In writing this first novel I have laughed, I have cried, I have been humbled, I've been inspired, and I have been stirred with wonder at the hand of God in the lives of His people, the great, and the humble. But the scene I have just finished writing has been in some ways the most difficult of all ... the death scene of Herod the Great. The last few weeks and days of his life and especially his death were absolutely horrific and while I am not a mean or spite-filled person I must say, it could not have happened to a more deserving person.
Herod "the Great," King of Judaea and Galilee, was a monster, his ghastly orders to murder innocent little babies he saw as a threat to his grip on power not his first nor his last murderous deed although certainly the most hellish, but within one month of that diabolical deed, five days after executing his son and heir Antipater, Herod "the Great" died ... a violent and gruesome death.
And that very night an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him to bring Mary and Jesus home from Egypt.