Scripture Journals: The Book of Mormon: 1 Nephi 7-22

Wow, it’s been a while since my last entry. I never was very good at maintaining a steady journal or regular scripture study, and my New Year’s resolution was to (try to) be more of a finisher, so there you are.

But for the first time in the longest time, I’ve completed the entire First Book of Nephi, starting with chapter 7. Usually I stop by the time I finish the story of the Brass Plates or the Tree of Life, and I’ll bet more people read Nephi’s story than all the other stories in the Book of Mormon. I think it’s safe to say he holds the record. 

Anyway, as I said in my previous entry, I have a little more sympathy for Laman and Lemuel than I did when I was younger. That being said, I only pity them to a certain extent. There’s still a line I draw and refuse to move. After a time, I start frowning on them more, though I try to refrain from passing final judgment.

If there’s one lesson I’ve learned throughout 1 Nephi, it’s that attitude makes all the difference. When bad things happen, all Laman and Lemuel (and most of the others) do is sit around and pout, whereas Nephi actually does something about it. Every time Nephi gets knocked facefirst into the dirt, he just climbs back to his feet, dusts himself off, and tries again.

If anything, Nephi has more cause to complain than the whole bunch of them put together. He can wallow in plenty of self-pity, but he chooses not to. And that’s why I sympathize with him and admire him the most.

For that matter, it may come as a bit of a shock to hear Nephi actually criticize himself in the next book: “Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities. I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.”

That was enough to make me do a double take the first time I seriously read that passage. “Wait a minute, this is Nephi we’re talking about here? Nephi, of all people, a man guilty of many sins? Am I reading this right? Is that even possible?”

It’s also quite an unpleasant surprise when Lehi gets to the point of murmuring, enough to where the Lord rebukes him personally.

In hindsight, however, I appreciate both these moments because they show that Nephi and Lehi were still human like the rest of us. They both had a long way to go, so it’s only natural they would stumble more than once along the way, like a child learning to walk for the first time. It’s not like a baby can just jump up and start running like the wind, right?

One of my most favorite movies of all time is The Prince of Egypt. I’ve also seen The Ten Commandments and I like that one well enough by itself, but on a personal level, I say The Prince of Egypt told the story of Moses much better. 

In The Ten Commandments, Moses is pretty much an infallible Superman from beginning to end. Absolutely nothing can stand in his way, and there’s nothing wrong with that portrayal of him by any means. But in The Prince of Egypt, Moses feels a whole lot more relatable. He shows a greater emotional vulnerability, his relationship with Pharaoh pulls on your heartstrings much harder, he makes plenty of mistakes but learns well from them, and overall, he goes through phenomenal character growth. He’s an ordinary man who becomes extraordinary, and that’s what I love.

To be fair to Nephi, there’s only so much of his story we can gather in just a few chapters, since this story alone spans at least thirty years. As a result, a boatload of details are left out, so it’s all too easy to overlook Nephi’s mistakes and place him on a little too high a pedestal. But Nephi knows what he’s done and he could be as hard on himself as we all too often are on ourselves.

Lehi wasn’t a perfect man by any means, either. They mean it when they say nobody is perfect. He had an understandable lapse of judgment after a long, hard journey in the wilderness, but the important thing is he acknowledged his mistake and repented of it. There’s something to be said for someone who honestly owns up to their mistakes; even in our day, far too many people will go to incredible lengths to avoid a modicum of responsibility. It’s a weird form of self-preservation.

Which makes that famous scene from The Lion King that much more applicable: “Oh, yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.” 

Everybody in Nephi’s family was hurt to some degree or another. There was no way in the world any of them were getting out of this voyage unscathed. Laman and Lemuel chose to dwell on their pain and make a useless effort to run from their problems, and once again, that’s where I stop feeling sorry for them. But Nephi and Lehi, as well as Sam and Zoram, chose to learn from their problems and that’s what got them through said problems.

When Nephi was putting the ship together, Laman and Lemuel just said, “We always knew you were crazy, little brother, but this time, you’ve really lost your marbles!”

Nephi, upon receiving instruction to build a ship, didn’t moan to the Lord, “What are you asking me to do? I can’t build a ship! That’s impossible!” Instead, he asked, “Where can I find ore to make the necessary tools for such a construction?” Already, he was rolling back his sleeves and ready to get going.

