6 Numbers Hidden in Scripture | Bible Trivia Quiz | Digging Deeper

Question 1. How many plagues did God send upon Egypt through Moses? (And name them)
Answer: Ten, recorded across Exodus 7–12.
Context & Exhortation: Blood. Frogs. Lice. Flies. Livestock disease. Boils. Hail. Locusts. Darkness. And the death of the firstborn. Ten judgments, each one worse than the last. Many of them were aimed directly at Egyptian gods.
The Nile, worshiped as a god and the source of Egypt's entire food supply, turns to blood. The sun god Ra is answered with three days of total darkness (10:22). Pharaoh himself was considered a living god. The final plague strikes the one thing his own godhood couldn't protect: his own household, his own firstborn son (11:5).
This wasn't destruction for its own sake. It was a step-by-step takedown of Egypt's entire belief system, one false god at a time, until even Pharaoh's claim to divinity couldn't shield his own family from the last plague.
Now notice how deliverance actually happens. It isn't through the plague itself. It's through blood, painted on a doorframe, protecting anyone inside who trusted the instruction, whether they were Israelite or not.
"A mixed multitude went up also with them" (12:38), meaning some Egyptians who trusted God's instructions escaped the final judgment, right alongside Israel.
Judgment on everything false, one thing at a time. Yet in the midst of judgment, God provided one simple path to safety—a path marked by blood and open to anyone willing to trust Him and obey.
And that pattern does not end in Exodus. Throughout the rest of Scripture, we see it again and again: God providing a way of deliverance and calling people to trust Him.
Question 2. How many tribes made up the nation of Israel, and which one received no territorial land inheritance?
Answer: Twelve tribes. The tribe of Levi received no land, "because the LORD God of Israel was their inheritance" (Joshua 13:33). Deuteronomy 10:9 confirms this.
Context & Exhortation: When the land of Canaan was divided among the tribes in Joshua 13–21, Levi is deliberately left out: "unto the tribe of Levi Moses gave not any inheritance: the LORD God of Israel was their inheritance, as he said unto them" (13:33).
This wasn't an oversight. It was planned from the start. Back in Numbers 18:20, God tells Aaron directly, "thou shalt have no inheritance in their land, neither shalt thou have any part among them: I am thy part and thine inheritance among the children of Israel."
Instead, the Levites were set apart to serve the tabernacle and temple. The other eleven tribes supported them through tithes (Numbers 18:21). They were given forty-eight cities scattered across the other tribes' territory, instead of one region of their own (Joshua 21).
Every other tribe had to think in terms of "our land, our border, our territory." The Levites couldn’t, because their portion was never a place on a map at all.
The practical question for us today would be: what would it mean to really believe, the way the Levites were required to believe, that our relationship with God is our actual security? Not property. Not savings. Not anything we could point to and defend.
The other eleven tribes eventually lost their land anyway, in exile, generations later. But the Levites' portion could never be taken by an invading army, because it was never a place to begin with. There might be a lesson in that, somewhere.
Question 3. Jesus chose twelve apostles, but the Gospels and Acts don't all use identical names for every one of them. What's an example of this?
Answer: The apostle called "Thaddaeus" in Matthew 10:3 and Mark 3:18 appears as "Judas the brother of James" in Luke 6:16 and Acts 1:13. The same person under two names, as covered earlier this week.
Context & Exhortation: It's worth comparing all four apostle lists: Matthew 10:2–4, Mark 3:16–19, Luke 6:14–16, and Acts 1:13.
The small differences between them actually tell us something good: these are honest, independent accounts, not one copied script.
People in that culture often went by more than one name. Think of how many name changes we've already covered in this series so far: Abram and Abraham, Jacob and Israel, Simon and Peter, Saul and Paul, Daniel and Belteshazzar.
Picture four different friends, each describing the same group of twelve people using nicknames, full names, or family titles. Their lists would look slightly different as well, without being any less true.
What matters is what all four lists agree on completely. The number is always twelve. Peter, Andrew, James, and John always head the list. Judas Iscariot is always listed last, and always identified as the betrayer.
The core facts hold steady across all four accounts. Only a few naming details for the less prominent apostles differ, differences that don't change the central account.
Small discrepancies like this deserve a closer look, not panic and not dismissal. A little patient study usually turns up a simple, reasonable explanation, just like it does here - different names, same person.
