Tag Archives: David Kitz

THE SOLDIER WHO KILLED A KING

20 Thursday Sep 2018

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Soldier book

Christ’s Passion Week…a familiar account? So you think you know this story? Think again. There are more twists in this plot than in the cruelest crowns of thorns. This author takes you on a fast-paced ride through Christ’s Passion Week-an eight-day ride you will never forget. Scheming Herod, the bloody Fox, has more than one trick up his sleeve. The high priest and the governor are at each other’s throats. Four kings, together in the holy city for one week, compete for one
throne. Now here’s a deadly competition.

Written from a soldier’s perspective, you see a familiar story in a whole new light. Here is the horror of the cross, up close and graphic. While remaining true to the scriptural account, the author weaves with startling realism a very human tale of intrigue and subterfuge. There is a more than a little passion here. Did we mention the terrorist connection? So, you think you know how this ends? Ha! Think again! Have you been to the foot of the cross lately? Come, if you dare.

Author bio:  For a number of years now, David Kitz has been telling the soldier’s view of these events in a one-man play entitled, “The Centurion’s Report.”
Centur. Sw
For more information on the book visit: https://davidkitz.ca/centurion.php

For more information on the book purchase visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/bookcart/index.php?route=product/product&path=62&product_id=58

or https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0825444853?pf_rd_p=d1f45e03-8b73-4c9a-9beb-4819111bef9a&pf_rd_r=MDF7KQBS5SZGS214836H

For more information on the dramatization visit: https://davidkitz.ca/centurion.php

 

PSALMS ALIVE! CONNECTING HEAVEN AND EARTH

13 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Devotionals, Psalms

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How do you connect with God? For three thousand years, God has been connecting with humankind through the prophetic prayer, praise and poetry of the biblical Psalms.  Come follow David, the shepherd king, the man after God’s own heart, as we begin a journey to intimacy with God. Discover for yourself what a soul-bonding relations with God looks like.

As never before, let the psalms come alive for you!

In the art of effective communication, context is everything. David Kitz’s gift of communications is clearly demonstrated in Psalms Alive! as one is brought into the context in which the selected psalms were  written.

Ted Seres, NATIONAL DIRECTOR, Canadian Bible Society

Author Bio: David Kitz is an ordained minister, a teacher and an award-winning author. He is passionate about bringing the Bible to life through the medium of drama.

For more information on the PSALMS ALIVE! book visit: https://davidkitz.ca/psalms.phpJames Tht

For more information on purchasing the book  visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/bookcart/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=62&search=psalms

 

For more information on a PSALMS ALIVE! dramatization visit: https://davidkitz.ca/psalms.php

The Ottawa Christian Writers’ Conference

13 Wednesday Jun 2018

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On April 7th, the Ottawa chapter of the Word Guild hosted the fourth annual Ottawa Christian Writers’ Conference with about 60 writers in attendance. The conference featured two plenary speakers, Faith Today, senior editor, Karen Stiller, and former west coast member of parliament, John Weston. Both speakers stoked our passion for writing while providing a host of practical tips and real life experiences that can prove invaluable.

In addition, conference attendees had a choice of six workshops taught by experts on a broad range of topics from poetry to editing.

Denyse Workshop 04-07-2017

Denyse O’Leary teaching her workshop

There is something almost magical that happens when Christian writers come together. We find ourselves on common ground, with common interests that rest on the redemptive work of Jesus Christ. Though the genres we labour in may differ, our faith underpins our work.

This year’s conference took place on the seventh floor of the Cardus building in downtown Ottawa. The beautiful location, delicious meal, and amenities added significantly to the enjoyment of this event. Thanks goes to Word Guild board member, Peter Stockland for acting as our host at Cardus.

Please take a moment to check out this highlights video. Who knew that being a Canadian Christian writer could be so much fun?

Cathy Goddard 04-07-2018

Cathy Goddard leading worship

You know you are meeting a need when participants are eager for more. A number of events are planned for the coming months, including the 5th annual Ottawa Christian Writer’s Conference on April 6th, 2019.

David Kitz is the author of a number of books, including The Soldier Who Killed a King and Psalms Alive! David is the founder and chair of the Ottawa Christian Writers’ Fellowship and serves on the board of the Word Guild.

Psalms Alive! Connecting Heaven and Earth by David Kitz

09 Wednesday May 2018

Posted by in book review, Books by David Kitz, Devotionals, Psalms

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How do you connect with God?