And that, I think, is why Nephi stands out among the greatest Book of Mormon heroes and most ideal role models. No, he wasn’t perfect, but in due time, practice did indeed make perfect.

Scripture Journals: The Book of Mormon: 1 Nephi 1-6

Well, I finally got a good head start on the Book of Mormon. We’re studying the Book of Mormon this year in Gospel Doctrine, and my main New Year’s resolution for 2024 is to be more of a finisher. So, this is as perfect an opportunity as any. 

Today, I completed 1 Nephi, chapters 1—6. This is probably one of the most famous Book of Mormon stories of all, the story of Nephi and the Brass Plates. 

(All images property of their respective owners.)

I’ve always felt sorry for Nephi, because he goes through such a rough patch through no fault of his own. His brothers in particular treat him pretty badly. He even says in the very first chapter, “having seen many afflictions in the course of my days,” and he’s light on the details but doesn’t sprinkle a bit of sugar on anything. Family squabbles are one thing, but we’re talking about brothers who actually tried to kill him, more than once. Laman and Lemuel both sound like they had some serious anger issues, to say the absolute least.

On the other hand, I’m also in great awe of Nephi, because he never let anything get him down. He always remained faithful to the Lord, and he counterbalances his worldly drama with, “nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days; yea, having had a great knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God,” which means his faith enabled him to become better instead of bitter. From what I gather, what he went through can break a lesser soul like a twig.

Of course, Laman and Lemuel are far from popular. They tend to be vilified a lot and I’ll admit they were never my favorite characters to read about. Then again, many of us are not so different. How many of us have a tendency to complain, to murmur, to get angry when things aren’t going our way? Not that I’m excusing Laman or Lemuel by any means (only God Himself can make the final judgment) but these days, I feel a bit more empathy than contempt toward those two.

They were human like anybody else, with a few strengths and plenty of flaws. Where they ran into trouble is, as Nephi put it, “because they knew not the dealings of that God who had created them.” Unlike Nephi, they had too little faith and their mindsets were more secular than spiritual. If Nephi chose to let his trials build him up, his brothers most certainly let their trials tear them down. 

They showed an incredible disrespect toward their father, which is scarily reminiscent of the disrespect I see toward parents today. People may not think it’s such a big deal, but back then, it was practically a capital offense, since one of the Ten Commandments is, “Honor thy father and thy mother.”

They also serve as an example of a toxic influence, because Laman sounds like he was a much bigger influence on Lemuel, since Nephi says about Lemuel, “for he hearkened unto the words of Laman.”

On the flip side, Nephi and Sam demonstrate a fine example of a positive influence. Personally, I feel Sam is one of those unsung heroes. There’s very little mention of him throughout the entire story, but from what little is said, he was always by Nephi’s side and retained the same faith and humility. It’s partly for that reason that I named one of my fictional characters Sam, a young faun who’s a soldier and a brother, and the most loyal, caring faun you’ll find anywhere. I also really like Samwise Gamgee, whom I consider the true hero of The Lord of the Rings. 

Another subtle detail that catches my eye and warms my heart is Lehi’s kindness toward his wife while their sons are away on their mission to retrieve the Plates of Brass. While Sariah is in an understandably bitter mood, Lehi takes the time to hear her out and then comfort her. That’s what any good husband should do. Then she learns on her own to have more trust in her husband as well as the Lord. I love this little display of married life; the marriage has a few ups and downs, but if the wife and husband work together, their marriage can endure anything. 

I also like how Nephi takes the time to learn the truth for himself rather than just taking his father’s word for it. He takes the time to pray to God all on his own, and then God acknowledges him and Lehi as individuals. First, the Lord says, “Blessed art thou, Lehi,” and later He says, “Blessed art thou, Nephi,” showing how He knows our names and loves us exclusively, not just collectively. Which brings to mind that inspiring snippet from Luke 12, “and not one of them is forgotten before God.”

Nephi could have just relied on his father’s testimony. Instead, he cultivated a testimony of his very own, and he shared what he had learned as often as possible. This inspires me to cultivate a testimony of my very own, especially where the Book of Mormon is concerned. 

