Showing posts with label Author- Linda Rios Brook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Author- Linda Rios Brook. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Lucifer's War by Linda Rios Brook

Tour Date: November 19th, 2012

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!



Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:

Charisma House; Reprint edition (October 2, 2012)

***Special thanks to Althea Thompson for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Linda Rios Brook is the author of the popular books Lucifer’s Flood, The Deliverer, and The King, winner USA Best Books 2010 award.  A television executive for over twenty years, Linda is an ordained minister and formerly served as head of evangelism for the Episcopal Diocese of West Texas and as a deacon at North Heights Lutheran Church in Arden Hills, Minnesota. She presently teaches adult Bible education at Covenant Centre International in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Why does evil persist? If Satan is a defeated enemy, why does it appear as though he isn’t? Why doesn’t he give up?

Evil rages at an unacceptable level against individuals and groups of people who are created in the image of God and no one appears able to do very much about it. We are in the midst of an ancient, ongoing, global, celestial struggle for power and authority to govern and control human behavior and subsequently the nations of the earth, even the planet itself.




Product Details:
List Price: $15.99
Paperback: 256 pages
Publisher: Charisma House; Reprint edition (October 2, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616386967
ISBN-13: 978-1616386962



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS


ISA   HARREL,  A   postal  worker in  Albany,  New  York, was  delivering  mail  to  a  home  late  one  Monday morning  in 2008  when  she looked  up and  noticed  a baby in  a window  above the  front  door.

"The next thing  I knew, she had fallen into my arms," Lisa said.

When the baby's mother realized what had happened,  she ran  outside  and  grabbed  the  one-year-old  child  from  Lisa.


The woman thanked her and then ran down the street to her neighbor’s house. Paramedics checked the baby at the scene but found no injuries.

How was a potentially fatal accident averted? Some people familiar with the  story  declared it  a  miracle. What else could it have been? The timing was precise. If Lisa had been walking down the sidewalk when she saw the baby about to fall instead of standing directly under the window, she would not have had enough time to rush to catch her. Suppose Lisa had already deposited the mail and taken one step off the porch when she heard a noise and turned around? The  little girl would have crashed to the concrete steps. If Lisa had been five seconds earlier or later, a tragedy might have occurred. Surely God had intervened.

On a sunny Monday morning in October 2006, a dairy truck driver walked into an Amish schoolhouse  set back in a corn- field on a street of stone houses, barns, and silos in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.  Heavily armed, Charles C. Roberts entered the  one-room school and  ordered the  fifteen boys to leave, along with several adults, then demanded that the eleven girls line up facing the blackboard. As  the gunman lashed the students’ legs together with wire and plastic ties, the teacher dashed from the room and called the police. By the time the police arrived, the gunman had murdered four girls and  wounded several others before killing himself. A fifth child died in a Delaware  hospital the following day.

The Amish are a people of simple faith, piety, and prayer, yet no miraculous rescue occurred. Why did God not intervene to spare the innocent children? What do people of faith have to say in response to such a horrific crime? Some have said there are no answers because God’s ways are not our ways, but God must have allowed it to happen for a purpose. John Calvin once said, “Anyone who has been taught by Christ’s lips . . . will look farther afield for a  cause, and will consider that all events are  governed by  God’s secret plan.”3 What secret plan of  God includes the massacre of  Amish school- children? Can anyone theorize even one providential  reason God thought it better to allow this tragedy than to prevent it?

Exactly how the convoy from Blackwater Security Consulting was stopped on April 1, 2004,  probably will never be clear. Some reports suggested it made the fatal mistake of hitting the brakes when armed men blocked their path instead of flooring the accelerator in hopes of barging through. Others speculated the occupants had already been shot dead before their cars came to a stop.

Given what happened next, their grieving families probably hope it was the latter. In an act of savagery shocking even for blood-soaked Fallujah, Iraq’s most troubled region, the bodies of the three men and one woman inside the vehicles were beaten, burned, and dismembered. But the worst was yet to come. In what turned into a macabre town fete, at least one corpse was tied to a car and pulled triumphantly through the city streets amid a cheering crowd and in full view of a  camera crew.  Two of  the  charred and  mangled corpses were hung from  a  green iron bridge across the  Euphrates River. “The people of Fallujah hanged some of the bodies on the old bridge like slaughtered  sheep,” resident Abdul Aziz Mohammed said gleefully.

Do you suppose the families and friends of the men and women assigned to that dangerous part of the world prayed for protection and  mercy?  Yet no miraculous intervention occurred. Why not?  Senseless violence does  not  increase our confidence in a loving, omnipotent God who could have protected His children from travesty but chose not to do so. Where does a minister find the words to ease the wrenching pain of the wife or mother who has witnessed her husband or son butchered on live television?

