In those days Hezekiah became sick and was at the point of death. And Isaiah the prophet the son of Amoz came to him and said to him, “Thus says the LORD, ‘Set your house in order, for you shall die; you shall not recover.’” Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD, saying, “Now, O LORD, please remember how I have walked before you in faithfulness and with a whole heart, and have done what is good in your sight.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly. And before Isaiah had gone out of the middle court, the word of the LORD came to him: “Turn back, and say to Hezekiah the leader of my people, Thus says the LORD, the God of David your father: I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you. On the third day you shall go up to the house of the LORD, and I will add fifteen years to your life. I will deliver you and this city out of the hand of the king of Assyria, and I will defend this city for my own sake and for my servant David’s sake.” And Isaiah said, “Bring a cake of figs. And let them take and lay it on the boil, that he may recover.”
And Hezekiah said to Isaiah, “What shall be the sign that the LORD will heal me, and that I shall go up to the house of the LORD on the third day?” And Isaiah said, “This shall be the sign to you from the LORD, that the LORD will do the thing that he has promised: shall the shadow go forward ten steps, or go back ten steps?” And Hezekiah answered, “It is an easy thing for the shadow to lengthen ten steps. Rather let the shadow go back ten steps.” And Isaiah the prophet called to the LORD, and he brought the shadow back ten steps, by which it had gone down on the steps of Ahaz. (2 Kings 20:1-11)
I love the story of King Hezekiah. Even on a surface level, his life is utterly compelling, from beginning to end. If you slow down and really immerse yourself in the narrative, you’ll feel the suspense building at every turn. Hollywood couldn’t write it better. In fact, Hezekiah’s story could make a remarkable film if only they stayed true to the text.
But there’s more to my love for Hezekiah than the drama of his life. Have you ever read straight through the historical books of the Old Testament—Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles? If you have, you know how tragic those stories are. One downfall follows another. One wicked king replaces the last. One idolater after the next drags the nation further into ruin. Even the so-called reformers—those kings who tried to purge Jerusalem and cleanse the temple—fell short. Again and again, the narrative includes that haunting refrain: “But the high places were not taken away” (1Ki 15:14).
Their efforts to direct the people back to Yahweh were at best partial. They removed idols from Jerusalem but tolerated worship at the high places beyond its walls. As Paul later warned, “A little leaven leavens the whole lump” (Gal 5:9). Their reforms were never total.
Then comes King Hezekiah.
Hezekiah’s character
Hezekiah was Judah’s thirteenth king after the kingdom split into the northern and southern kingdoms. Saul, David, and Solomon had reigned over a united Israel, but after Solomon’s death, the nation divided. In the southern kingdom of Judah, Hezekiah rose as the thirteenth ruler in that line.
Here’s how 2 Kings 18 introduces him:
In the third year of Hoshea son of Elah, king of Israel, Hezekiah the son of Ahaz, king of Judah, began to reign. He was twenty-five years old when he began to reign, and he reigned twenty-nine years in Jerusalem. His mother’s name was Abi the daughter of Zechariah. And he did what was right in the eyes of the LORD, according to all that David his father had done. He removed the high places and broke the pillars and cut down the Asherah. And he broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the people of Israel had made offerings to it (it was called Nehushtan). He trusted in the LORD, the God of Israel, so that there was none like him among all the kings of Judah after him, nor among those who were before him. For he held fast to the LORD. He did not depart from following him, but kept the commandments that the LORD commanded Moses. And the LORD was with him; wherever he went out, he prospered. (2 Kings 18:1-7)
Only one other king before Hezekiah is described as being like David, and that was King Asa. But can you guess where Asa fell short?
He failed to remove the altars and idols from the high places.
That’s what makes Hezekiah stand out so remarkably in this long line of kings. He was like David, “a man after [God’s] own heart” (1Sa 13:14). Scripture says of him, “He did what was right in the eyes of the LORD” (2Ki 18:3). Unlike every king before him, “he removed the high places” (2Ki 18:4). He even “cut down the Asherah,” which his own father, King Ahaz, had set up—in the temple itself, no less.
