Introduction

Readers often think of Job sitting on the ash heap, his life in shambles. But how did he get there? What was Job's life like before tragedy struck? What did he think as his world came crashing down around him? And what was life like after God restored his wealth, health, and family?

Through painstaking research and a writer's creative mind, Mesu Andrews weaves an emotional and stirring account of this well-known story told through the eyes of the women who loved him. Drawing together the account of Job with those of Esau's tribe and Jacob's daughter Dinah, Love Amid the Ashes breathes life, romance, and passion into the classic biblical story of suffering and steadfast faith.

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Excerpt

Dinah’s leaden feet left no print in the sun-baked soil

of Grandfather Isaac’s Hebron camp. He had fought

death’s pale rider for many days, but his aging lungs fi nally

lost the battle for breath. He was gone. Her sun and moon

and stars, the only man who had seen beyond Dinah’s shame

and loved her after Shechem. Her heart felt as desolate as the

dwindling wadi, where she knelt to rinse the rags with which

she’d washed and anointed Grandfather’s body.

“Mistress.”

A small voice rippled over Dinah’s shoulder, barely louder

than the water’s fl ow. Startled from her contemplations, she

dropped the cloths into the running waters. “Oh no!” she

cried, crawling along the bank to retrieve the myrrh-scented

rags. Rocks scraped her knees, and the muddy waters churned

with each attempt to snag the cloths.

An agile, dark form jumped in front of her, rescuing the

fl oating treasures. “I’ve got them, mistress!” A young servant

girl from Grandfather’s camp stood in ankle-deep water, hand

lifted victoriously above her head, raining drops onto her

mossy, short-cropped hair. Her rich black skin and angular

cheekbones bespoke a Cushite heritage. Dinah had noticed

her among the camp’s servants, but the long hours at Grandfather’s

side kept Dinah sequestered in the family tents.

“Why do you call me mistress?” Dinah asked, reaching for

the dingy, dripping rags. “We’ve never even spoken before,

child, and I’m no better than a servant myself.” She squeezed

out the cloths and laid them in the basket slung over her arm.

“Master Job told me that I was now your handmaid—since

you’ll be marrying his son.”

Standing to full height, Dinah towered over the girl and

mimicked Abba Jacob’s thunderous declaration of the past

week. “Just because Job is the greatest man in the East,

doesn’t mean he can walk into Grandfather Isaac’s camp

and start shouting orders.”

The girl’s countenance drooped like the drought-weary

grasses of Hebron’s plains.

Regretting her harshness, Dinah placed a comforting arm

across the girl’s shoulders and began the short trek toward the

tents. “It’s just that I’m not a part of Master Job’s household

yet.” She paused, her heart wrung out like the rags in her

basket. “I’m not really a part of any household,” she whispered,

staring at the tents ahead. They walked a few more

steps in silence. “Job shouldn’t promise things that Abba

might not fulfi ll.” Glancing down at the girl beside her, she

saw disappointment mirrored on her face. Dinah wished she

could off er reassurance, but how could she comfort another

when she felt lost and alone? Besides, this little Cushite was

Grandfather’s serving maid. The way Abba Jacob and Uncle

Esau were fi ghting over Grandfather’s possessions, who knew

how the inheritance and servants would be divided?

“I’m sorry, mistress.” The girl sounded rather distracted.

Dinah noticed she had begun a little game, taking giant leaps

and tiny steps to avoid the cracks in the dry earth. “But may

I pretend to be your handmaid until your abba says differently?”

She hopped to the next small patch of smooth dirt,

balancing precariously on one foot.

Dinah steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “Only

if you stop calling me mistress.” With an arched brow, she

waited for the girl’s nod before resuming their journey toward

camp.

The girl fell in step beside her, a full span shorter than

Dinah, and continued to chatter. “Abraham was a great prince

among his people, and your Grandfather Isaac as well. So

should I call you princess?”

“Ha!” The bitter laugh broke through the stone wall of

grief, surprising even Dinah. But the smile that lingered for

this wide-eyed, innocent girl was heartfelt. “No one has ever

called me a princess, little Cushite. You may simply call me

Dinah.”

