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A king of Judah kneeling in prayer on the temple steps as Assyrian banners mass beyond the city walls, a scroll of the law open before him.
Week 29

He Trusted in the Lord God of Israel

2 Kings 16–25
July 13–19, 2026

5-Minute Overview

Week 29 contrasts kings who trusted the Lord with those who trusted armies and alliances. Hezekiah's faith brings Jerusalem's deliverance from Assyria; Josiah's reforms follow the rediscovery of the law; yet Judah's long drift ends in exile. The study guide foregrounds trust, covenant renewal, and the prophets' warnings amid the fall of two kingdoms.

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2 Kings 16–25 — Overview

“He Trusted in the Lord God of Israel”

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A Letter to Fellow Students ▶︎

This week the two kingdoms fall — and the whole question is what did they trust.

It opens with Ahaz, a king of Judah who is afraid. Syria and Israel are pressing on his borders, and instead of turning to the Lord, he strips the silver and gold out of the temple and mails it to Assyria as a bribe: "I am thy servant and thy son," he writes to Tiglath-Pileser (2 Kings 16:7). He buys a protector, and then, admiring the empire that saved him, he installs a copy of a Damascus altar in the house of God. He does not stop worshiping. He blends. And the blending is the beginning of the end.

Then the northern kingdom is simply gone. In one sober chapter, 2 Kings 17, Samaria falls to Assyria (c. 722 BC, completed under Sargon II), the ten tribes are marched away and scattered among the nations, and the narrator stops the story to explain why: "they rejected his statutes, and his covenant… and they followed vanity, and became vain" (2 Kings 17:15). It is the saddest sentence in the book. You become what you chase. Chase emptiness, and you are hollowed out by it.

Against that dark backdrop stands the one king the writer cannot praise highly enough: "Hezekiah… trusted in the LORD God of Israel; so that after him was none like him among all the kings of Judah" (2 Kings 18:5). The Hebrew is batach (בָּטַח) — not a feeling, but a leaning of the whole weight of your life onto something. When Sennacherib's army surrounds Jerusalem and his field commander mocks that trust to the people on the wall, Hezekiah does not answer the taunt. He takes the threatening letter into the temple, spreads it open before the Lord, and prays. The deliverance that follows becomes the memory that shapes a nation for a century.

The last act is a long, tender heartbreak. Hezekiah's own son Manasseh undoes everything — he raises the high places again, fills the Lord's temple itself with pagan altars and an image of Asherah, and burns his own children in the fire to foreign gods — outright child sacrifice, the shedding of innocent blood by the covenant king in the covenant city (2 Kings 21:4–6, 16). That is the final straw that seals Judah's fate: the innocent blood he shed is the one thing the text says the Lord "would not pardon" (2 Kings 24:4), and the damage is now past reversing (2 Kings 23:26). Yet even then God has a plan. He raises up Josiah — crowned at eight years old — who cleanses and repairs the temple, and in the rubble a lost scroll of the law is found. A young king weeps over words his fathers had forgotten, a prophetess confirms them, and for one bright generation Judah turns back. But the turning cannot outrun the consequences already set in motion. Josiah dies at Megiddo, and within a generation Jerusalem burns, the temple is leveled, and Judah is carried to Babylon.

This is the world Lehi is about to leave. The book of 2 Kings ends where the Book of Mormon begins — "in the first year of the reign of Zedekiah" (1 Nephi 1:4) — and it hands us the week's one enduring question. When the empires are at the gate and the easy alliances beckon, in whom do we actually batach? Every earthly king in these chapters fails. The book keeps clearing the stage for the only King who never will.



What's in This Week's Materials ▶︎
In the Study Guide ▶︎

The Study Guide walks the whole descent from Ahaz to exile, chapter by chapter:

  • Ahaz and the Assyrian alliance (2 Kings 16) — the king who bought safety and imported a foreign altar into the temple.
  • The fall of the northern kingdom (2 Kings 17) — Samaria's end and the narrator's covenant "autopsy" of why it happened.
  • **Hezekiah's reforms and *Nechushtan*** (2 Kings 18) — the good king who even broke Moses' bronze serpent when it became an idol.
  • The letter spread before the Lord (2 Kings 19) — Sennacherib's siege, Hezekiah's prayer, and the angel of the Lord.
  • The shadow that went backward (2 Kings 20) — Hezekiah's illness, his added years, and the Babylonian envoys who foreshadow the exile.
  • Manasseh, the point of no return (2 Kings 21) — the reign that fixes Judah's fate.
  • Josiah and the found scroll (2 Kings 22) — repair, discovery, and the prophetess Huldah.
  • Josiah's reformation and death at Megiddo (2 Kings 23) — the last great turning, and its limits.
  • The Babylonian deportations and the fall of Jerusalem (2 Kings 24–25) — the temple burned, the city emptied, and a final, quiet ray of hope.