For three thousand years, God has been connecting with humankind through the prophetic prayer, praise and poetry of the biblical Psalms. Come follow David, the shepherd king, the man after God’s own heart, as we begin a journey to intimacy with God. Discover for yourself what a soul-bonding relationship with God looks like.

As never before, let the psalms come alive for you!

Psalms Alive! can be best described as a 237-page devotional study of thirteen selected psalms spanning a total of twenty-six chapters.


In typical devotional style each chapter begins with a psalm or psalm portion. Then for five or six pages the author discusses this portion by bringing other scripture to bear, drawing from his personal life experience or relating powerful stories that illustrate the key thoughts highlighted in this psalm. Each chapter then ends with a number of questions or action prompts that are aimed at bringing the psalm to life for the reader. By including these questions, the book lends itself easily to group study and discussion.

The twenty-six chapter format provides a half year of curriculum material for churches or study groups that wish to grow their love for God through engaging with the Psalms.  Of course Psalms Alive! works equally well as a personal study anchored in the unchanging truths of God’s word.

Endorsements for Psalms Alive!

“A timely call to stop our mad rush and encounter God in the stillness of prayer and Bible study. David Kitz paints pictures with words, taking lessons from Scripture and nature to offer us a three-dimensional, multi-sensory relationship with God.”

Robert L. Briggs, Executive Vice President, American Bible Society

David writes with a dramatic and compelling flair, enticing us to meet with God and therein find life. His intent to let God’s Word speak through the psalms is accomplished with theological sensitivity to the sitz im leben and creative application to the context of our lives today. Well done, David! Psalms Alive! helped me inhabit the Word and know Him more.

Rev. Dr. Lawson Murray, President – Scripture Union Canada

American readers can click on this link to purchase Psalms Alive! Connecting Heaven and Earth. 

This 237 page devotional study is also available directly from the author by clicking here.

The Soldier Who Killed a King—A Review

17 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by in book review, Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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As published in Testimony Magazine, March/April Edition, 2018, reviewed by Dr. Darlene Witte-Townsend 

The Soldier Who Killed a King was voted the top book in the biblical fiction categorybiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig for 2017 by the Christian book service, Interviews and Reviews. Having recently read this book, it’s not difficult to see why. It plays like a high-stakes movie in your mind.

Canadian author, David Kitz, closely examines the events occurring between Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and his resurrection a few days later. But we see all these events from a unique perspective—through the eyes of a Roman soldier.

This engaging, hard-hitting narrative is a distillation of Kitz’s study and prayer over a 50-year span, when as pastor, educator and Bible dramatist, he steeped himself in the wonder of this story. As a novelist, he reveals profound respect for the historical record through his characterization of Marcus Longinus, a Roman centurion who is unwillingly caught in the power struggles of the day. Furthermore, Kitz stays true to the scriptural account by integrating more than a hundred quotes from the Gospels into the story text.

Three corrupt men, Herod Antipas, “the Fox,” Pontius Pilate, “the Badger,” and Joseph Caiaphas, “the Weasel” have an insatiable lust for money and power. They each attempt to use the political tumult of the time for their own gain. In contrast to the stench of their machinations, Kitz offers a deep sense of Jesus, the donkey-riding King, as the man in whom all of heaven is invested. Jesus emerges in the Roman world offering an entirely new way for humankind to be reborn.

Above all else, this is a story of personal redemption. Marcus, the Roman Centurion is like us, caught between worlds. Who is his king? Why?

The Son of God shows unlimited compassion through healing the sick and feeding the hungry, and his purity catches the attention of the masses in a drama that still shakes the world, one aching, open, humble heart at a time. Do you need to rediscover the power of the cross? The Soldier Who Killed a King will take you there.

Excerpt 32 for Easter from The Soldier Who Killed a King

01 Sunday Apr 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Easter Sunday, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Nine in the morning, Sunday, April 9, 30 A.D.
Marcus Longinus, the Roman centurion, investigates his soldiers’ report that Jesus had risen from the dead.

It was as they said. The stone was rolled away. But it was not merely rolled to the side as I had expected. It had been pushed right up and out of its stone track, and it had toppled over a good distance from the tomb entrance.
I edged my way toward it. About two paces from the end of the stone track, there was gouge in the shallow soil, where the round cover stone had landed and then rolled. This was a real headshaker. How had this happened? It must have been rolled back with such force that when it reached the end of the track, it bounced up and out. No wonder the men were scared! This was awesome. Forty men could not do this!
Suddenly I felt very small, small and afraid.