Hezekiah went so far as to “break in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made” (2Ki 18:4). Do you remember that story? When Israel grumbled against God and Moses in the wilderness, the Lord sent venomous serpents among them. As the people cried out for mercy, God told Moses, “Make a fiery serpent and set it on a pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live” (Nu 21:8).
But over time, the Israelites began to worship that bronze serpent. Serpents were commonly associated with Asherah worship, so it is possible that they blended the two in their idolatry. Either way, what God had intended as a symbol of mercy—a shadow of Christ, as we later learn in John 3—had become an idol. Imagine the shock when Hezekiah ordered it destroyed. This wasn’t just any object; it was a sacred relic, a national treasure. Yet Hezekiah understood there were greater priorities than preserving a priceless artifact. For the glory of God and the good of his people, it had to go.
Hezekiah’s upbringing
Now let’s place Hezekiah in context. He was the son of King Ahaz, one of Judah’s most wicked rulers. Scripture records, “He did not do what was right in the eyes of the LORD his God, as his father David had done” (2Ki 16:2). Ahaz embraced the idolatry of Israel, building altars to Baal and sacrificing to every false god he could find. In his depravity, he even burned his own son as an offering to Molech.
After visiting Damascus and admiring their pagan altar, Ahaz had a replica built in Jerusalem’s temple. He went so far as to strip the temple’s gold and silver to pay tribute to Assyria, reducing Judah to a vassal state. Instead of trusting the Lord to deliver him, he plundered the Lord’s house to protect himself. And in the end, as 2 Chronicles records, “Ahaz shut up the doors of the house of the LORD, and he made himself altars in every corner of Jerusalem” (2Ch 28:24). Over sixteen years, he moved from feigned devotion to outright apostasy.
So, how does a godly man like Hezekiah emerge from such an upbringing? He grew up surrounded by idols. A desecrated temple was his normal. How could he possibly become the man he became?
The answer lies in God’s sovereign grace. Hezekiah’s transformation was not the result of good parenting or moral resolve. It was the result of God’s electing love. As Jesus told his disciples, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit” (Jn 15:16). The same could be said of Hezekiah.
He wasn’t smarter. He wasn’t naturally more righteous. Scripture reminds us, “[The Lord] removes kings and sets up kings” (Da 2:21). “The king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the LORD; he turns it wherever he will” (Pr 21:1). God called Hezekiah out of darkness to be a vessel of reform. That’s what God always does. He graciously calls people from the bleakest places into his marvelous light.
Perhaps the Lord also worked through Hezekiah’s mother, Abi (or Abijah). Second Kings 18 notes, “His mother’s name was Abi, the daughter of Zechariah” (2Ki 18:2). We can’t know for certain, but imagine her grief as she watched Ahaz burn one of her children to Molech. Maybe, in the quiet of their home, she taught young Hezekiah God’s laws in spite of her husband’s idolatry. That was true for Timothy in the New Testament, whose father was Greek, but his believing mother and grandmother faithfully taught him the Scriptures.
If you’re a Christian married to an unbeliever, take heart. God can use your influence to shape your children for his kingdom.
As for Hezekiah, one thing is certain: God sovereignly called him out of darkness and raised him up as a mighty light for his nation.
In those days
Notice how 2 Kings 20 opens: “In those days—” (2Ki 20:1). It’s easy to skim past that, but it’s a crucial marker. What days? What events set the stage for what follows? For that, we need a little more context.
At this point in history, Assyria was the undisputed superpower of the ancient world. Records show they almost never failed to capture a city they set their sights on. Smaller nations like Israel and Judah didn’t stand a chance, so they paid tribute to avoid destruction. As we saw earlier, King Ahaz even stripped the temple of gold and silver to appease them.
