Podcasts about chronicler

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

This summer, we're taking a quick journey through the entire Bible, looking at the big picture of God's Word. Normally, we teach through the Bible expositionally—one book at a time and one verse at a time. But on Sunday nights this summer, at different locations, we're stepping back for a macro view. As we step back and see the big picture, we discover God's consistent pattern and message woven throughout His Word. The sermon presents a sweeping overview of the historical books of the Old Testament—from Judges to 2 Chronicles—as a unified narrative revealing God's faithfulness amid human failure, with a central theme of divine covenantal promise persisting through cycles of sin, judgment, repentance, and restoration. It highlights the recurring pattern of apostasy, oppression, cries for help, and deliverance through judges, culminating in the need for a king, which leads to the rise of David and the establishment of an eternal covenant that points forward to Christ. The division of Israel and Judah, the prophetic warnings, and the eventual exile underscore the consequences of compromise and rebellion, yet the Chronicler's perspective emphasizes God's enduring promises, spiritual revival, and the centrality of Judah and the Davidic line as the foundation for future hope. The message applies this historical arc to contemporary society, urging believers to remain vigilant, prophetic, and compassionate, recognizing that God's mercy precedes judgment and that revival is possible when His people return to Him, ultimately pointing to Jesus as the fulfillment of all promises and the only true King who succeeds where all others fail.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

What third tribe does the Chronicler especially honor? 1Chronicles 8 looks forward to the hearing of God's Word, publicly read, in the holy assembly on the coming Lord's Day. In these forty verses of Holy Scripture, the Holy Spirit teaches us that, in addition to royal Judah, and priestly Levi, the Chronicler honored faithful Benjamin. The passage from 1 Chronicles 8 highlights the faithful continuity of the tribe of Benjamin, emphasizing their unwavering allegiance to Judah and the Davidic line, particularly through their settlement in Jerusalem. While Judah and Levi are also prominently featured for their roles in the royal and priestly offices, Benjamin's significance lies in their loyalty during the nation's division, symbolizing steadfast commitment to God's chosen center of worship. The chronicler uses geography—tracing movements from Geba and Gath to Jerusalem—to underscore this faithfulness, culminating in the statement that these leaders dwelt in Jerusalem, alongside their relatives, affirming their dedication to God's presence. This genealogical emphasis ultimately points to Christ, the eternal King and High Priest, while affirming that faithfulness in the midst of spiritual decline is honorable before God. The devotional calls believers to remain loyal to Christ and His ordained means of access, even when the broader church strays, honoring the quiet faithfulness of those who cling to Jesus alone.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

What should we do about those who don't really seem to be as much a part of the church as others? 1Chronicles 7 looks forward to the hearing of God's Word, publicly read, in the holy assembly on the coming Lord's Day. In these nineteen verses of Holy Scripture, the Holy Spirit teaches us that God has a special care for the inclusion in His church of those among His people who seem weak or unworthy. The passage presents a detailed genealogical record of several tribes—Issachar, Benjamin, Naphtali, and Manasseh—emphasizing their numbers and valor, not for pride but to affirm God's sovereign blessing and purpose in every lineage. Though some tribes were small or marginalized, such as Issachar or Naphtali, or descended from concubines and daughters without male heirs, the Chronicler highlights their inclusion and significance as part of God's unified people. The central theological theme underscores the divine order of the body of Christ, where every member, regardless of perceived status or size, is essential and valued according to God's will. This historical account serves as a pastoral reminder to the post-exilic community that no part of God's people is expendable, and all are vital to His covenant purposes. Ultimately, the passage calls for humility, unity, and trust in God's wisdom in assembling His church, where every individual, by divine design, contributes to the whole.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

Of what do these forgotten tribes remind us? 1Chronicles 5 looks forward to the hearing of God's Word, publicly read, in the holy assembly on the coming Lord's Day. In these twenty-six verses of Holy Scripture, the Holy Spirit teaches us that these forgotten tribes remind us of sin's harm and God's grace. The devotional draws from First Chronicles 5 to reflect on the enduring consequences of sin, the faithfulness of God despite human unfaithfulness, and the call to return to covenantal obedience. Though Reuben lost his birthright due to his sin, and the tribes of Reuben, Gad, and half-Manasseh were ultimately exiled for their idolatry, the narrative highlights God's mercy in hearing the prayers of those who cried out to Him in battle. The Chronicler uses these genealogies not merely to record lineage, but to remind the returned exiles of their spiritual inheritance, the cost of disobedience, and the continuing offer of divine mercy. The central message is a pastoral call to repentance, faithfulness, and renewed dependence upon God, emphasizing that while sin has lasting effects, God remains ready to hear and restore those who turn to Him.

