Tag Archives: Timothy W. Tron

Book 3 begins…The Ark of Faith

by Timothy W. Tron, Feb. 2022

In the crucible of time, a story is born that rises from the ashes of the fires of torture and anguish. It is within this bitter history that a spirit of faith, hope, and love are revealed; embodied in the true worshippers those who worship Him in spirit and in truth. Return with me, if you will, to those distant, ancient Alpine valleys to a place where God planted his word beginning with the Apostles of Christ. There, the Word of God was nurtured as if it lived within an incubator, growing, and enriching the lives of all that would come to possess it. From these people of the valleys, a movement of belief would arise that would span continents, and plant the seeds of the Reformation. But as with all things of great marvel, there are those who become equally jealous and bitter and seek to destroy what brings this joy.

Follow along as the saga continues as the characters you met in the previous two novels return to once again face trials and tribulations unequivocal to anything we have or will ever know. Rejoice with their momentary raptures, and find solace in seeing how they persevere through the darkest of times.

The rough draft cover of the 3rd book in the series of The Children of the Light.

I hope that you are blessed by this excerpt from Chapter 1, and please feel free to comment on what you think of the story’s beginning.

* * * * *

Lightning crackled in the foreboding sky above, illuminating the darkness in brief flashes of hellish light. His heart kept time as the crashes of thunder rolled across the earth, becoming one with his soul. As he ran up the mountain toward the flock, the tall summer grasses frothed like waves on a sea, their billows creating a feeling of dread. The harder he pushed, the more it seemed as if that distant point to which he strove moved farther away.

The light raced across the darkness as a demonic thread of light rippled like broken ice on winter pool when the foot treads upon its thin surface. A feeling of dread permeated the air like a thick fog. Once more, his eyes strained to see in that instant, up ahead, on the far side of the herd of sheep, stood a figure standing in a black cloak, its hood pulled forward so that the abyss within compelled one to look away for fear of being sucked within. The image silhouetted against the backdrop of the broken sky did not move. Jakob felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, but he continued onward. Something inside him said to turn back, but he felt the urgency to reach his father’s flock before they were hurt. In the brief instant of imagery, he could see that the sheep had all lain down in preparation for the coming storm. Their natural instincts that God-given ability to sense danger, had already driven them to the ground.

Jakob raced onward, driven by something within to save them. Rain began to fall in sheets as the storm engulfed the peak around them. The wind pushed against him, taking his breath. Something was not right. His hand gripped the shepherd staff in his right hand and drove it into the earth, hoping to propel himself forward, but it only sank into the ground as if the soil had become soft like the winter snow.

Lightning pulsed once more.

His breath stuck within his throat as his heart seemed to stop. The dark being had now moved and stood between him and the sheep.

Another ripple screamed through the dark firmament, and once again, the creature had advanced at the moment, now standing but a few feet away. It did not breath, but yet, seemed to suck in the air around it, creating a vacuum of despair.

Jakob tried to scream, but his voice was blocked by his own heartbeat. Nothing moved. With every ounce of his being, he pulled the staff from the earth and tried to lift it to strike this thing, this evil that betrayed his mind, but it seemed frozen, one with the ground. Again, he thought within his own being, seeking an answer to escape. Then, in the deepest recesses of his mind, a voice began to permeate through the evil, “Use what you have been given, my son.”

Suddenly, from the seemingly broken tongue, a song began to illuminate all that had sought to extinguish hope. It began to bubble up from the farthest reaches of his young being until it reached his lips. There, it began to dance upon this tongue, and the melody started to sing forth. The lightning angrily flashed again as if driven by the being before him, its ire incensed by the sound.

Then without warning, there was a current of heat that tore through the night. Its river of fire split the very marrow of his small body. The last thing Jakob remembered was seeing the demon’s figure shadowed face become an abyss of rage, and then it was gone.

As darkness enveloped the mountain as an eerie calm came over him.

