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Previously on the Chosen People. The morning after Mount Carmel was quiet. The hills stretched golden under the first breath of sunlight. Elijah sat outside his home cross legged, his fingers curled around a simple clay cup of watered wine. For the first time in years, the tension in his body had begun to uncoil. The fire had fallen, the heavens opened, rain had come and the people collapsed in worship to Yahweh. Maybe Israel would finally return. Maybe Jezebel's grip had begun to slip. But the quiet was interrupted by the sound of running a messenger by this time tomorrow, your blood will stain the earth. You will not die a hero, you will not die a martyr. You will die as a man, abandoned, screaming for a God who will not answer. And only the rats will mourn you. That's not ink, my Lord. It's blood. The blood of the prophets of baal. Elijah went white. He didn't think, didn't speak, didn't breathe. He just ran. This is an iHeart podcast. Hello Pray.com Jill Simonian here from Prageru Kids. I am so excited to share that we are now on Spotify. You can stream all of our kids shows filled with faith and wholesome pro American edutainment anytime, anywhere. Our popular playlist Bible Stories for Kids is is now available. Perfect for kindergarten through third grade Gideon, King David, Daniel and the Lions, Noah's Ark, the Good Samaritan, and so many more. Search Prageru Kids on Spotify or head to pragerukids.com to start listening now. Shalom my friends from here in the Holy Land of Israel. I'm Yael Eckstein with International Fellowship of Christians and Jews and welcome to the Chosen People. Each day we'll hear a dramatic story inspired by the Bible stories filled with timeless lessons of faith, love and the meaning of life. Through Israel's story, we will find this truth that we are all chosen for something great. So take a moment today to follow the podcast. If you're feeling extra grateful for these stories, we would love it if you left us a review. I read every single one of them and if you're interested in hearing more about the prophetic life saving work of the fellowship, you can visit ifcj.org let's begin. You can make a difference in someone's life, including your own with a job in home care. These jobs offer flexible schedules, health care, retirement options and free training. They also provide paid time off and opportunities for overtime. Visit OregonHomeCareJobs.com to learn more and apply. That's OregonHomeCareJobs.com this Labor Day. Say goodbye to spills, stains and overpriced furniture with washablesofas.com featuring Annabe, the only machine washable sofa inside and out where designer quality meets budget friendly pricing. Sofas start at just $6.99, making it the perfect time to upgrade your space. Anibase Pet Friendly, Stain resistant and interchangeable slipcovers are made with high performance fabric built for real life. You'll love the cloud like comfort of hypoallergenic high resilience foam that never needs fluffing and a durable steel frame that stands the test of time with modular pieces you can rearrange anytime. It's a sofa that adapts to your life now through Labor Day. Get up to 60% off site wide@washablesofas.com and every order comes with a 30 day satisfaction guarantee. If you're not in love, send it back for a full refund. No return shipping, no restocking fees, every penny back. Shop now@washablesofas.com Offers are subject to change and certain restrictions may apply. Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway. It is hot out there this summer, right? But don't sweat it. We got tons of ways to save on your family's favorite personal care items to keep yourself feeling cool and smelling good. Now through September 9th. Earn four times points when you shop for items from your favorite brands like Right Guard Raw Sugar, Dove Soft Soap and Olay. Then use your points for discounts on groceries or gas on future purchases. Offer end September 9th. Restrictions apply. Offers may vary. Visit albertsons or safeway.com for more details. The throne room of Samaria reeked of sweat and stale wine, the air thick with the sour tang of a ruler who had long abandoned discipline. Ahab, King of Israel, slumped in his ornate seat, a cup of wine dangling precariously from his fingers. He was a man who had once commanded armies, but had since found soless in the dull embrace of indulgence. His robes, once pristine, were stained with food and drink, his girth straining against the fabric. A servant hesitated at his side, uncertain whether to refill the goblet or wait for permission that never came. The