If the Book of Kings (Sefer Melakhim) records the corporate fall of man (Israel) in the Promised Land, the Book of Chronicles (Divrei Hayamim) records the covenantal return of man upon a restored foundation. Covering much of the same historical ground, Chronicles is not a duplicate account but a theological re-presentation. Where Kings moves toward exile, Chronicles writes from the other side of it, asking not how the kingdom died, but how it can live again. The Temple and the Kings of Judah (2 Chronicles 1–36): Solomon builds the House, and the history of Judah unfolds as a single question: will the people seek the LORD at the place where He has set His Name? The northern kingdom largely recedes from view. The decisive moments are not military but liturgical: humility or pride, reform or neglect, seeking or forsaking. Here the logic is immediate and instructive: those who seek the LORD find Him; those who abandon Him fall. The Open Ending (c. 539 BCE): The book concludes, not with the destruction of Jerusalem, but with the decree of Cyrus: “Let him go up.” The final word is not exile, but invitation. The foundation remains. The way back is open. Authorship: Jewish tradition associates Chronicles with Ezra, and its language, priestly focus, and genealogical concerns place it firmly within the post-exilic scribal world reflected in Ezra and Nehemiah. Drawing on the same historical traditions as Kings, the Chronicler does not merely preserve the past; he reshapes it for a people who must now live again in light of it. Here, the author is no covenantal prosecutor. He is a theologian of return. His measure is not only whether Israel avoided the error of “YHWH-plus,” but whether they have learned, through judgment, to seek the LORD with a whole heart and to order their life around His presence. History here is not only the record of a fall, but the meaning of that fall, now known in the wisdom of the return.

What might be happening, when it looks like all is lost for the church? 1Chronicles 4:24–43 looks forward to the hearing of God's Word, publicly read, in the holy assembly on the coming Lord's Day. In these twenty verses of Holy Scripture, the Holy Spirit teaches us that, even when we see nothing promising in the church, the Lord may yet be doing much gracious work. The passage highlights God's faithfulness to His promises, even through the seemingly diminished tribe of Simeon, whose descendants, though not multiplying as abundantly as Judah, are still preserved and honored in the Chronicler's record. Despite their historical decline and eventual disappearance from the nation, God is shown to have actively sustained and expanded their presence, enabling them to conquer and settle in fertile lands, including defeating Edomites and Amalekites, and establishing enduring communities. The repeated phrase 'to this day' underscores the ongoing fulfillment of divine promises, pointing forward to the ultimate consummation of God's redemptive plan in Christ. This faithful preservation of Simeon's lineage serves as a reminder that God's purposes are not thwarted by human failure or historical decline, but are steadily advancing toward their final fulfillment in Christ's return. The passage thus invites believers to live in hopeful anticipation, trusting that God remains faithful to every promise and continues to gather His people from every nation.

An Interview with Chronicler of Ardul Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Terry McMillan, best-selling novelist in conversation with host Richard Wolinsky, recorded February 13, 2001 while on tour for her novel, A Day Late and a Dollar Short. Terry McMillan's novels focus on the lives, aspirations and journeys of discovery of African American women and their families. She hit the ground running with her first novel, Mama, in 1987, which she helped turn into a best-seller. She followed that with a series of novels that helped create a large fan base for her work. Among her best known novels are Waiting to Exhale and How Stella Got Her Groove Back, along with Disappearing Acts, all of which were adapted for film. A Day Late and a Dollar Short is a long novel that focuses on several family members going through a variety of crises and revelations. It was adapted into a television film in 2014 starring Whoopi Goldberg and Ving Rhames, which is now available streaming on Kanopy, the free library app, as well as on other streaming services. This interview leans hard into that novel, with side trips into discussions about black families and black culture in America. As of 2026, she has published ten novels and two works of nonfiction, and according to IMDb is working as a producer for a series of television films under the title Terry McMillan presents. Her most recent novel, It's Not All Downhill from Here, was published in 2020. This interview was digitized, remastered and edited in March 2026 and has not been heard in over twenty years.   The post Terry McMillan, Novelist, Chronicler of the Lives of Contemporary African American Women, 2001 appeared first on KPFA.

