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A New Year, A New Look

Announcing the revised edition of my first book, “Bruecke to Heaven,” now published on Amazon as “Bridge to Heaven.” The opportunity for some down time over the Christmas break afforded me the chance to make some changes, not only to the first book, but also revising the second book, “The Light in the Darkness.” To my amazement, or lack of paying attention, the first book never had a soft cover version on Amazon – that has been fixed.

1st book in the Children of the Light series.

Also, the second book needed a reformatting (i.e. reducing the font) and fixing some grammatical errors. All of which were revised and also republished over the break.

Needless to say, once all of that was finished, there was a feeling like of renewed inspiration.

Thus, the first few chapters of the third book in the series has begun. It has yet to be named, but when time allows, and editing of those said pages are completed, I’ll try to share excerpts for your review and comments.

If you would like to suggest a title for the third book, please do. I’m always open to suggestions, and of course inspiration from on high.

The link to the 1st book revised on Amazon is: Bridge to Heaven

The link to the 2nd book, the sequel, on Amazon is: The Light in the Darkness

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To Wait Upon the Lord…

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”-Isaiah 40:31

For once, he waited upon the weather; yet, it did not come. It unknowingly gave him time to pause and wait upon the Lord.

Technology had afforded him the foresight to know that storms were brewing in the distance, so he planned accordingly rather than going ahead. In his younger days, he would have gone ahead, not knowing, not caring, for if it were God’s will, then it shall be done.

One can never put man’s inventions before the designs of God. Proverbs 19:21 tells us, “There are many devices in a man’s heart; nevertheless, the counsel of the LORD, that shall stand.”

One hot, steamy Chatham County summer, he had started building a log cabin. It was not from a kit, it was not a prefabricated log assembly; no, it was from scratch. Finding a Coleman canvas eight-man tent at a yard sale, he set up camp and worked each day from sun up to sun down. He could go for days without seeing another soul. As he worked, his mind thought about his life and all that had transpired. The world in which he now lived was more of one with the land than ever before. It was as if he could feel a rhythm in the earth around him, one that God had created but man had ignored in the making of a world of his own. It was on one of those sultry afternoons when the work slowed because of the oppressive heat that the rhythm took on another tone; a dark rumble from beneath the soil rattled his awareness. Before he could gather his thoughts to take shelter, the flashes of lightning began to flash around him. Just over the hill, a black cloud pursued as the winds began to pick up tempo, so did his preparations to take cover. As he ran down the hill through the woods, the crashes of lightning hitting the earth were like mortar shells erupting all around him.

His heartbeat in his ears and nothing more.

Upon reaching the safety of his tent, he opened a flap at the opposite end to allow the pressure in the room to equalize. From his vantage point upon the bed made of cedar saplings lashed together, he watched with fascination and fear as the thunderbolts struck closer and closer, the earth-shaking tremors of resonance into his bones. He grasped the edges of the bed and prepared for the worst. The trees bent nearly double outside his little window. The rain was a sheet of water now, as the tent sides began to push in; yet, standing firm. Closing his eyes, he prayed that if it be God’s will to die, that it be quick; otherwise, he prayed that he be allowed to live to serve Him more.

When he opened his eyes, the trees had shifted to the opposite direction as the sound of a massive locomotive passed overhead. For a moment he could imagine himself lying between the steel rails of the train track as the roar of the steam engine passed overhead. In a matter of minutes, the dark clouds had dispersed, and the storm was gone. A mile down the road, it looked as if a bulldozer had gone through the woods, completely leveling massive trees, including the beautiful old oak in front of Jerry Moses’ home. He had survived and rode out the storm on nothing more than a bed made of cedar saplings and in a canvas tent; it has surely been God’s will.

For if it be God’s will, then it shall be done.