Jakob could see his body lying on the grass below as he hovered just above. He didn’t take notice that he was flying until he heard the distant voice of his brother, Jean Paul, crying out his name. Jakob could see his brother running up the slope toward his lifeless body in the driving rain, his tears becoming one with the water that fell from above. Jakob wanted to reach out to him, but as he remained aloft, he began to rise higher into the sky, watching the scene below, becoming more distant with each beat of the distant thunder.

Jean Paul picked up his brother’s body and began stumbling, at first in awkward strides, back down the mountain, toward their humble dwelling. As he progressed, his legs picked up momentum, and soon he was running at full speed. Jean Paul began praying as he ran. His brother’s voice drifted past Jakob in the air as his own spirit, and the prayer seemed to race one another for Heaven above. He wanted to answer, but the valley of space between him and Jean Paul seemed to grow. The entirety of the mountain beneath was within his view. The sheep enduring the storm huddled in mass upon the ground; meanwhile, Jakob continued running for what seemed an eternity back down the mountain, his voice echoing in Jakob’s ears, the storm raging around them both.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

To be continued….

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“The Light in the Darkness” finally reaches the light of day.

It began back in 2013 and but was put on hold when we answered the Call to serve. This past week, the Lord placed it upon my heart to reopen the old friend and revisit those within. Once the cover was cracked, there was no turning back.

Needless to say, there have been many positive changes to the publishing world since my last venture. So much so, that now I feel comfortable using Amazon KDP. The tireless ordeal of writing literary agents and publishers is just outside my available time as a High School teacher, so for now, this will have to do.

In the next few days, both the E-book ($4.99) and a Paperback version will be available through Amazon.

This work was more than twice the size of the first book. My beta readers found the story line twice as compelling. Overall, the paperback will be 702 pages, for $19.95, which should be twice the savings. Hopefully by now, you guessed it, I hope you find it twice as good.

The release date shows March, but as soon as I get the reference information loaded, it should be available later this week.

Please let me know what you think. Most of all, I hope you find yourself seeking the Word of God, and hopefully your walk with Him will become closer after reading the story within.

Lux Lucet in Tenebris, The Light Shines in the Darkness

Here is the link to the E-book.

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Saying Goodbye…

This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls….” – Jeremiah 6:1620160228_154502~2

If you haven’t heard by now, I was released from the Trail of Faith this past week. They said that the board had decided to take a different direction for the Trail and as a result, eliminated the Director position

My heart sank.

Selling the farm, the animals, the constant moving for the past year, first from the farm to Valdese and then from the storage to the temporary house, then from the temporary house into the new house; a year of moving that has yet to be completed.

We had yet to settle down when the news came.

Standing at another crossroads in my life, I can choose to look back, or I can choose to look forward, the choice is mine. I can turn to my left or right, but in whatever decision I make, there is one thing that must remain constant, one thing that I must not forget; the very reason for where I am at today; my faith in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Had we known then what we know now would have made the same choice to take that leap of faith? Would we have sold everything to follow the calling? Should we have asked those who had dealt with the Trail what their track record was for turnover? We can look back and ask those questions which seem obvious in answer, but the truth is, when we are compelled to answer the call, it matters little what the outcome of our journey becomes. More importantly, our eyes should be fixed on the ultimate goal, the heavenly victory.

Does it hurt?

Of course, it does; yet if we think of it as a stepping stone; just another piece of the puzzle in God’s big plan, then the reward that awaits behind the door that has yet to be revealed will be far greater than the one that just closed. Our most significant triumphs have yet to be revealed as we continue to follow the path He has chosen for us.