Don't Whistle At Night welcomes Lenny Jones PRE-RECORDED March 8th, 2026 EP: 047 Topic: Lenny talks about his highly strange encounters Lenny is no stranger to the various levels of high strangeness in the Four Corners area. He is a Navajo Nation Chronicler, Storyteller, Researcher and Experiencer of The Highly Strange. YouTube: Coach 5515

2 Chronicles 10 begins the final major section of 1-2 Chronicles which focuses on the Judean Kings of the Davidic Kingdom. The Northern Kingdom is largely ignored because they have rebelled against God. The Chronicler examines the ups and downs of the southern reigns and judges them based on their fidelity to God's covenant and law. Chapters 10-20 focuses on these kings beginning with Jeroboam through Jehoshaphat. Enjoy this sample from Lesson 8, "Royal Infidelity: Jeroboam to Jehoshaphat (2 Chron 10-20)" from Dr. Nick's ten-part course, "1-2 Chronicles: The Kingdom of the Lord." Anyone can join our community of students and stream the entire audio lesson and full course (and other courses too!) whenever they wish.

Notes and Links to Adolfo Guzman Lopez's Work   Adolfo Guzman-Lopez has been a reporter at LAist 89.3, the Los Angeles NPR affiliate since 2000. He reported and hosted Imperfect Paradise: The Forgotten Revolutionary, a true crime podcast looking into the death in 1994 of Chicano college activist Oscar Gomez. He has reported on L.A. politics, education, art, museums and other topics. His stories have also aired and published nationally on NPR, The Washington Post, and other media. His awards include the LA Press Club's “Radio Journalist of the Year.” He was born in Mexico City, grew up in Tijuana and San Diego, and lives in Long Beach. Buy California Southern: writing from the road, 1992-2025   Listen to Adolfo's “The Forgotten Revolutionary” Podcast Series   KPCC/LAist Article about Adolfo's Visit to Pete's Classroom, 2012   KPCC/Laist OnRamp Article about Adolfo being referenced on The Simpsons At about 2:20, Pete and Adolfo talk about the wonderful experience Adolfo provided for Pete's students during a 2012 class visit At about 5:15, Adolfo recounts great stories and lessons learned (especially “collective voice”) from time with The Taco Shop Poets At about 9:00, Adolfo gives background on growing up in San Diego and Tijuana, "bicultural and bilingual” At about 11:30, Pete and Adolfo reflect on the book as “a road trip book” At about 13:30, Adolfo discusses what he recently learned about earlier family immigrants to the US At about 15:40, the two discuss of National City and San Diego in discussing the wonderful “binaries” that Mike Sonksen compliments in blurbs for the book At about 20:50, Adolfo describes the “sadness” in the writing of Jack Kerouac and connections to ideas of “home” for himself and Kerouac At about 23:10, Pete and Adolfo shout out Tim Hernández and his great work with Mañana Means Heaven At about 24:00, “The Spine of Califas,” the book's first poem, is discussed, and Adolfo discusses the “personification” of the border At about 27:50, Pete highlights the POV and “myriad stories” in a poem about  At about 28:40, Adolfo responds to Pete's questions about poems that focus on the border crossing and questions from immigration authorities  At about 29:40, Adolfo explains a dynamic phrase he uses-”milquetoast bilingualism" and how he played with language, especially with regards to “proper” Spanish and English At about 34:55, Adolfo reads some of his work, meditating on ideas of possessions, tangible and not At about 38:00, The two discuss “SanDiegotijuana” and its “negative definitions” and Adolfo reflects on the “set of feelings” that differ depending on where he is At about 41:00, Adolfo reflects on his “footprints still [being] wet” in San Diego and its implications  At about 43:40, Pete compliments Adolfo's work in tracing the histories, military and not, of San Diego and LA At about 47:00, Adolfo responds to Pete's asking about his poem(s) about Pacific Beach Junior High School  At about 48:55, Adolfo expands on his word play, especially using various permutations of “Sal” and talks about adopting Jewish religious practices and writing about a meaningful story from the Torah At about 53:25, Adolfo responds to Pete's questions about “The Words I've Lost” and ideas of remembered and forgotten language At about 55:45, The two discuss gentrification as a topic in the poetry collections, particularly in San Diego At about 1:00:25, Adolfo recounts the story behind his poem on the opening of the National City Library  At about 1:03:40, ideas of “passing the baton” and transitions between immigrant communities and migrant communities are discussed  At about 1:06:20, Adolfo reads the poem “Prudence” At about 1:07:45, Adolfo talks about writing in response/in honor of Ginsberg and Chicano/a history  At about 1:10:35, Adolfo talks about the Chicano Student Movement, which he covered for his podcast, “The Forgotten Revolutionary” At about 1:11:50, Adolfo talks about continuing various movements, and how he has written a “sequel(s) for “The Movement” poem At about 1:14:00, Adolfo responds to Pete's questions about the term Chicano and its changing meanings At about 1:18:00, Adolfo reflects At about 1:20:30, Adolfo reflects on continuing activism and misogyny within activist circles  At about 1:24:10, Adolfo expands on writing and a changed viewpoint on life after a horrible injury caused by police at a protest At about 1:26:40, Pete shouts out “Those Winter Sundays” in highlighting Adolfo's strong ending with a question At about 1:27:40, Adolfo expands on a poem that highlights the building of the LA Philharmonic  At about 1:31: 30, Pete highlights a favorite poem in the collection, “Trucks” and shares a little Italian bone to pick with Adolfo At about 1:35:15, Pete compares Adolfo's “Trucks” and love for home to Hemingway's “Old Man at the Bridge” At about 1:37:30, Shifra Goldman and her mentorship and activism are referenced, as well as the “Tercera Caida”   At about 1:39:00, Adolfo reflects on dreams and their impact on writing and learning  At about 1:41:10, Adolfo reflects on how he was cognizant of tone at the end of the collection, and he reads “The Treaty” At about 1:43:00, Adolfo shares how he ended “The Treaty” with a reference to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo      You can now subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts, and leave me a five-star review. You can also ask for the podcast by name using Alexa, and find the pod on Stitcher, Spotify, and on Amazon Music. Follow Pete on IG, where he is @chillsatwillpodcast, or on Twitter, where he is @chillsatwillpo1. You can watch other episodes on YouTube-watch and subscribe to The Chills at Will Podcast Channel. Please subscribe to both the YouTube Channel and the podcast while you're checking out this episode.       Pete is very excited to have one or two podcast episodes per month featured on the website of Chicago Review of Books. The audio will be posted, along with a written interview culled from the audio. His conversation with Jeff Pearlman, a recent guest, is up now at Chicago Review.     Sign up now for The Chills at Will Podcast Patreon: it can be found at patreon.com/chillsatwillpodcastpeterriehl      Check out the page that describes the benefits of a Patreon membership, including cool swag and bonus episodes. Thanks in advance for supporting Pete's one-man show, DIY podcast and extensive reading, research, editing, and promoting to keep this independent podcast pumping out high-quality content!    This month's Patreon bonus episode features an exploration of formative and transformative writing for children, as Pete surveys wonderful writers on their own influences.    Pete has added a $1 a month tier for “Well-Wishers” and Cheerleaders of the Show.     This is a passion project, a DIY operation, and Pete would love for your help in promoting what he's convinced is a unique and spirited look at an often-ignored art form.    The intro song for The Chills at Will Podcast is “Wind Down” (Instrumental Version), and the other song played on this episode was “Hoops” (Instrumental)” by Matt Weidauer, and both songs are used through ArchesAudio.com.     Please tune in for Episode 328 with Tom Junod, ESPN senior writer who has written some of the most enduring and widely read longform journalism of the last 30 years.    He joined ESPN in 2016 and has specialized in deeply reported stories on subjects ranging from Muhammad Ali's funeral to Tom Brady's desire to play forever. He has been nominated for an Emmy for his work on “The Hero of Goodall Park,” an E60 program on the ancient secrets that were revealed when a car drove on a baseball field in Maine during a Babe Ruth League game in 2018.     In a 2022 piece, “Untold,” he and ESPN investigative reporter Paula Lavigne spent nearly two years uncovering the horrific crimes of Todd Hodne, a  Penn State football player who in the late 1970's terrorized State College PA, and Long Island, NY, as a serial sexual predator.    Before coming to ESPN, Junod wrote for GQ and Esquire, where he won two National Magazine Awards and was a finalist for the award a record 11 times. For Esquire's 75th Anniversary, the editors of the magazine selected his 9/11 story “The Falling Man' as one of the seven top stories in Esquire's history. In 2019, his story on beloved children's TV host Fred Rogers, “Can You Say…Hero?,” served as the basis for the movie “A Beautiful Day in The Neighborhood,” starring Tom Hanks and Matthew Rhys.    His work has been widely anthologized in collections including The Best American Magazine Writing, the Best American Sports Writing, the Best American Political Writing, the Best American Crime Writing, and the Best American Food Writing.    The episode airs on March 10 or thereabouts, Pub Day for In the Days of My Youth I Was Told What It Means to Be a Man: A Memoir.    Please go to ceasefiretoday.org, and/or https://act.uscpr.org/a/letaidin to call your congresspeople and demand an end to the forced famine and destruction of Gaza and the Gazan people.