Fast forward, the same man, now standing on the edge of the Germanesca valley, high in the Cottien Alps. Around him, multiple waterfalls cascade down from tremendous heights. He is with a hiking companion, who like himself, had not planned on going this far today. The wind begins picking up the roar of the waterfalls, spiraling them around as they became a voice unto their own. They had not checked the weather reports for the day, but there seemed little to fear. The sky was an azure blue as far as the mind’s eye could see. There were no plans to go as far as they had. What seemed as a short leisurely hike had now become a mission; to reach the summit before their allotted time expired. The hiking companion was his junior by nearly 30 years, yet they were both feeling the effects of the altitude. As he paused, it was as if he waited upon the Lord to strengthen his legs. They had started at nearly 4,000 feet in altitude, and before they reached the summit, they would climb another 5,000 feet. He would need more than just his own power to make this journey. Silently he prayed asking God to give him the energy, and fortitude to make it to the top. Before he could finish, there was a surge of electricity that seemed to flow through his core, down through his legs to his feet. Suddenly, it was as if he could no longer feel the growing weariness in his thighs that moments before had made him question this endeavor. From there, it was if he had mounted on wings of eagles as they passed one group after another making their way up the mountain. They eventually made it to the top where they openly confessed thanks to having lunch with God. It was if Heaven’s door was within reach.

He had waited upon the Lord, and his strength had been renewed.

When he rolled out of bed today, before knowing the storms were coming, his body ached. Even though he had taken Sunday off from his labors, his body was worn from the daily toil in the summer heat. Once more he was building another structure, but unlike the cabin before, this one would be much larger and much more challenging. Add to that being nearly 30 years older, it was as if the odds were stacked against him. Although he was up for the task, his aging frame was having second thoughts. His right wrist had already suffered a strain and needed to be kept in a brace while he worked. Both hands had fingertips worn raw from the concrete blocks he was laying since the gloves he wore had long since been worn out. In essence, he needed more than just one day to recover, but the clock was ticking.

Thankfully, the pause of the morning was just enough to give him a chance to feel God’s grace once again. Once the errands had been run, he resumed his work and pushed through until he could go no further. He could walk and not faint, but he was certainly close.

As he covered all the items to be kept in the dry, he looked back and saw that three of the four masonry foundation walls were complete.

It was not the mountaintop, but he was getting closer each day.

Moments later, the rumble of thunder shook the valley below, and within minutes, the flood of the summer rains came cascading down. Like a sigh of relief, he rested once more as the strains of raindrops pattering against the window panes soothing his weary soul.

One step closer, one day more, we reach for the summit of that far distant shore.

In all we do, let us serve Him so that in all we do, God’s will shall be done.

Thanks be to God.

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An Unforgettable Sunrise…

“…whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. – James 4:14

We can no more know what will be in 20 years than we can know what tomorrow will bring; it is like being able to see what is not visible. We ourselves are like the mist, as scriptures tell us, “Whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.” Will my body be capable of traversing what my mind’s eye can see? Will there be the breath of life left within my soul? All of these things and more cannot be answered, nor should they. Our faith should sustain us through all that is, and all that will be to come.

One may project themselves mentally into that point beyond their horizon, that which tells of a distant time and place which none can know. From that place, they may reflect back upon all that might have transpired. From such appointed place we may see with more clarity what we should find of value; of meaning; of purpose. We can take away from our reflection in that distant horizon such  that, when our life’s journey has come to fruition, we all would like to say with assurance, “We have run the race well.”

To run that race well, there are a few moments which I hope to find, which many may find as their own: to see my children grow into adulthood, to see them become parents with successful careers; to hold that first grandchild in my arms; to see the end of a successful career of teaching; to see my wife and I gracefully grow old together; to see with mine own eyes, the bridge at Salbertrand; to see the sunrise from the top of the Chisone Valley as did those brave men on their march through the Glorious Return; and lastly, but not least of all, to lead others to Christ through the blessings God has bestowed upon me. These are but a few of all that I hope to find on that day, so far from now.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, it will be here.

Time is a precious commodity none of us can take for granted.

The bridge between now and the end of our time here on earth grows shorter with each passing day. We are aliens upon this earth, put here by our creator, and when we pass, we move on to the place He hath created for us; a home eternal. What we do with the time we have left is as much our choosing as is our choice of deciding if we want to live beyond this life, through the salvation Christ has given to all, should they choose.