“We must believe unquestioningly that . . . it  is pleasing to God to sacrifice ourselves to Him, that it is by  His divine Providence  that we are abandoned  to all kinds of conditions, to  suffer all kinds of  sufferings, miseries, and temptations,” wrote Brother Lawrence.5  Those who have stood helplessly by and witnessed people being tortured and dismembered are not consoled by religion that insists the butchers could not have inflicted such harm unless God allowed it for a greater purpose. Clichés are no comfort to those caught up in a nightmare.

On January 23, 2002, on his way to what he thought was an interview with  Sheikh Mubarak Ali  Gilani at  the  Village Restaurant in downtown Karachi, Pakistan, Daniel Pearl was kidnapped by  a  militant group calling itself The   National Movement for the Restoration  of Pakistani  Sovereignty.  The group claimed Pearl was not a  journalist but rather a  CIA operations  officer and, using a Hotmail e-mail account, sent the United States a range of demands, including the freeing of all Pakistani terrorist detainees  and the release of a US shipment of F-16 fighter jets to the Pakistani government.

The  message read: “We give u 1  more day if America will not meet our demands we will kill Daniel. Then this cycle will continue and no  American journalist could enter Pakistan.” Attached to  the  message were  photos of  Pearl handcuffed with a gun to his head and holding up a newspaper. There was no response to pleas from Pearl’s editor or from his wife, Mariane.

Nine days later Pearl was beheaded. On May 16 his severed head and decomposed body were found cut into ten pieces and buried, along with the jacket of a tracksuit Pearl was wearing when photographed by his kidnappers, in a shallow grave at Gadap, located about thirty miles north of Karachi.

For many days during his captivity Pearl was the focus of countless prayers for his release, yet no divine rescue occurred. I doubt his grieving wife would have been comforted to know that all things, evil and  despicable as  they  may  be,  work together for the glory of God. What reasonable person would have the audacity to urge Daniel Pearl’s parents to accept the brutal dismemberment of their son as having come from the

hand of a loving  Father?  The idea that beheading and unimaginable brutality have a “higher purpose” is insulting to those who are victims of horror and to the character of God.

How do we explain that the God who so precisely ordered the footsteps of a civil servant to be in the right spot to catch a baby falling from a second-story window is the same God who seemed unmoved by the slaughter of American contractors on a national building assignment or the beheading of a Jewish journalist on a peace mission? Are we to somehow rationalize that the murders of schoolgirls are unfortunate but acceptable casualties to test the faith and  fortitude of Amish parents so God can be glorified? Is that really the best we can do?

The contradictions   and calamities apparent in these stories represent the enigmatic tension of the cosmos. Either God is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent—able to know all things, be all places, and with all sufficient power to rescue us as our creed declares—or He is something else. If what we insist is true of Him really is, then why does He sometimes intervene and sometimes not?

E. Frank Tupper asks the question this way: “If God really has the power to intervene in nature and history whenever, wherever, and  however God  chooses, why  does  God  not do so? The monarchical   model of a do Anything, Anytime, Any where kind of God cannot account for the failure of God to act to prevent a colossal catastrophe or to deliver a segment of vulnerable humanity from some monstrous evil.”

If it is God’s unwavering intent to  rescue, redeem, and restore humanity and all creation as Romans 8 declares, then it must be someone else’s intent to kill, steal, and destroy them. The aim of this book is to assign the blame for

wickedness and all of its manifestations  squarely where it belongs—with  the archangel named Lucifer, not with God. Yahweh is not the source of horror; Lucifer is. God is not opposed by a force, a philosophy, or bad theology but rather by a powerful evil being that savagely wars against and through flesh and blood, nature, and other supernatural beings to relentlessly  oppose God’s objective to reconcile His creation to Himself.

Just as the fullness of God was resident in a person, Jesus

(Col. 1:19), the fullness of evil also resides in a person who rages to annul the covenant of redemption between Jesus and all of creation by ruling through and/or destroying humanity. Why?  What does Lucifer stand to gain or lose from what happens to  people? Everything, because humanity was the game-changer.

The War of the Angels

In the beginning, before anything that exists ever was, the war in heaven raged between the angels. As this book will reveal, God’s sovereign decision to create a self-willed race in His likeness  represented  a pivotal point in the war of the cosmos.

If we are to prevail against Lucifer’s plans to consume and devour the human race, we must understand him better than we do. How did the war start? What is it about? More impor- tantly, is it certain that we win? While it may shatter our illu- sions, the answer to the last question on so many levels is, “No, it is not certain we will win.” The redemption   of the human soul by the blood of the Lamb is certain; the fate of the earth and its inhabitants is not.