In this episode, we discuss… What science really is, both as body of knowledge and a constantly evolving process  Why one study is never enough and the importance of multiple methods, reproducibility, and scientific consensus over time When "gold standard" research falls short and why fields like nutrition require more flexible, creative approaches Science's built-in caution and how new ideas face a high bar of proof, slowing acceptance but strengthening reliability How doubt is manufactured, from the tobacco era to climate science, using fringe voices to challenge strong consensus The role of ideology, and how "freedom" narratives can shape public resistance to scientific evidence Acting without certainty and why we must make public health decisions even when data isn't 100% complete AI and misinformation and the promise and risk of tools like OpenAI in shaping how we consume science Naomi Oreskes Henry Charles Lea Professor of the History of Science Affiliated Professor of Earth and Planetary Sciences ON LEAVE SPRING 2026 emailoreskes@fas.harvard.edu Faculty Assistant: Yaz Alfata Primary Areas of Research: Agnotology; the Political Economy of Scientific Knowledge; History and Philosophy of Earth and Environmental Sciences, Science and Technology Studies (STS); the History of Climate Change Disinformation Secondary Areas of Interest: Science Policy, Science and Religion, Women and Gender Studies   Naomi Oreskes is Henry Charles Lea Professor of the History of Science and Affiliated Professor of Earth and Planetary Sciences at Harvard University. A world-renowned earth scientist, historian and public speaker, she is the author of the best-selling book, Merchants of Doubt (2010) and a leading voice on the role of science in society, the reality of anthropogenic climate change, and the role of disinformation in blocking climate action. Oreskes is author or co-author of 9 books, and over 150 articles, essays and opinion pieces, including Merchants of Doubt (Bloomsbury, 2010), The Collapse of Western Civilization (Columbia University Press, 2014), Discerning Experts (University Chicago Press, 2019), Why Trust Science? (Princeton University Press, 2019), and Science on a Mission: American Oceanography from the Cold War to Climate Change, (University of Chicago Press, 2021). Merchants of Doubt, co-authored with Erik Conway, was the subject of a documentary film of the same name produced by participant Media and distributed by SONY Pictures Classics, and has been translated into nine languages. A new edition of Merchants of Doubt, with an introduction by Al Gore, was published in 2020. Her latest book, with Erik Conway, is The Big Myth: How American Business Taught Us to Loath Government and Love the Free Market, which has been translated to French and Italian. Oreskes wrote the Introduction to the Melville House edition of the Papal Encyclical on Climate Change and Inequality, Laudato Si, and her essays and opinion pieces on climate change have appeared in leading newspapers around the globe, including The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, the Times (London), and Frankfurter Allegemeine. Her numerous awards and prizes include the 2019 Geological Society of American Mary C. Rabbitt Award, the 2016 Stephen Schneider Award for outstanding Climate Science Communication, the 2015 Public Service Award of the Geological Society of America, the 2015 Herbert Feis Prize of the American Historical Association for her contributions to public history, and the 2014 American Geophysical Union Presidential Citation for