When we stand on that future mountain top and look back, one should hope to see how they have lifted up others in their wake, being as Christ-like as possible. To become the light is all we should seek.

To get there from here, we must take one step at a time. Each new footprint, insignificant as each one may seem, leads us to the eventual destination if we can remain focused. In our hearts, we know the words, “Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff comfort me…” All around us, the dark peaks of struggle are pitched against us. The fog of doubt and uncertainty shroud our way. Yet, we push onward, one step at a time. We must not look back when the sorrows pull us down. We cannot relive what has gone on before us. We cannot return the dead to the living; we must push onward.

Closing my eyes, I drift off to that future time and place.

From that distant vantage point, my breath is labored. The height at which we have achieved to gain this point is substantial in altitude. The air is thin up here. In my mind, I’m standing upon the highland overlooking the Chisone Valley; the year is 1689. Darkness is before me, it is night. Behind me, I can hear men struggling up the side trying to reach the summit. We are nearest to Him on this imagined peak. What we left behind to obtain our position is a haunting reminder of how our lives have been shaped by perseverance. Like Arnaud, his men having fought past the bridge at Salbertrand, seeing the miracle of 600 men routing over 2,500, they are now the survivors of the ten days of forced march. They have avoided the main roads, taking the goat paths and cliff faces in their march. They have fought through one village after another. After this late day battle, they are now struggling through the night to reach the summit. Exhausted, they will fall asleep almost before their heads hit the ground. Arnaud stays awake well past what his body will allow making sure the few sentries he has posted remain awake. He doesn’t know I’m here, but together we watch as the coming dawn begins to lighten the eastern sky.

With trepidation, we await, as the sound of men scattered about us sleep in fitful slumber. The wounded moan as they turn to find comfort upon the hard ground; there is little to relieve their pain. The campfire is nearly gone, its embers glowing red, like the horizon that begins to hint of the coming day.

As the dawn broke before them on that glorious morning, the sunlight filtered into their homeland, those ancient valleys of granite and raging torrents. Their faith was at a zenith, they knew this was not the end. Before them lay the unknown. God had surely delivered them to this point for a reason. Yes, they had made it. Yet, the battle to reclaim their valleys had only begun. The dead that they had left behind, now almost half their number, cannot be forgotten; yet, they must not allow the darkness to consume their fate. Before them, the mountain falls away, revealing the Chisone. Some are eager to get down below; family homesteads occupied by the enemy burn in their minds. Liberation of their own farms begins to overwhelm them, but their leader, Pastor Arnaud, recognizes this inner strife and calms them once more with prayer.

Men, let us bow our heads, ..God, your hand has been upon us each and every step of the way. We thank you for all that you have given us to this day, but Lord, you know better than we, that if it is your will, this place which you hath prepared for us in the beginning, will once more be returned to us again. We ask for the forgiveness of our sins, for taking another man’s life is something we do not dismiss easily from our hearts, but at the same time, we ask that you forgive those that seek to destroy us. For all we do, we do in servitude in our Holy name. For we thank you, God the Father, and ask that you continue to watch over us as we go forth, so that we may be allowed to restore the faith, truth, and the light back to the valleys from whence we hath come. Thank you for your son Jesus Christ, who died, was buried, and rose on the third day. His blood was shed for our sins, so that we may have life eternal. In all these things, we thank you, in God’s Holy Name,…Amen.”

Painfully, Arnaud and his men arose and began the ascent into the dark valley of the Chisone below to reclaim their homeland. There, hiding in their own homes, churches, and villages, the enemy awaited.

Painfully, in that distant time, we will continue on in our ascent into that dark valley below where the enemy awaits; Satan. There, hiding in our own homes, churches, and villages, he awaits our every move.

We must do all that we can to bring them back to the faith of our ancestors, to bring them the salvation for which they were once freely given.

Each faces an uncertain future.

Each knows from whence they came.

Each knows that the going forward will not be easy. Time is against us all, no matter when we face it, but with our faith, we can find our way is not alone. “We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us,” and in that, we can face tomorrow.

We know not what tomorrow may bring, but with faith, we can face tomorrow.