Granted, not everyone will take kindly to what we share. Just as Laman and Lemuel refused to believe Nephi, so too did Lehi’s fellow Jews at Jerusalem refuse to believe Lehi, to the point where they got angry enough to try to assassinate him. This was but one of the many reasons why Lehi was commanded to flee with his family and start a new life in a new land. Even though no one’s made any threats toward me (thank goodness), I’ve gotten into a few squabbles with people who don’t share my beliefs at all, including some who I thought were my friends, and I can tell you how painful the sting of rejection is. At any rate, I know it’s a harsh blow when someone you care about makes fun of something so close to your heart, and it can be a little scary how angry they get. That in itself is a sign of the truthfulness of the gospel, because it wouldn’t strike such a nerve otherwise. People would have no reason to get so scared and defensive.

Which is a nice segue to the big question the entire story of the Plates of Brass poses: how valuable is the gospel to you? What are you willing to give up for the Lord’s sake?

Lehi used to be a man of high position who lived a life of luxury. Growing up, Nephi and his brothers must have wanted for nothing. They must have worn fine clothes, eaten fine food, probably had some fine education and could go just about anywhere and do whatever they wanted. If not for the threats on Lehi’s life, the family would have had no need to leave all this luxury behind and venture out into the middle of nowhere and start a new life from scratch. In the eyes of someone like Laman or Lemuel, this really would have seemed like a completely crazy idea.

Later, Nephi and his brothers show a willingness to exchange all their property for the plates, and this particular property is noted to be “exceedingly great,” enough to make Laban “lust after it, insomuch that he thrust us out, and sent his servants to slay us, that he might obtain our property.” And this was the very same man who had the audacity to accuse Laman of being a robber just a short while ago.

According to ancient Jewish law, this actually gave Nephi the legal right to slay Laban, aside from the Lord’s direct command to slay him. I remember what my dad once told me, how there’s a big difference between killing someone and murdering them. Nephi merely killed Laban for the greater good, whereas Laban intended to murder Nephi and his brothers in cold blood. Nephi at least showed a deep reluctance to kill; likely enough, Laban had no such qualms. 

In the end, it all worked out, although Nephi most certainly could not have expected or even wanted things to turn out like this. In hindsight, he must have been very glad that he was “led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do.”

Sometimes that’s all we can do, focus on putting one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. Just like children learning to crawl before they walk, and learning to walk before they run.

Big Bible Questions: Did Elisha Attack a Bunch of Children?

Hello again, friends and family! Welcome back! It's good to be back myself. I'm all right, just been caught up in work and personal projects. You know how it is. 

Work is keeping me well on my toes, but compared to how work used to be, I should be grateful. I'm happy to announce that my college debt has been paid in full (with plenty of help from Mom and even a little unofficial help from Grandma and Grandpa) so now I can keep at least part of my paycheck. Maybe now I can finally start building up a nest egg, get on my own feet. In any case, it's such a relief to have one less debt to worry about.

When I'm not working my tail off, I use art to unwind and I'm just getting back into writing. It's so fun and so therapeutic, as it's always been. 

It would be really nice if I could live off my writing and art, but at least I've got a bit of a financial cushion now. Even my professors could never stress enough the importance of having a backup job, since you're a lot more likely to win the lottery than to write a New York Times bestseller. 

I'm also happy to announce that I got my COVID-19 vaccination last week. Yeah, I'm well aware of how passionate some people are about that, and sadly, a couple of friendships have ended because my so-called friends read me the riot act for following my own conscience. I don't mind so much the fact that they choose not to get the vaccine as I mind how they look down their noses at me and belittle me to my face. 

This isn't the first time this happened. Over the last decade or so, I've gotten roped into quite a few heated discussions about religion, politics, human rights, animal rights, and all that jazz. I've even been called an "animal murderer" just because I like meat, even though I'm against hunting for pure sport and I believe an animal must be killed quickly and humanely. Funnily enough, these hardcore vegetarians don't seem to realize that animals kill other animals; everything lives at the expense of something else, and we can't all subsist purely on plants.

That's just the trouble with the world these days. People care a whole lot more about "being right" than about other people's feelings. They'd much rather lose a close relationship than an argument. 

This serves as a nice segue into today's blog post. Here, I'm doing my fifth "Big Bible Question," where I take an extremely touchy topic from the Good Book and do my best to create a quiet, peaceful study area instead of a noisy, hostile boxing ring. 