But paying off Assyria never lasted forever. The northern kingdom of Israel discovered this the hard way. After years of tribute, they finally stopped, prompting the Assyrians to respond with full force. They invaded, captured Samaria, and deported most of Israel’s population. Behind the scenes, of course, God was at work, judging Israel for its rebellion. Second Kings 17 makes that clear: “And this occurred because the people of Israel had sinned against the LORD their God” (2Ki 17:7). Their idolatry, child sacrifices, and rejection of God’s prophets led to their downfall.
Judah, meanwhile, was facing its own test. I stopped short of citing this detail from chapter 18: “[Hezekiah] rebelled against the king of Assyria and would not serve him” (2Ki 18:7). Unlike his father Ahaz, he refused to send payments out of fear. Israel paid tribute. Ahaz paid tribute. But Hezekiah trusted in the Lord.
This act of defiance enraged King Sennacherib of Assyria. He invaded Judah, captured its fortified cities—strongholds designed to withstand sieges—and set his sights on Jerusalem. Once Jerusalem fell, Judah would be finished.
We shouldn’t downplay what kind of enemy Hezekiah faced. The Assyrians were notorious for their brutality. Archaeological discoveries reveal their chilling practices: flaying captives alive, impaling them on stakes, and stacking skulls outside city walls as grim warnings. They excelled in psychological warfare, striking terror before ever striking blows. Add to that their advanced siege engines and relentless tactics, and it’s clear this was Judah’s worst-case scenario. Hezekiah and his people were trapped, surrounded, and helpless.
Yet surely Hezekiah thought, I’ve trusted the Lord. I’ve kept his law. Surely nothing is too great for our God. Surely he will deliver us. In fact, Isaiah had prophesied just that in chapter 19:
Thus says the LORD concerning the king of Assyria: He shall not come into this city or shoot an arrow there, or come before it with a shield or cast up a siege mound against it. By the way that he came, by the same he shall return, and he shall not come into this city, declares the LORD. For I will defend this city to save it, for my own sake and for the sake of my servant David. (2 Kings 19:32-34)
Hezekiah became sick
Returning to our text in chapter 20, we read, “In those days Hezekiah became sick and was at the point of death” (2Ki 20:1).
We don’t know the precise timeline of these events. Did Hezekiah’s illness strike while the Assyrians were still marching toward Jerusalem? Were they already encamped outside the city walls? Scripture doesn’t say. But the overlap of these crises—the external threat and Hezekiah’s personal affliction—underscores just how severely his faith was tested.
Set aside for a moment the ordinary fears that come with illness. Hezekiah wasn’t just any man; he was Judah’s king. He bore responsibility for his people during their greatest national crisis. This was the worst possible time for him to be struck down. He had no son to take his place. No heir to carry forward the Davidic line. Who would lead Judah if he died? What would become of God’s promises?
We have a saying: “When it rains, it pours.” That’s precisely what’s happening here. It’s like a hurricane that batters a region, only to stall and unleash wave after wave of devastation. Judah was already reeling from Assyria’s advance, and now this—crisis upon crisis.
I’m convinced Hezekiah felt the weight of it all. And here’s where I part ways with some commentators and preachers. Over the years, I’ve read many who accuse Hezekiah of selfishness or doubt in this moment. Some say he was self-righteous, clinging to life out of pride, even likening him to the Pharisee in Luke 18 who boasted in his own goodness. But that’s not what’s happening here.
Yes, Hezekiah was confounded. With everything he knew of God’s character and promises, how could he make sense of the Lord ending his life now? But I believe his concerns went beyond himself. He was thinking of Judah—of the covenant promises to David. He knew no heir had yet been born. He understood that God had sworn, “I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2Sa 7:13). If Hezekiah died childless, how would God’s promise be fulfilled?
Adding to his confusion—perhaps even Isaiah’s—it’s possible that Hezekiah fell ill after Isaiah had already prophesied victory over Assyria. The last word from the Lord had been one of deliverance. Now, suddenly, everything seemed to unravel.
