If you’ve ever read through the Old Testament books of Kings and Chronicles, you may have noticed they don’t always tell the same story in exactly the same way. Sometimes the differences are subtle—emphases, omissions, or phrasing. Other times, they appear more striking, even contradictory. One particularly curious example involves the age of King Jehoiachin when he began his reign over Judah.
I first encountered this Bible difficulty through the work of Dr. Daniel Wallace, a respected evangelical New Testament scholar and expert in textual criticism. Wallace is known for his firm commitment to the authority of Scripture and for approaching biblical texts with both intellectual honesty and theological reverence. Yet even he acknowledges that this passage presents a real problem—one that doesn’t have an easy or obvious solution. In fact, Wallace lists this as a rare case where the biblical manuscripts seem to contradict each other, at least on the surface.
Let’s take a look at the two texts in question:
- 2 Kings 24:8 — “Jehoiachin was eighteen years old when he became king, and he reigned three months in Jerusalem.”
- 2 Chronicles 36:9 — “Jehoiachin was eight years old when he began to reign, and he reigned three months and ten days in Jerusalem.”
So which is it? Was Jehoiachin eight or eighteen? The difference isn’t trivial. An eight-year-old ruler implies a child monarch who would almost certainly have served under the heavy influence—or control—of adult advisors. An eighteen-year-old, by contrast, would have been a young man, legally and politically capable of making independent decisions. The discrepancy matters both historically and theologically, especially given that Jehoiachin’s reign came at a pivotal moment in Judah’s fall to Babylon.
The Copyist Error Theory
One widely accepted explanation is that the discrepancy is due to a scribal error. In ancient Hebrew, numbers were written with letters, and the difference between “eight” and “eighteen” may have been as small as a single character—or even a tiny variation in a word’s spelling or pronunciation. It’s easy to see how a scribe copying Chronicles by hand could have misread or omitted part of the original number.
Supporters of this theory often point to the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures produced several centuries before Christ. In the Septuagint version of 2 Chronicles 36:9, Jehoiachin’s age is listed as eighteen, not eight—matching the account in Kings. This has led many scholars to believe that “eighteen” was likely the original reading in both places, and that a copying mistake occurred in the Hebrew manuscript tradition that eventually influenced our modern Old Testament.
Textual criticism often relies on this kind of external manuscript evidence. If two manuscripts diverge, and one preserves a more consistent or historically plausible reading—especially when supported by older or more widely attested versions—it is often considered the original. In this case, the Septuagint appears to tip the scales in favor of eighteen.
The Co-Regency Theory
But not everyone is convinced that the explanation is so simple. Another theory, known as the co-regency theory, offers a different approach. According to this view, both numbers might be accurate—just referring to different phases of Jehoiachin’s reign.
Here’s how it might work: Jehoiachin could have been appointed co-regent with his father, King Jehoiakim, when he was only eight years old. Then, ten years later—at age eighteen—he began ruling on his own following his father’s death. If that’s the case, the Chronicles account could be referring to the start of the co-regency, while Kings focuses on the beginning of his independent rule.
Interestingly, I first came across this suggestion not in a scholarly commentary or classroom lecture, but in the comment section of one of my YouTube videos. A viewer chimed in with the idea, noting that co-regencies were not uncommon in the ancient Near East—or even within the biblical narrative itself. And they were right. We know that kings like Uzziah and Jotham ruled alongside their fathers at various points in Judah’s history.
That said, while the co-regency theory is creative and potentially harmonizing, it lacks direct textual support in this particular case. The biblical text never explicitly mentions a co-regency for Jehoiachin, and the idea—though possible—remains speculative. It helps illustrate how some tensions in Scripture might be reconciled, but it also shows the limits of stretching silence into explanation.
A Literary or Theological Emphasis?
Another possibility is that the discrepancy was intentional—not in the sense of deceit, but as a literary or theological device. Biblical authors sometimes framed historical events in ways that emphasized theological meaning over precise chronology. Could the Chronicles account have described Jehoiachin as eight years old to underscore the vulnerability or inexperience of Judah’s leadership during its final days?
The book of Chronicles, written later than Kings, often presents Israel’s and Judah’s histories with a different theological lens. Its author emphasizes themes of covenant, worship, and divine judgment in ways that sometimes reframe earlier accounts. In this view, portraying Jehoiachin as a child-king might have served to underscore how fragile and desperate the kingdom had become—highlighting its moral and political collapse under divine judgment.
While this explanation is less focused on textual detail and more on narrative theology, it reminds us that the biblical writers were not just journalists recording history; they were theologians, shaping Israel’s story to reflect God’s purposes and warnings. This approach doesn’t solve the contradiction per se, but it opens another way of thinking about how and why the biblical accounts might differ.
Leaving the Question Open
So, was Jehoiachin eight or eighteen when he took the throne? The answer isn’t entirely clear. It may have been a copyist’s mistake. It may reflect a dual-phase reign through co-regency. Or it might be an example of literary shaping to drive home a theological point. Each theory offers something worth considering, but none is airtight.
Personally, I don’t feel compelled to choose a single explanation. Each view has its own merits and limitations, and often the conversation itself—the way we engage the tension—is more instructive than the resolution. Exploring these apparent contradictions encourages us to think more carefully about how Scripture was written, transmitted, and interpreted through time.