Nebuchadnezer Attacks

00:00:00 Speaker 1: Previously on the chosen people. 00:00:03 Speaker 2: This judgment is not the rage of a tyrant. It is the heartbreak of a father whose children have thrown themselves into danger. You call it wrath, But what is wrath if not love betrayed, if not justice for the oppressed, for the children who screamed as they burned. 00:00:24 Speaker 3: Then I will burn their gods before they burn my people. 00:00:29 Speaker 4: Lord Niko of Egypt declares, what quarrel is there, King of Judah, between you and me. I do not come against you today, but against the house with which I am at war. God has commanded me to hurry, stop opposing God, who is with me what he will destroy you. 00:00:51 Speaker 1: The battlefield was loud, which made Josiah silence. All the louder horses screamed, chariots thundered, Bronze clashed against bone, and then it happened. No trumpet, no flash, no divine sign, just the cold, stupid reality of war. An archer Egyptian, probably not even aiming, let fly the arrow's sword, unnoticed until it buried itself in the king's side. Josiah gasped. 00:01:27 Speaker 2: He tried with all his heart, but no man can save Judah. 00:01:33 Speaker 5: Not yet, shallo my friends from here in the holy Land of Israel. I'm ya l Extein with the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews, and welcome to the Chosen People. Each day we'll hear a dramatic story inspired by the Bible, stories filled with timeless lessons of faith, love, and the meaning of life. Through Israel's story, we will find this truth that we are all chosen for something great. 00:02:04 Speaker 2: So take a moment. 00:02:05 Speaker 5: Today to follow the podcast. If you're feeling extra grateful for these stories, we would love it if you left us a review. I read every single one of them, and if you're interested in hearing more about the prophetic, life saving work of the Fellowship, you can visit IFCJ dot Org. Let's begin. 00:02:28 Speaker 1: The fire had gone out, not literally, there were still embers smoldering in the pits where idols had been smashed, but spiritually, nationally, Judah had gone cold. The Reformation Josiah lit like a match, had burned hot and bright and short. Now the temple smelled like smoke and silence. Revival had slipped into memory, and memory, as it always does, softened the edges and skipped the cost. Josiah, the last good King, was dead. Slain at Megido in a war he never should have been in. He had been killed by a pharaoh who hadn't forgotten Judah's insolence, And in the vacuum left behind, the people did what people always did. Panicked, they picked a new king, not God's choice, their's, jehoah Has. He was twenty three, inexperienced, insecure, and as much a puppet of public opinion as he was a prince. The scribes later tried to make it sound orderly, It wasn't. It was chaos. Wearing ceremony like a mask, The people crowned him in a rush, a warm body to sit on a cold throne. He'd barely had time to settle into the palace before the world outside started shifting again. There were rumors, war, drums, and movement in the south Egypt, and King jehoah Has wasn't ready. The throne room of Judah still smelled like death, Wilted flowers rotted beneath linen, banners, half lowered, oil stained the stone from the anointing of a king who no one really believed in. Jehoah Has sat stiffly on the throne like a child at a grown man's table. He wore the crown as if it was still debating whether to stay on his head. To his left stood Uriel, a holdover from Josiah's council. 00:04:45 Speaker 6: Still no word from La Chiesh. Nothing, no my king. 00:04:52 Speaker 7: Perhaps perhaps the messengers were delayed, or Fero Nizscho has chosen. 00:04:58 Speaker 6: Diplomacy, diplomacy after Megido. You think Egypt forgot how my father died. 00:05:06 Speaker 1: Jehoah Has rose, hands baled into fists for a heartbeat. He looked like his father, Josiah, same jawlin, same flare of righteous anger. But it was an echo, a mimicry, something thinner underneath. 00:05:23 Speaker 6: My father bled, He bled on that battlefield, and he died on his feet. Nico doesn't want peace, he wants tribute. He wants to remind us of who we are. 00:05:36 Speaker 8: We're slaves. Then he will come to collect. 