doors groaned open and a scout stumbled in, breathless and wide eyed with terror. My king, the Arameans are here. They march upon Samaria and Ahab squinted at the man as though struggling to comprehend words that did not involve drink or leisure. He exhaled heavily, shifting in his seat with the effort of a man unused to sudden movement. Here already Bah. Let them march walls stand for a reason. Jezebel. Jezebel. Jezebel. Where is that woman? As if conjured by the mention of her name, Queen Jezebel appeared in the doorway, her presence sharp and cold, the flickering torchlight carving shadows across her angular face. She was not adorned in full regalia, but even in a simple gown, she commanded more authority in a single glance than Ahab did with his crown. She studied her husband, then the scout, then the cup in Ahab's hand, and sighed. Drunk before noon. Impressive, even for you. Ahab's fingers twitched. He dared not meet her gaze directly. How many? The scout swallowed hard. All of them are. King Ben Haddad has come with 32 kings and their armies. Their camp stretches beyond the hills. They send a messenger. Jezebel's expression remained unreadable, but her fingers tapped absently against her wrist. Ahab groaned, pushing himself upright with considerable effort. Let's hear what the dog wants. What did the messenger say? Thus speaks Ben Hadad, king of Aram. Your silver and your gold are mine. Your best wives and children are also mine. Give them freely and Samaria will remain untouched. Silence swallowed the room. Ahab blinked, his mind sluggish with wine and disbelief. Jezebel folded her arms, her lips twitching slightly as though she had just been told an amusing joke. But my wives, My silver. He can't, jezebel interrupted, stepping closer, her voice ablaze through the murk of his hesitation. Oh, he can. And why not? He is a real king, after all. Ahab's stomach tightened. There was something in her voice, something pointed. She watched him now like a cat watching a mouse struggle beneath its paw. Ben Hadad is a conqueror, a warrior, I imagine. He takes what he wants with strength and confidence. Ahab's fingers clenched the goblet. A cruel smirk ghosted across Jezebel's lips before she turned away as though bored. Tell Ben hey, dad. Tell him it is as he says. He may have what he asks for. The messenger nodded once and turned to leave. Jezebel tilted her head, her expression unreadable. As soon as the doors shut behind him, she turned to Ahab, voice like venom wrapped in silk. The great King of Israel bowing like a servant. What a legacy. Ahab flinched, his throat working soundlessly. Before he could answer, the doors burst open again. The same scout returned. Benhadad sends new terms. He says that he will not only take your gold, your wives, and your children, but tomorrow his men will enter Samaria and take whatever pleases them. The man trembled, wondering if he should relay the next part. He suggests you set the tables and pour the wine in preparation. Ahab's face darkened. For all his weaknesses, even he could recognize when he was being mocked. He looked at Jezebel, but for once she remained silent, her face unreadable. His gaze swept the room, meeting the eyes of his elders and officials. Council, what do you say? The elders, sensing the line that had been crossed, murmured among themselves before one stepped forward. Do not listen to him, nor agree to his terms. Ahab swallowed, suddenly more sober than he had been all day. He turned back to the messenger, straightening with effort. Tell Ben Heydad that I agreed to his first demand. But this. This I will not allow. The young man bowed and departed. One of the elders shifted in his seat. We may need to prepare for war, my king. Silence held the room in its grip. Then Jezebel exhaled sharply and walked toward the balcony, looking out over the city below. Ahab hesitated before following. Standing beside her, his breath reeked of drink, but his hands trembled less than before. We cannot win this fight. Jezebel didn't look at him. Then you should pray that your God intervenes. If he still listens to cowards. Ahab closed his eyes. Below in the distant hills, fires burned as the Aramean army settled into their siege. Thunder rumbled overhead. A storm was coming, and for the first time in years, Ahab wondered if the God of Israel might still be watching. The throne room was quieter now, the weight of impending war settling over Samaria like a fog. Ahab sat hunched forward, his fingers tangled in his beard, his goblet untouched at his side. For once he was sober, though the lack of wine did little to ease the churning in