Passing the Finish Line

This morning, I read about a winter Olympian named Shiva Keshavan. Keshavan is a competitor in the luge events at the Winter Olympics and has been since 1998 when the Olympics were held in Nagano, Japan.Keshavan has never won a medal, but he has also never given up. He keeps competing, keeps going, even when his sled broke, and he needed an assist from fellow competitor Daria Obratov of Croatia.

This coming February will likely be the last time Keshavan competes in the Winter Olympics. Reflecting on his experiences, he said: “I gave my best. Maybe that’s the thing I want to be remembered for: He gave his best and he never gave up.”

A few days ago, I finished writing the first book in The Runners of Abra, The Last Runner. It’s been a whole year of writing, planning, editing, and getting the storyline just right so it can be finished. And now it is, awaiting the final revisions before it comes together in novel format.

Finishing a novel is always hard, but worth it. I’m so excited about where the story of Eric has gone. From the rice fields of Jedros to castles and inlets hidden by the fog, he’s had to journey through so many hard things. But never once does he give up. Even when things are dire. Even when it gets difficult. Eric keeps going.

As 2017 winds down to a close, I want to encourage you to keep going. Maybe you’re facing a hard time in life, or maybe things have been going well. Either way, God calls us to never give up fighting the good fight, to never quit the race, to run to the finish line.

2018 is days away and people will be making their new year’s resolutions. Maybe instead of a year resolution, make a life resolution: to keep going. No matter what. To make it to the finish line, no matter what hills come in the course of running.

Keep running,


Professional Pirates

A few weeks ago I had the chance to play as the pirate captain at summer camp in the official summer camp play. Complete with sword fights, plot twists, and of course rousing piratical musical numbers. I’ve always loved pirate stories, and the chance to write one and then act in it was a blast. A cannon blast of course.

So what else have I been up to? Well, writing away on THE RUNNERS OF ABRA. If you haven’t had the chance to check out my ongoing serial novel yet, definitely check it out. It’s been so much fun to write a world full of monsters, mysteries, and of course some adventurous mayhem. Book one, THE LAST RUNNER, is close to wrapping up, and I’m so excited for book two in that world.

Secret of the Lost King has officially been re-released under my publisher, Lost Realms. We did a lot of work on that book to tighten it up and I was even able to add some new content to that story. So if you’ve already ready it, you may want to check it out again! My editor is diving in to book two, Sword of the Broken Son, and I can’t wait to get you book three, Skin of the Dragon Lord. I left Jack, Maggie, and Molly in some pretty interesting places at the end of book two. Book three promises to be quite the ride!

In the meantime, check out THE LAST RUNNER here!


Dancing in Coffee Shops and Other Hobbies.

The coffee shop is one of my favorite places to write. And I love listening to music while I type away. Every so often, I’ll catch my foot tapping along, head bobbing, and sometimes fingers rapping out the beat on the table.

Then I pause. And remember I’m in public.

But when things are as exciting as they have been, it’s hard not to hum along with the catchy songs of summer.

So what are all these exciting things?

THE RUNNERS OF ABRA, my serial novel, is live and kicking. If you’ve been searching for a crazy ride of a story that never lets up, this is definitely the book you’ve been looking for. Every Saturday a new episode is released, and soon the first entry in the series, THE LAST RUNNER, will be complete and available in print format.

It’s been a fun world to play in and explore, filled with strange monsters, narrow escapes, and a mystery spanning worlds…

My first two THRONES novels have been picked up by Crimson Pulse Media, who have signed me on for a six book series in the world of Jack and Molly! Book one, SECRET OF THE LOST KING, will be releasing very soon with all new content! SWORD OF THE BROKEN SON will release sometime this summer, and I’m already hard at work on book three, SKIN OF THE DRAGON LORD!

So needless to say, things are exciting here. I look forward to catching up with all of you, and seeing you deep in the spine of a good book.

New Series Coming! The Runners of Abra

I am so excited to announce that I have signed on with Crimson Pulse Media to author a serial story in 2017! THE RUNNERS OF ABRA will debut on January 7th on!


When Eric was only thirteen, he was taken from his family and the peaceful rice fields on the island of Jedros to become a Runner. Roaming the five islands of Abra, Runners are tasked with jobs — jobs they must see to the end. Either finish the job or die.

And then a mysterious benefactor arrives with a bag of gold and Eric’s first job: find the girl spotted somewhere in the northern islands responding only to the name Bella. Simple enough. But this job is not what anyone thought. Others are searching for the girl. Others who will kill to keep Bella a secret.

But Bella has her own secret to keep. And if it gets out, the very fabric of the known world will change forever.

Join the launch party on Facebook!

Happy reading!


1 SAMUEL, Chapter 3: The Words Yahweh Spoke

Samuel watched the last tip of sun drift behind the hills to the west. Purple fingers traced over each rivet in the grassy knolls, and Samuel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then turning to step back inside the Tabernacle.

He shut the door behind him. Candlelight flickered from the golden lampstand, casting tiny dancing shadows throughout the chamber. Samuel had always liked the lampstand – it had seven “branches,” with small almond shaped buds at the end of each one. The flames trickled out of the buds, always lit, always reminding him of Yahweh’s light.