Yet the pain continues. What bothers me most is not the hurt inside, but rather, the pain is for all those that I had shared my testimony with; those that I had truly divulged my heart and soul, assuring them that when they visited the Trail, they would indeed be blessed as we would share the Word of God with them through the story of the people of the valleys. Now, in the midst of this painful loss, I will not be able to guarantee their receiving what I had so fervently promised. Many will only receive the same old history lesson as before, while a few might get lucky and get one of our more passionate guides, like brother Barry. Yet, I know in his mind he might be missing me as much as I will be missing him in my absence. We had become brothers in arms, so to speak. Barry and many more have been hurt by the decision, but like true Christian soldiers, we all will carry on one way or another.

What I will miss most is hard to say.

There were countless moments of the Holy Spirit coming down upon us at any point in a tour. There were the prayers over those in need, those hurting and wanting healing, and many other inspirational stories that continued flowing like a beautiful, sweet river of love from our Heavenly Father. Gone will be those moments when you saw the look in the eyes of your guest as they understood the sacrifices of those gone before and how God had sent them to hear the story for the first time. Many would go away with a greater appreciation for the Word, and that was my greatest wish of all; that each person regardless of denomination, background or heritage, would leave the Trail knowing that “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory…”

As much as I wanted to call it my mission, God obviously has other ideas. To Him, this was just part of the plan for which I was called.

My journey has just begun.

Once more I find myself on my knees praying for peace, wisdom, guidance and strength.

Where will I be in a month from now; Heavenly only knows?

As the Bible tells us, when God closes a door, He has another one opened and waiting for us. Our job is to find that door and walk through it. I’ve been given one month’s severance pay; hopefully, time enough to figure where that other door awaits.

As brother Patrick told me this week with regard to the next door, “The greatest triumph is yet to come.”

Yes, the future is uncertain in human terms, but in Godly perspective, the best is yet to come.

In all I do, I will always continue to say, “Thanks be to God.”

For if it is God’s will, then it shall be done, and so here is a link to my resume in case you know of someone hiring….link to resume

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Nap of Ascension

Have you ever awakened from a dream, feeling remorse, feeling a loss for something that was so wonderful, so beautiful angelicduring the vision that you had wished it could have continued forever?

That was the case for me today.

After waking up from my nap, I had the feeling that I was visited by an angelic being and when she left me, I literally felt a loss. I say she, only because I felt comforted as if from a motherly figure; warm, compassionate, loving. Her true image I could not recall, having never caught a glimpse of the being’s true form; most of the time she was nothing more than a vapor, a whisper of a body that floated nearby.

In the course of the dream, she visited me several times, teaching me, leading me into a world that was parallel to my own, yet far beyond the reaches of normal consciousness. Each visit I learned and watched as she taught me about true love and how compassion triumphs over all darkness. We watched and observed sight unseen as people dealt with heart wrenching dilemmas, each one a lesson for our ethereal classroom. I can’t explain the feelings or scenes I witnessed, other than after each one I felt both pulled to the depths of despair for what I saw but at the same time uplifted to a higher spiritual plain from what eventually transpired, as if God had directed the people through hell and back. Each lesson built upon the former. After each visit I was returned back to my former self, back where I was still within my own body, but knowing I had returned from beyond. Each time I was brought home, I yearned more and more for the next time she would return until I was worried my anticipation was becoming real. Those around me in my dream realized there was a change taking place, but they did not know its source; they only appreciated the metamorphosis and welcomed it. The change was obviously a good thing. Their acknowledgement was nothing more than an indirect observation; something they could sense but like looking straight ahead while driving down a road, they could see if from their peripheral vision, yet its focus wasn’t clear, so it they disregarded it.

My final contact was bittersweet as emotions flowed from each of us, knowing this was the end of our journey together. I felt guilty about the time we spent together although I had not broken any vows or been unfaithful in any manner; yet, it was the knowing that my soul had been uplifted by another whose spiritual embrace had left me changed that ultimately left me with the feeling of culpability. Like dew on the leaf in the early morning light, the tender touch of the heavenly breath had remained, if only fleeting but real.

ascensionI awoke feeling as if there had been a death, as if the angelic being had died, yet I wasn’t sad. There had been something gained from the experience so rewarding that the loss was insignificant to the warmth of memory left behind. The scene of the disciples in their final hour with Jesus before he ascended into heaven for the last time came to mind. They too were saddened by his ascension, but the joy of knowing and experiencing their time with the son of God overshadowed any self-pity for his physical departure.

