Sunday, October 24, 2010

Latest Review: SOLITARY

Title: Solitary

Author: Travis Thrasher
Publisher: David C. Cook
Release: August 2010
ISBN-10: 1434764214
ISBN-13: 978-1434764218
Format: Trade Paperback

I became of fan of Travis Thrasher’s when I first read and reviewed an advance copy of The Second Thief. Hooked, I found myself anxiously awaiting the next Thrasher release, year after year. Sometimes first in line to buy a copy, and many times lucky enough to have the pleasure and privilege to receive a copy, like with Solitary, to read and review prior to, or just around the actual release date.

In the vein of John Saul, Thrasher plunges readers into the heart of teen angst, amidst haunted backwoods towns. Chris Buckley is sixteen. His parents have separated. While his father opts to remain in Illinois , Chris and his mother is return to her hometown, Solitary, North Carolina . They live in Chris’ uncle’s home. There’s plenty of room since the uncle went missing months ago.

While bullies and unseen allies taunt and tempt Chris in school, it’s against everyone’s advice that our young, new-to-school teen befriends the troubled and mysterious Jocelyn Evans. It doesn’t take Chris long to realize that, aside from falling goo-goo-gaa-gaa for her, it is Jocelyn’s secrets that threaten – if left uncovered – to destroy him.

Some unseen evil seems to hold the town hostage, paralyzed with fear, leaving everyone unable to act, react or to even prevent the inevitable. People in Solitary go missing. It’s a fact. Chris’ hunt for answers brings him nothing but trouble and threats. Not empty threats, either.

With a missing uncle, a crazy aunt, a radical church, and a mother who false short of coping with the hand she’s been dealt, it is Chris and Jocelyn against Solitary. The trouble is the town of Solitary incorporates more than just the people that live within its boundary limits. The ghosts, and monsters just might be caused by more than wisps of air, and random bumps banging in the night.

It is up to Chris to sort out the things he knows from what can be surmised to what he just hopes is can not possibly be true—or possible. It’s now a race against time and there is no mistaking that life and death actually hang in the balance. . .

Solitary, the first in a supernatural young adult series, has put me over the top. Quick, compelling chapters. Deeply drawn, well-crafted characters. Tight, gritty, noir-style dialogue – and by the end, all I want is more. So many questions raised. So much yet to be answered. And, unfortunately, too much time between future installments. If you’ve never read Travis Thrasher, which I’d find hard to believe of true fans of suspense, Solitary is an excellent place to start. Just be ready to put aside anything else that needs getting done, because once you begin reading, I believe you will have a hard time stopping until you’ve read the last page.

--Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy and forthcoming, Sounds of Silence

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Latest Review for Shroud Magazine

Title:        Kill the Dead, A Sandman Slim Novel
Author:    Richard Kadrey
Publisher: EOS
ISBN:      978-0-06-171431-3
Retail:       $22.99
Format:    Hardcover

I need to start the review of Kill the Dead with something as basic as, I loved this novel. Loved it.

Now. I need you to stay with me for the rest of the review. Because, as you begin to read, you may not fully believe the above statement. But trust me. I will pull it off.

The extreme basic concept of Kadrey's book continually forced comparison between Kill The Dead and Jim Butcher's Harry Dresden series -- the similarities nagged. Where the main character in Kadrey's novel has Kasabian --a fully functioning head, just a head, Dresden has Bob -- a spirit that lived inside a skull. Both Bob and Kasabian are limited to the homes of the main characters, are witty and a bit annoying, but also helpful and used as a sounding board, more or less -- where they tap resources to help their main characters solve puzzles.

While Dresden uses magic to operate a private eye business out of his home, he continually encounters vampires, ghosts, witches, goblins, etc., etc. Jimmy Stark (Sandman Slim), the main guy in Kill the Dead, is a nephilim (part angel, part human), who uses magic, and works for the Vigil to help solve crimes that seem to include vampires, werewolves, goblins and zombies.

Both Dresden and Stark are similarly outlined and shaded in characters, and the story lines easily blur between authors. However, and this is where I take you back to my first sentence, I loved Kadrey's novel.