Gregory A. Boyd, PhD, writes in his book Satan and the Problem of  Evil:  “While  Scripture emphasizes God ’s  ultimate authority over the world, it also emphasizes that agents, whom God has created, can and do resist His will. Scripture does not teach that God controls all the  behavior of  free agents, whether humans or angels. Humans and fallen angels are able to grieve God ’s Spirit and to some extent frustrate His purpose (Gen. 6:6; Is. 63:10; Luke 7:30; Eph. 4:30; Heb. 3:8, 15; 4:7).  While His general will for world history cannot fail, His particular will for individuals, often does.”

While Boyd may help explain why evil things happen, he does not tell us how, or if, we can avoid being among those for whom God ’s will does not come to pass. Winning this battle requires a paradigm shift in how we understand what in the world is going on. Lucifer is smarter than we think he is. He is willing to change his tactics when necessary. He manifests and masquerades his rage against God in human drama such as  rabid  intolerance, mental illness, demonic oppression and possession, ethnic wars, violence, brutality, religious fundamentalism,  and  scores of  other ways  about which God, at times, seems unwilling or unable to do very much.

Facing the Truth

Does Lucifer know he  is  defeated? No, he  does  not.  He does not behave as one who knows he is defeated. In any war, when one side recognizes the futility of continuing the battle, that side seeks to minimize its damages. It is willing to make a deal, declare a truce, cut its losses. The insurgent forces against the purposes of  God are a  kingdom of  self- willed, powerful beings organized under Lucifer’s leadership that may acknowledge the efficacy of Jesus in saving the souls of people but little else. The war in the heavens that started before creation continues today. The only change is that there is a new player: humanity.

Lucifer was created by God; his power came from God. God ’s gifts, to humans or angels, are irrevocable whether they are used for good or evil. A talented singer may lead a worship team or a satanic band; it is the same gift. The person with keen spiritual discernment may be a prophet or a psychic; it is the same gift making him or her sensitive to spiritual realities. Lucifer defies Christian clichés that portray him as a “toothless lion devoid of power.” If that were so, the world would not look the way that it does. Apartheid, ethnic cleansing, genocide, and slavery would not exist. Two thou- sand years this side of the cross, Lucifer, now called Satan, continues to assault human beings in monstrous ways and wars against God Himself for the same reason he always has.

He thinks he can win.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

The Redeemer by Linda Rios Brook

Tour Date: May 17, 2011

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


The Redeemer

Realms (May 3, 2011)

***Special thanks to Anna Coelho Silva | Publicity Coordinator, Charisma House | Charisma Media for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:



Linda Rios Brook has worked as a media executive in broadcasting for over thirty years. A highly acclaimed teacher and member of the International Coalition of Apostles, she teaches at the Covenant Centre International in Palm Beach Gardens and at the Wagner Leadership Institute in Colorado Springs. Linda serves on the board of directors for Global Harvest and is vice president of the International Christian Chamber of Commerce USA. She has taught classes on the Dominion Sky Angel satellite network and is the author of several books: Lucifer’s Flood, The Deliverer, The King, Frontline Christians in a Bottom Line World, Wake Me When It’s Over: From the Boardroom to the Twilight Zone and the Faithfulness of God, and Jesus for Adults.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

As the final installment in the series that began with Lucifer’s Flood, Linda Rios Brook’s The Redeemer finds ancient language expert Samantha Yale translating a final batch of ancient scrolls written by a fallen angel. This volume of writings covers the demon’s eyewitness accounts of biblical events that cover the life of Jesus. In the process we also discover the mysterious Mr. Wonk’s true identity and learn an amazing secret that Samantha has been keeping. This is a story about rebellion and consequences. It is about demonic strategy to disrupt and destroy the people of God. But ultimately it is a story about the unrelenting love, grace, mercy, and determination of a sovereign God in pursuit of His errant children.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Realms (May 3, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616382066
ISBN-13: 978-1616382063

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


I never knew how Satan was going to react to bad news, so I waited as long as possible before mentioning the new star-like object. At the slightest chance an irregularity might resolve itself, I usually saved myself the grief and didn’t tell him.
This time I may have waited too long.

Satan stared at the glowing ball hanging in the vacuous space between the heavens. “How long has it been there?”

“I’m not sure, sir. It appeared suddenly. I watched it for a few days, and when it didn’t disappear, I called for you; that is, as soon as I realized it might be important. But then on the other hand, perhaps it means nothing.”
He leaned over the ledge, looked down, and then back up at the strange new light.
“You should have notified me immediately.”

“My fault entirely, All-Knowing One.”

“I knew you were dumb—always have been. How could you think something like this appearing in my territory without my permission could mean nothing?”

Trick question.
“I meant to say maybe it doesn’t mean anything to you— personally. Perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered you until I was sure.”