“And He led them out as far as Bethany, and He lifted up His hands and blessed them. Now it came to pass, while He blessed them, that He was parted from them and carried up into heaven. And they worshiped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple praising and[j] blessing God. Amen.” – Luke 24:50-53

One can only imagine the glory that flowed that day as the disciples returned to the temple praising and blessing God. If only we could reach our brethren today in the same manner such that all Christians might be so uplifted that they walk down the street praising and blessing God out loud; glory, hallelujah what a day that would be!

I may never know who or what it was that I met in my dream today but I can honestly say I won’t be upset to meet him or her once again. Grace received is grace embraced and for this we can only be uplifted to His righteousness.

Peace and Grace to all.

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A Shadow in the Mist

images281A76P4What I am about to tell you is totally true, beyond a shadow of a doubt and undeniably without any thread of exaggeration.

I was on the last leg of my Sunday morning run; the sun had just managed to reach the horizon while I had still yet to see its morning glow. The air was thick with humidity and any trace of coolness had long ago evaporated into the sweat that now poured off my tiring body. I turned the last corner of the gravel road, the last mile of my run and was about to head into the thickest part of the forest which made the road upon which I ran a living tunnel. Overhead trees draped across the lane, blotting out the sky above. The recesses of the darkness seemed to go on forever, the air cooler, whispered voices of beings therein. I was well within this domain when the thought of coyotes came to mind. Just as the thought entered a small dark figure of a squirrel raced across the road ahead of me, momentarily causing my heart to jump. I went back to the idea of the wolf-like creature and wondered how I might have reacted had the carnivorous being I had imagined actually passed before me. “Where they watching me even now,” I asked myself, my eyes searching as I ran the inner depths of the forest that lay to my left. The blur of vegetation passed as a movie as my body moved forward, one foot plodding before the other, the taste of salt on my lips. Not long afterward, I turned my focus forward again as I emerged from the wooded section of the road and came out into the growing brightness of the morning, running past the pond and up the last hill of my run, soon to put the images of primeval forest behind me.

After my brief cool down, I found myself on the back porch, looking out upon the pond and road from which I had just emerged. My glass of water in hand, I sat down upon the rocking chair and allowed my bare feet to breath in the cool morning air. I leaned back and closed my eyes, the air, my body becoming one with the world around me, drinking in the moment, blood pumping, my breathing relaxed, all was good.

The sounds of the earth serenaded my soul.wolfinmist

Then suddenly, from the depths of the darkness came the bark and howl of a lone coyote: its voice so close, so clear; so haunting.

My eyes flashed open and noticed the horses standing below where I sat on the porch, their images visible in the gray pasture shadows. Their actions confirming the sound I had just heard; their ears perked and alert as they turned to face the dark woods from which I had just passed moments earlier on my run.

Something from a repressed memory of an ancient time reached my consciousness, something unbelievably real, yet unbelieving in its existence.

Had I known of their presence while through yonder dark woods I hath traveled,” came the voice in my head? “Surely it was just coincidence,” I replied, “or was it?”

I waited to see if there were another call but none came; only the sounds of predawn chorus continued.

My eyes scanned the lower horizon, watching for any signs of movement, but there was nothing.

The padded paw left no trace, its breath a mist upon the morning air and then vanished like the beast from whence it came; nothing left behind but the memory of its passing. A shadow in the mist.