“Samuel,” a voice rasped at him from across the way.

Eli stood, hunched over, squinting his eyes, a grizzled white beard wafting over his large frame. The old man held out a shaking hand, covered in spots, wrinkled and gnarled from opening and closing the sanctuary doors so many, many times. How many sacrifices had rested under those withering fingers? How many blessings had he passed through his feeble mouth?

The boy hurried to Eli’s side and took his hand.

“Take me to my bed, child.”

“Yes, Eli.” Samuel led the old priest across the room, through another doorway, and into a side chamber with a small bed and a scratchy blanket. He put Eli’s hand on the side of the bed and then took his other hand and helped him to sit.

“Thank you,” Eli whispered.

Samuel nodded and waited until Eli had brought his legs up onto the bed and laid his head against a small roll of a pillow. “Good night, Eli.”

“Good night, now.”

Eli closed his weary eyes and soon, a gentle snore rattled past his beard.

The boy walked back out of the bed chamber, closed the wood door behind him and took another deep breath. Standing inside the Tabernacle was not something many people did. Being this close to Yahweh’s presence was not something everyone valued. Not many people even came to the Tabernacle. Nearly not as many as should have been coming at least. Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t understand.

Samuel sat, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly. He stared at the golden Ark of Yahweh sitting at the end of the room. Two cherubim – angels – bowed across the top of the wooden box. Eli had called it the mercy seat. Samuel wasn’t sure yet why it was called a seat because he never saw anyone sit on it, but he knew it was important. It had to be.

The candlelight glinted off the Ark. Samuel yawned, rubbing both eyes and then crawling over to lean his head down near the Ark’s resting place. He pulled a thin blanket up to his shoulders and closed his eyes, soon drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep. Dreams of cherubim flying from one end of the sky to the other filled his mind, and he smiled, thinking how incredible it would be to actually stand before Yahweh and hear–


The voice echoed through the Tabernacle, filling his ears. His eyes flipped open and he stared at Eli’s door. “Yes? What is it?”

Eli must need something. He didn’t see very well anymore, and he sometimes needed help finding his way if he woke up during the night. Samuel pushed off the blanket and hurried over to the door, placing his ear against it to listen. He didn’t hear anything inside, so he slid the wooden door open and poked his head in.

Dim orange light drifted through the crack, lighting Eli’s weathered face.

“I’m here,” Samuel whispered. Eli didn’t stir. “Did you call me?”

The old man creaked open one eyelid. “I didn’t call you,” he mumbled. “Go back to bed.”

Samuel nodded and shut the door. Maybe someone was outside the Tabernacle? Maybe one of Eli’s sons? He hurried to the main door to listen but didn’t hear a single thing except the cicadas cricketing and chirping through the night.

The boy returned to his place by the Ark and slipped back under the blanket, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. The moment they blinked shut, he heard the voice again.


He whipped his eyes open, sat up, and watched Eli’s door. Maybe the old priest was calling him in his sleep? Or dreaming? Samuel yawned, stretched, and then darted to the bedchamber door, yanking it open again. “I’m here,” he said. “Did you call me?”

Eli snorted and rolled to his side, the bed creaking in protest. “I didn’t call you, my son. Go back to bed, now.”

The boy bit his lip, shrugged his little shoulders, and then shut the door behind him. He stood, both hands on top of his head, watching the Tabernacle, the lampstand lights flickering, the Ark resting solidly, quiet and solemn. Maybe he was dreaming.


The voice. He stared up at the ceiling, the walls, the doors. It had to be Eli. With one quick turn, he pulled the door open again and leaned in. “Did you need me?” he asked.

Eli harrumphed, and pushed himself up to both elbows, squinting at the light drifting through the doorway. “Son. I didn’t call you this time or the last two times. I have been sleeping here until you woke me up and–” Eli’s mouth clamped shut.

“What is it?” Samuel asked.

The old priest held up a single finger and then he tapped his forehead. “Samuel. Go and lie down again. If someone says your name again, then say, ‘Speak, Yahweh. Your servant is listening.’ Can you do that?”

Samuel scrunched up his forehead but nodded. “Yes, sir.” He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a spark zap from one of the old man’s eyes to the other, and for a moment, it was as if the priest could see everything clearly again, as simple as a snap of the fingers.

The boy whispered good night and then closed the door behind him. He found his scratchy blanket right where he’d left it. After he had lain down again, he pulled the blanket up to his chin, his eyes wide and watching the ceiling over his head. The firelight blinked across the wood beams above him, and he smiled, listening and wondering if the voice would call him again.

He waited a moment more, his eyelids drooping heavily. Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe he was–

“Samuel! Samuel!”

He sucked a sharp breath through his nose. The voice. It was back. Calling for him. Saying his name. Samuel. He licked his lips and whispered, “Speak. Your servant is listening.”

Another moment. And then, it was as if someone had stepped up right beside him, standing tall and strong and radiating warmth, peace, love, and presence. A weight filled the air, thickening every breath, and leaving Samuel taking slow steady breaths. One name flickered through his head: Yahweh. Yahweh was standing beside him now, speaking to him.

