**Nehemiah’s Secret Survey: A Midnight Ride of Faith**

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting Jerusalem in a cloak of darkness. The air was thick with the scent of olive trees and the distant murmur of night creatures. Nehemiah, cupbearer to King Artaxerxes of Persia, stood at the edge of the ruined city walls, his heart heavy with sorrow. For months, he had carried the burden of his people’s shame—the broken gates, the charred stones, the disgrace of God’s holy city lying in ruins.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he would see for himself.

### **A King’s Trust, A Servant’s Courage**

Weeks earlier, Nehemiah had stood before King Artaxerxes, his face betraying the grief he had tried so hard to conceal. The king, sharp-eyed and discerning, had noticed. *”Why is your face sad, seeing you are not sick? This is nothing but sorrow of heart.”*

Terror had gripped Nehemiah. A sorrowful face in the king’s presence could mean death. But he steadied himself, breathed a silent prayer to the God of heaven, and spoke: *”Let the king live forever! Why should my face not be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers’ tombs, lies in ruins, and its gates have been destroyed by fire?”*

To his astonishment, the king had responded with grace. *”What do you request?”*

Nehemiah’s heart pounded. Another quick prayer. *”If it pleases the king, send me to Judah, to the city of my fathers’ tombs, that I may rebuild it.”*

And the king—moved by the hand of God—had granted his request, even providing letters of safe passage and timber for the gates.

### **The Midnight Ride**

Now, under the silver glow of a crescent moon, Nehemiah moved silently through the sleeping city. With him were only a few trusted men and a single beast—a sure-footed donkey to navigate the rubble-strewn paths. He had told no one of his plan, not even the priests or nobles. This was a mission of divine strategy.

The Valley Gate creaked as he pushed it open, its hinges groaning like the lament of a grieving nation. The cool night air brushed against his face as he rode out, his eyes scanning the skeletal remains of Jerusalem’s defenses.

To the south, the Dragon’s Well loomed—a dark, gaping mouth in the earth. Further on, the Dung Gate, where refuse had once been carried out, now stood as a broken monument to neglect. Nehemiah’s fingers traced the scorch marks on the stones, remnants of Babylon’s fury decades before.

His donkey picked its way carefully along the Kidron Valley, the soft crunch of gravel beneath its hooves the only sound. Then, abruptly, Nehemiah halted. Before him lay a section of the wall so destroyed that his mount could not pass. Dismounting, he pressed forward on foot, his sandals slipping on loose stones.

Climbing. Scrambling. Praying.

At last, he reached a vantage point where the full horror of Jerusalem’s state unfolded before him. The once-mighty walls were now jagged teeth against the skyline. The gates—where judges had once sat and merchants traded—were ash and memory.

Tears burned his eyes, but resolve hardened his spirit. *This will not remain.*

### **The Call to Rebuild**

By morning, Nehemiah had seen enough. He gathered the leaders—the priests, the nobles, the officials—and stood before them with fire in his voice.

*”You see the distress we are in. Jerusalem lies in ruins, and its gates are burned. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, that we may no longer be a reproach!”*

He told them of the king’s favor, of God’s hand upon him. And as he spoke, something miraculous happened—hope ignited in their eyes.

*”Let us rise up and build!”* they declared.

But not all rejoiced. Sanballat the Horonite, Tobiah the Ammonite, and Geshem the Arab—men who had grown fat on Judah’s weakness—sneered at the plan. *”What is this thing you are doing? Are you rebelling against the king?”*

Nehemiah met their mockery with unshaken faith. *”The God of heaven will prosper us. We, His servants, will arise and build. But you have no portion or right or claim in Jerusalem.”*

### **The Work Begins**

And so, with trowels in hand and swords at their sides, the people of God began the sacred labor. Families took sections—priests, goldsmiths, perfumers, even daughters—all working side by side. The clang of hammers and the scrape of stones filled the air, a symphony of restoration.

Nehemiah watched, his heart swelling. The walls would rise again. Not by his might, not by his wisdom, but by the hand of the Almighty.

For the God who stirs the hearts of kings also moves in the midnight rides of faithful servants. And Jerusalem—His city—would stand once more.