A Journey of Broken Faith
I’m all about taking our lives forward into more abundance. When we deal with our past, God can heal us, offer us hope and redeem the broken places in our heart. That’s why I’m so excited about my new book, Rachel’s Son. Rachel’s heart has been broken by the murder of her son, and that’s not the only challenge she faces.
As a result, she’s shattered and lost, not understanding God or his purposes. She can’t get past the pain to find freedom, love and life again.
Ever felt that way?
Yeah, I have too. But what I’ve learned is that by pushing through the pain, not hiding it, ignoring it, denying it or burying it, we will step into an abundance of joy. But it’s not easy. It’s scary. And it hurts. It may even feel as if we won’t survive.
It may take us months, or years or decades, but when we finally decide to step through, like pushing through the wardrobe or sea in Naria, we will learn to live again.
“The deeper my past sorrow, the greater my present joy.” Simeon, Rachel’s Son
Rachel’s journey is a grueling one, maybe like yours and mine have been. But with God there is hope, healing and redemption.
Rachel’s Son releases on March 20th. I thought you might like a sneak peak 😉
“‘A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.’” Matthew 2:18
Rachel pulled a loaf of crusty bread from the fire as the ground began to quake. Terrifying reverberations shattered the morning peace. Thundering hooves. Neighing horses. The roar of an approaching army.
She dropped the bread and lurched for the front door.
Within seconds an army flooded the village. Soldiers on horseback pounded through the street, weapons ready. Children scattered, mothers screaming their names. A two-year-old lay trampled in the dirt. Another ran, wailing. A soldier speared him through the back. A man jumped off his steed and forced his way into the home next door. Rachel’s neighbor shrieked, “My baby, my baby!”
The soldier reappeared, blood covering his hands.
Rachel froze, her knees buckled beneath her.
“Micaaaah!” She stumbled into the road, darting between horses, “Micah!” A roughened hoof clipped her hip. She fell to her knees and crawled out of its path. Dust caked her face, the stench of blood suffocating her.
Her closest friend, Elisabeth, staggered from her house, the battered body of her baby son in her arms. Her keening tore through Rachel’s heart.
“Stop!” Rachel forced herself to her feet. “Stop!”
A grim soldier scooped up a toddler and dashed his brown, curly head against the stone wall of his home. A woman laid crumpled outside her door, a swaddled baby in her arms. Their blood pooled together in the dirt.
Bile rose in Rachel’s throat. Chest heaving, her muddled thoughts rushed over each other in a torrent. The only clarity in the chaos was the certainty that Micah was dead.
She dodged around the corner of their house. Her worst fear materialized. His chubby little hand still clutched a stone he had been playing with. A shriek pushed out of her.
“Oh, dear Jehovah, please no.” A bleak whisper tumbled from her lips as she stumbled to his body now crumbled in a tiny crimson heap. She fell on her knees in the wet dirt where earlier he had played, stacking rocks and chattering to himself.
“Miicaaah!” The scream burst from her lips as she scooped him up, hugging him to her chest.
“Oh, Micah.” She wailed, rocking his bloody body back and forth.
Her only son. Her miracle from Jehovah.
Why? Why? Her heart screamed. What kind of war was waged against helpless, innocent children?
Look for Rachel’s Son on Amazon March 20th. The digital version will be FREE for a limited time.
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