Ancient kings and turnpikes

Driving away from the larger cities, there's a hazy divide where stations fade and then slam back into full strength when the wind shifts or geography rises and falls. These midlands of Kansas are deceptively flat- there's just enough hill to disrupt the weak signal of an FM radio station.

There's no middle approach for the wind in Kansas. It's either still as doldrums, with all the world hushed in a humid haze, or a muscular wind- beating all before it.
 The wind today was a middleweight champion, catching the thin signal transmitting from somewhere on the backroads.

In trying to tune the radio on this unexpected road trip I caught the half sentence of what sounded like a story involving kings and far-off lands. The wind shifted and it faded in and back again as the story continued.

I was, it seemed,  hearing the story of one of Israel's ancient kings.

As I listened, Hezekiah took the throne and grew up in the way of the Lord.

It was a full 10 minutes before I realized it was being read in the King James Version, and the awareness was as surprising as if I had been listening and understanding the story told in French.
And as the reading continued, I was drawn in.

...Jerusalem was under siege...

...Her enemies were at the gates...

...The messenger came to speak with the emissary of the king...

And the geography interfered, cutting the story out and replacing it with the introduction to Cobain's ode to suicide, complete in all of its grunge-muck pride.

I shouted at the radio, desperate to hear what came next.

With the next stretch of highway came five more minutes of uninterrupted reading. The messenger laid down a challenge to King Hezekiah, the city, and God himself.
The gall of his arrogance rankled still, even in hearing it thousands of years later.
Did he not see? Was he not aware?

And then the emissary stepped up to reply.

I paused- foot lifting from the accelerator- in anticipation of the holy smackdown about to come...
And the station faded out, replaced solidly by Cobain's ongoing anthem.
I shouted again at the radio, testing the knob as I tried to find the station again.
What came next?
How did it end?
I was miles away from being able to pull over, grab the Book I carry and see for myself. In that helplessness, and in the jarring contrast of not being able to see for myself- Cobain blaring on in the background- it was as if I was hearing the Great Story for the first time.