inconsolable. Onan pretended to grieve, but Tamar saw him talking and laughing with some of the young Canaanite men who had called themselves Er’s friends.
Tamar was ashamed of her own feelings. She wanted to mourn Er as a wife should, but she found herself weeping more in relief than sorrow, for she’d despised her husband. He’d held her captive in fear, and now she was free! Mingled with her grief was a deep fear of the God of Judah, who clearly possessed the power of life and death. She was more deeply afraid of this God than she had been of any man. When the Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, had struck down Judah’s eldest and most rebellious son, this God had also delivered her from a life of misery. One moment Er was breathing vows to sacrifice his children and lead his brothers astray, and the next he was dead!
Her emotions were so confused, for the truth of her situation came to roost and feast upon her thoughts. She was not delivered at all, for now she was a widow. Her situation was no better than before. In fact, it was worse! She had no husband, no son, no standing in this household. She couldn’t go home. Unless Judah did what custom demanded and gave her Onan as a husband, Tamar knew she would never bear sons or daughters at all. Her life would be useless. She would live without hope.
Only a son could deliver her!
The days passed slowly, and Judah said nothing. Tamar was patient. She hadn’t expected him to speak of the matter during the mourning period. He would do what he must, for he was wise enough to know he couldn’t leave things as they were and have his household prosper and grow. Judah’s clan needed sons and daughters, or his household would diminish and die out.
Her failure to provide children made her a failure as a woman. Judah had chosen her to bear children for his household, and her position was unchanged. She was still the girl Judah had chosen. Judah must give her Onan as a husband. Onan must sleep with her and provide a son to inherit Er’s portion. It was the way of both Canaanite and Hebrew. Brother must uphold brother.
Knowing this, Tamar didn’t spend her time worrying about when Judah would make the decision. Instead, she spent her time wondering about the God of the Hebrews. Her heart trembled when she considered the power He held. She was filled with questions but had no one to ask. Judah had made it clear he didn’t want to talk about the God of his father.
So she rolled the questions over and over in her mind, seeking answers by herself and finding none. If God struck down Er for promising his children to the gods of Canaan, why hadn’t He struck down Judah for allowing Bathshua to train up his sons in the worship of Baal? Or was the misery in Judah’s life the curse laid upon him for some unknown act of rebellion? Judah had said once that the hand of God was against him. He was convinced; therefore, it must be true. Judah would know, wouldn’t he? Fear filled Tamar at such thoughts, for if the hand of God was against Judah, what hope had any member of his family?
How do you soften the heart of a God who is angry with you? How do you placate Him when you don’t know what He wants from you? What do you offer as sacrifice? What gift can you give? Obedience, Judah had said, but Tamar didn’t know the rules to obey.
The fear of the Lord was upon her. Yet, even in her fear, Tamar felt strangely comforted. Er was no longer her master. Her fate was now in the hands of Judah. Not once during the year she’d been in this household had she ever seen her father-in-law offer sacrifices to the gods of Canaan. It was Bathshua who worshiped Baal and Asherah and a dozen others with fervent devotion. She was the one who poured out wine and oil, and cut herself. Judah kept his distance, and Bathshua never opened the cabinet where she kept her teraphim when Judah was within sight of it.
But Tamar had never seen Judah give offerings to his God either.
Did he do so
Tamar was ashamed of her own feelings. She wanted to mourn Er as a wife should, but she found herself weeping more in relief than sorrow, for she’d despised her husband. He’d held her captive in fear, and now she was free! Mingled with her grief was a deep fear of the God of Judah, who clearly possessed the power of life and death. She was more deeply afraid of this God than she had been of any man. When the Lord, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, had struck down Judah’s eldest and most rebellious son, this God had also delivered her from a life of misery. One moment Er was breathing vows to sacrifice his children and lead his brothers astray, and the next he was dead!
Her emotions were so confused, for the truth of her situation came to roost and feast upon her thoughts. She was not delivered at all, for now she was a widow. Her situation was no better than before. In fact, it was worse! She had no husband, no son, no standing in this household. She couldn’t go home. Unless Judah did what custom demanded and gave her Onan as a husband, Tamar knew she would never bear sons or daughters at all. Her life would be useless. She would live without hope.
Only a son could deliver her!
The days passed slowly, and Judah said nothing. Tamar was patient. She hadn’t expected him to speak of the matter during the mourning period. He would do what he must, for he was wise enough to know he couldn’t leave things as they were and have his household prosper and grow. Judah’s clan needed sons and daughters, or his household would diminish and die out.
Her failure to provide children made her a failure as a woman. Judah had chosen her to bear children for his household, and her position was unchanged. She was still the girl Judah had chosen. Judah must give her Onan as a husband. Onan must sleep with her and provide a son to inherit Er’s portion. It was the way of both Canaanite and Hebrew. Brother must uphold brother.
Knowing this, Tamar didn’t spend her time worrying about when Judah would make the decision. Instead, she spent her time wondering about the God of the Hebrews. Her heart trembled when she considered the power He held. She was filled with questions but had no one to ask. Judah had made it clear he didn’t want to talk about the God of his father.
So she rolled the questions over and over in her mind, seeking answers by herself and finding none. If God struck down Er for promising his children to the gods of Canaan, why hadn’t He struck down Judah for allowing Bathshua to train up his sons in the worship of Baal? Or was the misery in Judah’s life the curse laid upon him for some unknown act of rebellion? Judah had said once that the hand of God was against him. He was convinced; therefore, it must be true. Judah would know, wouldn’t he? Fear filled Tamar at such thoughts, for if the hand of God was against Judah, what hope had any member of his family?
How do you soften the heart of a God who is angry with you? How do you placate Him when you don’t know what He wants from you? What do you offer as sacrifice? What gift can you give? Obedience, Judah had said, but Tamar didn’t know the rules to obey.
The fear of the Lord was upon her. Yet, even in her fear, Tamar felt strangely comforted. Er was no longer her master. Her fate was now in the hands of Judah. Not once during the year she’d been in this household had she ever seen her father-in-law offer sacrifices to the gods of Canaan. It was Bathshua who worshiped Baal and Asherah and a dozen others with fervent devotion. She was the one who poured out wine and oil, and cut herself. Judah kept his distance, and Bathshua never opened the cabinet where she kept her teraphim when Judah was within sight of it.
But Tamar had never seen Judah give offerings to his God either.
Did he do so
Similar Books