Last time, for BBQ #4, I talked about why God smote the firstborn of Egypt, in the day of Moses.

For BBQ #3, I talked about who's responsible for Joseph's bondage in Egypt. 

For BBQ #2, I talked about whether or not Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve Apostles, could still be considered a traitor for making Jesus Christ's soul-saving death possible.

And for BBQ #1, I talked about whether or not Ananias and Saphira, the two-faced New Testament couple, deserved to be instantly cursed to death. 

Today, I shall talk about the Old Testament prophet Elisha, the successor of the celebrated Elijah. I have noticed a few colorful complaints about the following passage, 2 Kings 2:23-24: "And he went up from thence unto Beth-el: and as he was going up by the way, there came forth little children out of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, Go up, thou bald head; go up, thou bald head. 

"And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed them in the name of the Lord. And there came forth two she bears out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them." 

Did Elisha seriously send two bears to slaughter, or at least maul, a pack of children just for insulting him? A lot of irate modern readers seem to think so. 

Well, my religious and non-religious friends, let's take this moment to calm down and reevaluate this scene with a tiny bit more logic.

Firstly, the King James Version of the Bible includes a footnote that reveals these were not small children; rather, they were teenagers or young adults, well into their 20s or possibly 30s. 

This in itself proves that Elisha's targets had to be old enough to know better. Therefore, how much more deserving of their punishment would you say they were? How inclined are you to be merciful to somebody who does something wrong on purpose? 

Sure, I'm a big believer in mercy myself. I believe in giving people another chance if they sincerely ask for it and work to earn it. Even so, there's a mighty fine line separating a little kid throwing a tantrum from a young adult who shamelessly mouths off. The disrespect for parents I see nowadays is absolutely incredible. If I ever spoke to my parents or grandparents like that, they would have mounted my hide on the wall before I knew what hit me. 

There's a reason why one of the Ten Commandments is, "Honor thy father and thy mother." It's kind of a big deal...an ever-so-slightly bigger deal than people realize.

Secondly, Elisha was a prophet, so these infantile adults were showing terrible contempt for a holy man, for God Himself. 

This is a million and one times worse than disrespecting parents. 

This called for so much more than a hundred spankings. 

Given just how powerful God is, how much He's done for us of His own volition, we're lucky He's so kind and loving and doesn't abuse His power. Any puny mortal who dares to insult the very Creator of heaven and earth has got the most incredible gall.

Thirdly, it's quite likely that these wild bears did not kill this insolent bunch. Note the word "tare" in the scripture; this is a strong implication that the bears caused no more damage than a few lacerations, or serious scratches. Even if the damage wasn't permanent, there's no way you can ignore a bloody gash, especially if there's a nice little scar left behind.

When the youths cursed Elisha, he gave them a little taste of their own medicine, cursing them right back. Given how a prophet's place is to bless people, you know it must be a big deal when the prophet does the exact opposite.

It's also worth noting the use of "she" in "she bears." What's the first thing you think of when you hear "Mama Bear"? 

You're right: a mother bear with cubs. 

And everybody with half a brain knows coming between a bear and her babies (or any mother animal and her babies, for that matter) will be the last thing you ever do. 

(screencaps courtesy of Animation Screencaps)

So, it's quite possible these youths were not only guilty of disrespect for a prophet of God, but they must have done something to provoke these wild animals beforehand. I'm not so sure the "she bears" just popped out of nowhere. 

Adam Clarke, a well-known Bible scholar, offered this theory: "But is it not possible that these forty-two were a set of unlucky young men, who had been employed in the wood, destroying the whelps of these same she-bears, who now pursued them, and tore them to pieces, for the injury they had done? We have already heard of the ferocity of a bear robbed of her whelps; see at the end of [2 Samuel, chapter 17]. The mention of she-bears gives some colour to the above conjecture; and, probably, at the same time when these young fellows insulted the prophet, the bears might be tracing the footsteps of the murderers of their young, and thus came upon them in the midst of their insults, God's providence ordering these occurrences so as to make this natural effect appear as a Divine cause. If the conjecture be correct, the bears were prepared by their loss to execute the curse of the prophet, and God's justice guided them to the spot to punish the iniquity that had been just committed." (Commentary, 2:486)

So, there you have it, friends. 