Stark, who was sent Downtown for eleven years--Downtown being Hell--is, throughout the book, searching for Mason, the evil man who sent him there. In the meantime, he has jobs to do. While working for-hire for the Vigil to keep the streets free and clear of monsters, he takes to moonlighting. His new client is none other than the Devil himself. Lucifer.

Lucifer is in town. A soul he owns is a movie producer. A motion picture is going to be shot--detailing Lucifer's existence. While on earth, Lucifer wants a body guard to protect his human form. Enter Jimmy Stark, a.k.a. Sandman Slim.

At the same time, Drifters start showing up. Drifters are a breed of zombie. One of the actresses for the Lucifer film--Brigitte, a "Czech gypsy porn star zombie killer", teams up with Stark to fight the walking dead.

Together, with the help of a host of unique characters (friends), Stark and Brigitte, must uncover who released the zombie-drifters into the general public and prevent a serious health outbreak, while protecting the Prince of Darkness, and keeping themselves alive before the complete unraveling of humanity itself!

Taut chapters. Quick, tart dialogue. Gritty noir writing. Kill the Dead is an engrossing read. It is both captivating and compelling. It has forced me to place an order for the first book in the series, Sandman Slim, because I need to know what happened before to lead Stark to where he is now!

--Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy

Friday, August 13, 2010

Book Review: DRIFT

Title: DRIFT
Author: Sharon Carter Rogers
Publisher: Howard Books
Release Date: April 2010
ISBN-10: 1416566538
ISBN-13: 978-1416566533
Price: $13.99
Pages: 337
Format : Trade Paperback

Drift is a unique novel. One I could not put down. This was partly due to the tale told, and partly due to the way the tale unfolded. Sharon Carter Rogers has a crisp writing style. Taut chapters, crisp dialogue, and developed characters kept me page turning, anxious to see what would happen next.

To write this review a reader needs to understand what makes up a Drifter. A Drifter is neither an angel, nor a demon, but someone who is always here. Divinely possible, and perfectly flawed, Boy is attached to a tether for a time. Some times last longer than others. Some are short—lasting days. And what is a tether? A person. One who can see and hear and touch the drifter, while others cannot do any of these things.

A Drifter, once out of sight is soon forgotten, both by the tether, and also to the Drifter. If prematurely separated, the Drifter’s existence crumbles. It slowly, and painfully kills the Drifter without the relief of death.

Again. Unique.

In Drift, Baby Doll was adopted, or stolen really, as a child. Her deceased father—Charlie Murphy—held a high position in a mob-like organized crime syndicate. His title—The Executioner—carried with it all the power the name suggests. His suspicious death leads Baby Doll to Boy—the Drifter. Or maybe it is the other way around.

Bonded by an invisible link, the two are tethered to one another. And like any relationship, relies heavily on give and take. Boy needs a favor from Baby Doll. A simple task. He’d left something important at the home of his last tether. Unfortunately, he can’t remember where it was his last tether lived, and more importantly, he isn’t sure he can trust Baby Doll to help him.

Baby Doll needs tether’s help for a more primal cause. To stay alive. With Murphy’s death comes the threat of anarchy within the syndicate—a tipping of balance that Baby Doll set into motion. In order to ensure the demise of the syndicate Baby Doll needs what was stolen from her, or else order risks being restored and her involvement behind the scenes of the turmoil could cost her the very life she’s been trying to save. Her own.

With the syndicate growing more suspicious about her involvement, and the police certain she knows more than she’s told, Baby Doll is torn by questions that spin like a whirlwind inside her head: What to do next? Where to go next? And why in the world has she been tethered to Boy?

The tension in Drift builds and builds, chapter by chapter, page by page and word by word. With unexpected twists, crazy turns, and nail-biting action—Rogers’ book will thrill readers. Touch them. And force them to remember the story for a long time.

--Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Book Reviews For Shroud Magazine

I am going to be writing book reviews for Shroud Magazine. I will also be posting the reviews here -- allowing for a little extra exposure for the talented authors.

My first post ....

Title: Hiram Grange: The Chosen One
Author: Kevin Lucia
Publisher: Shroud Publishing
Release Date: June 2001
ISBN: 978-0982727508
Price: $7.99
Pages: 165
Format : Trade Paperback

The sad thing about having read the novella, The Scandalous Misadventures of Hiram Grange: The Chosen One, is that I did not read the previous three books in the series. I love that it is a stand-alone story, however, now I am itching to read the rest!