his gut. The heavy doors creaked open and a lone figure entered. A prophet. Not Elijah, thank the heavens, but another one. This prophet was known as Azarella. He moved with the ease of a man who knew the ending of the story before it had begun. He spoke in measured tones, his words deliberate, each syllable dripping with an almost theatrical patience. His robes were simple, but his posture was that of a king addressing a lesser man. He did not hurry, nor did he fawn. Thus says the Lord. Have you seen this great multitude? Behold, I will deliver it into your hand this day, and you shall know that I am the Lord, and by what means we have no strength to stand against them. The junior officers of the provincial commanders shall begin the attack. The battle shall not be won by might nor by numbers, but by the hand of the Almighty. The junior officers? The untested. You would send boys to Die. Ah, but you misunderstand, my king. It is not their hands that shall bring victory, nor yours. But they will strike first. And when they do, the enemy will waver. But these small runts can't fight a vast army. You have truly forgotten your history, King Ahab. Is that not all that the Lord has done since our nation's beginning? Moses the exile. Gideon the coward. David. Yes, yes, yes. You've made your point. Ahab exhaled through his nose. He wanted to argue, to dismiss it, but something gnawed at him, something deeper than fear. Who shall start the battle? Azarel smiled, a slow, knowing thing, like a cat playing with a bird. You will. Ahab swallowed hard. He sat there for a long moment, fingers drumming against his throne. Then, finally, he stood. Tell the commanders to prepare. Azarel inclined his head, as if he had already known the decision before it was spoken. Then he turned and walked out, his robe swaying with the weight of inevitability. Ahab stared after him, his stomach twisting. He had expected a prophet to bring doom, to curse him, to declare judgment upon his head. But this one had brought something further, far worse. Expectation. The sun hung low over Samaria's walls, bathing the land in gold. As the first trumpets blared outside the city, the Arameans lounged in their sprawling camp, confident, overfed, their leaders drowning in drink. Ben Haddad himself reclined beneath a vast canopy, goblet in hand, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles along the rim. He was draped in silks, posture languid, voice dripping with indulgent condescension. How quaint. The Israelites march against us. A king should know when to kneel, not to dance upon the edge of a plain. Ben Hadad gestured for his commanders. These Israeliters are like kittens, baring their fangs. No doubt they'll run when the fight gets too hot to handle. Prepare to take prisoners. Lots of them. Outside, the Israelite forces surged forward, green but determined. The battle was not grand, not the clash of titanic forces, but it was sharp, quick, and ruthless. The untested junior officers fought like men with something to prove, cutting through the first line of Aramean defenses with startling precision. Panic spread through the enemy camp. What had started as a jest turned to confusion, then fear. Shouts of alarm rippled through the tents. The general stumbled over themselves, shouting orders between gulps of wine. Ben Hadad's lazy smirk faltered as he pushed himself upright. Mount the horses. Rally the men. Do not try to embarrass yourselves further. But it was too late. The initial push had turned into a Rout, the Arameans scattering in disarray as Israel pursued them. Ben Hadad, once so sure of his victory, now found himself gripping the reins of his horse with sweaty fingers as he fled for his life. Back in Samaria, Ahab stood atop the city walls, watching the enemy retreat. His breath came heavy and his hands trembled. Against all reason, the prophet had been right. Ahab returned to the palace, the echoes of battle still ringing in his ears. He should have been triumphant, elated even, but instead he felt hollow. The throne room was dimly lit, a few flickering torches casting shadows along the stone walls. Jezebel was waiting for him. She stood by the window, her back to him, fingers tracing slow patterns against the wooden frame. She did not turn as he entered, did not greet him with words of praise or admiration. So you won. The Lord gave them into our hands. Oh, yes, yes, yes. How fortunate for you. But tell me, my king, do you really believe he did this for you? Or did he do it despite you? What do you mean? Elijah and the prophets of Yahweh decry me and my prophets for our blood sacrifices. But I have come to discover something. Your God is more bloodthirsty than mine. Jezebel leaned against the balcony and threw her head back. And when you. When you inevitably fail on that battlefield, your God will turn on you. Mark my words. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something soft, something sharp. He's a petty and jealous one. God. He always demand something. I followed the word of the prophet. It seems obedience is all he required. And you follow orders like a good little boy. But one slip and you will fall from your God's good graces. And I'll be here, reveling in the mess, feasting on the carcass of your. Your shame. It will be delicious. She leaned in, whispering, her breath warm against his ear. The Lord of Israel will abandon you. Just you wait. She turned and walked away, her silhouette vanishing into the darkened corridors. Ahab stood alone, the weight of the crown heavier than ever. The halls of Samaria still carried the scent of victory, but Ahab's hands were clammy. He had barely settled onto his throne when the doors creaked open once more. Azarel entered, slow, deliberate, his expression void of triumph. Thus says the because the Arameans have said the Lord is a God of the hills and not the valleys. I will give this vast army into your hands once more, and you shall know that I am the Lord. Ahab's lip twitched. Another battle. The man fled like a rat. Let him run. Oh, he will. But he will return, and the Lord will give you victory once more. Though I wonder, do you truly wish to know the Lord Ahab, or only his victories? You prophets always speak in riddles. What does it matter why I fight, so long as I win? Because, my king, the Lord, sees the heart, and yours is running out of places to hide. Ahab exhaled sharply, but said nothing. Azarel's eyes gleamed, almost amused. We shall. The valley stretched wide, dust swirling around the feet of the assembled armies. Ahab stood at the head of his ranks, his pulse steady. His men were outnumbered, but Azar El's words lingered in his mind. Ben Hadad watched from afar, perched atop his warhorse, smug. Let's see how this their God fights on even ground. The horns sounded. The battle began. But it was not a battle. It was a slaughter. The Arameans, confident in their terrain, broke like dry twigs beneath the weight of Israel's charge. Ben Hadad's confidence shattered as his men fell. His horse bucked beneath him, panicked nostrils flaring. Ben Hadad turned, eyes wide, breath shallow. Cowards, all of you. His sword fell from his grip. The mighty army of Aram crumbled before him. Ahab sat in his war tent, sweat cooling on his brow. Before him, on his knees, was Ben Hadad, filthy, trembling, eyes darting like a cornered jackal. My lord, Mercy. We are brothers, are we not? Let us make peace. Ahab leaned forward, studying him. The man who had sneered, who had toyed with him, now looked like nothing more than a broken thing. A brother. Yes. You shall live. Have you asked the Lord, Ahab, or only yourself? Ben Hadad exhaled, almost laughing in relief. Ahab smiled faintly. He had won. He had the power to grant mercy, to rule as he pleased. But behind him, in the shadows, Azarel turned his head slightly, exhaling through his nose. The streets of Samaria were thick with the kind of celebration that only followed war. Not the grief stricken mourning of the defeated, but the sickly, desperate relief of the survivors. The banners of Israel rippled in the evening wind. The people cheered, their voices raw from praise, lifting Ahab's name as if it could drown out the memory of the blood just barely dry on the battlefield. Ahab dismounted from his chariot, his hands stiff on the reins, his muscles aching from the long ride. The scent of war still clung to him. Sweat, leather, the metallic bite of iron and death. But there was a small, flickering part of him that dared to believe this day had been good, that perhaps, just this once, he had done something right. And then the shadow stepped forth. A single man cloaked and hooded, standing among the revellers like a stone in a river. The people parted around him without knowing why, their jubilation dimming as if someone had snuffed out a torch. The figure's hood lifted just enough to reveal a face of a prophet. Not Elijah nor Azarel. Ahab didn't recognize this one, though the kind of dread that prophets brought was always familiar. The man's voice rang out, clear, unshaken, the kind of voice that carried the weight of the divine Ahab. You fool. You think you know better than the Lord? Because you have let an evil king live whom the Lord had determined should die? Your