Then I began to wonder to myself, “Was this the way we suppress so many other things in our world, things we recognize but then dismiss when they our outside the realm of our belief?” If nothing more than a physical image can be brushed aside, then what else is there that we understand as truth yet knowingly pass on its belief until we form the space in which we can comfortably exist, one we know and are familiar with, yet one that scares the hell out of us should we venture beyond its borders; the howl of the wolf, the connection to a world beyond our control, one where we are no longer the masters. The padded paw of silence follows us waiting for our minds to stray from the path, ready to pounce upon our unbelieving weaknesses and use them against us before we recover and scamper back to the safety of our predefined borders. How many without faith find themselves in this predicament everyday as they succumb to the evils of the world in which we live, finding themselves trapped in a darkness they cannot control or emerge; lost to the clutches of its demonic fanged breath.

Without the armor of light to protect us, the Word of God, we are mere babes in the woods. It is up to those of us who know better to prepare those who are without; salvation through God’s grace and thus become children of the light. Otherwise, we leave them to become prey to the claws of the world’s clutches.

How many only wish it were just a dream from which they could emerge, or a morning’s run through the early morning mist? How many can we reach before the fangs of this world pull them asunder?

What will you do to escape, what will you do?

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A Message in the Clouds…

Clouds tell us a lot.

This morning as my son and I went out for our morning run, we had just passed a particularly challenging uphill section of our route and as I gasped for breath, I looked up to the sky and notice a nondescript cumulus hovering overhead. It made me think back to how many more times I had done the same, looked heavenward while running. The act of looking skyward in some instances was from a need for silent prayer to get me through the day or at least to the end of the run, but in this case it was simply to enjoy the beautiful day that God had made.

Then the thought came to me, “How many times had I had passed this point of exhaustion in my younger days, only to have no idea that someday I would be performing the same feat, but with a son at my side?”

I listened to our rhythm of footsteps, his matching mine even though his stride could easily be half as great as my own. He now stands six foot tall and his loping pace seems too easy for his slender frame. He barely breathes as I struggle to gasp in anything that would ease my burning lungs. Yet, as we continue onward, we move as one; father and son under a pale blue sky, the sunrise at our backs. In my earlier days, I would push the pace when running with someone so that we might achieve a greater return from our workout, yet this morning I neither desired to push the pace nor shorten our time together; this was more than just exercise.

As we trotted along, we talked of many things. My mind ran parallel, looking down at the two images flowing along the green backdrop of countryside. My own father never dreamed of running with me, or at least if he had, he never said so. One summer when I was in high school I began increasing my long runs. On one of the first attempts, I asked my dad to check on me while I tried running an 18 miler. He agreed and became my support vehicle of sorts. He would drive by in the old Chevy Suburban while drinking a beer. He even offered me a drink, realizing I was probably in need of fluids, and then he was off, driving away in a cloud of dust down the gravel road as I plodded onward. Those were solitary runs, something I became to understand were part of the territory. Having someone accompany you was a treat, as was today. We had by now turned and were on the return leg of our run with the sunrise now facing us, as ominous clouds blocked its rays; precursor to potential rain I told my son. He nodded; the pace was finally catching up with him.

The last mile of our run is up the hill to our home; one of the most challenging climbs I’ve known in all the years of my running. As we approached it, I kept talking, sharing not realizing the strain the incline was taking upon my body. Not until we nearly reached the summit did I have to stop speaking and search for oxygen to feed my starving limbs. The scene of cross-country runners passing the finish line and bending double to catch their breath came to mind, hands on hips, heaving chests. One young man from Oregon had joined our high school team, a boy who could have doubled for the late Steve Prefontaine. He walked up to me and told me putting my hands on my hips was cheating, that it was making it easier for my body to recover, not allowing my chest cavity to build strength which was part of the training. I dropped my arms at the time, trying to achieve the effort my teammate mentioned. Today, I hugged my hips and sucked in air, thinking of whatever happened to the young man and where he might be today, if alive at all. The greenness of the shade we had reached at the peak of the hill made me think of Oregon and what running in that place might have been like in Pre’s time; magical for sure.prefontaine

The whinny of Sugar, Mary’s pony broke my dreamlike state as we walked through the front gate and into the inner yard. Sugar stood waiting for her breakfast, which we soon took care of as we walked our cool-down to the barn. Kittens danced and spun in the early morning light; happy to see us approach knowing breakfast was soon to be served for them as well.