You shall die
As Hezekiah lay on his deathbed, Isaiah entered his chamber with this devastating word: “Thus says the LORD, ‘Set your house in order, for you shall die; you shall not recover’” (2Ki 20:1). Twice Isaiah delivers the verdict: “You shall die; you shall not recover.”
Pause with me for a moment. Put yourself in Isaiah’s shoes. Do you think this was easy for him? We often imagine the prophets as detached messengers, stoic and unfeeling. But they were human, God-fearing men who loved their people and, in many cases, their kings. I wouldn’t be surprised if Isaiah and Hezekiah were dear friends. Surely it grieved Isaiah to say, “The nation will survive, but you will not.”
Yet he spoke. Why? Because genuine love doesn’t shrink back from the truth. Paul said, “[Speak] the truth in love” (Eph 4:15). He also wrote, “[Love] rejoices with the truth” (1Co 13:6). To love someone is to tell them the truth even when it wounds.
And notice how practical this word is to Hezekiah: “Set your house in order” (2Ki 20:1). In other words, get your material affairs in order. Do what you need to do, because you are going to die.
Of course, we’re called to be spiritually prepared for death. However, we see that part of that readiness includes practical preparation. That’s exactly what Isaiah is telling Hezekiah: Get ready because you will not recover from this illness.
Consider how startling this word must have been. Hezekiah was only thirty-nine years old. He was in the prime of his life—a righteous man and king like no other in Judah’s history since David. And now, God says his time is up.
So what does a righteous king do when he receives such devastating, confounding news?
Hezekiah wept bitterly
Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the LORD, saying, “Now, O LORD, please remember how I have walked before you in faithfulness and with a whole heart, and have done what is good in your sight.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly. (2 Kings 20:2-3)
Hezekiah did what he had always done in times of trouble: he went to the Lord and laid his burdens at his feet. In the past, he went as close to God’s earthly throne as possible by entering the temple to cast his cares before the Lord. But here, bedridden and weak, he couldn’t make that journey. The best he could do was turn his face to the wall for a measure of privacy.
Some have speculated that he was turning toward the temple. Perhaps, but the simplest, most natural reading is that he turned away from Isaiah to be alone with God.
This is exactly how we should respond in any crisis, whether great or small. The first step is not to brainstorm a solution. It’s not to mull it over for a few days. The first and most critical step is to rush to “the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb 4:16). Prayer isn’t our last resort; it’s our lifeline.
This is what Hezekiah does. Now, we’ll look more closely at his specific prayer in a moment, but understand that what we’re seeing here is the righteous response of a righteous man. I struggle to understand those commentators who accuse Hezekiah of praying out of selfishness or fear. Some paint him as a man clinging desperately to life, bargaining with God like the Pharisee in Luke 18: “Look how righteous I am. Surely you won’t take my life.” But that’s not what’s happening.
Everything we know about Hezekiah suggests that this is a sincere outpouring of his heart, a heart, as he himself says, wholly devoted to God. Yes, he’s struggling to understand. But his prayer is not the self-serving plea of a man terrified of death; it’s the authentic, though painful, cry of a faithful servant.
We misunderstand him if we see this as bargaining. Hezekiah isn’t boasting; he’s appealing to God on the basis of their covenant relationship.
Think of how often, in the Old Testament, God says to his people: “If you keep my covenant, walk in my ways, and remain faithful, I will bless you. I will prolong your life and prosper your days.” Even more specific is God’s covenant with David: “I have made a covenant with my chosen one; I have sworn to David my servant: ‘I will establish your offspring forever, and build your throne for all generations’” (Ps 89:3–4).
God repeatedly tied obedience to blessing and life, disobedience to curses and death. Hezekiah isn’t claiming perfection; he’s saying, “Lord, I have walked before you wholeheartedly. Remember me, not because I deserve it, but because of your covenant promises.”
This kind of plea is found throughout the Psalms. If we doubt the sincerity of Hezekiah’s prayer, or whether it pleased the Lord, remember what God said in response: “I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears” (2Ki 20:5). Then he answers. God was moved by Hezekiah’s humble, dependent cry. As James reminds us, “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working” (Jas 5:16).