Science and Society. She is a fellow of the American Geophysical Union, the Geological Society of America, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and the American Philosophical Society. In 2018, she was named a Guggenheim Fellow, and in 2019 she was awarded the British Academy Medal. In 2024, she was awarded the Nonino Foundation "Maestro del Nostro Tempo" award. And in 2025, she was awarded the Volvo Environment Prize for her contributions in "shaping our understanding of how scientific knowledge is collectively constructed and addressing the challenges of misinformation in public discourse."  Curriculum Vitae   Select Publications The Big Myth: How American Business Taught Us to Loath Government and Love the Free Market, 2023 (Bloomsbury Press) Science on a Mission, 2021 (University of Chicago Press) Why Trust Science?, 2019 (Princeton University Press) Science and Technology in the Global Cold War, 2014 (MIT Press) The Collapse of Western Civilization: A View from the Future, 2014 (Columbia University Press)   Collapse of Western Civilization Home Page Merchants of Doubt: How a Handful of Scientists Obscured the Truth on Issues from Tobacco Smoke to Global Warming, 2010. (New York: Bloomsbury Press.) Merchants of Doubt Home Page Merchants of Doubt at the 52nd New York Film Festival, October 8, 2014 Models in Environmental Regulatory Decision Making, Whipple, Chris et al. (fourteen additional authors), 2007. (Washington DC: National Academy of Sciences National Research Council, Board on Environmental Studies and Toxicology), 287 pp. The Rejection of Continental Drift: Theory and Method in American Earth Science, 1999. (New York: Oxford University Press) In the Media Testimony Before the US Senate Budget Committee, Twitter, June 22, 2023 Science Isn't Always Perfect - But We Should Still Trust It, TIME, October 2019 Climate Change Will Cost Us Even More Than We Think, New York Times, October 2019 Escaping Extinction, World Economic Forum, January 2019 Yes, ExxonMobil Misled the Public, LA Times, September 2017 What Exxon Mobil Didn't Say About Climate Change, The New York Times, August 2017 Assessing ExxonMobil's Climate Change Communications (177-2014), Environment Research Letters, August 2017 Scientists Dive Into the Political Fray, PBS Newshour, April 2017 How to Break the Climate Deadlock, Scientific American, November 2015 What Did Exxon Know?, On The Media, November 2015 The Pope and the Planet, The Open Mind, November 2015 Exxon's Climate Concealment, New York Times, October 2015 Naomi Oreskes, a Lightning Rod in a Changing Climate, New York Times, June 2015 A Chronicler of Warnings Denied, New York Times, October 2014 Merchants of Doubt, Documentary from Sony Pictures Classics, 2014 "Why We Should Trust Scientists," TED Talk, June 2014 The 2014 Vatican Environmental Summit: Can a Pope Help Sustain Humanity and Ecology?, New York Times Interview for Cosmologics Magazine Prof. Oreskes discusses her book, "The Collapse of Western Civilization..."  Naomi Oreskes - The Collapse of Western Civilization, Inquiring Minds Podcast "A View From the Climate Change Future," National Public Radio via Boston's WBUR Edited Volumes Oreskes, Naomi, ed., with Homer E. Le Grand, 2001.  Plate Tectonics: An Insider's History of the Modern Theory of the Earth (Boulder: Westview Press), paperback edition February 2003. Edited Journal Volumes Oreskes, Naomi and James R. Fleming, eds. 2000.  "Perspectives on Geophysics," Special Issue of   Studies in the History and Philosophy of Modern Physics, 31B, September 2000.