“I am about to do something shocking in Israel. I am going to carry out all of my threats against Eli and his family, from beginning to end. I’ve warned him that judgment is coming upon his family forever because his sons are blaspheming Yahweh and he hasn’t disciplined them. So I’ve vowed that the sins of Eli and his sons will never be forgiven by sacrifices or offerings.”

Samuel closed his eyes and let the words surround him, course through his bones, trapping themselves inside his very core and housing there until they felt like a fire burning through his heart. He stayed there until morning, waiting for any more words, afraid to move even a finger lest he miss Yahweh’s message.

Hours had passed, and the boy picked his head off the ground, his long dark hair resting on his shoulders. He took another deep breath and then stood to open the doors of the Tabernacle like he always did every morning.

A small pebble seemed to have stuck to the back of his throat, and no matter how many times he tried to swallow it away, it stuck. The words Yahweh had spoken weren’t exactly ones he wanted to share with Eli. He bit his lip and stood by the doorway, sunlight streaming onto his face.

A cough behind him. “Samuel, my son.”

Samuel let out a slow breath and spun on his heel. “I’m here.”

Eli leaned over on a long staff, notches carved up the side. The old man’s beard trailed near his large belly, the tips yellowed with age and time. “What did Yahweh say to you? Tell me everything. And may Yahweh strike you and kill you if you hide anything from me!”

The boy shifted from foot to foot, resting one hand on the open door. “I…” Eli’s face had grown cold. The wispy beard around his chin bristled.

And then Samuel planted his feet, straightened his shoulders, and spoke. Every word he had been told. “Yahweh told me that He is going to do everything He said He would. Against you, your family, from beginning to end. He said that… He warned you judgment was coming on your family forever, because of everything Phinehas and Hophni have been doing and you never disciplined them. Your sins and the sins of your sons won’t ever be forgiven no matter how many sacrifices and offerings you make.”

Eli stared at the harsh sunlight, rocking slowly back and forth. “It’s Yahweh’s will,” he muttered. “Let Him do whatever He thinks best.”

Samuel nodded and watched the old man totter through the open doors to his stool, where he plopped down, held his staff, and stared off at the hills. Eli didn’t move.

He sat.

And waited.

(c) 2016 by Shaun Stevenson.

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright (c) 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

1 SAMUEL: Chapter 2, The Fat the Sons Stole

Hannah spread her hands to the sky and her son clutched her legs as she prayed.

“My heart rejoices in the Lord!

     The Lord has made me strong.

Now I have an answer for my enemies;

     I rejoice because You rescued me.

No one is holy like the Lord!

There is no one besides You;

     there is no Rock like our God.

Stop acting so proud and haughty!

     Don’t speak with such arrogance!

For the Lord is a God who knows what you have done;

     He will judge your actions.

The bow of the mighty is now broken,

     and those who stumbled are now strong.

Those who were well fed are now starving,

     and those who were starving are now full.

The childless woman now has seven children,

     and the woman with many children wastes away.

The Lord gives both death and life;

     He brings some down to the grave but raises others up.

The Lord makes some poor and others rich;

     He brings some down and lifts others up.

He lifts the poor from the dust

     and the needy from the garbage dump.

He sets them among princes,

     placing them in seats of honor.

For all the earth is the Lord’s,

     and He has set the world in order.

He will protect His faithful ones,

     but the wicked will disappear in darkness.

No one will succeed by strength alone.

Those who fight against the Lord will be shattered.

He thunders against them from heaven;

     the Lord judges throughout the earth.

He gives power to His king;

     He increases the strength of His anointed one.”

The boy glanced up at Hannah, and she crouched down and hugged him tightly. “Listen to everything the priest tells you to do. Promise me?”

He nodded over her shoulder, his hair flopping a bit with every nod.

She leaned back, adjusted the tunic on his shoulders, and then held him out at arm’s length, smiling broadly and fighting back the tears waiting to trickle down her face. “I’ll come back every year. And I’ll bring you something. But you have to wait and see. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Okay,” the boy said, smiling back at her, and then glancing up as Eli the priest waddled up behind him.

“May Yahweh give you other children to take the place of this one she gave to Him.” Eli dipped his head to Elkanah, who dipped his head back.

Hannah stood and wrapped her arms around her husband. The two of them waved to the little boy as they slowly turned and walked away. And with each step, Hannah planned the robe she would bring to her son when they returned the next year. It would be wonderful. As amazing as the robe Father Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Colors, stitching, the very best. She thought about it the entire way back to Ramah. It would be amazing, and she couldn’t wait to see her son again with a robe in hand.


Another man stepped up to the Tabernacle entrance, a gray and white goat tied to a rope and trotting along behind him. The man pushed wiped the sweat away from his brow, tipping forward the dark covering over his head. Sweat dripped into his beard, and he blew out a long breath as he pulled the goat forward a bit more.

Samuel slipped out of the entrance, wearing a linen ephod, white with a small matching sash tied tight around his waist. He stood before the man. “May I take the rope, sir?”