The word studies name the whole week in four Hebrew terms: galah (גָּלָה, "to exile" — and, remarkably, "to reveal"), batach (בָּטַח, "to trust, to lean one's weight"), sefer (סֵפֶר, "book/scroll"), and neviah (נְבִיאָה, "prophetess"), the office Huldah fills.

In the Resources Tab ▶︎

This week's video commentaries converge on trust, scripture, and the long shadow of these chapters over the Book of Mormon:

  • Follow Him (Dr. Mike Day) — reads the whole corpus as trauma-shaped history and calls the exile "a fortunate scattering… without it, we don't have the Book of Mormon"; sets up 1 Nephi 1 as a point-by-point answer to the era's assumptions about an unseeable, distant God.
  • John Hilton III / Finding Christ — grounds the week in the archaeology (Hezekiah's seal, the Lachish reliefs, a besieged-Jerusalem house with its famine layer) and asks who our own "Tiglath-Pilesers" are — the external props we lean on instead of the Lord.
  • Talking Scripture — frames Judah as "a fly that stood up to the elephant of Assyria," and presses the thesis that if Christ is not your king, you end "lost, captive, and scattered."
  • Unshaken (Jared Halverson) — a verse-by-verse "play-by-play of apostasy" in chapters 16–17 mirrored against Hezekiah's play-by-play of restoration; on the bronze serpent: "don't bow down before the arrow — just follow its direction."
  • Don't Miss This / Our Mothers Knew It — trace the heart of the reformer kings and the Hebrew shuv ("to turn/return") as repentance, with family object lessons that make the abstractions teachable.
  • Grounded (Barbara Morgan Gardner & Camille Fronk Olsen) — on scripture and the women who guard it, pairing Huldah with Lucy Mack Smith and John 5:39 ("they… testify of me").
  • Lynne Hilton Wilson — the women at the end of Judah: the powerful queen-mothers, the true prophetesses of Israel, and Huldah's authorization of the found scroll as sacred.
The Companion Field Guide ▶︎

A multi-page companion Field Guide, The Divided Kingdom, goes deeper on the world behind these chapters. Several pages bear directly on this week: The Deuteronomists' Lens, How 1 Kings Was Written, Did They Have the Book of Kings?, and Reading Faithfully — tracing how these books came together and what that means for a faithful reader. The section below is a short preview of that thread.



"He Trusted in the Lord": Two Kings, Two Kinds of Confidence ▶︎

Put Ahaz and Hezekiah side by side and the week interprets itself.

Ahaz is not irreligious. He is resourceful. Threatened, he finds a solution: pay the superpower, copy its altar, hedge the bet. It even works, in the short term. Assyria comes; the threat lifts. But the price is the slow surrender of the temple's treasure and the temple's exclusivity, one reasonable compromise at a time. His trust is horizontal — in armies, in gold, in the arrangement he can control.

Hezekiah, cornered far worse, does the opposite. The word the narrator reaches for is batach (בָּטַח), a verb of leaning your full weight onto something that will hold. Hezekiah leans on the Lord and on nothing else — "none like him," the writer says (2 Kings 18:5) — and it is not naïveté. He has fortified the city and dug his tunnel; he has done everything a king can do. Then he does the one thing Ahaz never learned to do: he stops, and trusts.

The contrast is not ancient history. Every generation has "our Tiglath-Pilesers," as one commentator put it this week — the secondary sources, the safer authorities, the arrangements we can manage — that we reach for first because they feel more controllable than faith. The question these two kings put to us is not whether we are devout. Ahaz was devout. The question is where we finally place the weight.



The Fall of the North: "They Followed Vanity, and Became Vain" ▶︎

The most important verses this week may be the ones with no drama in them at all.

When Samaria falls, the narrator pauses the whole national story to hold a covenant inquest (2 Kings 17:7–23). Israel did not collapse because Assyria was strong; it collapsed because it had, over generations, "rejected his statutes, and his covenant… and they followed vanity, and became vain" (17:15). That last line is a spiritual law more than a headline. The Hebrew moves from chasing empty things to becoming empty — you are shaped by what you pursue.