In Kevin Lucia’s debut novella, we find ourselves immediately immersed in a world of black magic, demons and fairies. We learn it’s all about balance. Without it, nothing works. Unfortunately for Hiram, he is the man tasked with the unearthly job of ensuring balance ensues.

When treacherous beasts are summoned, the fate of six women is at stake. Hiram must find the talisman housing the monsters and destroy, or find the one doing the summoning—and destroy him. Worse case, he must kill the one woman destined to replace Queen Mab when the time is right, or – the alternative – she will destroy the world.

With non-stop, page-turning, giddy-up-and-go action, Lucia uses the taut confines of a novella to unfurl, with dead-accuracy, a story that can’t help but pull the reader in, shake him up, spin him around, and toss him here and there until the explosive – and unexpected ending.

Because of Lucia’s story telling skills, I am forced, no-no, compelled to go back and read the others in the series!

And as a side note, while I could not find any mention of an artist responsible for the cover, or the illustrations throughout, I cannot, in good conscience, let such wonderful talent go unrecognized. The book cover, and illustrations are simply spectacular.

I look forward to more Hiram Grange, and will most definitely be looking forward to more work by Kevin Lucia! His novella has allowed for an impressive way to crash onto the scene of horror writers!

--Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy

Monday, December 7, 2009

Trip To Pittsburgh


Deanna's cousin, Jerry, works for the Oakland Raiders. Both are only children. Makes them more like siblings, than merely kin. Jerry live in California. The two don't get to see each other often. Jerry tries to set Deanna up with tickets to games when he's going to be on this coast. For the Raiders v/ Steelers game, the timing worked out. And I was asked to tag along.

The problem for me started about a week prior to the weekend trip. Headed to Pittsburgh in December. I've watched football on TV since I was 18 years old. (Wasn't always a sports fan. Long story. Meant for a different blog, I suppose). I knew weather at games in Pittsburgh in December would be brutal.

Oddly enough, this game was going to be the first NFL game I ever attended. Never had a problem not going. Watching a game from home just seemed easier. Got to run to the bathroom, do it on a commercial. Make something to eat, commercial. Get a drink, commercial. Always heard at games if you have to go to the bathroom, plan on missing an entire quarter. (Which may still be true. Don't know. Didn't want to risk testing the theory. So didn't go. At all). Stopped at Burlington Coat Factory last week. Bought some Thinsolate gloves, a scarf and a Carthart hat. No one would ever mistake me for the outdoors-ie type. Never. However, last weekend my sister got my kids Dolphins v. Bills tickets. We went to Buffalo--as Dolphins fans. Again, meant for another blog. So this would be my second NFL game in as many weeks. Not bad. Getting to be a pro at this.

Felt good being armed with some winter wear. Parents bought me a ski jacket that Christmas before. It hung in the basement, waiting to be used. (Generally wear my long leather. It blocks wind. Retains heat. Looks good). Brought the suitcase to my room on Thursday. Thing was, what else do I pack? I knew there was a chance we'd dine with some of the Raiders team and staff. Found out bringing a set of dress clothes wouldn't be a bad idea. Slacks, dress shirt, shoes, belt. Ok. Also packed snowflake jammers that the kids bought me. Jeans for the game, socks, wool socks. Three T-shirts. Flannel shirt. NYPD hoodie. Couple movies. And bathroom stuff. Toothpaste, shaving cream, hair gel, razor, Dental floss picks, Q-tips ... you get the idea).

Deanna dropped her dog off for her parents to watch. Sammy's a good dog, if a bit hyper-active. She sent me a text. Sammy had gotton into a box of Chocolate chip cookies she'd packed for the road trip.  Ate four. Left three. We laughed. Kinda. Then she picked me up. From Rochester, NY to Pittsburg, PA is just over 300 miles. Roughly a 4 1/2 hour trip.

Halfway to Pitt, we grew hungry. Talked about pulling into a rest area to get a little something to eat. We were making good time. Kept driving past exits. The box of remaining cookies was in arms reach in the back seat. I fumbled with the box. Cookies looked good. Dry, at least. Untouched, for the most part. Did we eat them? Ah-yeah. We did. And renamed them. Chocolate Chip Retriever Cookies. Mmmm-mmm good!