The man nodded, handing the coarse rope to the boy. “Thank you, son. Where is Eli?”

“He’s attending to matters,” Samuel replied. “I’ll hold the goat here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I think his sons will be here soon.”

The boy bit his lip, waiting. Hophni and Phinehas, Eli’s two sons were supposed to be waiting by the Tabernacle entrance to help people bringing offerings, but Samuel had not seen them all morning long. They did this sometimes. Disappearing from the Tabernacle for hours on end, leaving Samuel to tell people they would have to wait until someone returned.

The sun blazed across the dusty landscape, and the man promptly sat down in the dirt, wiping at his face with his arm. Samuel shifted from foot to foot as the goat munched its cud and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Shouldn’t be too much longer,” Samuel said.

The man waved a hand at him. “It’s no worry, son. It was a long journey here, so I’m grateful for a moment of rest.”

A scream echoed from somewhere behind the boy. His eyes went wide, and he felt his heart drop. He handed the rope back to the man. “Please, hold this, sir. I’ll return shortly.” Samuel spun around and walked briskly through the Tabernacle courtyard, past the altar and toward the bronze basin sitting right by the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. Two women stood beside the basin, hands covering their mouths. Tears slipped down their faces, and they turned away as Samuel walked up to them.

Hophni and Phinehas circled around the edge of the Tent of Meeting then. They both looked like their father Eli, with a little less around the waist, but the same drooping faces and double chins. They adjusted their headpieces roughly. Samuel wasn’t sure, but he thought they both glanced back at the two women serving by the entrance, licking their mouths and wiping a hand across their faces.

“There’s a man waiting to make a sacrifice,” Samuel offered, brushing his hair out of his eyes and to the side.

Hophni smirked and clapped both hands together. “Wonderful. I’ll send one of my servants over to help him.”

Phinehas laughed, glanced at one of the women again and then pointed around the side of the Tent. “I’ll be ready for you, Hophni.”

Hophni nodded and gave a short chuckle. He called for a servant, and a moment later, the man’s goat was led into the courtyard and to the north side of the altar. Samuel hurried over and stood beside the man, as the servant, dressed in a simple white robe with a purple head covering, took the goat and a knife in hand. The servant slit the goat across its throat, and the animal brayed once and then slumped to the ground.

Samuel had winced the first time he’d seen a sacrifice. But he soon knew this was what must be done. There were so many kinds of sacrifices, peace offerings, grain offerings, burnt offerings. Each one had so many specifics Yahweh had asked for. Samuel sometimes stayed up a little later than he probably should repeating to himself the proper order of each sacrifice. Eli helped him when he had questions, but Eli… he was getting older and older. It was harder for the large man to move much from his chair. And when he did, Samuel knew to help him carefully.

Hophni, wearing the ephod of the high priest, walked over to the goat, dipped a small bowl into the goat’s running blood and then sprinkled it around the altar. Next, he removed a few of the inner parts of the goat. Samuel was sure he recognized the liver and the kidneys and then something else he couldn’t remember the name of at the moment. These were set aside. The servant carefully lifted the goat and placed it on the altar.

“Bring me my portion,” Hophni said, sticking a three-pronged fork into the servant’s hand. The servant nodded as Hophni marched away to the bronze basin near the Tent of Meeting, glancing at the women standing there. They turned their faces to the side.

The man who had brought the goat held up a hand. “Wait. Take as much as you want, but the fat should be burned first.”

The servant turned to the man and narrowed both eyes. “No. If it’s not given to me now, then I’ll take it by force.”

The man’s face dropped and he squinched his mouth to the side. Samuel took a deep breath and glanced between the man and the servant. Something about this seemed wrong. The fat was supposed to be burnt first. He knew it.

“Bring me the portion!” Hophni yelled from across the courtyard.

Samuel winced.

The servant stabbed the goat meat, ripped away a couple pieces of fat, and then promptly marched away from the altar, juice dribbling from the sides of the meat he had taken. Samuel took another deep breath. This seemed wrong. The fat was supposed to be burned with the offering before anything was taken. He knew Eli had told him that.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered to the man, who stared sadly at the goat.

Samuel darted out of the courtyard and hurried down the dusty road, his ephod flapping in the breeze as he ran. A small hill rose ahead of him, and he passed by a family walking together, talking joyfully and carrying two woven baskets between them. Two boys circled around their parents, and they waved at Samuel as he ran past.

A raven cawed overhead, but Samuel didn’t even glance its direction. He just kept running.

Eli sat in his chair beside the road ahead, leaning heavily on a stick, and nodding his head as people traveled by. The old man had grown fatter over the years, and Samuel wondered how long it would be before the little chair beneath him snapped in two.

He panted as he slid to a stop next to Eli. “Sir, it’s Samuel. Please, you have to come with me.”

“Come with you?” the old man squinted up at Samuel. “What’s the matter, boy?”

“Your sons… they… they’re taking fat from the peace offering before its even being offered, and aren’t they… supposed to leave the fat to burn?”