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Photo credit Jean Levac, Ottawa Citizen

And this was the very stone we had sealed just a day earlier. A close examination showed that in a few spots there were still fragments of broken plaster on it.I exhaled a huge puff of air. This discovery in itself was beyond all expectation. The force of the quake could not have done this. A quake of such magnitude would have collapsed the tomb itself, and not a building in the city would be standing. No, a direct force had hurled this boulder away from the tomb’s entrance.
An almighty warrior from heaven’s realm?
I rejoined my two men. Suddenly they gained a new level of respect in my eyes. Their fears had become my own. I found I was rolling my head from side to side just as I had seen Claudius do.

“You saw this happen?” I gestured to the fallen round rock and then put a finger to my lips. I was astounded.
“Actually,” Philip admitted, “I didn’t see him roll the stone. We all fell like dead men when the earthquake hit. But after, when I opened my eyes, the angel was sitting on it, and . . . and Jesus was walking out of the tomb.” He fell to his knees and began to beat the ground as he said this last part. He was gripped afresh by the memory.
“Where were you when this happened?” He raised his head and pointed to a spot a few paces away. “Right there.”
“And you?” I looked at Claudius. He pointed to another spot. “Just over here,” he said. “That’s my cloak. I left it when I ran.”
There was, in fact, a good bit of flotsam scattered about: a few cloaks, a water jug, Philip’s precious dice, even a helmet. Here were all the signs of panicked flight. They had left all and fled for their lives.
For me only one question remained. Was the open tomb truly empty?
“Get to your feet, Philip,” I said. “You two stay here and watch while I go take a look inside.”
I took three deep breaths and set out on my little journey. It was only about twenty paces4485 SHARABLE-2 to the tomb entrance. A distance made much longer by my fear. But the whole scene was bathed in the warmth of morning sunlight. I started slowly. About halfway to the entrance, a songbird broke forth in glorious melody. The sun’s rays streamed into the rock tomb, lighting my way.
It was empty! The stone slab lay empty. Actually, it was not entirely so. The death shroud had been rolled up, and the face covering was neatly folded and lay off to one side. It appeared as though the awakened corpse took a moment to make his bed after getting up.
The Galilean prophet, the true king, had arisen and gone forth!

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 30 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

30 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Good Friday, Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Three o’clock in the afternoon, Friday, April 7, 30A.D.
Jesus’ final moments on the cross.

Here is the obscenity of crucifixion. Naked men are unwillingly mated to two wooden beams. They must thrust the whole of their bodies upward in excruciating pain, ever- increasing pain to catch their next breath—until all strength is drained away. Then death steals in.
This is the shame of the cross. Here is the depravity—a profane sacrilege inflicted upon the human body.
The ghastly rhythm of it was driving me mad.
Then in soul- wrenching anguish, his voice erupted. “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”
“What does that mean?” I cried out into the darkness.
From beyond the military cordon came the answer. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
He had broken. The Christ hung broken. The cross had broken him. He too was human. We were all together now, a great crowd caught up in this drama. There was no us and them. We were together. We were caught between heaven and hell in this dark, surreal atmosphere.
It was dreadful. Centur Rep
Someone frantically yelled, “It’s Elijah! He’s calling Elijah.”
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
From on the Mother’s Hill, a wail went up. It was steady, constant, a wave of woe flowing over the dark scene.
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“Will Elijah come?” someone asked. “Will he come?” Many of the hostile were even now on bended knees. The cavalrymen dismounted.
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“I thirst!” the king called out.
Claudius leaped to his feet. There was a jar of wine off to one side. The soldiers had been drinking freely from this. He ran over to it and got a sponge. He dropped the sponge into the jar of wine and then skewered it with a long reed. This he held up to dampen the lips of the donkey king.
But some yelled out, “Wait! Let’s see if Elijah will come and save him.”
Exhale.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catch a breath.
Retreat.
The rarified air crackled with anticipation.
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
Can the Creator—the God of heaven and earth—save him now?
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“It is finished!” he cried.
But there was no anguish in his voice. There was the ring of victory to it, as if he had caught with that last breath a glimpse—a glimpse of his kingdom. A glorious kingdom! He had gained the summit. Now with vigor renewed, he pushed up and forward one last time.Free WWe SHARABLE-1 (2)
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever- heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“Father . . .
“Into your hands . . .
“I commit . . .
“My Spirit.”
His head dropped. It was over.
As his chin hit his chest, the earth began to rumble. Low thrumming. Building . . . building . . .
The rock Skull began to move beneath my feet. And with it, my soul.
I fell to the ground.
The crosses began to vibrate and rock with the power of the quake. His head bobbed from side to side.
But he was dead.
He was dead!
Everyone was with me on bended knees.
Heaven had rendered its dark judgment. The sun had hidden its face. The very earth had answered back. The verdict was in.
I caught two huge breaths of air, and then for the whole world to hear, I cried out, “He really was the Son of God.”
He was the Son of God.
The sun broke through.
A rooster crowed.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 28 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

28 Wednesday Mar 2018

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Nine thirty in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
The crucifixion of Jesus.

