The Harlot Queen

A Redemption Story

This story is a story full of love, betrail, heartbreak and redemption. Based on Ezekiel 16, The Harlot Queen is a story of Israel, but I think if you’re anything like me it might just be your story too. It’s a story I have been slow to write as I am continually learning new lessons from this passage of scripture. As I finish illustrations and move deeper into the story I’ll be adding them bit by bit.

There was once a young king who was kind and noble and good. He ruled over a kingdom that sat in the center of the world. All trade went through the capital city, cedar from Lebanon, gold from Ethiopia, silks from China and spices from India. His wisdom and goodness were renowned worldwide and under his rule his kingdom prospered. The wealth of his nation was so astounding that nobles and dignitaries, kings and queens from far of lands journeyed to see its splendor and to take counsel from the good king. 



One misty morning the king made his way out of his city and into the country side. It was his ritual to seek solitude in the wide open places where salt scented sea air ruffled his dark hair, warm beams of sun danced across endless plains of heather and hyssop and deer were more plentiful than human inhabitants. He walked contentedly through an abandoned field enjoying the dewy spring morning and contemplated the upcoming sowing season. The good king wrapped his cloak a little tighter as a gust of wind sent a chill up his spine. It was a cold bright morning, the kind that he loved.

Suddenly, in the distance movement caught his eye. Though it was not uncommon to meet deer, rabbits and even the occasional lion on his walks, the distant movement took him off guard. He squinted his eyes, straining them to see the red cloaked figure in the distance. It appeared to be a woman moving in great haste. The scarlet figure jumped astride a dark horse and kicked it into a frenzy. They raced into the wilderness of the North toward the land of the Canaan leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.



The king watched as the horse and rider faded in the distance. He lengthened his stride and moved with fierce purposefulness toward where the red rider had mounted her horse. He was curious why a lone woman would be riding in such a forsaken place. These fields were drawing close to the end of their seven years of rest and would soon be replanted with wheat and rye and barley. Soon the sowers’ song would be heard in these fields, but as the soil rested it was odd for anyone but the king to walk amongst the wild heather. As he walked he saw the fields ripe for harvest and heard the happy chatter of the reapers. He smiled to think of the bounty that the now barren field would yield in only a few short months. First, the sowing, then the watering and tending and then the joyous harvest when all the patient waiting, all the hard work would pay off. 

His thoughts of harvest were interrupted by a heart-wrenching sound. The king broke into a run as his eyes scanned the field. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he ran. The sound grew louder, a gurgled wail accented by short piercing cries. The king’s heart broke when he saw her. On the cold hard ground partially hidden by a heather shrub lay a tiny baby. Her cry though piercing was weak and she shivered still covered in the blood of her birth. Her frail legs kicked in protest as the crisp morning breeze blew across her wet uncovered body.



The king lifted her from the dirt cradling her fragile frame in his strong arms. Her bloody skin was like ice in his hands. Anger rose up in the heart of the king as he looked down at the red stained face of the newborn and realized no one had cut her cord or made any attempt to clean her. She was alone, freezing, abandoned. But there was no time for anger, the king knew that if he didn’t act fast the baby wouldn’t last long.

To be continued....