Just then the high-pitched keening of mourners began,

and Dinah searched the path over the horizon between the

poplars. As suspected, she saw Grandfather Isaac’s wrapped

body jostling in a cart on its way to the burial cave at Mamre,

north of Hebron. His sons, Jacob and Esau, followed the cart,

their hatred sparking like fl int stones. Jacob’s eleven sons

walked behind stoically. But from Esau’s bountiful clan, only

two paid homage to the patriarch. Esau’s great-grandson,

Job, mourned as if his own abba lay in the burial cart, and

Esau’s fi rstborn, Eliphaz, comforted him. The numerous

other Edomites had been rumored to worship Canaanite

gods and had little respect for Isaac, the son of Abraham,

Yahweh’s covenant bearer.

“Come.” Dinah swallowed hard, holding back the wave

of sadness threatening to drown her. “What should I call

you, little one?”

“I am Nogahla.” Her lilting voice almost obscured the

mourners’ wails.

“Come, Nogahla. I have no need of a handmaid, but I

would appreciate your help packing my supplies for the journey

to Uz.” An amiable agreement. No more words. The air

was too full of grief, uncertainty, and the mourners’ echoes.

They reached Grandfather’s camp, arranged in circular

tent rows around a large central fi re and ovens. Paths like

spokes in a wheel joined the tents of family members to

servants. The tents closest to the fi re identifi ed the highly

esteemed guests and relatives, while the servants occupied

the outlying dwellings. Dinah and Nogahla moved past the

outer realms and family tents, shooing stray herding dogs

and nodding greetings to servants. They arrived at the central

ovens, where busy hands baked bread for Esau’s soondeparting

caravans and for the relatives and servants who

would remain in Hebron.

Three tents were always at the center of camp. Grandfather

Isaac’s was closest to the fi re, Abba Jacob’s on its west side,

and Uncle Esau’s on the east. Dinah stopped, eyeing the dwell-

ings. Grandfather Isaac’s massive black tent lay empty now,

fronted by a great canopy. It had once been a busy gathering

place for visiting merchants and dignitaries who sought an

audience with the great son of Abraham. Abba Jacob’s tent

stood austere, functional, and precise—much like her abba,

the calculating twin son of Isaac. Uncle Esau’s dwelling was

crudely fashioned from various animal skins and rough-hewn

wood.

The twins’ tents were as opposite as the brothers themselves—

a constant battle between conniver and hunter.

Though almost one hundred years had passed since Abba

Jacob bought Esau’s birthright with a bowl of soup, and

nearly fi fty years since Abba stole Esau’s covenant blessing,

the brothers’ rivalry had grown stronger with each passing

year. Thankfully, they seldom visited Grandfather Isaac at

the same time. Abba Jacob spent most of his time pasturing

fl ocks and herds in Beersheba, while Uncle Esau tended his

large clan in the Seir Mountains.

Passing under Grandfather’s canopy, Dinah ducked through

the tethered fl ap on her own little tent. Her prominent location

at the center of camp had been a source of contention

when she’d arrived fi fteen years ago, but Grandfather had

settled the matter, citing his need for immediate access to

medical care. Dinah knew it was simply one of the ways he

chose to honor her.

Nogahla entered the dimly lit enclosure, and Dinah heard

her soft gasp. “Mistress! You are a physician of great wisdom.”

Determined not to chafe at the unearned adulation, Dinah

tried to imagine her little home through Nogahla’s eyes. The

myriad vials of herbs and potions, perched on her rough-hewn

cedar shelves, stung the nostrils with heady scents of cori-

ander, aloe, and myrrh. Abba Jacob’s speckled and spotted

wool rugs graced the fl oor with only a center aisle of dirt

separating her sleeping area from living space. She owned two

robes, four tunics, and three head coverings, which probably

seemed extravagant to a Cushite servant. The rest of her tent

was fi lled with herbs, unguents, and potions in every form

and fashion.

