You Have Given Your Word...

The story of Jephthah in Judges 11 retold

I could see them coming in the distance, returning victorious from their battle, I squealed, Mother! Father is home!" 

It had been since Father's brothers -the same ones that had kicked him out of their family after their father had died- had come to ask for his aid in fighting the sons of Ammon. I had prayed and prayed to the Lord to help my father be victorious and it seemed He had.  

I whispered a prayer of thanks to Yahweh as I navigated through all the livestock we kept in our house and narrowly avoided stepping on a large lump of one of their droppings. 

I heard a joyful laugh and an exclamation of praise to Yahweh behind me, Mother was also coming to greet Father, she too was excited that Father had returned safely. I pressed on, I wanted to be the first to greet Father. 

I finally made it to the door and flung it open, being sure to push back some of the goats that were trying to escape. Practically bounding I ran to reach Father. He was close enough that I could see the expression on his face as I ran toward him. He was looking at one of one of his soldiers and laughing at something they had said. My father's smile was my favorite thing in the world, my mother always said that she just married him for his contagious smile, and even though she was joking, I knew it was still kind of true. 

I smiled like him as a ran towards him, "Father! Oh, Father you're home!" 

He looked up but as soon as he saw me his smiling face turned to grief and terror. Panicked he ran to me and pulled me into a strong embrace, stronger than he'd ever hugged me before. It would have been a lovely moment except for the fact that he was weeping. 

Soon his hug began to hurt, and I could hardly breath, "Father! Father, I can't breathe," I managed.

His grip immediately loosened ever so slightly but he wailed in my ear, "Oh daughter, oh my only, dear daughter! You have caused me sorrow, no one has ever caused me more sorrow than you have this day."

"Father!" I cried, "Papa, what have I done, why do you weep so?" I asked between sobs, though I knew not for what reason I lamented. 

My father pulled me away from him and tried to look me in the eyes, but he couldn't, "Before the battle I made an oath with the Lord that if he helped me to win, whatever came out of my house to greet me when I returned I would... I would..." he burst into sobs again without finishing. 

"What Father?!" I yelled, shaking him. I feared the worst, but I needed to know, "Father what would you do?!" 

He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself, but they hardly helped. Finally, he answered, "I would give it to the Lord, and offer it as a burnt offering." He choked on the last two words, but I heard them as well as I would be able to feel a hammer strike my head.

My mother, who had been standing nearby long enough to hear the entire conversation, cried, "Jephthah, what have you done?!" She leapt to us, and we all embraced each other as tightly as we could, each of us mourning as if the world was ending, because, for us, it was. 

"Our daughter! Our only daughter!" Mother wailed.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" My father cried.

After what seemed like hours of sobbing, I straightened myself as well as I could, struggling to fight back even more tears. I wanted to see father smile, to watch Mother laugh, and to laugh and smile with them, but I feared I never would again. I took mother and father's hands in my own and squeezed them tightly. I never wanted to let go, I never wanted to leave them, But I knew I had to. "My father," the tears started to stream down my face again as I spoke, "You have given your word to the Lord; do with me as you have said, since the Lord has avenged you of your enemies, the sons of Ammon."