In all that we do, let us serve Him, and to never forget,

Thanks be to God.

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Filed under Religious Fiction

Full Circle…

that in the dispensation of the fullness of the times He might gather together in one all things in Christ, both[a] which are in heaven and which are on earth—in Him.” -Ephesians 1:10

All I can remember was the journey, the trip back in time.

The farther we traveled, the more mountainous became the terrain until it was obvious we had mountaingraveyard2reached a point high above the tree line. My guide was a younger man whose demeanor evoked a strength no mortal could match, but yet, he carried himself in such a manner that I felt more than comfortable in his presence. His clothes were those of an ancient warrior, tunic across his broad, massive chest, with a leather strap around his waist that could have held a broadsword at one time. His hair was long and black blowing in the high-altitude winds lapping at his shoulders. If I didn’t know better, I could sense him being something more than human, something of a higher power, yet not willing to use that force unless called upon.

I followed him past large dark foreboding boulders whose shadows gave me a chill and then onward past cliff faces where the depths beyond their fragile edges were bottomless blue vistas of certain death. Yet, as we traveled this pathway of terror, I did not fear for anything as he comforted me in a way his countenance embodied that of an angelic being. Effortlessly up the steep climb we hiked until we rounded a turn in the trail that came upon a cleared but hilly pasture. The ground was punctuated with objects strewn all around us. At a glance, I thought them to be large rocks. In this field stood a woman of later years, dressed as the warrior, in an ancient wardrobe unlike any I’d ever seen. Her age could not contain the inner beauty which shone through the physical years; yet when she spoke, her beauty was matched only by her wisdom. Although she evoked a loveliness, her face was shadowed from the sun so that I could never get a clear view; shrouded as if in secrecy.

My escort introduced me to her and then left us, vanishing before I could thank him for his efforts. 2014-05-06 20.31.20The woman then began to explain to me why I was here and what it was we were to do. It was then I realized the rocky cleft of a field was littered not with rocks but with aged tombstones, all wrapped in cloth, as if ready to be shipped away. The lady then explained that we were transporting all of these back to where I had come from, to return them to the present; this was my mission. She explained that we would be loading each of the headstones into a trailer. Then she asked what seemed to me to be an odd question. She wanted to know if I thought we should use a closed trailer, sealed off from the air or if I thought an open trailer, one that could breathe and have air flow through it would be better; for some reason, I chose the latter, unbeknownst to me why. She smiled and agreed that I had chosen well.

There were others there, yet they never became bright enough to shine more than mere shadows. These beings helped us load the heavy stones into the tractor trailer, and when we had finished, I too climbed in. Before I departed in the trailer with the tombstones, the woman spoke to me and said, “You are the first to have come full circle; thus, you’ve been chosen as their escort back in time,” and with that, the trailer was off, flying through the air. The clouds and sky shone below the wire mesh floor upon which I stood, speeding past as we flew. Above me, through the wire mesh ceiling, I could see more sky, filled with deep shades of Prussian blue dotted with the sparkling lights of distant stars. How long we flew and where or if we landed I don’t know.

I awoke and turned to look at the clock; too soon, too soon.

My life has become a passage in time where the clock becomes merely an observation, not a limitation. To understand it all, or to even attempt to grasp the reality from whence we have come to now is an attempt to grab the wisp of a cloud in the distant sunset; futile. The only thing that belies a steady keel of comfort is the Word and the truth therein.

As fall gently slips into winter, I sip from my mug the bitter, dark brew each morning by the light of the fire and embrace every sentence with reverent awe. Coming full circle in life at times with the voices of those gone on before is the sweetness for my drink.

These are my days as we walk down this new path. Every step another page in the journey.

My paradigm shift has brought me back to so many beginnings that only the recognition of God’s hand at work can fathom the interworking of this story.

Someday, when we are gathered around His throne, we’ll be able to understand the how and why. For now, we should not tarry but carry on, His mission for us is yet to be fulfilled.

These and many more blessings are just a few of things for which we can be thankful this November.

And as always, Thanks, Be to God!

 

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Seek and You Will Find…

In the distance, the mountains call.