“It’s your fault for not telling me sooner if this turns out to be trouble for me.”
He was becoming agitated. I needed to diffuse the situation.

“Oh, you know what it probably is? I should have remembered. Before we were thrown out of heaven, Adonai was always making new stars, but some of them didn’t turn out, and He threw them away. This one is probably a reject. He tossed it here to get it out of

His way.”
I paused to gauge his reaction. When he didn’t have one, I kept talking.

“Of course, that’s just what it is, nothing but a botched star. I should have figured it out before I interrupted you. A thousand pardons...”
“It’s not a star.”
“You’re right; it’s not.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“That would be impossible, sir.”

I knew it wasn’t a star, but it shone like one, and I had to call it something. I was about to explain my choice of descriptors when Molech arrived.
“You sent for me, my lord.” Molech bowed his head, as all lesser beings were required to do when addressing Satan.

“Do you see it?” Satan pointed toward the light.

“Yes, it’s been there for weeks. We’ve all been watching it.”

“Weeks?” Satan snarled and looked at me.

“Uh, well, it’s like this, master—” I had to think of something fast, or I would be so found out. It was my job to watch and report anything unusual immediately. For sure a new light source fixed in the sky as if tethered by an invisible wire over a small town on

the earth would, by anyone’s interpretation, fall into the unusual category. The truth was, of late I’d grown lax about monitoring the earth.

Ever since the prophets died off, God seemed to have lost interest and hadn’t said a word to the Jews in four hundred and thirty years. Humanity was not that interesting without God, and I got bored. I hadn’t been watching Earth every day like I should have been. I still checked on it on a somewhat regular basis, but the truth was, I didn’t know where the light came from or how long it had been there. One look at Satan’s scowl and I knew I’d better find something to say in my defense.
“As you know, master,” I continued, “I’m always at my post watching, but my vision isn’t what it used to be. Recently I’ve seen a number of things that weren’t there, and knowing how busy you are, I didn’t want to trouble you with a figment of my poor eyesight and vivid imagination. But as soon as I knew it was real, I notified you right away, O Sovereign One ever to be praised.”

“God is behind this,” Satan said to Molech, ignoring me entirely. “Send scouts; find out what He’s planning. Miss nothing.”

“As you say, my liege.”
Molech spread his leathery wings and was off. Satan watched the light a little longer and then went back to his lair without saying another word to me. I hopped up on my perch to study the light more closely.

What can it be? Have I ever seen anything like this? No. So why does it seem familiar?
As I strained to recollect, a long-dormant memory woke up in the back of my mind and wiggled its way to the front. Goosebumps formed on my tail as it all came back to me.

How could I have forgotten? I was right here on this very perch when I saw it the first time.
It was after we were thrown out of heaven, thousands of years ago when Lucifer ordered me to watch the earth languish in devastation after he and his rebellious angels ravaged it until there was nothing left of the beautiful blue-and-green planet except for the black, swirling waters. I was with them, but it wasn’t my fault, and I wasn’t a rebel. I was a victim of circumstance.
I was standing in the wrong place when the war in heaven broke out, weighing the odds between Lucifer and Michael, trying to make up my mind what to do, as any reasonable person would, given the situation. When I figured out that there was no possibility Lucifer could win, I was just about to walk over to Michael’s side; then suddenly the

war was over, and Lucifer and one-third of the angels were cast to the earth. I got caught in the downdraft and fell with them. Five minutes more and none of this would have happened to me.

The day things changed for the earth I was right here at my post in the second heaven watching the dank waters that covered it. I confess that from time to time the boredom became unbearable, and I would close my eyes and let my mind wander to a happier time when I was still in the third heaven with God. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t wandering that day. I scanned the sea like always, and like always I saw nothing happening—except for one tiny glimmer that appeared in the black water.

“It can’t be light,” I said to myself. “There is no light left anywhere on the earth.” I looked again. “That is definitely a glimmer of light.”
I got a little closer and watched as the luminous ripples grew bigger and spread further until the murkiness of the water began to clear. When I finally figured out what was happening, I wanted to run and hide.

Ruah Ha Kadosh was hovering over the deep. I was a witness when God began the re-creation of the fallen earth.

“There’s something about this star, or whatever it is, that feels like the light I saw in the seas so long ago.” I scratched my head. “But how could it be?”
I continued to watch the glow for several more hours until I heard the beating of wings. Molech was back with a cadre of platoon leaders. They set themselves down on the steps leading into Satan’s throne room. I hurried to catch up and followed them inside.