Dinah’s needs were basic and her lifestyle simple. She seldom

left the confines of the central fi re and small area between

her tent and Grandfather Isaac’s. This was her world, her

home. But no more.

For fifteen years she’d felt secure, capable, and useful as

she cared for Grandfather Isaac. Now she wondered what

truly belonged to her and what greedy Uncle Esau would

seize for himself. When the men returned from the burial

cave, she would be expected to obey Isaac’s command—to

marry Job’s son.

“Why would you say such a thing?” Dinah whispered to

the grandfather who had loved her.

“I just thought you must be a fine physician to have so

many medicines.” Nogahla’s bright eyes shone even in the

low light of the tent, undoubtedly believing Dinah had spoken

to her.

Suddenly reeling with regret, Dinah wished she were alone.

She needed time to consider Grandfather’s shocking command.

He’d given no inkling of his wishes to see her married

at this late stage in her life. Thirty-five was well past “honey

and cream” and dangerously close to “curdled milk.” And

why would he condemn me to marry a man in Esau’s clan?

But she knew the answer to that question. Because Dinah was

Jacob’s daughter, Grandfather had said her womb would be

the “garden of promise” in which Esau’s descendants could

share in the covenant blessing Jacob had deceitfully stolen.

“Ha!” A bitter laugh escaped, but this time Nogahla

seemed to realize Dinah wasn’t pondering herbs. “Men do

not look at me as a ‘garden of promise,’ Nogahla. Men see

me as dirt.”

The girl patted her shoulder gently. “Master Job does not

look at you as dirt.”

Dinah shrugged off her hand and reached for a myrrh pot

and piece of fl eece to wrap it. “Master Job only off ered his son

because Uncle Esau refused any other Edomite—even when

Grandfather was drawing his last breath.” Tears clouded her

vision. “So Job, the jewel in Esau’s crown, the golden man

of the East, stepped forward to do the righteous thing. He

off ered his fi rstborn, Ennon, to marry me, Jacob’s tainted

daughter.”

“Master Job’s eyes are clear and good.” Nogahla’s head

was bowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t believe he

would have off ered his son if he thought it would harm either

of you.”

Oh, what innocence, Dinah thought. All men eventually

harm you. She needed to blame someone for her fate, and

she refused to blame Grandfather. He had loved her too well

for too long. She wanted to hate Job. She tried to think his

wealth and success made him prideful and pompous. But

Nogahla’s hope—though utterly unthinkable—seemed well

placed. Job had been kind and compassionate, tenderly caring

for Grandfather in his dying days, gaining nothing for himself.

The best one to blame would be Uncle Esau. That hairy

red mountain of a man had always been the target of Abba

Jacob’s hatred, and he seemed well fitted for the off ering.

“Mistress, I’m sorry about Master Isaac.” Nogahla’s voice

was as soothing as balm to Dinah’s heart. “I know you loved

him.”

A single tear wet Dinah’s cheek. She wiped it quickly. “Let’s

get started packing. I don’t know which supplies will travel

with me to Uz and which will go to my abba and Uncle Esau,

but we must wrap each vial carefully.” Emotions knotted

her thoughts and more tears threatened, but she refused to

release them. “I wonder if the blossoms look the same in the

mountains of Edom?” She reached for a second pot of myrrh

and a scrap of fl eece to cradle it.

A gentle hand halted her restless arm, dismantling the thin

veil of control. “I listen well, mistress.”

“Evidently you don’t listen well, or you wouldn’t be calling

me mistress!” Words and emotion tumbled out. “My

future has been sealed like a worthless mule sent to market,

and Grandfather Isaac is gone!” Dinah hurled the myrrh pot

at the center tent post, and the pungent scent of the broken

pot fi lled the air, causing her head to swim slightly. Just

one more sign that the sleepless days and nights had left her

physically and emotionally spent. Examining the shards of

pottery on the rug, she met Nogahla’s shocked gaze. “Just

like my broken life.”