I tipped the bucket to one side to get enough swill to fill the dipper. I offered it to Jesus. He took a sip, worked the liquid around in his mouth, discerned the true nature of this bitter potion, and then spit it out. It left a dark stain on the dull gray rock near his feet.
“It will dull the pain,” I said emphatically.
He raised his eyes. They locked with mine. I saw in him the same look, the samebiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig determination I saw on the first day I set eyes on him, the day he rode the donkey into this city. I could still see he had a destination in mind. Some mystical purpose he somehow felt compelled to fulfill.
I dropped my gaze. He must be a fool. In his condition, in this situation, he must be a fool. A fool who unnerved me, but a fool nonetheless.
Once more I offered the drink.
With lips pressed tight, he shook his head.
He was a fool. An arrogant fool! A fool who thinks he’s tough—who can handle this—who can take it straight.
We would see who’s tough. I would show him who’s tough!
Let the big show begin.
“Now, boys!” I called out to the crew. Still wearing the purple robe, he was snatched like a young child and slammed down onto the crossbeam.
A cheer went up.
My right hand seized the hammer from Octavio. My left fumbled, then dove into, the nail pouch.
I dropped my knee onto his fingers.
Stabbed the sharpened point of the spike into the base of the palm.
Raised the hammer.
Xchuuuung!
An enormous cheer went up from the crowd.
Blood spurted across my thigh.
Xchuuuung!
Xchuuuung!
Xchuuuung!
One in.
The Christ was silent. Still . . .
Octavio urged me on. “That’s it, Marcus!”
I sprang to my feet, remembering the full rush of battle. Then scrambled to the other arm. From just off the hill, in the throng, a chant began and established itself. “More. More. More. More.”
Knee on fingers.
“More!”
Spike jabbed in.
“More!”
Hammer raised.
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
Two in. The Christ was silent.
Still . . . He was still beneath the piercing blows.
I rose, panting. Heart pounding. Bloodied hand dripping. Seeing a stainfree area farther up my hairy arm, I wiped it across my sweat- drenched brow.
Octavio saluted me with a smile and a thumbs-up signal.
The crowd roared their approval.
This time it was Octavio who yelled, “Hoist him up.”
The Christ was dragged gasping—desperately gasping—to an upright position before the death mast.
Now they could see him, and the crowd went wild with frenzied excitement. Cheering. Clapping. Hooting. Bloodlust took hold.
The props were applied to the arms of the crossbeam.
A new chant went up. 4485 SHARABLE-2
“Raise him up!”
“Raise him up!”
“Raise him up!”
Octavio signaled, and the men in back lifted the beam on which the Christ was pinned above their heads.
Then we all saw it—saw the obvious. He was still clothed. The purple robe billowed out as it was caught by a sudden cold gust of wind. The sight of it brought all my frenzied demons to the fore.
I stepped before him, looked into his agonized face, and said, “You won’t be needing this . . . king of the Jews.”
Then to the cheers of my men, I spit into his face. I added my spittle to all the rest that had dried and was clinging to his beard.
I untied the royal robe and dropped it in a heap to my right. Finally, with a wicked smile, and to cheers all around, I snatched his breechcloth from off his loins.
I tossed it to Octavio. He held it up. A trophy!
We laughed. We all laughed. I
t was a laugh not our own.
I recognized it. It was Herod’s laugh.
When he had regained some composure, the head jailer started the final count.
“Ready . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . now!”
To chants of “Raise him up, raise him up,” the Christ, the Messiah, the king, was lifted up—up before the world.
His head twisted from side to side in writhing agony. His whip-sliced back slammed against the upright as he was dragged higher.
Then with a flesh-tearing lurch, the notch in the horizontal beam found its match in the vertical. The rope was flung around, then drawn tight, securing the two cross members as one.
The silent Christ hung. He hung naked and bleeding before a jeering world.
Only the last spike remained. Awkwardly, I fumbled for it.
But a creeping unease overshadowed me. I glanced over my shoulder. Claudius stood alone, off to the side. Silent . . . He was ghastly pale and silent, transfixed by the sight before him.
I handed the last nail and the hammer back to Octavio and said, “You do it.” He snorted his surprise, but then set quickly to his task.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 27 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

27 Tuesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Eight forty in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
The trial of Jesus ends. The verdict is delivered.

