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paperback, 26 chapters, 288 pages
A boy of thirteen holds a basin of blood at the altar of the Lord. His hands shake. His father steadies them without a word.
Fifty years later, that boy—now an old priest named Jehoiada—will hold something far heavier: the last surviving heir to the throne of David, an infant carried through darkness by a woman brave enough not to think before she acted.
Between those two moments lies a life of quiet, stubborn faithfulness in a kingdom that is slowly forgetting what faithfulness means. A king's well-intentioned alliance brings a bride from the north, and with her comes a patience more dangerous than any army — the patience of a woman who does not conquer but accumulates, who does not tear down walls but stops repairing them, who looks at the house of God and sees a building.
When Queen Athaliah massacres the royal family to seize the throne, Jehoiada and his wife Jehosheba hide the infant prince Joash in the temple — in a windowless room behind a storeroom, behind a curtain, behind a silence that must never break. For six years they raise a king who cannot go outside, a boy who draws stars on broken pottery because he has never seen the sky, who learns the psalms before he learns his own name, who identifies his grandmother by the sound of her shoes through the ceiling.
But a promise kept in a dark room is a promise with no future. Eventually, Jehoiada must become something a priest was never meant to be. He must recruit soldiers, distribute weapons, plan a coronation that is also a revolution, and give an order that will cost a woman her life — an order he will carry to his grave alongside every prayer he has ever spoken.
Jehoiada: Keeper of the Promise is a novel about the distance between faithfulness and results. About the difference between a faith you were given and a faith you own. About a man who stood at an altar for fifty years and did the small, unglamorous, repetitive work of keeping a fire burning — not because he could see what God was doing, but because the alternative was darkness.
It is a story about what it costs to protect something sacred in a world that has stopped believing it matters.
And it asks the question that every person of faith eventually faces: What happens to the fire when the one who tends it is gone?
paperback, 26 chapters, 288 pages
A boy of thirteen holds a basin of blood at the altar of the Lord. His hands shake. His father steadies them without a word.
Fifty years later, that boy—now an old priest named Jehoiada—will hold something far heavier: the last surviving heir to the throne of David, an infant carried through darkness by a woman brave enough not to think before she acted.
Between those two moments lies a life of quiet, stubborn faithfulness in a kingdom that is slowly forgetting what faithfulness means. A king's well-intentioned alliance brings a bride from the north, and with her comes a patience more dangerous than any army — the patience of a woman who does not conquer but accumulates, who does not tear down walls but stops repairing them, who looks at the house of God and sees a building.
When Queen Athaliah massacres the royal family to seize the throne, Jehoiada and his wife Jehosheba hide the infant prince Joash in the temple — in a windowless room behind a storeroom, behind a curtain, behind a silence that must never break. For six years they raise a king who cannot go outside, a boy who draws stars on broken pottery because he has never seen the sky, who learns the psalms before he learns his own name, who identifies his grandmother by the sound of her shoes through the ceiling.
But a promise kept in a dark room is a promise with no future. Eventually, Jehoiada must become something a priest was never meant to be. He must recruit soldiers, distribute weapons, plan a coronation that is also a revolution, and give an order that will cost a woman her life — an order he will carry to his grave alongside every prayer he has ever spoken.
Jehoiada: Keeper of the Promise is a novel about the distance between faithfulness and results. About the difference between a faith you were given and a faith you own. About a man who stood at an altar for fifty years and did the small, unglamorous, repetitive work of keeping a fire burning — not because he could see what God was doing, but because the alternative was darkness.
It is a story about what it costs to protect something sacred in a world that has stopped believing it matters.
And it asks the question that every person of faith eventually faces: What happens to the fire when the one who tends it is gone?