Question 4. How many books make up the Protestant Bible, and how are they divided between the Old and New Testaments?
Answer: Sixty-six books total. There are thirty-nine in the Old Testament and twenty-seven in the New Testament.
Context & Exhortation: This number is the result of a long process, not one single decision.
The Jewish community recognized the Old Testament books as Scripture over many centuries before Christ. The New Testament books were recognized gradually, over the first few centuries after Christ, mainly by asking which writings truly came from the apostles, matched the wider body of accepted teaching, and were already being read and used in worship across many different churches.
This wasn't decided by one small committee at a single meeting, as people sometimes assume.
Sixty-six books. Written by roughly forty different people. Across more than a thousand years. In different languages, on different continents, in different styles: history, law, poetry, prophecy, wisdom, letters, apocalyptic vision.
And yet it tells one connected story, from creation in Genesis to new creation in Revelation. One central figure — Jesus Christ — that both halves of the Bible point to, whether looking forward in promise or back in fulfillment.
That kind of unity, across such a long span of time and so many authors, is worth pausing over. We are not reading sixty-six unrelated books that happen to be bound together. We’re reading one story, carried across dozens of hands and a thousand years, that never once loses its thread.
Question 5. Which short New Testament letter consists of a single chapter, written by Paul as a personal appeal on behalf of a runaway slave?
Answer: Philemon.
Context & Exhortation: Philemon is different from every other letter of Paul's in the New Testament. It's not written to a church working through doctrine. It's written to one man — Philemon, a slave owner and a leader in his local house church. It's about Onesimus, a slave who ran away from Philemon, and under Roman law at the time may have stolen from him on the way out (v.18).
Somehow, Onesimus crossed paths with Paul, who was in prison. Paul led him to faith (v.10). Now Paul is sending Onesimus back.
Under Roman law, that put the runaway slave at real risk of severe punishment. And Paul's whole letter is a masterclass in gentle persuasion, not command.
"Though I might be much bold in Christ to enjoin thee that which is convenient, yet for love's sake I rather beseech thee" (v.8–9). He asks Philemon to receive Onesimus back "not now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved" (v.16). He even offers to personally cover any debt: "if he hath wronged thee, or oweth thee ought, put that on mine account… I will repay it" (v.18–19).
Paul never directly orders Philemon to free Onesimus. He appeals to love, to their shared faith, and trusts Philemon to do "even more than I say" (v.21) on his own.
This is a short, personal letter about one relationship: one slave owner, one runaway slave. And inside it are the seeds of an idea that would eventually help take down the entire system of slavery: in Christ, a slave becomes a real brother.
Sometimes the most world-changing truths start out small, personal, and addressed to just one relationship.
Question 6. Two men in the Bible were taken directly to heaven without ever experiencing death. Who were they? (And where is this recorded?)
Answer: Enoch (Genesis 5:24) and Elijah (2 Kings 2:11). 2 Kings 2:1 tells us this was already God's plan before it happened: "the LORD would take up Elijah into heaven by a whirlwind."
Context & Exhortation: Genesis 5 is a long list of generations, and the same line repeats over and over: "and he died… and he died… and he died."
Then it reaches Enoch, and the pattern breaks. "And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him" (5:24). No death is recorded. Just a quiet disappearance, described only as walking with God, until, simply, he wasn't there anymore.
Hebrews 11:5 tells us why this mattered: "By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death… he had this testimony, that he pleased God."
Centuries later, Elijah's departure is anything but quiet. "There appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire… and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven" (2 Kings 2:11). His successor Elisha watches it happen, and tears his own clothes in grief and awe.
Two men. Two completely different exits. One so quiet you could miss it if you're not paying attention. One dramatic and witnessed in broad daylight.
Both men show up again later in Scripture. Enoch is remembered in Jude 1:14–15 as a prophet who spoke about final judgment. Elijah appears again, very much alive, alongside Moses on the Mount of Transfiguration, talking with Jesus about His coming death in Jerusalem (Luke 9:30–31).
Family, whether our walk with God feels quiet and easily overlooked, like Enoch's, or visible and dramatic, like Elijah’s, both patterns end the same way. A life so oriented toward God that death simply didn't get the final word.
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