Pilate was already seated, ready to pronounce judgment. A thin smile was now on his face. The cunning Badger would make the most of his final moves. When Jesus was in position, he began. Once more he motioned in the direction of the Christ, and to all assembled he announced, “Here is your king.”
“Take him away!” came the instant response. “Take him away! Crucify him!”
There was vehement insistence coming from the crowd. Some began to hurl dust in theBiblical fiction winner 2017 air. This was verging on a riot, a point that was surely obvious to the governor, yet he played them on.
“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate called back to the throng.
“We have no king but Caesar,” the Weasel spat back.
The Badger’s eyebrows shot up.
The governor smiled and nodded. It was a smile of triumphant satisfaction. We have no king but Caesar. The Badger mulled over these words. I knew he had waited years for these words. After all he had endured in this place, wasn’t it well worth hearing this confession from the high priest’s mouth?
Ironically, the governor had Jesus to thank for the high priest’s sudden conversion and submission to imperial Rome. This declaration would never have come forth from the Weasel’s lips, except to secure the conviction of the good Galilean. Caiaphas was willing to stoop before Rome in order to spill the blood of this prophet. Here was the true measure of his hatred for the Northern Messiah.
Pilate knew all this, and he drew a good measure of perverse satisfaction from it. He understood his foe.
He called for his personal attendant to bring a basin of water. Now he would lay the blame where the bloody blame belonged. With the attendant holding the basin before him, Pilate made a great show of washing his hands before the crowd, and with insistence in his voice, he declared, “I am innocent of the blood of this man.”
Here was the feint, the great pretend.
Next came the dodge.
With water still dripping from his hands, he looked out over the crowd and declared, “You yourselves see to it.”
He spoke as though he had abdicated—bore no responsibility for the blood that now trickled down Jesus’s back. He absolved himself of that and of all that would soon flow on Golgotha.
This Badger could throw a bit of dirt.
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It was fitting for Annas the aged priest to respond. It was he who answered for the people. With his finger pointed at Jesus and his gaze fixed on him, he replied, “His blood be on us.” Then he paused as though looking down through the generations of time. “And on our children,” he added with a cold, sardonic stare.
Out on the street the people answered, “Yes!” They nodded their agreement with this verdict.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 26 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

26 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Good Friday, Lent, Psalms

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Eight fifteen in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
Jesus endures the whipping post.

His body quivered with the shock of each blow. But he was silent. Silent and gasping. “Thirteen.
“Fourteen.”
I moved to one side, trying to get a look at his face. His thorn-crowned brow was pressed to the post.
“Fifteen.
“Sixteen.”
He was mouthing a word with each blow. What was it?
“Seventeen.
“Eighteen.”
It came with a gasp. Barely audible.
“Father.
“Father.”
At twenty I called a halt. They had traversed the whole of his body, from shoulders to feet. It was a bloody path. I examined the wounds—more damage than I expected.
His breath came in huge gulps. His eyelids flickered. He remained conscious. At least he remained conscious.
Centur. Sw
I stepped over to Gaius. I cut another three studs from his whip. Then I did the same for Lucius.
“Harder! Harder!” came a shout from above and behind me. It was Cestas—Cestas going wild on the balcony of the guest chamber. He couldn’t wait for the lashing to resume. Like a giddy child, he bounced up and down and hollered for more.
I gave an upward nod to Lucius and then began calling out the stroke count again. “Twenty-one.
“Twenty-two.”
They started over at the shoulders.
“Twenty-three.
“Twenty-four.”
Once more the frenzied cheers went up.
“Twenty-five.
“Twenty-six.”
Each man aimed to outdo the other; each blow was more savage than the last.
“Twenty- seven.
“Twenty-eight.”
He did not cry out, unlike many men I have seen. He was silent beneath the cracking whip, uncommonly silent.
“Twenty-nine.
“Thirty.”
Stroke by flailing stroke they moved once more across his bloodied frame. A quivering, rutted mess. That’s what was left by the time we reached forty. I stood near him—watched his breathing. It was fast but shallow, very shallow by the time we finished.
4485 TWITTERAmerican readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.