“What have you learned?” Satan demanded. “Something is happening on the earth, isn’t it?”
“That may be, my lord.” Molech paused and exchanged looks with Tammuz, the demon to his right. “But whatever might be happening on the earth cannot be nearly as important as what has happened in the third heaven.”
“How could you know anything about the third heaven?” I blurted out before I could catch myself. “We have no access there anymore.”

Molech glared at me. “You have no access, but my associate here”—he nodded toward Tammuz—“has, shall we say, sources.”

Tammuz stepped forward and bowed to Satan. “My lord, legions of angels are leaving the third heaven—right now—and are heading to the earth.”
Any news involving the heavenly host always made Satan’s eyes twitch, especially if the word legions was in the same sentence.

“But there’s more.” Molech prodded Tammuz along by poking him on the arm. “Tell him the rest—the part about Adonai.”

Satan’s twitching eyes widened.
“I was coming to that,” Tammuz said. “Adonai is missing.”

“Missing?” Satan squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Do you mean to say they’ve misplaced Him?”
Neither Molech nor Tammuz laughed at the ridiculous nature of Satan’s question, and I certainly didn’t, but only because I clamped my teeth over my tongue.
“He’s gone, master,” Tammuz said.

“Vanished,” Molech added. “He’s left the third heaven.”

“Impossible,” Satan declared. “He never leaves home. Besides, where would He go? You’re mistaken and wasting my time.”

Satan drew back his arm as if he might strike the messengers. Molech and Tammuz cowered and stepped back.

“He’s not there, my lord,” Tammuz said. “My sources looked everywhere. He’s gone. The rank-and-file angels are as perplexed as we are.”

Satan lifted an eyebrow.
“There was one witness to something strange.” Tammuz chose his words carefully. “Someone saw the host lined up in front of the throne room, facing each other with their swords drawn and crossed.”

“And?” Satan waved his claw hand in circles, urging Tammuz to say whatever he was trying not to say.

“And the witness saw Adonai come out of the throne room, walk under the crossed swords, and leave. No one has seen Him since.”

“It’s a trick.” Satan walked across the floor and kicked over a footstool, then turned back to Molech. “Where could He have gone?”

“The angels don’t know, sire, not even the elite guard. They are as mystified as you—I mean us; of course you are never mystified.”

Suddenly the door flew open as Baal, Satan’s highest-ranking demon god, barged into the room without being announced. He was breathing so hard we could barely understand him.

“You’ve got to come now, master—to the rim. We’re about to be overrun by them. Hurry!”
“Overrun by what? Whom?” I asked.

“Angels!”
“Are we being invaded?” Satan demanded.

“You must come and see for yourself.”

Wasting no more time, Satan raced with Baal to the edge of the second heaven with the rest of us right behind them. We lined up along the perimeter, where we had a clear view of the earth and all that lay in between it and us. Baal hadn’t exaggerated. Tens of thousands of high-ranking angels were gathering above the earth’s blue sky.

“What are they doing?” Satan asked.

I didn’t realize he was talking to me until he slapped me and demanded an answer.
“I, uh, well, I’m not sure, sir, but it doesn’t look like they’re coming here. It looks like they may be about to penetrate the veil between heaven and the earth and reveal themselves to that group of shepherds down there in the fields.”



“Nonsense. The heavenly host wouldn’t waste their time on gypsies. Besides, I’m sure it would be an illegal military maneuver.”

He was about to huff off when Baal tugged on his sleeve.

“Moron may be right.” He was referring to me. “Look at how the shepherds are scattering. They definitely see the angels.”

We watched as some of the shepherds ran away in fear, while others trembled and fell to their knees. But let me tell you, the trembling ones weren’t by themselves. There were no heroes in the demon horde that day either. We didn’t know why the angels had gathered,

but if it had anything to do with us, we knew we were outmanned by two to one. The chatter among the demons began.

“Why are the angels out there?”
“Is there going to be a fight?”
“Look, they’re closing ranks!”

“Ask Satan what we should do.”

Satan grabbed me by my wing.
“Find out what this means,” he ordered as he pushed me nearer the rim. “Get closer.” Then he pushed me off the edge.

I flapped as hard as I could to keep from falling. I was afraid of what the angels might do if they noticed me, but I knew what Satan would do if I didn’t obey, so I carefully fluttered a little farther out over the abyss where I could see them better. As I got closer, I realized the angels weren’t wearing their combat gear; there was not a sword in sight. They were lining up in choir formation.

“Are they going to attack?” Satan yelled out at me.

“No, sir, I believe they’re going to sing.”

“What?” Satan asked in disbelief as he flew to my side to see for himself.
And sing they did. The angelic royalty of heaven went near the earth and sang a song to fewer than a dozen cowering shepherds.