00:05:42 Speaker 1: There was no warning, no battle, no siege, just dust on the horizon and then hoof beats. Egypt didn't challenge Jerusalem. They didn't invite them out onto the field for battle. Egypt simply entered. Jehoah Has was taken, tied and hoisted up like hunted game, paraded through the same streets that once chanted his name. No arrow was fired, no sword drawn, because no one believed he could win, maybe not even him. The tent of Pharaoh Niko was massive, more temple than shelter, gold inlay on the walls, incense burning in thick coils, and in the center Niko. He didn't rise, He didn't need to. He lounged like a serpent, basking after a kill. Eyes half lidded, hands lazily folded. Jehoah has, the fallen king of Judah, knelt in the dirt, wrists scraped, raw, mouth dry with dust and defiance. 00:06:57 Speaker 3: Josiah's boy, the king who defied me, a fool who bled for it. 00:07:07 Speaker 6: My father stood for the Lord, he stood for his people. 00:07:11 Speaker 3: And now you kneel for neither. 00:07:15 Speaker 1: Nico rose slow and deliberate, crossing the space like a priest before an altar. His voice dropped. 00:07:23 Speaker 3: You are not the king. 00:07:25 Speaker 4: You are a cautionary tale for anyone who forgets who rules the rivers and roads. 00:07:32 Speaker 1: The pharaoh turned away with a flick of his hand. Soldiers dragged Jehoahas out into the night. He would never see Jerusalem again. He would rot in Egypt, forgotten by all but the chroniclers. A week passed, Judah blinked, sighed, and bowed again. The pharaoh installed a new king, Eliah, King's other son, older, quieter, easier to manipulate. Pharaoh renamed him Jehoiakim. Rebranded like a piece of livestock, installed by a foreign power. Eliakim accepted it all. No protest, no fire, just a quiet obedience that felt like rot in slow motion. The throne room no longer smelled like mourning. Now it smelled like compromise, incense, fresh cut cedar, the kind of sanitized normalcy that makes you forget the cost chains from Jehoah has his capture still hung in the corner. No one had removed them. Maybe they were waiting for another king to earn them. Jehoiakim stood before the throne, freshly robed, still and silent. Uriel the steward, approached slower, this time, cautious, like a man checking if the ice would hold. My king. 00:09:05 Speaker 3: Don't call me that, not until ever in it. They wanted a king like Josiah. But the fire's gone. Oh that's left of smoke and ashes. Ashes don't roll, they just they just remind you of what you lost. 00:09:24 Speaker 1: They still had the temple, but it was hollow. They still had a king, but he bowed to Pharaoh, not the Lord. They still had peace, but it was the peace of the graveyard. And somewhere far beneath the temple stones in scrolls no one read anymore. The ink of the covenant began to blur, not from age or neglect, but from the tears of God himself. Before Jehoiakim raised walls, stationed guards, or reformed the courts, he built a palace. It rose like a curse against everything his father had stood for. The palace was lined with foreign cedar, draped in Assyrian silks, and paid for with blood taxes carved from the backs of the poor. It wasn't built to protect Judah. It was built to impress Egypt, a spectacle, a monument to Ego. And somewhere in a cramped stone chamber near the temple mount, a gaunt, wild eyed man with ink stained fingers began to write about it all. His name was Jeremiah, and he had already seen the end. The palace hall was absurd, vaulted ceilings, imported mosaics, torchlight flickering off cedar, walls, brought in at cost from Lebanon. It was stupid, ill advised. Jehoiakim lounged like a man allergic to responsibility, one leg slung over the side of his chair, a goblet in hand. He ruled not like a son of David, but like a son of Pharaoh. Egypt's leash was still fresh around his neck, Babylon's shadow rising on the horizon. He wore power like it was inherited. Linen wrinkled too big and badly stained. Servants moved like ghosts. No one made eye contact. A thin man in caught robes, an adviser, gaunt and trembling, stepped forward with the posture of someone who hated what he was about to say. 00:11:46 Speaker 9: My Lord, a message has arrived from the prophet Jeremiah. 00:11:50 Speaker 3: Ah, the weeping madman. What's he ranting about? This time? 00:11:57 Speaker 4: Fire? 00:11:57 Speaker 3: Famine, frocks? 00:12:00 Speaker 9: He he wrote it down, this time a scroll delivered to the scribes this morning. Barook the scribe read it publicly at the temple gates. 