**The Cry of the Afflicted and the Pride of the Wicked**
In the shadowed corners of the earth, where the cries of the oppressed rise like smoke to the heavens, there lived a man named Eliab. He was a humble shepherd, tending his flock in the quiet valleys of Judah. Eliab was a man of faith, though his life was marked by hardship. His family had been stripped of their ancestral lands by a ruthless landowner named Rekem, a man whose heart was as hard as the stones that littered the fields.
Rekem was a man of great wealth and influence, but his soul was barren. He walked with arrogance, his head held high, as though the earth itself bowed to his will. He scoffed at the poor, believing their suffering was a sign of divine disfavor. “There is no God,” he would mutter under his breath, though he dared not say it aloud in the hearing of the pious. Yet in his heart, he lived as though the Almighty did not see his deeds. He preyed upon the weak, ensnaring them in debts they could never repay, and he took pleasure in their despair.
Eliab, though poor in material wealth, was rich in spirit. He prayed fervently, his voice trembling as he lifted his petitions to the Lord. “Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” he cried. He had seen the wicked prosper, their schemes unpunished, while the righteous suffered in silence. Rekem’s laughter echoed in the hills, a cruel reminder of his unchecked power.
One day, as Eliab tended his sheep near the edge of Rekem’s vast estate, he overheard a conversation that chilled his bones. Rekem was speaking to his overseers, plotting to seize the last remaining plot of land owned by a widow in the village. “She has no one to defend her,” Rekem sneered. “Her God will not come to her aid. We will take it by force if necessary.”
Eliab’s heart burned with righteous anger. He fell to his knees, his face pressed into the dust, and cried out to the Lord. “Arise, O Lord! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless. Why does the wicked man revile God and say to himself, ‘He will not call me to account’? But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand. The victim commits himself to you; you are the helper of the fatherless.”
Days turned into weeks, and Rekem’s wickedness seemed to know no bounds. He boasted of his exploits, his mouth full of curses, lies, and threats. “God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees,” he would say, his voice dripping with contempt. Yet Eliab clung to his faith, trusting that the Lord would not abandon the righteous forever.
Then, one fateful night, a storm unlike any other swept through the land. The winds howled like a chorus of angels, and the rains fell in torrents, washing away the foundations of Rekem’s grand estate. The walls of his storehouses crumbled, and his treasures were scattered like chaff in the wind. Rekem, in his arrogance, had built his home on sand, and now it was swept away.
As the dawn broke, the villagers emerged from their homes to survey the damage. Rekem’s estate was in ruins, and the man himself was nowhere to be found. Some said he had fled in shame; others whispered that the earth had swallowed him whole. But Eliab knew the truth. The Lord had heard the cry of the afflicted. He had seen the pride of the wicked and had brought it to nothing.
Eliab returned to his flock, his heart filled with gratitude. He lifted his voice in praise, singing the words of the psalmist: “The Lord is King forever and ever; the nations will perish from his land. You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, so that mere earthly mortals will never again strike terror.”
And so, in the quiet valleys of Judah, the name of the Lord was exalted, and the wicked were no more. Eliab tended his sheep in peace, knowing that the God of justice had triumphed, and that the humble would inherit the earth.
