t the others who were supposed to love him? His wife! His sons! They didn’t seem to care about anyone but themselves.
    Judah was a Hebrew and strong; yet Tamar saw he was bitterly unhappy and tormented. He never seemed to have a moment’s peace, even when left alone and in silence. Everything couldn’t be blamed on a selfish, contentious wife and quarrelsome sons. There must be other reasons, deeper and more complex. If Bathshua knew what they were, she never spoke of them to anyone. She didn’t even seem to care what her husband suffered. She merely complained that Judah brooded every time he returned from seeing Jacob.
    Tamar frowned, wondering.
    Perhaps Judah’s despair had something to do with his father’s grieving.
    And the brother who had been lost.
    * * *
    Judah wished he hadn’t returned to his house so quickly. Far better had he returned to his flocks and seen to the animals Er too often neglected in his absence. His eldest had handed the full responsibility over to Onan after three short days! Er was a fool and useless as a shepherd. He had no