Then my son asked, “Dad, did you notice there wasn’t one car?”

I thought and he was right, we hadn’t seen one car on our entire time out.

“No, you’re right,” I said in response.

“Is it always like this in the morning?”

“Well, if you get up early enough on Sunday morning it can be,” I replied, “but if you go far enough, there will eventually be at least a couple cars.”

He nodded.

I would save the stories of countless miles I had once run on the logging roads in the Weyerhaeuser forests of South Carolina and not seen one human during an entire summer.

Today was about us, not about the past.

Later, after our cool-down, I sat on the porch sipping my morning coffee and noticed the sky a perfect blue. All the clouds had vanished and the pasture grasses before me echoed a richness of plush moisture. My son walked up to the porch after having checked the chickens and I noticed he looked as if hadn’t even broken a sweat. I told him to come on up and take off his shoes and socks so his feet could breath. He obliged and we sat side by side, once more sharing and watching the world before us come alive with the days dawning, our bare feet cooling in the breeze.

Off in the distance, clouds began to loom once again as a hummingbird flitted by.

angelcloudThat afternoon on our way home from church, I looked up in the sky and saw a cloud with the perfect face of an angel looking down. The image was so perfect, it looked almost appeared man-made. The angel had wide outstretched wings and seemed to be floating across the sky, a vision of comfort and peace from above. I felt a certain confirmation inside, knowing that we were being watched from above and that somehow, someway, no matter what life had in store, God would see us through; so said the image in the cloud.

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Agape Journey…

The rain came down in sheets as dark clouds loomed to the horizon.10592838_10204470877797851_7162012123435692523_n

We sat inside thinking of the months of practice, looking out as the water flowed down Main Street as the torrent fell from the sky. It was Friday morning, the day of our Festival of Faith which was to be performed later that day at 5pm in Jacumin Plaza. The forecast had been for rain, heavy rain and now it seemed that for once the weatherman had it right. I looked at my family and knew that regardless of the outcome, we were going to perform, knowing there would be no tomorrow, no second chances, or so we believed.

I bowed my head and said a silent prayer asking for God to halt the rain long enough so that there would be a break before the time of our show, perhaps letting folks know it was safe to venture out, and then long enough for us to conclude our performance. I had learned from Pastor Thomas to be specific in prayer requests and as I have been told, I am far too sparse on prayer requests for my personal needs. So not withstanding my own conviction, I asked and I asked boldly; so much so that I told the children I had asked God to make a break in the weather, to which they only nodded.

The heavy rain kept falling.

We carried on during the day preparing regardless of what the skies above did; the rain continued to fall with clouds so dark it sometimes seemed as if it were late evening rather than early afternoon.

Then miraculously, about an hour before the time of our show, the rain slowed, ebbed and finally stopped. As we began setting up the sound equipment for the stage, the street dried and clouds began to part with intermittent shafts of sunlight flowing through.

My heart smiled as I realized, God had not only answered my prayers, but also for the fact my children saw once again the power of prayer in action.

The evening’s show went off without a problem as the youth of our bands, the Boy Scouts from troop 192, and Senator Jacumin performed flawlessly, providing an emotionally charged performance that moved those in attendance beyond words. The response was so great from those who arrived late, that we were asked to perform the show again on the next day, Saturday; another day that the weather forecast had predicted 100% chance of rain. Those who were part of the performance looked at me thinking it impossible, but I smiled for within I knew if it was His will, it would be done. I agreed that if it were possible we would do a second show on Saturday.