00:12:11 Speaker 1: That got his attention. Jehoiakim sat up slowly. 00:12:16 Speaker 3: So now the prophet fancies himself a poet. Oh, well, let's hear the first bring me the scroll. If I'm to be damned, I want the courtesy of knowing why. 00:12:28 Speaker 1: A hearth fire snapped in the corner, the only sound besides the slow unrolling of parchment. The king sat in a heavy robe, face half lit by firelight. 00:12:39 Speaker 9: The words of the prophet Jeremiah. Woe to him who builds his palace by unrighteousness, his upper rooms by injustice, who makes his neighbour serve for nothing, and does not pay his wages. 00:12:55 Speaker 3: Oh, good, await complete from heaven? How very revolution go on? Go on? 00:13:04 Speaker 9: Do you think you are a king because you excel in Cedar? Did not your father Josiah do justice and righteousness? Then it was well with him? 00:13:16 Speaker 1: Get up, Jehoia Kim's fingers twitched, his jaw clenched. That name Josiah carried more weight than he'd ever admit, not because he loved his father, but because he could never measure up. He stood and ripped the scroll from the scribes hands without ceremony. He strode to the fire. The parchment tore like bread in his hands, and he fed it to the flame. Piece by peace. 00:13:47 Speaker 3: Let the gods of Battylon in Egypt see how Judah Handel's prophecy. No more ghosts, no more guilt. We write the story now. 00:14:00 Speaker 1: The last scrap curled in the flames, ash danced in the air. But the words, the words did not die burning. Prophecy doesn't erase it. The scroll is a vessel, not the voice. The word of the lore doesn't die in flame. Its steps through it. And what walked out of that fire wasn't silence. 00:14:26 Speaker 3: It was war. 00:14:28 Speaker 1: A name rising like smoke over the eastern hills, Nebucudnezza. The moon shimmered over the polished obsidian walls of Babylon's war room. The air smelled of oil and steel. At the center of the war room stood Nebucudnezza. He was a statue of a man. No, he was more than a man. He was something cut out of myth, a titan, not in stature, although he was broad, but in presence he was a man out of mythology, designed as a weapon of conquest and judgment. His eyes burned with mathematics, distance, yield, casualties, control. He did not pace, He did not shout. His voice didn't need volume, It had weight, A general move beside him, hesitant, holding a map of Judah like a man offering a rabbit to a lion. Judah's king bows to Pharaoh. 00:15:39 Speaker 8: Then he'll now again. 00:15:42 Speaker 3: This time to me might be messy. 00:15:46 Speaker 6: Judah gives tribute to Pharaoh, pays him well. 00:15:50 Speaker 8: Then we collect interest every coin he paid Pharaoh. He now owes me plus blood. Soon the merchant's first loose, and tributes and treaties as well. I want them to have the illusion choice. No fire yet grats by time. Let them hope it's enough. Let them fool the noose before it tightens round their necks. 00:16:21 Speaker 3: Ah, yes, no fire. Let them smell the smoke precisely. 00:16:28 Speaker 8: I want their taste being every time he swallows. 00:16:34 Speaker 1: Months had passed. The palace of Judah hadn't changed. The cedar still whispered of compromise, but the mood had rotted. Jehoiakim now knelt before emisseries of Babylon, crown, crooked, hands trembling behind him, Chests overflowed with tribute, silver, gold, The temple's wealth hemorrhaged into fore and hands. The lead envoy unfurled a scroll, a treaty not of partnership of submission. Jehoiakim signed it. His voice cracked as he said the words. 00:17:14 Speaker 3: Oh live her, King of Babylon. 00:17:20 Speaker 1: He thought it would buy peace. It brought time, time for Babylon to sharpen its teeth, time for God's patience to run out. Because the Lord doesn't forget, not the labor stolen to build a palace, not the scroll that burned, not the silence that followed. And the prophet Jeremiah sat hunched over a new scroll, somewhere deep beneath Jehoiakim in the palace, seller's chain to the wall. His arthritic hands shook. He looked like a man who had survived in apocalypse. No one else knowed. He continued to write words of warning, words of judgment, words of hope amidst love. 00:18:08 Speaker 7: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 00:18:19 Speaker 1: His words were for the people