Seek and you will find…”imagesQ53ZSJ8P

The fluid movement of the gulf stream pushes against my will. Below me, the sands swirl in undulating patterns, to and fro, as the current continues to empty the back bay. My air is nearly depleted, but I push on, stretching the limits of my endurance until the forbearance of life thrusts me up, bursting through the surface just as my lungs explode in a forceful exhalation of water and breath, then immediately sucking life back through my snorkel.

I lay there, floating, drifting on the current, waiting.

In the distance, the mountains call.

Knock and it will be opened unto you…”

Replenished, I dive, driving my fins against the current until I glide along the bottom. The world around me is foreign yet intriguing. In the back of my mind, I keep watch for danger; sharks, rays and jellyfish that constantly appear and then disappear like spirits in the night. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, as my heart beats in my ears. There, over in the next bend lies the conch shell I’ve been searching. Just as my fingers grasp the treasure, the pains return. Too soon, the air is gone once again and I must return to the other place.

images0VGE58ZGA silence of beauty awaits me back on the surface. The bounty nestled safely in my dive pouch. Nearby a small tiger shark appears, approaching in a curious manner, then darts away. My hand reaches for the knife strapped to my thigh, more of a comfort than anything, the feeling of the cold hard steel is assuring. I try to relax again.

Drifting effortlessly once more, my breathing is measured but calm. Off in the distance, the sound of a boat motor tilling through waves reaches my ears. The alien noise does not belong. Like myself, we’re intruders in this realm, yet we’ve come nonetheless.

In the distance, the mountains call.

For everyone who asks, receives…”

379274_4161269401680_615774015_nBelow, the clouds obscure the lower reaches of the valleys. From my vantage point, I can see snow capped peaks, jagged, unapproachable and daunting. The air is pure and clean up here. There is no want of breath, no self-depleting pangs of oxygen other than those that consume the body at altitudes beyond your own physical abilities. I look around and my eyes cannot believe the grandeur of this place. My time here is limited, like that below the surface of the Gulf, yet something draws me; a destiny I cannot explain.

The treasure is not below as I once believed; no, it is above.

Somewhere, a mountain calls, somewhere I must go.

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.” – Matthew 7:7-8

 

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Review of “Bruecke to Heaven” by Peter Younghusband of the Christian Fiction Review out of Australia

Bruecke To Heaven: Children of the Light by Timothy Tron

Bruecke to Heaven: Children of the Light

When two of Jesus’ seventy disciples are sent into the wilderness, they find themselves in a remote Alpine valley delivering the Word of God to an ancient people. A miraculous event occurs and they realize they are not only to give them the Word, but the abilities and gifts that go with it; one of which becomes memorization. Centuries later, when the people of the valley are asked to leave their homelands because of their known gift, their memorization of the entire Bible, a journey and adventure like none other begins. They quickly learn they had been imbued with more than just one ability, and soon, their bridge to Heaven becomes a race for their lives.

The Guru’s Review:

I knew when I read the description for this book that I would be blessed and that this book is unique and special. This book has not let me down. I finished this speechless due to being in awe of everything related to it. Truly, this book is inspired by God and many times, I could feel His presence with me. I have had that with only a few books. I will never forget this book. It really does have a profound effect on how you see God and how you have experienced Him. It has made me want more of Him and a desire to increase my faith and always be in His will.
This is the first book I have read from Timothy Tron and it won’t be the last, if of course, he choses to write more after the coming sequel, which is in the works at the moment. His writing style, command of the English language and imagination transport you to the 1100s AD, set in both the alpine area of France and also in Lyon. You are more than a spectator in this novel, you are there with all the characters as if you are part of the plot. I found it difficult coming back to reality every time I stopped reading. His characters are all very relational and three dimensional, well developed and believable whether they are protagonists or antagonists.Tron has created some very admirable and loveable characters in the protagonists, Arktos, elder of the Vaudois people, Jakob his grandson, Peter Waldo (real name Augustus Pizan but uses the name of Peter Waldo who existed years before him), Marik and Steffan who seek out the Apostle Speakers (the Vaudoisians who have been imbued with the gift of memorization of the entire Scriptures), Gabriel (Waldo’s right hand man and whom you are forever thinking is he really the angel Gabriel or not?), Jean Paul, Jakob’s older brother, Julia, Jakob and Jean Paul’s mother. There is an emotional investment in these characters as you read. Everything they go through you feel it with them, joy, grief, horror, sadness, stubborn faith, righteous indignation, victorious elation.