While it's a bit of an unspoken law for young people to do foolish if not downright stupid things on occasion, it goes to show we can get more than a little carried away and we must know just who we're dealing with. 

We must respect our elders, and everyone else, for that matter. 

It also goes to show some lessons must be learned the hard way, with some poor fools choosing a much harder way than others. 

Big Bible Questions: Why Did God Smite the Firstborn?

Hello, friends and readers. It's been quite a while since my last "Big Bible Question," so I decided it was time to do another. 

If you don't know what I mean by "Big Bible Questions," I basically take a controversial topic from the Bible, a topic that gets a lot of people pretty riled up, and try to discuss it in a quiet, levelheaded, enlightening manner. You don't have to be particularly religious yourself (or religious at all) to read this blog post; surely you can still appreciate the educational aspect of this, and I learn every bit as much as you do.

Incidentally, this is BBQ #4. 

For number three, I asked who was responsible for Joseph's enslavement. Joseph's jealous brothers sold him into slavery behind their father's back, which we can all agree in a heartbeat is bad. On the other hand, their father had shown Joseph some rather blatant favoritism, and no doubt Joseph himself let at least some of that "extra special treatment" go to his head. So, on the whole, was Joseph's enslavement a cruel injustice or a much-needed lesson for the entire family? 

For number two, I asked whether or not Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus Christ who ended up betraying Him, was a true traitor. If Jesus was meant to die for our salvation, was Judas still in the wrong?

And for number one, I asked whether or not Ananias and Sapphira, the New Testament couple who claimed to be devoted Church members but still did a few unscrupulous things for their own gain, deserved to be "struck dead" on the spot. 

For number four, we're going back to the Old Testament, to the Book of Exodus. This time, we'll be looking at the story of Moses and asking a question that only appears to grow more and more controversial: why did God smite the firstborn? 

Why would God take the lives of so many innocent children? Even if it was crucial to the Hebrews' liberation from Egypt, did all those children deserve to die? Did all those Egyptian families deserve such a catastrophic loss? Was it worth "the great cry" that resounded throughout the whole kingdom?

We all know that profound saying: no parent should have to bury their child. 

Out of all the losses in the world, there is surely no greater loss than that of your child, because that's the kind of loss you never see coming. As much as it hurts to lose a parent, a grandparent, a best friend, or even a sibling, those losses are a lot more natural; you sort of expect them to happen. 

But no one remotely considers the possibility of their son or daughter (or in some cases, their grandson or granddaughter) dying first. 

So, why did God do it? 

Couldn't there have been another way? 

Well, if we take a closer look at the Ten Plagues, they all discredit the Egyptian beliefs of the day. 

First, the Nile turning to blood was a discredit to Orsis, the god of the Nile, which was the Egyptians' most reliable source of water. Whether or not you believe the water became literal blood, the fact remains that anything that went wrong with the Nile posed many serious problems. 

Second, the infestation of frogs challenged Hekt, the god always depicted as a frog. If frogs being all over the place wasn't bad enough, they caused a putrid smell all over the place when they died. 

Third, the intense lice prevented the people from being around each other and the Egyptian priests from officiating in their temples. A rather scary similarity to the Coronavirus we're dealing with right now.

Fourth, the swarm of flies opposed the Egyptian god Hatok, who was depicted as (take a wild guess) a fly. If you can't stand a bunch of flies in your own backyard, imagine that bunch multiplied at least a thousand times, if not ten thousand. Spiders and bats would kill themselves trying to eat them all.

Fifth, the death of cattle was a slam against Hathor, the cow-headed goddess of the desert. Not only were cows valuable by means of milk and meat, but they were very sacred animals, too, and not just in Egypt. Imagine the kind of message a bunch of dead cows would send to those countries. 

Sixth, boils on the skin (besides their obvious inconvenience and pain) took a direct hit to Thoth, the god of intelligence and medical learning. People were dreadfully sick inside and out, and there was no quick cure.

Seventh, the "fiery hail" or "hail of burning ice" challenged at least two Egyptian deities: Shu, the god of the wind, and Nut, the goddess of the sky. 

Even I wonder to this day how it was possible to rain down ice and fire at the same time, but that must have been an awesome if not downright terrifying sight. As you can see from the screencaps, The Prince of Egypt did an absolutely phenomenal job in bringing these plagues to life. If not 100% accurate, they're still quite dazzling, and the epic song ("I send my scourge, I send my sword, thus saith the Lord!") brings it all together seamlessly.