own life shall be for his life. Your people for his people. Ahab's breath hitched. The words struck like a whip, lashing deep beneath his skin, down into the marrow of something he had spent his life trying to keep from rotting. He knew. Of course he knew. The Lord had wanted Ben Hadad dead, had wanted his justice carried out swift and unflinching, like the edge of a sword through a traitor's throat. Ahab had spared him instead, had played the benevolent king, had reached for mercy with a hand that wasn't his to extend. And now the weight of his own mercy turned to iron shackles. This. This is how my victory is repaid. The prophet did not answer, only stared. The silence stretched, an unbearable thing pressing down on Ahab until he could feel it in his ribs, could hear it beneath the cheers of the people, their celebration now hollow, distant, as though he stood in a dream, a nightmare. Ahab turned, desperate to find solace in the faces of his people, in the joy that had been his just moments ago. But now all he could see were mouths moving without meaning, hands raised in praise for a king already doomed. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. Ahab had always known that Yahweh's prophets never spoke lightly, and they never spoke in vain. The judgment had been rendered, and in his bones Ahab knew his time was running out. You can make a difference in someone's life, including your own, with a job in home care. These jobs offer flexible schedules, health care, retirement options, and free training. They also provide paid time off and opportunities for overtime. Visit oregonhomecarejobs.com to learn more and apply. That's oregonhomecarejobs.com this Labor Day say goodbye to spills, stains and overpriced furniture with washablesofas.com featuring Anabe, the only machine washable sofa inside and out where designer quality meets budget friendly pricing sofas start at just $6.99, making it the perfect time to upgrade your space. Anibe's Pet Friendly Stain Resistant and interchangeable slipcovers are made with high performance fabric built for real life. You'll love the cloud like comfort of hypoallergenic high resilience foam that never needs fluffing and a durable steel frame that stands the test of time with modular pieces you can rearrange anytime. It's a sofa that adapts to your life. Now through Labor Day. Get up to 60% off site wide@washablesofas.com Every order comes with a 30 day satisfaction guarantee. If you're not in love, send it back for a full refund. No return shipping, no restocking fees, every penny back. Shop now@washablesofas.com Offers are subject to change and certain restrictions may apply. Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway. Feel good and look good this summer with savings on your personal care. Favorites and earn four times points now through September 9th. Shop in store or online for items like Dollar Shave Club razors, hydro Silk Razors and Edge Shave Gel. Plus some favorite brands like Tampax, Pearl Depend and Poise to earn four times points to use for later discounts on groceries or gas. Hurry in before these deals are gone. Offer end September 9th. Restrictions apply. Offers may vary. Visit albertsons or safeway.com for more detail. If your faith has been kindled by this podcast and it has affected your life, we'd love it if you left a review. We read them and me personally, I cherish them. As you venture forth boldly and faithfully, I leave you with the biblical Blessing from Numbers 6. May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make His face shine upon you. May he be gracious to you. May the Lord turn His face towards you and give you peace. Amen. You can listen to the Chosen People with Y Eckstein ad free by downloading and subscribing to ThePray.com app today. This prey.com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Catina, Max Bard, Zach Schellewager and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of the Chosen People with Yael Eckstein. Edited by Alberto Avila Narrated by Paul Coltofianu Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvato, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Stephen Ringwald, Sylvia zaradoc, Thomas Copeland Jr. Rosanna Pilcher and Mitch Leschinsky and the opening prayer is voiced by John Moore. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith. Written by Aaron Salvato, Bree Rosalie and Chris Baig. Special thanks to Bishop Paul Lanier, Robin Van Etten, Caleb Burrows, Jocelyn Fuller, Rabbi Edward Abramson and the team at International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. 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