The same goes for the antagonists, the main two being General Lucier and Pope Lucias III. These two embody the evilness and corruptness of the Roman Catholic Church, both are power hungry, corrupt, manipulative and deceitful and deluded into thinking that they are doing the will of God by persecuting and eradicating anyone who defies the teachings of the Catholic Church. Both have no issue with murder, torture or persecution to achieve their aims: recant your faith and convert to Catholicism or die. You feel their hatred towards the Vaudosians, you recoil in horror at their persecution of those who defy them, and the methods of killing they employ, you can feel the evil oppression they exude, yet you feel pity for them for them when you see this evilness taking them over and blinding them from the Truth that is so ever before them.

Here is what Lucias considers of himself:

.…..for I am the embodiment of heaven on earth, and if it is my will, it shall be done!

He sees and hates the Vaudoisians and their gift as a threat to his papacy:

Yet, there it was: the fact that they had preserved the Word of God of their own accord-a Word not compiled by mankind, but that was given to them reportedly from the sources themselves. What would it do to the power of the papacy should it become known? or worse yet, what if the unknown Word produced an entirely different view of the hereafter or the road to perdition?…..

Then there was the other, more-distressing side note: the fact that the books these people quoted were exactly as they had received them, unfiltered and encompassing all of the writing and teachings that followed the ministry of Jesus and his disciples. This Word they possessed gave a power that bound them to one ruler, but a ruler who was not of this earth. That in of itself sent a shiver of terror down the papal spine, causing him to shudder at the thought.

Tron’s research into this era, Vaudois people, the aforementioned corruptness of the Catholic Church and their politics add depth and credibility to the story. It is hard to believe that this is a novel and not the account of actual events as they happened, including the supernatural intervention of God in various ways as described that is just not commonplace in today’s world.

I can see Tron’s passion throughout as it is loosely based on his family genealogy from his paternal side. When I read this on his author page on Amazon, I was further intrigued, and contacted him about this. He sent me an account of his discovery and it is very captivating.
Here it is, in part:
In 1995, my late Aunt June Tron gave us a one-of-a-kind housewarming gift; a genealogy binder including information about the town in Germany from whence we came along with our pedigree, all the way back to the founding father’s of the little town, Walldorf Germany.
In 1998, we decided to take a trip to Germany………We pulled up in front of the Heimat Museum……..That was the next phase of my research as I began drinking from the proverbial fire hydrant of knowledge. I found that Tron’s had existed as part of the Waldensians from the beginning and I then began to learn what it meant to be Waldensian. The people from the valleys had migrated to Germany in 1699 and built Walldorf from scratch. Two of the original families were my direct ancestors. The rest of the link and how they go back in time genealogically can be explained at a later time; suffice it to say, its a long, long tale.
The story and the tale of which you are reading are closely intertwined, but what made me begin writing the book was the conflict of how they received their iconic name versus how they actually became who they were; meaning, Peter Waldo did not cause Waldensians to exist, rather, he became famous because of who the Waldnesian people already were; thus, the impetus for starting to tell our side of the story. The more I thought about it, the more I questioned, “Why would these people struggle for over 600 years, fight in over 30 wars and face extinction of their kind all because of what they believed.” Then I realized I had to tell the story from the perspective of “BEING” Waldensian. There had been many books written about Waldensians and their struggles, but none had been written from the point of view of what it was to be Waldensian and how that fact formulated who you were and how you faced adversity.
What Timothy means about “Being” Waldensian is very aptly described and forms one of the main backbones of this novel. Peter Waldo, actually existed and the term Waldensian is based on his name.
I wondered about the name of the novel, what did Bruecke mean (bridge) and why have a German word in an English title? It was this strange looking title that drew me to this book in the first place. Timothy explains again:

Intime, the meaning of some of what I have put down becomes clear; and so it was with the title, “Bruecke to Heaven”. Initially, my timeline was going to extend through their migration to Germany, thus I decided to include that influence in the title. But later, when it became apparent that my 600 year timeline would only progress only about a year and a half in the first book, I questioned if I really should keep that working title. I felt compelled to keep the title foreign in language, but didn’t know why. Recently, I was driving to work and was listening to a song on the radio when it hit me why the title fits. People who are not Christians, come into Christianity not knowing anything about it and with time, learn how and what it is to become a Christian. Then, like the obscure title, they realize the meaning and eventually accept Christ into their life, and as such, the title becomes clear.
I also questioned Timothy about the surname of Arktos, the main character, which was LeTron. Was this the original surname of his ancestry? Timothy had this covered too:
Like the title, I didn’t realize why I felt compelled to use a form of my family name for the characters in the book either, but something said to me that it was important to do so. Last year, while attending a Waldensian Festival in Valdese NC., I learned from a young man who was from the Alpine valleys where the Waldnesians came, was there doing research and he explained to me what my name actually meant in the ancient language of the valleys; Tron meant “One with Strength” and that they often gave their warriors this title. Needless to say, I was once again blown away. Even though my book was already in print by then, I felt good about keeping the form of the name intact and that indeed it was an important part of the actual history.
Interestingly, Tron has portrayed the LeTron family (Julia, Mary, Arktos, Jakob, Jean Paul, Rebecca and Angela) as a very strong family by nature and by faith without knowing what his name meant.
Faith is a strong feature in this novel. How I now long to have the faith of Arktos and Jakob! The author portrays the Vaudoisians living the Word so vividly and naturally, it is literally their first nature. And in this novel, these two and the Vaudoisians know no different as their ancestors have lived this way since two of the seventy disciples (Olympas and Herodian) delivered the Word of God to them. At this delivery, God imbues them with the ability to remember and quote the entire Word/Bible. So for generations over the centuries, until the time of the Crusades where this story is set, this closely knit community, almost cut off from the secular world, live and act out the Word; for them it is a tangible experience, the Word being literally alive. Tron even mentions this in his Introduction: Author’s Notes:

It had been memorized word for word and passed down from one generation to the next, preserving not only the mere lines of Scripture but the ultimate spiritual power it possessed in its infancy. Regarding this “Word,” the Bible reads in John 1:1-5,

In the beginning was the Word,and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.He was with God in the beginning.All things were created through Him, and apart from Him not one thing was created that has been created.Life was in Him, and that life was the light of men. That light shines in the darkness, yet the darkness did not overcome it.

Yet in truth, there were some who did not recognize the Word and the light, and this is their story.

The spiritual warfare aspects of this novel are very unique and different from any I have read in other biblical supernatural thrillers. In all the instances portrayed in the novel we see the power of the Word manifested though either chanting or singing Scripture: Arktos and his elders chanting Scripture as the papal army invade their village of Rora and the papal army is destroyed and at the end of the novel, Arktos chants Scripture when the papal army is about to capture them, defeating them. Jakob discovers that when he sings Scripture, the same happens; when he plays the lira the power of God either defeats their enemy or confuses them, in one instances him playing this lira disguises their compound as empty as the papal army invades and search it even when Arktos, Jacob, Peter, Gabriel and their staff are still present in the compound, another where the group he was in passes by in a mist, unheard of by the papal army, as they moved close by them on their journey homeward bound. I know these occurrences are due to the other gifts imbued by God when He delivered the Word via the disciples, but it does make me consider how it would be if Christians were able to do the same in the reality of our world in this 21st century?All in all, this is one very memorable novel that has had a profound affect on me. It is has encouraged and strengthened my faith and relationship with Christ, witness to my family and community, inspired and challenged me to stand up for the Gospel and have a ready defense for the same just as 1 Peter 3:15 says:

….but honor the Messiah as Lord in your hearts. Always be ready to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you.

It is one book that needs to be read again (and most likely again!).

Highly recommended.

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