Here the word study galah (גָּלָה) opens a strange comfort. The same root that means "to be carried into exile" also means "to be uncovered, to be revealed." Exile is God's people stripped bare — and in that stripping, the truth about their hearts, and about His faithfulness, is finally uncovered. The scattering was judgment. It was also, in the long providence the New Testament and the Book of Mormon both trace, the mechanism by which covenant Israel was seeded among all the nations it would one day be gathered from. Judgment and mercy were never as far apart as they looked from Samaria's walls.



Nehushtan: When the Symbol Becomes the Idol ▶︎

One line about Hezekiah's reforms should stop us: he "brake in pieces the brasen serpent that Moses had made" (2 Kings 18:4).

That serpent was not an idol. God Himself had commanded Moses to make it; looking to it in faith had healed Israel in the wilderness (Numbers 21). It was a genuine, God-given type of Christ (John 3:14). And Hezekiah destroyed it — because by his day the people were burning incense to it. The sign had swallowed the thing it signified. He renamed it, dismissively, Nehushtan (נְחֻשְׁתָּן) — "a thing of bronze." Just metal.

This is one of scripture's most searching warnings, precisely because it targets good things. It is easy to renounce an obvious idol. It is much harder to notice when a true and sacred symbol — a temple, a scripture, a leader, a spiritual experience we treasure — has quietly become the object of our devotion rather than the arrow pointing past itself. "Don't bow down before the arrow," as one teacher put it this week; "just follow its direction." Everything holy in our lives testifies of Christ (John 5:39) — it points beyond itself to Him. That Hezekiah would take a hammer to a relic Moses himself had made — breaking in pieces something genuinely sacred once it had become an idol — is the reminder to follow that testimony all the way home to Christ, and never to stop and worship the sign that was only ever meant to point us to Him. The brazen serpent had done its work the moment Israel looked through it to God; the sin was staying to burn incense at it.



The Letter Spread Before the Lord ▶︎

When Sennacherib's army encircles Jerusalem, the Assyrian field commander gives a masterclass in how to break faith. He preaches — in Hebrew, so everyone on the wall understands — that trusting the Lord is exactly what will get them killed, and that no god of any nation has ever stopped Assyria (2 Kings 18:28–35). It is theological warfare, and it is meant to make Hezekiah's batach look foolish.

Hezekiah's response is one of the quietest, most instructive acts in the Old Testament. He receives the threatening letter, goes up to the temple, and "spread it before the LORD" (2 Kings 19:14). He does not answer the propaganda on its own terms. He lays the whole terrifying thing open in the presence of God and prays. And the answer comes — but notice how: it comes through Isaiah the prophet (19:20). The temple and the prophet together. Then, in a single verse, the siege is over: the angel of the Lord passes through the Assyrian camp (2 Kings 19:35).

There is a pattern here worth keeping. Do everything you can — build the wall, dig the tunnel — and then take what you cannot fix and spread it open before the Lord, and listen for the answer through the channels He has appointed. Judah, "a fly that stood up to the elephant of Assyria," survived because its king knew the difference between the work that was his and the deliverance that was God's.



The Found Book and the Prophetess ▶︎

The turning point of Josiah's reign is an accident of maintenance. During temple repairs, the high priest finds a sefer (סֵפֶר) — a scroll of the law, long lost in the very house of God (2 Kings 22:8). When it is read aloud, the young king tears his clothes. He grieves not because the words are new, but because they are old and had been forgotten.

What happens next is remarkable. The king and the high priest do not simply act on the scroll; they seek confirmation — and they seek it from Huldah, a neviah (נְבִיאָה), a prophetess living in Jerusalem (2 Kings 22:14). She speaks in the name of the Lord, authenticates the book, and sets Judah's last reformation in motion. As this week's commentaries note, a woman stands at the hinge of the canon: her prophetic word helped confirm a scroll that would remain sacred scripture for millennia. The office was real, and the Lord placed it exactly where it was needed.

The sefer itself preaches. A scroll can sit unread in the temple for a generation and change nothing; the same scroll, opened and believed, can turn a whole kingdom. Scripture is not powerful because it is owned — it is powerful when it is opened, read, rightly understood, and obeyed. President Kimball drew that lesson straight from this very chapter, urging that "we must all of us return to the scriptures just as King Josiah did and let them work mightily within us, impelling us to an unwavering determination to serve the Lord."