No sooner had Isaiah left Hezekiah’s chamber than God stopped him. “Go back,” the Lord said. “Tell Hezekiah, ‘Thus says the LORD, the God of David your father: I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you’” (2Ki 20:5).
Notice how God identifies himself here: “the God of David your father” (2Ki 20:5). He’s reminding Hezekiah, and us, exactly why this promise matters. Furthermore, he says:
I will add fifteen years to your life. I will deliver you and this city out of the hand of the king of Assyria, and I will defend this city for my own sake and for my servant David’s sake. (2 Kings 20:6)
For the sake of the Davidic covenant—for the Lord’s glory in keeping that covenant, and for David himself, to whom the promise was first made—God spares Hezekiah’s life. Hezekiah appeals to that promise, and God answers, “Yes, I will keep my covenant. You have walked faithfully before me, and I will uphold my word.”
But let’s not misunderstand. This isn’t as though God has no concern for Hezekiah personally. It’s simply that his will for Hezekiah is woven into a far greater purpose. The Davidic covenant itself wasn’t ultimately about David, or Hezekiah, for that matter. It was about God’s sovereign, eternal plan, ordained before the foundation of the world, to bring salvation through David’s greater Son: the Lord Jesus Christ.
If Hezekiah were to die without an heir, the Davidic royal lineage would be severed. The promise would fail. Christ would not be born as prophesied. Salvation would not come. And God would be made a liar. So yes, God’s reversal here is about Hezekiah—it is a direct answer to his prayer and a reward for his faithfulness—but it is about so much more than Hezekiah.
Perhaps we should consider the same in our own lives. When we experience trials and see God answer our prayers, perhaps those answers aren’t just about us. Maybe they’re part of a larger story, God’s unfolding plan in history. In fact, I’m sure of it.
God’s warnings and decrees
Here’s the question people often ask about this passage: Did God change his mind? First, he warns Hezekiah that he will die. Then he announces that Hezekiah will live another fifteen years. Isn’t that a contradiction?
At first glance, it might seem so. However, Scripture consistently teaches that God’s character and purposes remain unchanged. He “is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb 13:8). With him, “there is no variation or shadow due to change” (Jas 1:17). God’s will and his decrees are as unchanging as his nature. So, how do we make sense of this?
The key is to understand the difference between a warning from God and a decree of God. When God tells Hezekiah, “You shall die; you shall not recover,” that’s a warning (2Ki 20:1). But notice, many of God’s warnings in Scripture are not phrased as conditional statements. He doesn’t say, “If you don’t repent, this will happen.” Instead, he simply declares the consequence.
Think of Jonah’s message to Nineveh: “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” (Jon 3:4). There’s no “if” in that sentence, but the people rightly understood the implicit condition. They repented, and God relented. Why? Because God never decreed the destruction of Nineveh. What he decreed was that Jonah would preach, Nineveh would hear, and they would turn back to him. The warning was the means God used to bring about his unchanging purpose.
The same dynamic is at work in Hezekiah’s case. God’s warning put Hezekiah’s faith to the test—his trust in God’s promises, his dependence on divine mercy—and Hezekiah passed. Through the warning, the test, and Hezekiah’s prayer, God accomplished what he had foreordained: to heal Hezekiah, extend his life, and allow him to witness Judah’s deliverance from Assyria.
This is precisely how Hezekiah interpreted it. In the parallel account of this story in Isaiah 38, we’re told that Hezekiah wrote a psalm after his recovery. In it, he reflects, “Behold, it was for my welfare that I had great bitterness” (Isa 38:17).
The sickness, the looming prospect of death, the word from God that he would die, the bitter tears— Hezekiah later reflects on it all and says it was for his welfare. God used all of that bitterness as a means of salvation.
What shall be the sign?