“Fear not, for behold we bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For born unto you tonight in the city of David is the Messiah, the Lord who will bring salvation to all mankind. Go, and you will find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”
The angels’ voices were so loud we covered our ears to muffle the sounds as they continued.
“Glory to God in the highest and on the earth, peace and goodwill toward men.”
I was terrified like all the rest but so excited by what the angels sang I could barely contain myself. I followed Satan back to the rim and tried to appear as disturbed as the rest of the demons, but inside I was bursting with hope. How long I had waited for Him—the one promised to David so many generations ago. Oh, yes, He was the hope of the Jews, but He was my hope as well, my only hope.

The veil between heaven and the earth closed, and the angels were no longer visible to the shepherds or to us; still, no one moved from his place. It was almost as if an invisible force held us there. We seemed hypnotized by the light that still hung over the blackness of the great abyss.
“What was that all about?” asked one of the demons.

“Maybe Satan knows.”
“Yes, Satan must know.”
But Satan didn’t know. When he heard the chattering among the demons, he whispered to me out of the side of his mouth.

“Do you think it’s over? Should we move on?”

“Can you move, sir?”
He grimaced as he tried to lift a hoof. I pretended not to be looking.

“Maybe we should wait a bit longer,” I said.

I didn’t know what was coming, but the tingling scales on the back of my neck told me something else was about to happen. At once another blinding light appeared and hovered over the abyss right in front of Satan. I knew him immediately. It was Gabriel, the essenger angel of the most high God. All the demons took one step back. Except for me.

“Gabriel! Hello.” I stepped forward and waved.

Satan stepped on my tail and jerked my wing. “Stay still and shut up!”

“Sorry, sir.” I slunk back.
“Lucifer, fallen son of the light.” Gabriel’s voice was like thunder.

“What do you want?” Satan tried to appear annoyed, but his swishing tail said he was nervous. “You’re in my territory.”

“I bring you a message from I AM, one that will be good news to all mankind.”
“Then why are you telling me?”

“Guess what it means for you.”

Every demon took another step back.

“Wha–what is it?” Satan stammered.

The angel’s eyes narrowed as he answered.

“Game on.”

Saturday, May 22, 2010

The King by Linda Rios Brook

Tour Date: May 24, 2010

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!


Today's Wild Card author is:


and the book:


The King

Realms (May 4, 2010)

***Special thanks to Anna Coelho Silva | Publicity Coordinator, Book Group | Strang Communications for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:



Linda Rios Brook is the author of numerous books including the popular novel Lucifer’s Flood. The president of the Rios Brook Foundation, she is a sought after speaker and teacher on matters relevant to cultural restoration. She is an ordained minister, serves on the WLI faculty and has served as a guest lecturer at the University of Minnesota.


Visit the author's website.

Product Details:

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 296 pages
Publisher: Realms (May 4, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1599799146
ISBN-13: 978-1599799148

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:


Help me! Somebody help me! They’re climbing up the side.” “I’m coming, Ham. Hold on, I’m coming.” Noah struggled to stay erect against the howling wind and pounding rain that threatened to beat him down to the deck. Fighting against a storm he never could have imagined, he made his way across the slippery deck to reach his son. Ham screamed, swinging his club against the thing trying to climb onto the boat.


Don’t let them get him, God, please.


The anguished screams of the people in the rising floodwaters were more than Noah could bear. Some called him by name, begging and cursing him as they flailed about in the swirling water. At last he reached his son. Ham threw down his club, covered his ears with his hands, and closed his eyes, as if doing so could shut out the pleas coming from the drowning people.


“Help us! Noah, you can’t leave us here.”


“You can’t just let us drown. You know us.”


Noah took his son’s arm to calm him, but Ham jerked it away and berated his father.


“Listen to them. Is this what God told you to do? Let your neighbors drown?” The boat lunged violently and threw him forward. He grabbed hold of his father’s shoulders to keep from falling.


“Listen to them cursing you—cursing me; it’s not my fault. I’m not to blame.”


The cries from the water became more desperate.


“Have mercy for God’s sake; we’re human beings.”


Ham let go of his father and grabbed hold of the banister as he railed at the people in the water.


“No, you’re not! You’re not human; you’re mutants. You deserve to drown.”


Father and son watched in horror as the people began to disappear under the black water. The wind grew stronger, the waves higher, and the boat rocked from side to side. Ham couldn’t hold back the nausea from the dizzying pitch of the boat. He struggled to keep his balance with one hand and clutched his stomach with the other.


“Aaagh, I can’t take any more.” He bent over the rail and retched.


He was always the weak one; nothing like his brothers. Noah dropped the club he’d been carrying in order to stabilize his son.


“It’s all right; I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall over.”