of Israel, although the promises of hope would fall on deaf ears until much later, when the wars of Jerusalem crumbled and the temple burned to ash. The siege arrived like a slow mounting tide. King Nebuchadnezza was patient, inevitable, Babylon didn't roar in. They waited. Their war machines crouched in the dark like wooden beasts, massive and mute, groaning only when fed by the hands of soldiers. Every night they inched closer, suffocating the city inside the walls. Food vanished alongside hope. Barley turned to dust, Water was rationed in thimbles, Bread crumbled into ash between trembling fingers. Rats became currency. Hebrew mothers, once noble and proud, robbed their children with cracked lips and empty breasts. Some stopped singing lullabies. Others kept singing long after their children had stopped breathing. The market place was a graveyard. The temple courts fell silent sacrifice, had nothing left to offer. Their prayers fell like broken arrows, too blunt to pierce heaven. Some whispered to God, others said he was gone. Both answers felt like a curse. The gates of Jerusalem didn't break open. They were opened quietly, wilfully. There comes a point when a city stops fighting, not out of cowardice, but out of exhaustion. King Jehoia Kin, son of the late Jehoya King, emerged wearing sackcloth beneath his royal robes, barefoot, crownless. He walked toward the Babylonian army alone. He did not keep, he did not resist, He simply surrendered. King Nebuchadnezza trotted forward, mounted upon his dark steed. His breath rose in the chill like a dragon's breath. Victim, and then the screaming began. The army of Babylon was released like us. Every corner of the city was ransacked. Men were killed, Priests were put on pikes. The monuments to Judah's former greatness were burnt to a crisp. The walk of Solomon ashes the legacy of David Rubber nebukud Nezza knew better than to simply subjugated people. He wanted them to lose all sense of culture and history, and he wanted their heritage diluted and their glorys forgotten. In the southern quarter, where the lower priests and their families lived in warm brick homes, fire erupted, soldiers slashed away at the priests, dragging the young men into cards of boring. No older than fifteen was dragged by his hair through the courtyard. His mother clawed the dirt lungs emptying. Nebucad Nezza watched it all stir unmoved. 00:21:54 Speaker 8: That's enough, leave do the intact. Now find another of David's line to replace the king. 00:22:04 Speaker 7: One who knows how to vow is one. 00:22:08 Speaker 8: His name is Mattanya, not anymore call him Zidekiah. 00:22:16 Speaker 1: The name meant the Lord is righteous. History would remember it as irony. A final candle in a temple filled with ash Judah still breathed, but it bled with every exhale, and somewhere in the temple once the footstool of the Most High, the smoke no longer rose, because the covenant had been broken, not just once, but a thousand times. But the God of Jacob was still watching, waiting. 00:22:58 Speaker 5: If your faith has been kindled by this podcast and it has affected your life, we'd love it if you left her review. We read them, and me personally, I cherish them as you venture forth boldly and faithfully. I leave you with the biblical blessing from numbers six Iva Hashem vishmerecher Yeah, heir, hashempanave eleven ye Sa hashempanave lera saloon. May the Lord bless you and keep you May the Lord make his face shine upon you. May he be gracious to you. Made the Lord turn his face towards you and give you peace. 00:23:40 Speaker 8: Amen. 00:23:42 Speaker 1: You can listen to the Chosen People with You Isle Exstein add free by downloading and subscribing to the pray dot Com app today. This prey dog com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Katina, Max Bard, Zach Shellavaga and Gammon are the executive producers of the Chosen People with Yil Eckstein, edited by Alberto Avilla, narrated by Paul Coltofianu. Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvado, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Stephen Ringwold, Sylvia Zaradoc, Thomas Copeland Junior, Rosanna Pilcher, and Mitch Leshinsky, and the opening prayer is voiced by John Moore. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith, written by Aaron Salvado, bre Rosalie and Chris Baig. 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