Eli closed his eyes and let his breath rattle through his lips. The old man raised his head up to the clouds, whispering silent words. Samuel stood by, patient, watching, waiting. Eli held out his hand to the boy, and Samuel took it, helping the old man to stand up. He leaned heavily on his stick. “Take me back, Samuel.”

Samuel nodded and started off, holding Eli’s weathered hand, now covered in spots from his age. The old man’s beard swayed from side to side with each heaving step. A small column of smoke wafted into the air above the courtyard, and even from up the rise, Samuel could smell the burning goat meat down below.

They reached the courtyard, and Eli took a deep sniff. “Take me to my sons, Samuel.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy led Eli around the altar and around the side of the Tent of Meeting until they came to the last peg in the dirt, tied with a rope arching up to the covering for the Tent. Behind the structure, Hophni and Phinehas had set up a small round table with two short stools. A pile of steaming goat fat sat in the middle of the table, and both of the men dug forks into the food, gobbling up pieces of meat and wiping their mouths off with their sleeves.

Eli stamped the stick into the dirt. “What is this I keep hearing about the two of you?”

Hophni and Phinehas paused mid-bite, glancing up at their old father. They smiled. “What is that, Father?”

“I’ve been hearing about the wicked things you’re doing!” Eli pointed a finger at the plate of fat sitting between his sons. “Why do you keep sinning? You must stop, my sons! If someone sins against another person, God can mediate for the guilty party. But if someone sins against Yahweh, who can step in then?”

The two sons glanced at Eli, then glanced at each other and the plate of meat. For a moment, Samuel wondered if they would drop to their knees before the Tent of Meeting and plead for Yahweh to forgive them. They swallowed what was in their mouths and then smirked. “Yes, Father. We know.” And then they dug their forks back into the fat, greedily slurping up another bite while watching Eli from the corners of their eyes.

A single tear slid down Samuel’s face. Meanwhile, the goat still burned.


Samuel watched the stars from the top of the rise poke out into the sky one by one. He watched them, sparking and fading out of the light blue and deep blue and then purple of the night. He wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth.

His stomach had hurt all day long, and his heart felt worse. It had been a busy day. Many people had come with their offerings, and every time, he had watched Hophni and Phinehas steal the best pieces of fat and meat from the offerings. Eli had stood by for a time but then marched back out of the courtyard, stumbling over the rocks and brush.

And Samuel had prayed for Yahweh to intervene. But so far, Yahweh had been quite silent on the matter.

A footstep crunched in the dirt nearby. Samuel turned, leaning back on his hands to see a man wearing a brown robe with a matching head covering arching over his graying hair. The man didn’t seem quite as old as Eli, but he was definitely old. His gray beard hung down his chest, and the man held a staff in one hand that he held straight up on the dirt beside him.

The man was coming Samuel’s direction.

A hand fell on Samuel’s shoulder. The boy looked up to see Eli standing over him, much as he had the day his mother had offered him to Yahweh.

“Who is that?” Samuel whispered.

Eli squinted into the darkness. “A man of God. He has a message for me.”

They watched the man approach, using his staff to help him climb the hill, one hand on his knee with each step. Crickets chirped nearby, filling the silence and the hills with Yahweh’s chorus of life. Once the man of God had reached the top of the hill, he stood before the old man and the boy, nodding to both of them, but then setting his jaw and staring at Eli for a time.

“I have a message for you, Eli, from Yahweh.”

Eli nodded. Samuel stood and took the old man’s hand, holding it tightly. He felt the man’s fingers tremble, and he wrapped his hand around them.

“Yahweh says, ‘I revealed Myself to your ancestors when they were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt. I chose your ancestor Aaron from among all the tribes of Israel to be My priest, to offer sacrifices on My altar, to burn incense, and to wear the priestly vest as he served Me. And I assigned the sacrificial offerings to you priests. So why do you scorn My sacrifices and offerings? Why do you give your sons more honor than you give Me – for you and they have become fat from the best offerings of My people Israel!

“’Therefore, Yahweh, the God of Israel, says: I promised that your branch of the tribe of Levi would always be My priests. But I will honor those who honor Me, and I will despise those who think lightly of Me. The time is coming when I will put an end to your family, so it will no longer serve as My priests. All the members of your family will die before their time. None will reach old age. You will watch with envy as I pour out prosperity on the people of Israel. But no members of your family will ever live out their days. The few not cut off from serving at My altar will survive, but only so their eyes can go blind and their hearts break, and their children will die a violent death. And to prove that what I have said will come true, I will cause your two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, to die on the same day!

“’Then I will raise up a faithful priest who will serve Me and do what I desire. I will establish his family, and they will be priests to My anointed kings forever. Then all of your surviving family will bow before him, begging for money and food. “Please,” they will say, “give us jobs among the priests so we will have food to eat.”’”

Eli trembled. He trembled and trembled, his feet shaking beneath him. Samuel could almost feel the earth moving with Yahweh’s words, stirring and swirling as Yahweh worked His will amongst them.

The man of God glanced Samuel’s direction, and then turned, and walked back down the rise, down the road, and across a line of boulders until he was completely out of sight.