The girl reached out, leading her by the hand to a pile of

speckled and spotted rugs. Dinah sat numbly. “You’re right,

mis—Dinah. Your life is like that beautiful, shattered pot. It

has just been broken open, and the lovely scent that’s been

locked inside your heart is about to be shared with Master

Job’s son.”

Nogahla paused, her eyes begging for a response. When

none came, she picked up the pieces of pottery and retrieved

a chipped clay vial from a shelf. Wrapping both the shards

and the vial in old sackcloth, she said, “Let’s say this little

pot is my life. Something tells me that if we pack our lives

together, they’ll turn out better.” A tentative smile lifted her

cheeks. “Rest your head, mistress. I’ll pack your things. You

must rest before the men return from the burial cave.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. Was Isaac kind or cruel when he issued the command that Dinah marry a man in Esau’s clan?

2. When did Sitis’ rebellion against El Shaddai begin? As a child, when her parents died? When Bildad forced her to marry a disciple of the House of Shem? When she experienced multiple miscarriages? Or when Job destroyed the Chaldean temple?

3. After encountering Zophar at Elath, Job challenged Dinah to treasure God’s forgiveness like a gift, protecting it when others try to steal it away or replace it with shame. In what ways have you seen this truth lived out in real life?

4. What character traits and spiritual qualities enabled Job to respond to the tragedies with sincere sorrow and yet purposeful praise?

5. What character traits and spiritual qualities enabled Dinah to respond to the circumstances that faced her and Nogahla in Uz?

6. Why was it so difficult for Sitis to believe/realize Sayyid’s true character and evil intentions?

7. Nogahla shares two theories on forgiveness: 1) an olive tree – once it begins growing it’s hard to kill just as a person who has forgiven once has learned the practice and can more readily repeat it, and 2) just as a person needs a bath repeatedly, so we also need to forgive repeatedly. Which of her examples have you found to be more accurate?

8. When Sitis came to Dinah, revealing Sayyid’s plan to withhold bread from both her and Job, Dinah uses several forms of effective ministry: 1) listening and letting Sitis cry uninterrupted; 2) praying silently rather than giving advice; and 3) asking well-conceived questions at the proper moment. Which of these strategies is most difficult for you when a hurting friend needs your help?

9. What kind of lies did Sitis believe in order to succumb to Sayyid’s control? What truths set her free to receive God’s forgiveness?

10. How could Job’s friends/relatives have been so easily deceived by Sayyid?

11. Eliphaz’s speeches were bent toward spiritualizing every situation. Bildad believed tradition was the answer to every woe. Zophar valued the power of the intellect. However, all three seemed equally uncomfortable when Job spoke directly to God with unrestrained honesty. Whose spiritual personality do you resemble, and what is positive and negative about each?

12. Shouting at his relatives, Job vows that he is innocent of wrong-doing and God has wronged him. Was that true? Who was the only sinless man on earth? Is it possible for God to act unjustly?

13. Job taught Dinah that if God forgave her, she never needed to be ashamed before men; however, in his anger and resentment, Job used this golden truth like a rusty sword against his friends. Can you think of instances in which God’s truth (Scripture) might have been misinterpreted? How can we safeguard against that?

14. Has it ever occurred to you that God may have allowed your pain in order to build a deeper, more intimate relationship with you? How does that make you feel? Does that change your concept of suffering? Of God?

15. When we realize the totality of God’s immeasurable power, is it hard to believe there is NO evil in such absolute power?

16. Job’s deliverance came when his focus changed from his own righteousness to what?

17. Do you think Job struggled with the decision to pray for his friends?

18. In the story, both Job and Dinah imagine their self-perceived failings as un-lovable, and they build a wall of self-protection around their hearts. Job later identifies his fear of rejection as pride. Do you agree or disagree? Why?

19. Has God ever used a recurring theme in your life – like the hoopoe bird – to remind you of His faithfulness?

20. Looking back at some of the painful periods in your life, can you see some good things that God might have brought to bear through it? As He did through Joseph’s slavery, Dinah’s broken heart and Job’s tragedies?

Weblinks

»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Author Mesu Andrews' web site

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