By the time Noah saw the grotesque face no more than an arm’s length away from his son’s head, it was too late. He strained to drag Ham back to safety as the giant pulled himself out of the water and tried to board the boat where Ham leaned over. The half-breed human seized Ham by the hair and jerked him from his father’s grip, drawing him down toward the roiling water. Noah went down to his knees, frantically searching for the club he’d dropped.


“Let me go!” Ham writhed in pain and tried to free himself from the massive hand that held him.


Noah found his weapon and pounded the distorted face of the creature.


“Drop him! I’ll kill you if I have to.” Ramming the end of his club into the creature’s eye, Noah cried out for his other sons. “Shem, Japheth, help me! They’ve got Ham.”


Shem was fighting his own battle against another intruder on the other side of the boat when he heard his father’s cries for help. He swung his club like a sledgehammer and pounded the six-fingered hand of the monster holding tightly to the bow. The hybrid being yelped in pain, lost his grip, and tumbled into the water. Shem steadied himself then raced to help his father.


“I’m coming. Hold on.”


With the fervor of a man half his age, Noah rammed his rugged club again into the face and eyes of the giant until it shrieked in pain, released its grip on his son, and fell back into the black water. Terrified and exhausted, Ham collapsed on the deck. Shem moved

his father to the side and bent down to help his brother to his feet.


“You must get up. They’re coming; can you stand?”


“Yes...look out!”


A sudden jolt, the boat reeled, and the wind blew open a door leading to a lower deck where dozens of terrified animals were crowded into stalls. The bellows of the frightened animals mingled with the human cries until they blended into one mournful wail as

the waves battered the ark.


“Are you all right? Can you take care of him?” Shem asked his father. “I’ve got to help Japheth before the animals get out.”


“Go, go! We’ll be all right.” Noah waved Shem on as he took his trembling son in his arms. Why doesn’t he have the courage of his brothers? Maybe I’ve been too soft on him. If the animals get out, it’s all been for nothing. Noah dragged Ham close to the wall of the cabin and set him down.


“Stay here. You’ll be safe.”


“Don’t leave me.”


“I have to help your brothers.”


Noah set out after Shem, but in his confusion he turned toward the opposite end of the boat.


Shem reached Japheth’s side, and together they thrust all their weight against the heaving door.


“The animals are stampeding,” Japheth said. “We can’t hold them!”


“We have to keep them in.”


Shem summoned all his strength and with one mighty thrust managed to slide the locking rod across the door to constrain the bellowing cargo inside. In the struggle to secure the animals, neither brother saw another giant pull himself over the rail and onto the deck.


“Get out of my way,” the beast threatened. He pushed the brothers to the side then yanked on the barred door and tried to crawl inside to hide with the animals.


“Keep him out!” Shem yelled.


Together they grabbed his bulging legs and pulled him facedown, away from the door and toward the center of the boat. He cursed them and thrashed from side to side.


“We’ve got to get him back into the water!” Japheth cried out.


“Are you mad? We can’t lift him!”


“We have to do it; don’t let him turn over.”


With all their might the brothers fought to subdue the monster, but he overpowered them. With his superhuman strength he threw Shem into a wall and trampled Japheth to the floor. Just then, still disoriented and weak, Ham stumbled toward his brothers.


“Shem? Japheth, where are you?” The fog and darkening night made it impossible to see more than a few feet.


“Oh, please, no,” Japheth moaned under his breath. “How did he get over here?”


“I don’t know. I left him with Father. Ham, go back. Run.” But the warning was too late. The giant lunged for Ham and caught him by the neck.


“Got you, pretty boy.”


With one enormous hand over his face, he dragged him backward, pressing Ham’s head into his heaving chest as he tightened his fingers around his throat.


“Let him go!” Japheth struggled to his feet then collapsed on his broken leg.


Out of the fog, with the eyes of a madman, Noah charged toward the monster.


I should never have taken my eyes off him.


“Father, look out!” Shem cried. “Over there, another one!”


Noah spun around and saw the six-fingered hands of another beast hanging from the railing, struggling to climb aboard.


“Let go before I kill you!”


With a powerful blow, Noah shattered the giant’s knuckles. Swearing vehemently, he fell back into the murky water.


“Can’t breathe; help me,” Ham moaned, losing consciousness.


“I’m coming, Ham; don’t give up.”


Noah raced toward his son’s captor, his club raised to strike him, but stopped short when the monster lifted Ham by the throat and dangled him above the deck.


“I wouldn’t try it, Noah.”


Noah’s heart stopped when he recognized the voice and saw the blue face of his oxygen-deprived son. He’s going to kill him.


“You.” Noah’s voice was barely a whisper. “I thought you were dead.”


“Oh, but I’m not.” The monster mockingly kissed the top of Ham’s head and licked his lips. “Let him go, Og. He can’t breathe.”