(c) 2016 by Shaun Stevenson.

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright (c) 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

1 SAMUEL: Chapter 1, The Boy Yahweh Gave

The tent flap peeled back, and Hannah peeked out. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but it would soon. The hills glowed in a dull orange color, and somewhere the goats still snored away the early morning. Elkanah had already gathered up sacks for each of them the night before. They sat in a neat row beside the tent pole.

She sighed and hugged her arms close, rubbing both elbows to keep the chill at bay. A tent sat across from her, and gentle snores echoed across the small yard between them. Peninnah, Elkanah’s other wife, and her children rested inside. Peninnah would probably sleep until the last moment, wake right as everything was prepared, and then yawn lazily in Hannah’s face as she sent her children marching to the front of the procession.

It was only a few hour journey to Shiloh, but it would be a long few hours. Hannah took a deep breath, closed her eyes, felt the chill from the earliest morning breezes, and then turned to go about the day.

With quick work, she had a meager breakfast prepared for them consisting of some flat bread, and a few leftover pourings of lentil stew heated up over the fire. Smoke wafted above the tents, and by the time Hannah had readied portions for each of them, Peninnah and her two dark-haired sons had emerged and sat by the fire. The two boys smiled up at Hannah as she handed them small bowls of stew and a piece of bread.

“Here. Eat, young ones.”

Peninnah snatched a bowl from Hannah. “Feeding other people’s children because you don’t have your own?”

Before Hannah could respond, Elkanah, their husband, walked up behind them, smiling at each of them and giving a kiss to their foreheads. “Good morning. We’ll leave as soon as we’ve eaten Hannah’s meal.”

“Father!” the two boys cried, setting their bowls aside and rushing to the older man, throwing both arms around his waist.

He patted their heads, tousling their curls and then shooing them off to finish readying for their trip. Elkanah sat and scratched at the graying hair on both sides of his head. Hannah had noticed the gray coming in last season. He seemed more and more worried — especially about her. But every time he asked her, she would shrug and say nothing was wrong. Everything was simply fine. As always.

But she knew the truth: she was not fine. There was an emptiness in her life, and she saw it every time he glanced sideways at her. Every time he smiled at Peninnah’s boys and yet noticed the complete absence of young laughter in Hannah’s tent.

She had never had children.

And she probably never would.

They all ate quickly and quietly and then set off, Elkanah taking the two young boys in the front of their small procession and pointing out the hills on every side, naming their names and explaining the deep things Yahweh had accomplished on each one.

Peninnah strode along right ahead of Hannah, glancing back at her every few steps along the rocky path. “Oh, Hannah. You must look up more often. Isn’t it a glorious day?” She spread her hands wide and took a deep breath through both nostrils. “Simply, simply beautiful. Another day we’ve been blessed.”

Hannah bit her lip and fingered the strand of dark hair that had fallen over her shoulder. She tucked it back. “Hmm,” she mumbled. Her gaze followed the rocks along the path, jumping from one to the next, one foot, next foot, one step, next step.

“Stop being so sad.” Peninnah held back until Hannah walked along beside her. Peninnah threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. “It’s not like Yahweh completely despises you. Sure, he hasn’t given you any children, or heirs, or sons, or daughters, or joy to our husband, but then he hasn’t… struck you dead with a plague.”

Hannah wrestled away. “Leave me alone.”

Peninnah smirked. “Leave you alone? Like Yahweh does?”

Hannah marched a couple steps ahead, watching the backs of the two boys as they hurried to crouch and stare at an orange lizard sprawled on a rock. They laughed and poked the lizard with their grubby fingers.

“Or…” Peninnah said, catching up to Hannah. “Maybe if you pray hard enough this year, Yahweh will grant you a child. Time remains in your womb, I’m sure. Then again, if I was him, I wouldn’t glance your direction even once.” She gave a short laugh and then strolled ahead to walk alongside Elkanah and the boys.

Hannah swallowed, saw a cloud drift across the otherwise blue sky, and felt the first tear slip down her face. The first tear. But it would not be the last.

They reached Shiloh after only two breaks and a small lunch of bread Hannah had prepared the night before. They passed through the city and came to the Tabernacle. It had a fence set up all the way around it, and over the top of the fence, Hannah could see the Tabernacle itself, covered in all colors of fabric. The very tent brought from the wilderness to the land so long ago. A fire blazed at the altar before the tent, and Hannah could smell the burning meat even from where she stood.

Elkanah had prepared portions for each of them, and as night fell, their small family sat and ate together. Elkanah gave Peninnah portions of meat for her and the two boys and then walked to Hannah to give her one portion.

She took it into her hands. “Thank you,” she whispered. Tears slipped down her face. If she had children, they would be enjoying this just as much as Peninnah’s boys were. She knew how people looked at her back in Ramah. She knew the rumors. The whisperings. The behind the back glares of anger at her existence. To be barren was to be a disgrace. If she did not give Elkanah any children, she was most of all to be pitied.

Elkanah reached out a finger and caught one of her tears. “Why are you crying, Hannah?”

