A scripture-packed novel for those wondering, “Where is God in suffering?“
About The Stranger by Joy Margetts
The Stranger by Joy Margetts transports us to medieval Wales to meet Silas, a monk who runs from his calling following a failed ministry. Despite it’s 13th century setting, it explores real issues that many of us face in the modern-day. What do we do when we feel disappointed by God – when life gets tough and God seems to have abandoned us? Does God really care about our suffering, and can our faith in Him be restored?
Who is The Stranger written for?
Silas’ story is one many will be able to resonate with, and is a beacon of hope for those wondering “Where is God in suffering?” It’s a clean read that will appeal to adults who have an interest in Historical fiction, or who have struggled in their own faith journeys.
Here are some reader reviews:
‘Brother Silas has a crisis of faith, and his dream appears dead, but through his experiences, he learns what is really important. I can see myself in him and wouldn’t be surprised if you do too.‘
Vicki Cottingham
‘A story of faith lost and faith returned; of doubt and the mystery of ‘not knowing’, and yet understanding that the most important thing is not what we do for God, but our relationship with Him.‘
Shiela Jacobs
There are so many books out there. Why do I need this one?
We believe stories have the power to communicate deep truth and transform lives, and The Stranger is a great example of this. The Stranger is saturated with scriptures from the gospels and the book of Job, and it will bless you in your walk with Jesus.
It gently teaches truths such as:
- Even when bad things happen, God is always good.
- God can handle our faith questions!
- God loves and pursues us even when we try to run.
I’d love this, but can I read a sample first?
Of course you can! Here’s a sample from near the beginning of the book, plus a video of Joy Margetts reading it!
Silas shifted again, aware that he could still smell smoke in his nostrils. It didn’t usually linger this long once he awoke from his nightmare. It was acrid and hung in the air around him. As he reluctantly opened an eye, the sting of hot air shocked him into full awareness. This was no memory. He heard a shout; his name being called. As he swung his legs around and grabbed his cloak, he wondered why the dark thatch above him sparkled with bright spots of glowing light. He should run, but a deep weariness of body and soul caused him to pause. Should he just lie down again, cover his head with his cloak, and let the fire take him? He did not have the will or the energy to fight for Grace Dieu again. There had been too many fires, too many raids, too much opposition, too much loss.
A hand grabbed his arm, and the fingers pinched painfully. Silas swung around, raising his other arm to defend himself, and encountered a youthful face, wide-eyed with panic. Cedric! The poor novice had only been at Grace Dieu a few weeks.
‘Brother, you must come. The church is alight, and we cannot save it without you. The fire is spreading. Already the stables are ablaze, and the refectory roof is smoking. The thatch above us – look!’
He gestured upwards with his free hand – the one gripping Silas’ arm tightened still more. Silas flinched and pulled his arm free. He threw his cloak around his shoulders and slipped his feet into his sandals. His leather scrip was the only other thing he paused to grab, securing the pouch to his belt before grasping the young man’s sleeve and pulling him out into the cold night. The night sky was not as dark as it should have been. The wooden church, the one they had not long finished repairing after the previous raid, was well alight. His brothers had drawn water but no number of perfectly aimed buckets of well water could save the church now. A line of 100 strong men might have; they were but five, four of whom were past their youth and feeble from years of hardship.
A quick glance around, and Silas could see fire had taken hold all over the small compound, fanned by a stiff cold wind that carried sparks easily from structure to structure. He shivered, despite the warmth from the flames. It was a clear and cloudless night. No hope of rain from the heavens to douse the blaze. His fellow brothers stood damp and dishevelled, spaced about like the last few pieces of a well-fought game of chess. They stood as he did, watching as the abbey and their dreams were mercilessly consumed. At least there was no raiding party this time; a few well-aimed firebrands thrown from outside the fence had done the damage. It might have been the same thugs as before, but it could have been youths or even children, the hatred behind their actions well ingrained. Silas had no doubt that they would be back in the morning to loot what was left. It would not be much.
They would not find him or any of his fellow monks there. Silas made that decision. They had done fighting. They had tried – God knows they had tried – but they had lost the battle. It was time to retreat.
Silas called out and four weary faces turned towards him, each one stained with grime, sweat and tears. He felt the sting of guilt, berating himself that he had slept as they had faced the fire without him. He would not let them down again.
‘Come, Brothers!’ He raised his voice above the sound of flames crackling and beams splitting.
He turned and began walking, and one by one the others followed. Silas stopped to grab the shafts of an untouched handcart, pulling it into the midst of the little gathering that had formed around him.
‘Gather what food and clothing you can, quickly, and do not put yourselves at risk. Only what you or this cart can carry. Forget the animals – Cedric.’ The young man was trying to hold on to two terrified hens. ‘They must fend for themselves. We cannot take them. We must go now, leave here quickly and quietly. They will expect us to stay and fight the flames, but not this time.’
‘Perhaps, God willing, we will return and rebuild Grace Dieu?’ Brother Jermaine dumped a bundle of cloth and a small sack of dried beans into the cart. He was wheezing from the effects of the smoke, but his natural optimism shone out from eyes circled by soot. Silas could not hold his questioning gaze. He mumbled something non-committal under his breath and started to move off, pulling the cart behind him.
He could not answer his old friend, as he had no idea any more what God willed. God’s will had seemingly brought them here to build their bright new abbey, in this inhospitable and godless corner of the Welsh borderlands. Seven years they had built and fought, prayed and defended, broken their backs in the field, only to have their harvest stolen, time and time again. Last year’s kidnapping of their frail abbot and his subsequent death had almost broken them. Now the abbey was burning to the ground. To his shame, Silas felt relief. He no longer had the strength or the conviction to fight or rebuild. He was done with Grace Dieu. As he walked away from its burning ruins, a niggling thought suggested that perhaps he was done with God as well.
Sample from The Stranger © Joy Margetts, 2024
Where Can I Purchase the Book?
You can buy paperbacks & ebooks directly from our shop page here https://broadplacepublishing.co.uk/product/stranger/
The Stranger is also available in sets with Joy’s other books, offering up to £9 off the RRP!
Joy is willing to speak to your Churches and Book Clubs, either in person or over Zoom. There are bulk purchasing options for Book Clubs, with added benefits, on the product page.
If you’d love this book but you cannot afford it, we do run a bursary program. Please contact us to request a book.