“That would be a shame; he would be so...scrumptious.” Lustful laughter rumbled from the beast’s throat as desperation and fear welled up in Noah. I can’t let him kill him; he’s my son.


“Let him go; drop him now. I’ll do whatever you want.”


“Give me shelter, Noah.”


Terrified for his son’s life, Noah lowered his club and looked anxiously from Ham’s captor to his other sons—injured and unable to fight.


“What about them?”


“I care nothing for them—or you.”


The screams of the drowning people continued to sound over the crashing waves.


“And them?” Noah asked. “Will you try to help them?”


“Let them drown. Deal?”


What kind of father would let his son be killed?


Noah nodded then jumped forward to catch Ham’s limp body as the Nephilim king dropped him to the floor and lumbered toward the door of the boat’s cabin.


“Hide in the rafters,” Noah said. “No one must know you’ve survived.”


Daylight was fading in Jerusalem as Samantha Yale sat at her professor’s desk intently watching her BlackBerry as if she expected it might speak to her.


Maybe I can will it to ring.


Across the room sat an unpacked UPS box—unpacked except for the one scroll she had unrolled then left on her conference table. Shrugging the fatigue from her shoulders, she took a break from staring at the phone and picked up the scroll one more time. With a

disdainful look she dropped it again.


Forgeries. Does he think he can fool me? She rubbed her temples, as if by doing so she could telepathically summon some faraway person.


Call me, you seriously disturbed man. Wonk Eman, call me this minute.


As if on cue, the BlackBerry vibrated to announce a caller.


It’s him. She picked up the phone without checking the caller ID.


“Wonk?”


“Pardon?”


“Wonk, is that you?” Touching the mute button she held the phone out and looked for the caller name. ID blocked.


We’ve got no time to play games, my friend. Taking a slow breath, she turned off mute and changed her tone of voice to one less threatening.


“Wonk, are you there?”


“No,” a man’s voice answered. “It’s Jonathan Marks.”


“Dr. Marks, what a surprise. I apologize. I don’t usually answer the phone in that manner.”


How did he get this number?


“Perhaps I’m the one who should apologize for calling on your personal cell. I had some difficulty getting through the university’s call center and felt I should try to reach you right away.”


“It happens frequently—perils of an outdated system.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t recall giving you this number, but never mind. How can I help you, Dr. Marks?”


“Perhaps I can help you—concerning the scrolls you called me about previously. I may have some important information for you, if you’re still interested.”


“I am.”


“Are you aware that the scrolls may be stolen property?”


“Certainly not. Why would you ask such a thing?”


“I had a visit this morning from a man named Anak Rapha. Does that name mean anything to you?”


“Should it?”


“He claims to be the curator for the Institute of Egyptology in Cairo. He told me he was looking for relics stolen from the institute—a set of scrolls written in cuneiform.”


“I see.” She picked up the discarded scroll and held it over her desk lamp as if giving it one more chance to be authentic. “Why do you think he contacted you?”


“Why did you?”


“Touché. I suppose I’m not the only one who knows about your work.”


“He said my reputation as a specialist in religious relics made me the needed expert for validation that whoever stole them will have to have to sell them on the black market. If the perpetrators hadn’t contacted me yet, he felt certain they would.”


“What else did he say?”


“He said the scrolls were given to the institute by a patron who wished to remain anonymous. Upon hearing of their disappearance, the patron is willing to pay a large reward—no questions asked—for their return.”


“I see. How did you answer?”


“I said I didn’t know anything about it, but if I were to be contacted, I would let him know. In other words, I lied, something I’m not comfortable doing.”


Samantha slowly exhaled the breath she’d been holding for the past minute. “Thank you, Dr. Marks.”


“It’s Jonathan. I just implicated myself in a possible international felony for you; we should at least be on a first name basis, Samantha.”


“Right—and it’s Sam if you like.”


“What say you, Sam? Are they stolen?”


“I don’t know. I was sure they weren’t, but now—” She looked at the UPS box. “—now I’m not as certain.”


“That’s not comforting; try again.”


“I assure you I’ll find out, but first I have to find the man who brought them to me, which I fear will be no small task. You may remember I told you he was...odd.”


“Right, the man with no address, no e-mail, no phone. Are you sure he exists?”


No response.


“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be flip. How can I help?”


“Pray for me.”


“I don’t pray. I’ll wait until you contact me. Ciao, Sam.”


Donning her raincoat, she dropped the BlackBerry in her pocket, carefully opened her door, and peered out to make certain no late visitors lurked in the hallway. Satisfied she was alone on the floor, she walked down the deserted corridor of the University of Jerusalem and stepped out into the evening fog.


Where are you, Wonk Eman? Wherever you are, you better pray I find you first.