More tears came. How could a man understand this? She shook her head and stared at the meat in her hands.

“Eat,” Elkanah whispered.

“I… I can’t,” she said. “I… why do you keep me?” She looked up at him, watching his brown eyes. They glanced down.

“Because I love you, Hannah. Don’t be sad. Please. You have me. Isn’t that better than all the sons in the world?” Elkanah tried to smile, but Hannah turned away.

She ran, knowing Peninnah was laughing at her backside, enjoying the company of her children over the meal and the small fire they had built. Hannah kept running until she stood near the Tabernacle entrance. Stars peppered the sky above, and she stared up at them, wondering where Yahweh was. Why had he left her? Why had he kept her from being a mother? What evil had she done to deserve this path?

A sharp sting wrenched across her chest, poking right into her heart. She would always be alone. No matter what happened around her. No matter who came into her life. The emptiness would remain.

An old man, fat, with a ring of chins under his nose sat by the Tabernacle entrance, his eyes closed, rough breaths escaping past his weathered lips every few seconds. He had his hands folded across his large stomach. It was a marvel the stool beneath him didn’t shatter and send him rolling to the dusty ground below.

Hannah took another deep breath and slowly fell to her knees. She let another sob take her shoulders, shaking her. And then, she did something. She sat up a bit straight and prayed. Her lips whispered the words carefully: “O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, if You look, and see my pain and then answer this prayer and give me a son, then I… I promise I will return him to You. He can be Yours for every year of his life, and as a sign of his dedication, I will ensure his hair is never cut.”

She waited in the silence for a moment and then repeated her prayer. Still, silence met her ears.

A heavy sigh escaped the fat man. “Are you really coming over here drunk, woman?” He jabbed a pudgy finger in her direction. “If you throw away your wines you seem to enjoy so much, you’d be happier. And more in the graces.”

Hannah wiped at her face. “Oh no, no sir. You don’t understand. I promise I haven’t been… drinking wine or anything like that. I… I’m just… discouraged. And so, I thought I would pour out my heart to the Lord since this is His Tabernacle.”

The man squinted at her.

“I’m not wicked. I’ve… just been crying. And praying.”

The man gave her a sad smile. “Then, if that’s the truth, go in peace, my daughter. And may the Lord of Israel grant you everything you’ve asked Him for.”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Hannah stood, and as her feet planted on the ground beneath her, peace washed through her bones — through every piece of her being. The sadness slipped away to the dust, washing away with her tears. And for the first time in a long time, she smiled. And hurried back to eat.



Three years passed, and in that time, Yahweh answered Hannah’s prayer. She gave birth to a son, and as soon as he had been weaned, Hannah took him back to the Tabernacle in Shiloh. Elkanah brought along a three-year-old bull, a basket of flour, and some wine to leave as a sacrifice for Yahweh. To thank Him for all He had done for them.

Hannah held her son’s hand as she walked up to the Tabernacle entrance. And there, sitting on the stool like he had never gotten up was the fat man. He glanced up at them as they approached, and she saw the flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Sir,” Hannah said. “Do you remember me? I’m the same woman who stood here several years ago praying to Yahweh asking Him for a son, and…” She gently placed both hands on her son’s shoulders. His dark, straight hair had already grown to his ears, and she brushed it to the side. “Here he is. The boy Yahweh gave. And now I’m giving him back so he can belong to Yahweh his whole life.”

The man smiled, stood up from his stool with a creak from his back, and dipped his head to her.

Elkanah stood beside Hannah, with one arm slipping around her shoulder. And together, the little family gave their thanks to Yahweh, watching the fat priest take the sacrifices from them and offer them up on the altar. Flames engulfed the bull.

Her heart had never been more full. As she watched her son gaze at the flames with wide eyes, she knew this was the moment she had prayed for all her life: to be full. And she was.

(c) 2016 by Shaun Stevenson.

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright (c) 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

1 Samuel, An Introduction

Dust to dust

Ash to ash

Page to page

Cover to cover.


I have been thinking a lot about the Bible lately. To some it’s a book that seems old, dusty, and outdated. To others it’s just a fable or a fairytale to fit alongside Snow White and the Seven

Dwarfs and The Little Mermaid. Some say it’s more like guidelines and some say it’s more like a rulebook. It’s only stories

or wise sayings or poems or myths. It’s confusing, contradictory, confounding. There are a million things to be said about this book called the Bible.

But as I have spent time with this book, reading this greatest piece of literature ever written down for humankind, I can’t help but marvel at it. I can’t help but wonder at the truth in it. I believe these stories happened.


Laugh at me.

I love the idea of a snake that can speak in paradise.

Snicker behind my back.

I can’t wait to meet the man Moses who raised a rod and watched a sea split.

Write me off.

I love the Jesus I have found between these pages.


Are there parts of this book I may not be able to explain? Sure. Are there pieces of it that I still wonder about? Yes. But will those doubts change my mind? No. I love this Bible and I will keep peeling back its onion layers to see what lies beneath each page, each history, each person it details.