Lucy came with us. Who's Lucy? The van's built-in GPS. She was in one of her moods. Insisted on showing us directions upside down. The arrow that represented us pointed down. Right was left. Left, right. It worked fine if you drove while sitting on your head and watching the GPS. She also insisted on picking a non-toll route. So the entire time we drove she called off every exit, letting us know we were not using her route, and in her way, letting us know we'd never make it if we refused to follow her directions. So, not a problem. For the most part.

Although while passing through southern New York we'd seen some areas where it had snowed, there was no clear sign of winter anywhere in PA.
Never been to Pittsburgh. Drove through once or twice on the way to Florida. Didn't realize just how beautiful the city is. Enveloped by rivers, it was littered with tall buildings both modern and full of old architecture. One building housed a giant bottle of ketchup that poured out and filled large block letters of it's name in red, HEINZ.

Lucy, still in her mood, seemed late out of spite in sharing information about exactly when and where to turn once in the heart of downtown. The Marriott had to be close, we realized, while stopped at a red light. I looked out the passenger window. Saw the hotel sign and said, "Isn't this what we're looking for?" It was literally right next to us.

We checked in. Called Jerry, to let him know we'd arrived. Left out Lucy's conspiracy to keep us in endless circles and trapped on one-way streets. Figured we'd deal with her appropriately on the way home. For now, we were here. Safe.

Jerry, who'd just walked back from having lunch, met us in the hotel lobby. Must have known we were hungry. We took the shuttle across one of the rivers to Station Square--a small shopping strip, just outside of downtown and decided to have an early dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe. Six hours later, or close to 1:00 AM, we made it back to the hotel.

Raiders needed to catch a bus from the hotel to the stadium the next morning. Last bus ran at 9:30 AM. Jerry wanted to meet with his cousin for coffee. The hotel lobby was roped off. Kept fans to one side. Team and staff on the other. Deanna met many of the players after a long elevator ride down to the lobby. From the 16th floor, they stopped on each and every floor on the way down. Ca-razy!

Sunday morning in Pittsburg is tough if you have breakfast on your mind. There is nowhere to go to eat. Only place we knew was Station Square. Only thing we didn't know was how to get there. Asking the parking attendant for directions was somewhat helpful. He gave me a bunch of lefts and rights to make, and what lanes to stay in. After about fifteen minutes of directions (to travel less than two miles), I knew I was in trouble, and wished I'd written things down. I thought I had the main lefts and rights memorized, thanked him and we were off.

Off to where, I'm still not sure. I guess off to sight see. Because, even though I got some of the turns correct, I messed up on which lanes to be in. Lots of expressways. Apparently, next to Venice, Italy, Pittsburg is home to the most bridges. Surrounded by rivers, under and over passes, I began to feel as if we were actually navagating through a convaluted system of water pipes.

Grant Street was key to finding the right bridge to get to the right road to make it to Station Square. Kinda. By 11:00 PM we'd made it to Station Square and parked. A shuttle ferry was set up, running fans across the river to Heinz stadium. We decided we'd eat and head over to the game on the ferry, rather than risk staying endlessly lost in the maze that was Pittsburgh's roads.

Houlihans was the least packed place in the strip. They don't serve breakfast. The table behind us was set up for a small party. Someone was turning 13. Only people showing up were older ladies. Much older. The ladies whined and worked setting up the cake and placemats for the party. Tough not to listen to them talk. So we didn't fight it. When I came back from a bathroom break, one of the older women sat across from Deanna at our table.

I said hello. She asked if I was the Pittsburgh weather man. Gave me a name. I explained I was not. That I was from Rochester. She didn't seem to believe this. So I did my best to talk in a newscaster voice while she refused to join her party. Seems the place she wanted to sit at their pushed-together tables, someone had draped a purse over the chair. Feeling unwanted and cast aside, I guess she prefered sitting with us. Was all right, we were done.

The ferry filled with passengers fast. There's always that one person who insists on talking loud. Wants everyone around to hear every word they say. We had such a woman on our ride across the rivers. I prayed she didn't have stadium tickets next to us at the game. Boat rides don't bother me. Her voice was nausiating my gut. I know I was turning green. Stayed near the rail incase lunch decided to come back and show itself. (Didn't happen. Thankfully.)