And there may be more at stake in this recovered scroll than one kingdom's revival. Josiah's reform belongs to the very era when Israel's scriptures were being gathered, corrected, and set in order — the world behind the record Lehi's family would soon carry out of Jerusalem. When Nephi obtains the plates of brass, they already contain "the five books of Moses" and a record of the prophets down to "the reign of Zedekiah" (1 Nephi 5:11–13). It is not hard to imagine that a reform like this one — a lost scroll rediscovered, scattered scriptures collected — is part of what prompted such a record to be compiled in the first place. If so, the plates of brass preserve a pre-exilic form of the scriptures: an early version of what would only much later be finalized as the Old Testament we now hold. It is a striking thought — that in this one respect the Book of Mormon's source predates the compilation of the Bible by centuries, carrying us a step nearer the original than the text that reached us by way of Babylon and beyond.



The Slow-Motion Fall — and a Door Left Open ▶︎

Josiah is the best king since David, and it is not enough.

That is the hardest lesson of the week, and the book is honest about it. Between Hezekiah and Josiah comes Manasseh, and the text does not soften why his reign becomes the point of no return. He rebuilt the high places his father had torn down, planted altars to foreign gods inside the Lord's own house, and gave his own children to the fire (2 Kings 21:4–6; cf. Ezekiel 23:38–39). "Moreover Manasseh shed innocent blood very much, till he had filled Jerusalem from one end to another" (2 Kings 21:16). When the decree finally falls, the narrator names the reason without euphemism: it came upon Judah "for the sins of Manasseh… and also for the innocent blood that he shed… which the LORD would not pardon" (2 Kings 24:3–4).

That deserves a moment, because it names what finally moved a patient God to judgment. It was not ritual failure or political weakness — it was murdered children: a king slaughtering his own innocent sons and daughters on foreign altars, and a nation that let him. The Lord who calls Himself the defender of the fatherless cannot go on shielding the people doing the killing without abandoning the very innocents He is sworn to protect. A line is reached that covenant love itself will not cross. To keep guarding Judah as it was would be to keep the altars burning; so, to protect His covenant family — the vulnerable and the generations still unborn most of all — He at last lets justice run its course. The same holiness that had spared Judah again and again is the holiness that, in the end, will not call innocent blood a small thing. Josiah's reformation is sincere and sweeping, and it delays the reckoning without erasing it. He dies at Megiddo; his sons undo his work; Nebuchadnezzar comes; and in 2 Kings 25 the temple is burned and Judah is carried to Babylon. Reformation, however heartfelt, cannot always reverse consequences already set. Sin has a wake, and sometimes the most faithful generation still sails through the storm the previous ones raised.

And yet the book will not end in the dark. Its final scene is almost a whisper: Jehoiachin, the exiled king of Judah, is lifted out of a Babylonian prison, given a seat at the king's table, and clothed anew (2 Kings 25:27–30). It is a small thing. It is also everything — the Davidic line, kept alive in captivity, carried forward toward a genealogy that ends in Matthew 1 with Christ.

This is the world Lehi steps out of, "in the reign of Zedekiah" (1 Nephi 1:4). It explains why his own sons could not believe Jerusalem would fall (1 Nephi 2:13): the memory of Hezekiah's deliverance had curdled into a superstition that the city was untouchable. And it reframes the exile itself. What looked like the end of the covenant was, in a longer providence, "a fortunate scattering" — the seeding of Israel among the nations, and the very reason a family carrying a scroll of their own would sail to a promised land. The kings could not save Judah. The scattering they caused became part of how the true King would gather it.



The Deuteronomists' Lens: Reading Kings the Way It Was Written ▶︎

Read a few chapters of Kings and you begin to feel a rhythm. King after king is introduced, dated, and then graded by one recurring sentence — he "did right in the eyes of the LORD" (2 Kings 18:3), or he "did evil in the sight of the LORD" (2 Kings 21:2). The grade is never about competence or prosperity; a strong, successful king can be failed and a weak one passed. It measures one thing: covenant loyalty — worship gathered to the Lord's one sanctuary, and faithfulness to Him alone. That repeating yardstick is the fingerprint not of a single author but of a school of scribes that scholars call the Deuteronomists — the community that copied, preserved, and shaped these books over generations, judging the whole story by the standard of the book of Deuteronomy. Seeing their viewpoint does not undo the history; it tells you what the history is arguing for.