Then we’re told Hezekiah asked for a sign. Like his prayer, we might be tempted to read this as evidence of doubt or worse. But this is not the defiant demand of an unbelieving, hard-hearted Pharisee who has already seen countless signs, as in Jesus’s day. This is the plea of a weak yet faithful man, still lying sick and suffering in his bed. His health hasn’t been restored yet. He isn’t testing God; he’s seeking assurance. He’s saying, in effect, “Lord, strengthen my faltering heart. Confirm your word to me.”
Notice the contrast with Hezekiah’s father, Ahaz. In Isaiah 7, Judah was threatened by a different enemy, and Isaiah came to Ahaz with a message of hope: “Be careful, be quiet, do not fear” (Isa 7:4). The Lord promised to protect Judah if Ahaz would only trust him. Then God made this extraordinary offer: “Ask a sign of the LORD your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven” (Isa 7:11). The sky’s the limit. Any sign you want.
How did Ahaz respond? “I will not ask, and I will not put the LORD to the test” (Isa 7:12).
On the surface, it sounds pious, like he’s quoting Deuteronomy: “You shall not put the LORD your God to the test” (Dt 6:16). But don’t be fooled. This wasn’t humility; it was unbelief. Ahaz refused because he didn’t trust God. Instead, he took matters into his own hands and forged a so-called alliance with Assyria.
Now contrast that with Hezekiah. He doesn’t demand a sign. He doesn’t say, “Lord, if you really intend to heal me, then reverse the earth’s rotation or move the sun.” No, his heart is humble. He’s still weak, still lying in bed, still trying to process God’s promise of healing. His simple request is for assurance: “Lord, confirm your word. Strengthen my faith. I want to trust you fully.”
Do you see the difference? At first glance, it seems Ahaz was right to decline, while Hezekiah was wrong to ask. But it’s actually the opposite. God offered Ahaz a sign, and Ahaz rejected it because he rejected God. Hezekiah, on the other hand, longs to believe and asks for assurance, and God, who delights to give his people assurance, grants it in a spectacular way.
By the way, God gave Ahaz a sign whether he wanted one or not: “The Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isa 7:14).
And who is that Son? None other than Jesus Christ—Immanuel, “God with us.”
Passed from death to life
As for Hezekiah’s sign, it too points to the Savior. Think about it.
Hezekiah is a man under a death sentence. The world around him is collapsing. His enemies are hemming him in on every side. And he’s utterly powerless to stop it.
“It is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Heb 9:27).
But unlike his unbelieving father, Ahaz, Hezekiah turns to his only hope, his only salvation, the Lord himself. He prays and weeps bitterly.
Like the tax collector in Jesus’s parable: “But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’” (Lk 18:13).
Like the thief on the cross: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Lk 23:42).
Like all who have found life and peace in the Lord: “For ‘everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved’” (Rom 10:13).
Hezekiah appeals to God’s covenant promises—those unbreakable words of grace and faithfulness.
“For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory” (2Co 1:20).
“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful” (Heb 10:23).
Hezekiah was saved, not because of anything he had done. What could he offer on his deathbed? He was helpless. He had nothing to bring. His salvation came because the Lord is merciful.
“But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved” (Eph 2:4–5).
“But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy” (Ti 3:4–5).
And what did God give Hezekiah? Life. Life, followed by the assurance of that life—an assurance Hezekiah had yet to see with his eyes but was called to trust with his heart.
“I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand” (Jn 10:28).
“For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 6:23).
In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory. (Ephesians 1:13–14)
The God who heard Hezekiah’s bitter prayers and gave him life, the God who defended Jerusalem against impossible odds, and who kept his covenant promises by sending Christ, this same God is still faithful. He is still merciful. Though he may not always save us from our temporal troubles, as he did Hezekiah, he will save anyone and everyone who calls on his name from our greatest threat of all: eternal judgment.
As Jesus says: “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment but has passed from death to life” (Jn 5:24).
Amen.
Bonus reading for fun
Lynn Austin’s Chronicles of the Kings is a five-book historical fiction series that vividly retells the biblical story of King Hezekiah of Judah, blending rich historical detail with imaginative storytelling.