10609549_10204474460927427_2830980695479622225_nIn the meantime, we had never seen the play “From This Day Forward” and since the rain had abated, we all hurried from our show off to grab a quick bite for supper and then still in costume, attended the long awaited play. We were not disappointed. The first Act had such an impact that I found it difficult to hold in my emotions, even after I had written about such atrocities. So well done was the performance of the “Massacre” scene that the full force of the sight and sound combined brought all to tears as the sounds of cries in the darkness still echo in my head. It was truly a moving moment. That Saturday evening, even though dark clouds loomed overhead, we were protected as the entire play went off without the first raindrop.

On the way back to the hotel from the play, the weather finally broke and the heavens opened up; my soul felt relieved and thankful all at once.

We awoke Saturday morning to an overcast sky, but the rain had stopped just before dawn.

Later in the day, sometime after the second show, when there had been no rain since early that morning, I sat and thanked the Lord once again for answering prayers beyond what were deserved or expected and realized His will had been done once again.

In all, the weekend was more than just our performance; total immersion in the spirit is the only way I can begin to describe it. For our small troop of performers and families, we found the will of God working in our immediate lives so greatly that we will forever be changed. From the beauty of the sweet voices being lifted up in praise to the words of gratitude spoken by our audience members, from blessings of seeing what we portrayed acted out by others, to strangers stopping us on the street asking us why were dressed in costume which gave us the opportunity to witness to them our story and conviction; it was more than just listening to a story, it was living the tale, the journey became one with the lives we lived. As we stood in the darkness of the Cathedral Cave on the Trail of Faith and I described its significance to those young voices who asked in that darkness what it was about, I realized there was a need, a reason to share the story beyond merely telling it; reliving it to some degree was necessary.

This Sunday morning, Pastor Dr. Fredrick at the Waldensian Presbyterian Church gave his sermon on the Agape Center that began in 1947 by a small group of Waldensians. Agape is Greek word describing “Christ-like love” and is considered the highest form of love; it is self-giving. After this weekend, I felt I had begun to understand what others came to realize through their total immersion in the spirit when they came together to create the center by hand. From this small group of Waldensians led by Tullio Vinay their servitude created something that brought together Christians from all walks of life, rather than divide them. To this day, the Agape center is used by Christians from all over the world as a spiritual retreat, a place where one can take a sabbatical, a place to step back and understand all that God has done in our lives, whether we realized it or not.

Although it was only slight, I believe we experienced Agape love this weekend and for that I am beyond grateful.10514648_10204470795395791_1250824463609537247_n

How much more could one ask, how much greater could time spent with friends and family be spent; this I cannot imagine or answer other than this was more than a fulfillment of any dream I had dared to imagine.

Blessings are given to those who seldom realize them until it is too late. I pray that the Lord allows me to never forget the blessings I received this past weekend, for the Festival of Faith was all and more than I could have ever imagined, Agape love if you will and for this I feel truly blessed.

Thank you God!

“[ The Greatest Gift ] Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing. ….” – 1 Corinthians 13

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Pictoral Journal: Day 3

So much time, so many pages…

In order to try to catch back up on my lapse in blogging, I am continuing to post journal entries for several of the recent weeks. These will include drawings, random thoughts and observations of my daily life.

On another note, I have begun submitting Query letters to prospective Literary Agents and the family and I are also practicing for our performance and presentation at the Festival of Faith in Valdese on Friday, August 8th. Our friends The Lang Sisters and their family will be joining, us as well; sing and make music in our hearts to the Lord is what we do.

May you find humor, comfort and joy in all that transpires.

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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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Bruecke to Heaven e-book on Kindle Select Promotion

FrontPageOnlyFrom March 25th to March 31st, Bruecke to Heaven will be on sale for only $.99 during the Kindle Select Promotion.

Pickup a copy for your Kindle device and join the journey where your faith will be tested and uplifted.

Bruecke to Heaven on Kindle Here

Bruecke to Heaven normally sales for $3.99 on Kindle

Have a blessed day,

 

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