This is an active conversation in the academic world, and it is worth understanding rather than fearing. Martin Noth (1943) proposed that Deuteronomy through 2 Kings is not a loose anthology but a single, purposeful Deuteronomistic History, given its shape in the Babylonian exile to answer an agonized question — why did this happen to us? Its answer is the theme of our whole week: the catastrophe was covenant justice, long foretold, not divine failure. Frank Moore Cross (1973) refined the picture into two editions — a hopeful one written during Josiah's reforms and a darker one added after Jerusalem fell — and more recent work, such as William Schniedewind's Who Really Wrote the Bible? (2024), asks who actually held the pen, finding not lone geniuses but tight-knit scribal guilds, some of whose families' names survive pressed into clay seals. (These are scholarly reconstructions — models under discussion, not the text's plain claim and not Church doctrine.)

Why does this matter, especially for Latter-day Saints? Because the compilation of Kings sits directly on the Book of Mormon's timeline. This record was given its final form in the generation of the exile — Lehi's own generation. Kings closes in the world of Zedekiah's Jerusalem; 1 Nephi opens there, "in the commencement of the first year of the reign of Zedekiah, king of Judah" (1 Nephi 1:4). The scribes finishing this history and the prophet Lehi walking out of that same city were contemporaries. To read Kings with the Deuteronomists' lens is to stand in Lehi's world and hear the very debates — about covenant, temple, and true worship — that filled the streets he preached in.

And this week's chapters are precisely the circumstances of Lehi's family's departure. The slow covenant drift these editors trace, the scattering of the north by Assyria, the reforms of Hezekiah and Josiah, and the Babylonian shadow that finally falls — this is the setting of 1 Nephi 1. It explains why Lehi's own sons could not believe Jerusalem would fall (1 Nephi 2:13): they had inherited the memory of Hezekiah's deliverance without the covenant reckoning that came after. And it frames the quiet irony that as one group of scribes was finishing a scroll to explain why the city was lost, another family — led by revelation — was being led out of it with a scroll of their own, toward a promised land.

The lens deepens rather than debunks. Knowing the standpoint from which Kings is written lets us hear what it is for — the covenant, the one sanctuary, the Davidic and messianic hope, the call to wholehearted loyalty — and it lets us read even the doomed Northern Kingdom with sympathy rather than contempt. Our companion multi-page Field Guide, The Divided Kingdom, walks all of this in depth — The Deuteronomists' Lens, How 1 Kings Was Written, and Did They Have the Book of Kings? among them. For this week, it is enough to notice that the book grading every king by his covenant faithfulness was compiled by people who had just watched the covenant curses come due — and that one of their contemporaries, led by the Lord, was already carrying the promise forward into a new world.



The Invitation ▶︎

Week 29 asks the oldest question in a new and pressing form: in whom do you batach?

Not in the abstract, but in the specific choices that reveal where your weight actually rests — whether you buy safety with the temple's gold like Ahaz or spread the letter before the Lord like Hezekiah; whether you let good and sacred things point you to Christ or quietly become your Nehushtan; whether you leave the scroll shut in the temple or open it, weep over it, and turn; and whether, when consequences you did not choose come like an Assyrian army over the hill, you still believe the God of Israel can deliver — or, deliverance withheld, that He can redeem even the scattering.

Every king in these chapters is gone. One thing survives Babylon: a promise about David's throne, and a light kept burning toward the King who wore, in one commentator's lovely phrase, "a crown of thorns so that we could wear a crown of eternal life."

He trusted in the Lord God of Israel. Trust Him.


Weekly Insights — Week 29 | CFM Corner | OT 2026

2 Kings 16–25

Sources: Week 29 Study Guide (overview + word studies: galah, batach, sefer, neviah) and the Week 29 video distillations (Finding Christ, Lynne Hilton Wilson, Follow Him Pt. 1–2, Talking Scripture, Unshaken, Don't Miss This, Grounded, Our Mothers Knew It). Historical/date conventions (fall of Samaria c. 722 BC; Jerusalem 586 BC) standardized across sources; extra-biblical traditions (e.g., the martyrdom of Isaiah) not used as scripture. Historical attestations link to World History Encyclopedia, Livius, the Jewish Virtual Library, and the British Museum.


Week 29

2 Kings 16–25 — Overview

"He Trusted in the Lord God of Israel"
1. Week 29: Overview
2. Week 29: Historical & Cultural Context
3. Week 29: Key Passages Study
4. Week 29: Word Studies
5. Week 29: Jewish Perspective
6. Week 29: Teaching Applications
7. Week 29: Study Questions
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