Heinz stadium is beautiful. huge. Might not hold as many people as Ralph Wilson, but looked two times bigger than where the Bills call home. The main floor houses a museum of talented showcases. And everywhere we looked people wore Pittsburgh Steeler colors, jerseys and face paint. A few of us Raider fans did our best to blend. (Thankfully we wore neutral, non-threatening attire. Nothing that would say for sure we weren't there to see the Steelers win. The fact we weren't in black and gold might have been tip-off enough, but we did not encounter trouble).

The seats were complimentary. Nose bleed, we were told. Took a day and a half to walk the ramps to the top level. And a tank of oxygen to climb the remaining set of stairs up to our seats. Section 519, Row JJ, seats 25 and 26. Three rows down from the top. they were aisle seats, thankfully. Claustrophobia is one of the ailments I suffer from. (You got it, another blog).

Fortunately, amid the Steeler fans were chunks of Raider fans in this section. While Dea and I did little to draw unwanted attention. The guys next to her, enjoyed the taunts and teases both dished out, and fed back. It was all in good fun, best I could tell. Guys next to us had traveled to three Raider games. To Kansas City, to Buffalo, and now to Pittsburg. Not bad. They bled black and silver. No doubt.

Thankfully, the guy sitting behind us must have been a sports announcecr at one time. He could very well have been related to the lady on the ferry over. He wanted to call the game, play-by-play, with interjected commentary between plays and during commercials. Annoying, yes. Right most of the time, yes. So at least he wasn't a complete babbling ... idiot. Not a complete one, that is.

Game was back and forth. Steelers were up in the fourth. Just scored a touchdown. Just over a minute left for the Raiders to do something. With 80 yards to cover, and just 9 seconds left, the Raiders got the ball in the endzone, winning the game!

62,000 people cleared out of the stadium in an organized hurry. We took the ferry back to the car. And started for home.

Long road trips often make for interesting conversation. Poor Deanna, who by now had to be tired, but refused to admit it, did claim that: "Long trips I speak no sense."

Hmmm. Sounded Native American to me. For the record, she's not. Of course, I helped with the translation. I became Chief Sitting In Passenger Seat, and said--for strictly clarification purposes; "Ah. Long trips. Me no speak sense. Uggh."

Thankfully, she wasn'tsipping coffee. That would have been a gusher. No doubt. Nose spray, at the least.

And then pronun-ski-ations. Hard not to cover this topic as we made our way down I-90 East toward Rochester.  Is LeRoy pronounced Leroy--like the name, or La-Roy.  Lucy refused to lend credit one way or the other. The battle over correct pronouncement of the small town on the western outskirts of Rochester was not decided.

But we did have a good time. We went to Pittsburgh in December. No snow on the way down. None on the way back. And it wasn't too cold during the game. Can't beat that. Good times, I tell ya, good times.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the recap of my weekend. I did. Sure I left some things out. Maybe on purpose, or maybe because they were so outrageous, I had to. Either way, I did my best to recall as much as possible.  It's time for a second cup of coffee and a Chocolate Chip Retriever Cookie! Anyone want a bite?

Thomas Phillips,
Author of The Molech Prophecy
And the soon to be released, Convicted

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The Only Thing We Have To Fear Is ... Spiders?

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Matthew 10:28-31

Back in 1990 when my (now ex) wife and I were dating, I took her to see one of the scariest movies of all times, Arachnophobia. Actually, the movie is classified under the genre comedy/horror. Believe me, there was nothing funny about the movie. Not then. Not now. Jeff Daniels and John Goodman are two of the big stars in the picture, which might lead you to believe that the movie was indeed a comedy, but let me assure you once again, it was not a funny film.

My wife, who was not impressed at all with the movie, found other ways to amuse herself. For example, during one especially terrifying scene when what seemed like millions of half-dollar sized spiders came scurrying up from the bottom of a sink drain, my wife dropped a handful of popcorn on my head. I jumped out of my seat, screaming and slapping at my scalp, certain that spiders were all over my body. (I know that my wife reads these devotionals, so . . . very funny, dear. Don’t think I’ve forgotten).