Notes and Links to Lillian Li's Work      Lillian Li is the author of the novel Number One Chinese Restaurant, which was an NPR Best Book of 2018, and longlisted for the Women's Prize and the Center for Fiction's First Novel Prize. Her work has been published in the New York Times, Granta, One Story, Bon Appetit, Travel & Leisure, The Guardian, and Jezebel. Originally from the D.C. metro area, she lives in Ann Arbor. Buy Bad Asians   Kirkus Reviews for Bad Asians   Lillian Li's Website     At about 1:30, Lillian talks about her mindset as Pub Day is a day away, and she shares heartening feedback she's received on Bad Asians At about 3:00, Lillian talks about her early relationship with language and literature, including Amy Tan's Joy Luck Club, and coins a great term, a “Borders Kid” At about 4:40, Lillian describes growing up in a Chinese-American and Asian-American community in connection with ideas of representation  At about 6:30, Lillian reflects on “growing pains” with Joy Luck Club and having ambivalent feelings towards the book's lasting impact At about 8:50, Lillian highlights How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder as a standout text she's reading currently  At about 10:10, Lillian highlights Literati Bookstore as a great place to buy her book and interesting tour events coming up At about 12:05, Lillian gives background on starting the book with a map At about 13:10, Lillian talks about North Potomac, MD, and growing up there  At about 14:50, Pete sets the book's exposition through discussion of the Prologue, and Lillian comments on her interest in the experience of those who have gone viral At about 16:30, Grace as the “golden child” is discussed in terms of Lillian's childhood seeing comparison and "competitive friendships” At about 18:10, the two continue to describe the book's opening and main characters  At about 21:40, Lillian describes the original video that Grace recorded that morphs into the foundation for the “Bad Asians” viral video(s) At about 23:00, Lillian responds to Pete's asking about a middle-of-the-book scene with a caring/boundary-overstepping teacher  At about 25:20, Grace and her gilded rich girl life is described  At about 27:20, Lillian and Pete describe the ways in which the friends like Errol and Justin feel “unburdened” and free in filming with Grace, but also how Grace gets some controversial footage At about 28:55, “Going to the Mall on Molly” and its ramifications is discussed At about 30:40, Lillian describes how Vivían's phone call leads to Grace “running away” to LA At about 32:25, Lillian gives background on the plan that the group hatches in collaboration with Carrie Yang At about 35:00, Vivían and Errol and their post-vows life and rave culture are discussed by Lillian; she talks about MDMA as a sort of emotional regulation   At about 36:30, Lillian talks about the scenes in the book as emblematic of the 2008 recession and recovery in Detroit At about 37:20, Lillian riffs on “self-medication,” with regards to an article she read about overdoses in the Asian-American community/rave culture At about 38:40, Errol's dangerous “pranks” are analyzed  At about 40:00, Lillian discusses the “gilded cage” and “success trap” for Grace and her creative pursuits At about 42:10, the two discuss the notoriety that comes with leaked cell phone footage from the New York At about 42:45, Lillian talks about Justin's sexuality and provides background on her research on bisexuality, intimacy and love for his character  At about 46:00, Pete compliments the ending of the book, and Lillian expands on her mindset in ending the book that way        You can now subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts, and leave me a five-star review. You can also ask for the podcast by name using Alexa, and find the pod on Stitcher, Spotify, and on Amazon Music. Follow Pete on IG, where he is @chillsatwillpodcast, or on Twitter, where he is @chillsatwillpo1. You can watch other episodes on YouTube-watch and subscribe to The Chills at Will Podcast Channel. Please subscribe to both the YouTube Channel and the podcast while you're checking out this episode.       Pete is very excited to have one or two podcast episodes per month featured on the website of Chicago Review of Books. The audio will be posted, along with a written interview culled from the audio. His conversation with Jeff Pearlman, a recent guest, is up soon at Chicago Review.     Sign up now for The Chills at Will Podcast Patreon: it can be found at patreon.com/chillsatwillpodcastpeterriehl      Check out the page that describes the benefits of a Patreon membership, including cool swag and bonus episodes. Thanks in advance for supporting Pete's one-man show, DIY podcast and extensive reading, research, editing, and promoting to keep this independent podcast pumping out high-quality content!    This month's Patreon bonus episode features an exploration of formative and transformative writing for children, as Pete surveys wonderful writers on their own influences.    Pete has added a $1 a month tier for “Well-Wishers” and Cheerleaders of the Show.     This is a passion project, a DIY operation, and Pete would love for your help in promoting what he's convinced is a unique and spirited look at an often-ignored art form.    The intro song for The Chills at Will Podcast is “Wind Down” (Instrumental Version), and the other song played on this episode was “Hoops” (Instrumental)” by Matt Weidauer, and both songs are used through ArchesAudio.com.     Please tune in for Episode 325 with Grant Ginder, the author of the novels Let's Not Do That Again, Honestly, We Meant Well, The People We Hate at the Wedding, Driver's Education, and This is How It Starts, a few of which have been made into movies. His latest is So Old, So Young.     The episode airs on February 20, three days after Pub Day for So Old, So Young.     Please go to ceasefiretoday.org, and/or https://act.uscpr.org/a/letaidin to call your congresspeople and demand an end to the forced famine and destruction of Gaza and the Gazan people.     You can also donate at chuffed.org, World Central Kitchen, and so many more, and/or you can contact writer friend Ursula Villarreal-Moura directly or through Pete, as she has direct links with friends in Gaza.