Eighth, the swarm of locusts attacked Serapia, who was supposed to be Egypt's guardian against locusts. As any farmer of any era can tell you, a locust spells utter disaster for crops. No crops, no food.

Ninth, the darkness (a darkness you could actually feel on your skin) reduced the pedestal of Ra, the sun god, the leader of all the Egyptian gods, to rubble. 

And now we've arrived at the tenth plague, the death of the firstborn, by far the worst plague of them all because the effects were permanent. Eventually the frogs, the locusts, the lice, and even the darkness went away, but nothing would bring the children back. This was an enormous discredit to Taweret, the Egyptian goddess of childbirth and maternity, and the so-called guardian of the household.

Not even the Pharaoh was exempt from this tragedy. He lost his child along with the rest; he was hit where it hurt the most. 

It's plain enough that some lessons must be learned the hard way. This was a harsh lesson to the people of Egypt about the falseness of their beliefs, as well as to Pharaoh himself that he wasn't as great as he claimed to be. 

In the end, Pharaoh was just an ordinary man pretending to be extraordinary, and the God of Israel very easily trumped all of Egypt's overinflated gods and goddesses.

Even so, we must ask: why must the children pay the ultimate price? 

While I can't really answer that one, I will concede that people all too often suffer the consequences of other people's actions, especially children. Far too many people get what they don't deserve, or don't get what they do deserve, at least in this life. 

There was a time when child abuse wasn't taken seriously. It was a virtual no-brainer that children must do as they're told, elders must be respected, and the idea of anybody harming their own flesh and blood was unthinkable. Even stepparents could get away with abuse because who would everyone believe: the child or the adult? While I believe stepparents get a bad rap from movies and literature, the "wicked" type isn't so farfetched, either.

The Sandy Hook massacre of 2012 also springs to mind. All those poor little victims were below the age of eight, and yet they all perished, along with their teachers, at the hands of a madman. 

But this is God we're talking about. Why would a loving, merciful God do something like this? Surely the children hadn't done anything wrong. 

This brings our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ to mind. He didn't do anything wrong, either, and yet it was necessary for Him to die for us. He suffered in ways we can't even begin to fathom; He was the best of us all and He went through the worst. What He suffered at the hands of His enemies was atrocious, but what He suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane made even that look tame. In the end, death could only provide a blessed release from all that physical and mental pain. 

No one knows better than Heavenly Father what it's like to see your child suffer, regardless of the cause. I remember a story about a father who was a railroad operator, and he had to make the agonizing decision to save a train full of people at the cost of his young son. If he saved the train, his son would die; if he saved his son, everyone on the train would die. The ultimate choice, while far from ideal, turned out to be the best choice.

The death of the firstborn is a clear foreshadowing of the death of Heavenly Father's Beloved and Begotten Son. It's no coincidence that the people who painted their door posts with lamb's blood were spared from the Angel of Death. 

So, couldn't have God set Moses's people free some other way? 

Yes, He could. 

What He brought about in Egypt wasn't a mere demonstration of His awesome power. It went far beyond delivering the Hebrews out of bondage and giving Pharaoh a much-needed reality check.

This was living proof to all the world that God is the one true God, that all the worldly idols pale in comparison to Him, and none are exempt from suffering or death. 

Even to this very day, the young perish along with the old. 

The rain showers the just and the unjust. 

Every form of life is subject to God. 

As it says in Ezekiel 38:23, "Thus will I magnify myself, and sanctify myself; and I will be known in the eyes of many nations, and they shall know that I am the Lord."

Still sounds pretty harsh, doesn't it? Maybe so...but God is still more benevolent than we give Him credit for. 

He may have cut those children's lives short, but that's not to say they didn't end up somewhere much better. After all, what better place than the kingdom of heaven, where everyone is free, where love and kindness replace cruelty and hate? 

For all its earthly splendor, the kingdom of Egypt was built on a foundation of oppression...and to quote Moses in The Prince of Egypt, which I consider one of the best movies of all time, if not the best, "No kingdom should be made on the backs of slaves." 

(Screencaps courtesy of Animation Screencaps.)