Arachnophobia. What is it? According to it is the abnormal fear of spiders and is the most common of all phobias. Did you know most spiders are venomous? They are. Usually, and especially with the smaller buggers, the venom they inject is in such small amounts that there is not enough in the dosage to kill a human, or to even make a person sick. And did you know if I wanted, I could crush most spiders with my shoe, or a wadded up roll of newspaper? I could. But what you probably don’t realize is that I don’t care if spiders are venomous or not, or that even if I could crush a spider, I won’t---I would prefer to call (scream at the top of my lungs) for my someone, even my eleven year old daughter, to come and kill the little demons for me.

God says He knows every hair on our head. We have value in God’s eyes. He loves us. God does not want us living in fear from things that can harm the flesh, but have no means of harming the soul. I can’t explain why my fear of spiders is so overpowering, but it is, even knowing the fear is irrational. What God is saying, however, is that I should not be scared of spiders. They can’t touch my soul. Not the Black Widow, or the Brown Recluse, or the Wolf Spider, or the Garden Spider, or the Assassin Spider, or the Daddy Long Legs … but I digress.

Obviously there are other, more legitimate things in life that can harm us physically, and/or emotionally. Some examples might be car accidents, sickness, downsizings, divorce . . . the list can really goes on and on, but God essentially tells us that we need only fear Satan. This is the one real threat worth fearing. How do we put elements of fear into perspective? Have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Concentrate more time focusing on Him and you will spend less time worrying about Satan.

Leonard Ravenhill, the great revivalist, once said, “ The two prerequisites to successful Christian living are vision and passion, both of which are born in and maintained by prayer.” God tells us we’re His, and that if we are born again, if we are saved, then God promises a home for us in Heaven. There is nothing scary about that promise. In fact, the thought makes me a little homesick.

Thomas Phillips,
Author of the suspense thriller, The Molech Prophecy

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

I Don’t Have Time for Patience

This particular blog seems entirely relevant as I impatiently wait to hear from the City of Rochester on a potential new position working as a 911 Dispatch Operator...

“But when the Holy Spirit controls our lives, he will produce this kind of fruit in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,” Galatians 5:22 NIV

Having patience is easier said than done. I don’t know how many times I’ve become impatient waiting for a bag of popcorn to pop in the microwave. Or during the times when I’ve pulled up to order at a drive-thru only to become impatient sitting for at least a full minute at the pick-up window waiting to pay for and collect up my food.

Ever feel impatient while driving? I get that way all the time. There’s been a few times (ah-hmm), when I’ve felt almost trapped behind some car traveling at some speed that has to be below the limit. So what do I do? I pass him. Then while stopped at the next red light what do I see in my rear view mirror? It’s the guy I just passed pulling up behind me. He looks calm (and smug), while I have a white knuckle-grip on the steering wheel waiting for the horrendously long lasting red light to turn green.

I love all aspects of the life of David. As a young, lowly shepherd, Samuel told David that he would be the next King. Over the years he became best friend’s with the king’s son, and was welcomed into the king’s home as if he were family. Of course as the Lord blessed David, the young shepherd continually did amazing things. As he earned the respect and love of the people, Saul, the king, became increasingly jealous. Eventually Saul decided that he had to kill David, despite the fact that David had been nothing but loyal to Saul and the people.

When David realized he was a marked man, he and a handful of allied troops fled the land and hid, holed up in a cave. One day, Saul, tracking David with an entire army, came to rest just outside the particular cave where David and his men were hiding.

Needing to use the “facilities” (go to the bathroom), Saul entered the cave alone. David’s troops told him that God had brought Saul, and placed him in a most vulnerable position, and that David should take advantage of the situation and kill Saul.

Obviously killing Saul would solve David’s immediate problem of being hunted down by the king and his army, but instead, David let Saul go. David knew that when God’s time was right, even though years had passed, he would one day be king as God promised. He just needed to be patient. And patient he was. And eventually, David became king.

The Bible says that as Christians we are to be patient (2 Timothy 2:24; 1 Thessalonians 5:14; James 5:7-8; Romans 2:7). Why do you think learning to have patience is so important? I think one reason might be because God works using His own timetable. Not mine. (2 Peter 3:8-9). And if I really think about it, it’s only fair considering how patient God has been with me.

Thomas Phillips,
Author of the suspense thriller, The Molech Prophecy