John Maytham is joined by Andrew Brown, South African novelist and long-time chronicler of Cape Town’s social landscape, to discuss his book - “All about Philippi”. Afternoon Drive with John Maytham is the late afternoon show on CapeTalk. Presenter John Maytham is an actor and author-turned-talk radio veteran and seasoned journalist. His show serves a round-up of local and international news coupled with the latest in business, sport, traffic, and weather. The host’s eclectic interests mean the program often surprises the audience with intriguing book reviews and inspiring interviews profiling artists. A daily highlight is Rapid Fire, just after 5:30 pm. CapeTalk fans call in to stump the presenter with their general knowledge questions. Another firm favourite is the humorous Thursday crossing with award-winning journalist Rebecca Davis, called “Plan B”. Thank you for listening to a podcast from Afternoon Drive with John Maytham Listen live on Primedia+ weekdays from 15:00 to 18:00 (SA Time) to Afternoon Drive with John Maytham broadcast on CapeTalk https://buff.ly/NnFM3Nk For more from the show, go to https://buff.ly/BSFy4Cn or find all the catch-up podcasts here https://buff.ly/n8nWt4x Subscribe to the CapeTalk Daily and Weekly Newsletters https://buff.ly/sbvVZD5 Follow us on social media: CapeTalk on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CapeTalk CapeTalk on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@capetalk CapeTalk on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ CapeTalk on X: https://x.com/CapeTalk CapeTalk on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CapeTalk567 See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

1 Chron 21-29 mark the final days of David's life according to the Chronicler. He spends this time making all provisions and preparations necessary for the future construction of the Temple under Solomon. These narratives further reveal that the site and worship of the Temple is a completion and fulfillment of the promises under the previous covenants with Abraham and Moses. Enjoy this sample from Lesson 5, "Preparations for the Temple (1 Chron 21-29)" from Dr. Nick's ten-part course, "1-2 Chronicles: The Kingdom of the Lord." Anyone can join our community of students and stream the entire audio lesson and full course (and other courses too!) whenever they wish.

Pastor Jeff Edwards spoke about how algorithms, ads, and news are filled with tips on how to live longer.  We have our favorites: diets, exercise, supplements, medicines, therapies, drinking water, breathing! Humans have always been drawn to longevity.  Trekkies say “live long and prosper”.  What does the Chronicler say?  Come, hear a challenge that connects to Prayer and Fasting Week and Prayer Summit. Jeff used 1 Chronicles 10:1-13 as his scripture reference.