All this to say, I have decided to take a challenge. I have decided to take the book of 1 Samuel and write it. To read each word, study the background, and then spend some time each day writing each chapter. Each chapter I finish I will post here on the blog. I hope you enjoy my meager offerings. It’s made my heart full. I pray it fills yours.

BOOK REVIEW: Shadow Chaser by Jerel Law

Back for a third entry, Jonah, Eliza, and Jeremiah Stone face their biggest trials yet in Shadow Chaser, book three in the Son of Angels series by Jerel Law.

Shadow Chaser takes off right where Fire Prophet, book two, left off with Jonah and his siblings at Angel School in New York City. Something evil is lurking in the shadows of the convent where the Quarterlings, part humans, part angelic Nephilim, have been living, studying, and growing closer to God. And coming up next? Mid-term exams that will test the Quarterlings in their skills and faith.

But Jonah Stone has other problems: he keeps hearing strange voices in the dark of night. A shadow seems to creep about in every corner. Not to mention that his face has now been covered in zits and all the other kids in the convent want nothing to do with him. Can Jonah figure out what’s happening in the dark before it overtakes them all?

This entry in the Son of Angels series is not necessarily my favorite of the three so far, but it’s still a good, fun read. Some readers may feel that this book is like an extended add-on to Fire Prophet, with a lot of the action centering around the Angel School in the convent. At times I kept wondering if things would get shaken up a bit, but they stayed pretty much on course until near the end. I won’t give anything away, but something happens at the end of this book that was truly shocking. I’m very interested to see where this story goes in the final book: Truth Runner.

Although parts of the plot feel like a redux, Jonah definitely has the most character development in this book. His life begins to resemble that of an Old Testament prophet, complete with the trials and temptations that came to many of those men and women of God. Jonah’s struggle with his friends feels very real to life, and he grows through the things happening to him rather than becoming vengeful.

Those who have followed Jonah thus far will enjoy Shadow Chaser, but newcomers would do best to go back to book one, Spirit Fighter. Jerel Law remains a solid author with some very different stories to tell. Definitely worth a read.

You can purchase this book on

5 Fantasy Authors You Should Be Reading

I’ll admit it: I love reading fantasy stories. There’s just something about the adventure, excitement, quests, monsters, and worlds that are so fascinating and fun to read. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I grew up reading L. Frank Baum’s Oz books from the early 1900’s. Maybe it’s the 1980’s fantasy movies like The Neverending Story and Return to Oz I grew up watching. Either way, fantasy stories are undeniably a good time.

So here are five of my favorite Christian fantasy authors (in no particular order!) that you should be reading:

1. Wayne Thomas Batson

Mr. Batson has written a lot of novels, from epic high fantasy stories like his The Door Within trilogy, to high seas piratical adventures in The Isle Chronicles books, you can’t go wrong with a Batson novel. If you’re looking for rollicking good adventures, I recommend starting with Isle of Swords or Curse of the Spider King. Currently, Batson blogs regularly at Enter the Door Within.

2. Brock Eastman

Although The Quest for Truth series is technically a space opera, there is plenty of sci-fi/fantasy action to keep readers entertained with any of Brock Eastman’s books. Along with his four-part space series, Eastman is also the author of Howlsage, a super fascinating take on spiritual warfare. I couldn’t stop reading Howlsage once I had picked it up. It takes the idea of what if all these different monsters we read about in popular mythology are actually demonic? And what if a group of people were tasked with fighting those spiritual forces of wickedness? He’s also working on a series with author Travis Thrasher (one of my all-time favorite authors), so how can you go wrong?

Brock is very active on social media, and can be found on Facebook.

3. P.W. Catanese

If you’re looking for an author who’s plot twists pull no punches, then look no further than P.W. Catanese. I first read his book Happenstance Found, book one in The Books of Umber series, and I have not gasped out loud so many times in my life. There is an incredibly shocking twist near the end that left me floored and clamoring for the next two books in the trilogy. His other books also tie in loosely to the world of Umber, and I recommend his Further Tales Adventures highly.

Find out more about Mr. Catanese on Facebook.

4. Brandon Mull

One of my favorite authors, Brandon Mull is the author of multiple amazing series, including Fablehaven, Beyonders, and Five Kingdoms. Although some of his more recent books have become slightly formulaic, his earlier books are sure to please with fast-moving narratives, exciting adventures, and oftentimes some of the most aggravating situations for characters in all of fiction. So many times I have sat reading a Mull novel and asked myself, “How are these characters ever going to escape this?” And Brandon never disappoints when he does answer that question.

Mull hangs out on the Internet Webs here.

5. E.J. Patten

Okay. This last author on the list is also one of my favorites, but also is one of the most aggravating. Not because his books aren’t good. Because his books are amazing. Return to Exile still remains one of my most memorable reading journeys ever. It’s because there are not enough books from Mr. Patten! You can’t do wrong though to check out this incredible author and the crazy imagination he has. Literally. His imagination is awesomely crazy. Some of the things he has put into his novels boggled my mind with their inventiveness and sheer creativity. I know I am eagerly waiting for the day when book three releases. Did I also mention that he’s hilarious?

E.J. Patten blogs away at Patten Pending.