But here’s the truth: S.O.L.A.D.™: Soldiers of Light Against Darkness™ is not just another comic-style novel. It’s an anointed assignment. It’s storytelling with spiritual teeth. And it might be the very thing your soul’s been searching for.

Whether you're writing a fast-talking sidekick, a stoic hero, a scatterbrained genius, or a bitter ex, every voice should stand on its own. Let’s dig deep into what it means to craft distinct character voices that resonate—and how to avoid blending your cast into one, indistinguishable blur.

Every field eventually grows things you did not intentionally plant. Weeds don’t ask permission. They spread quietly. They compete aggressively. And if left alone long enough, they overtake good seed. This post is not about condemnation. It is about clarity. Because one of the most dangerous spiritual mistakes we can make is praying for harvest while refusing to remove what is choking the field.

There is a kind of faith that doesn’t announce itself. A kind of obedience that doesn’t require affirmation. A kind of devotion that keeps showing up whether anyone is watching or not. This is faith that doesn’t need applause. Not because it’s weak. But because it’s secure.

The Silver Surfer commands one of the most formidable power sets in Marvel: • manipulation of matter and energy• faster-than-light travel• near-invulnerability• cosmic awareness• healing and resurrection• transmutation and survival in any environment Yet his greatest power is the one most beings reject: Restraint.

The confetti has settled. The declarations have quieted. The pressure to reinvent yourself overnight has softened. And that’s a good thing—because real transformation doesn’t happen in the shouting. It happens in the steps. This second day of 2026 is where faith moves from intention to motion. Not leaps. Not dramatic pivots. Just the decision to keep walking with God when the excitement fades and the work begins. That’s where favor shows up.

Ray Kinsella isn’t looking for meaning when the voice comes to him. He’s just walking through his cornfield, living an ordinary life, carrying unresolved questions about his past and his father. And then, out of nowhere, the impossible happens. A voice speaks. It doesn’t identify itself. It doesn’t provide credentials. It doesn’t offer proof. It simply gives instruction. Build… and trust.

Let me be real with you: it was stressful, uncertain, and at times, downright exhausting. There were moments I didn’t know how the bills would get paid. Nights I sat with questions bigger than my answers. Weeks where discouragement screamed—but God’s whisper still cut through.

As we reach the last Tuesday of the year, the 30th of December, it’s only fitting to talk about the art of waiting. Right now, the world itself is suspended in a strange pause—between the closing of one chapter and the quiet hope of another. The same is true in your fiction. Your characters—and your readers—can sit in that pause, in that unbearable space between what was and what’s coming. The tension of waiting isn’t just a pause in action. It’s the loaded silence before

Some are grateful. Some are disappointed. Some feel proud. Some feel behind. Some are relieved the year is ending. Some are afraid they didn’t do enough. And here is the lie that creeps in at year’s end: “If it didn’t bloom this year, it must not have mattered.” But Heaven does not measure time the way calendars do. God does not erase seeds just because a year ends.

Soldier of Light Against Darkness™, 2025 does not require you to carry every experience forward as proof of endurance. Some things were endured so they could be released. The mistake many believers make is assuming that because something survived the year, it must be assigned to the next one.

Through exhaustion. Through loss. Through disappointment. Through prayers that took longer than you wanted to be answered. Through days where quitting felt reasonable and rest felt unreachable. You are still here. And that alone makes you heroic.

God says plainly, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… and when you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned” (Isaiah 43:2). Notice the language. Not if you pass through—but when. Favor does not prevent the fire; it ensures the fire does not consume you.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) That single truth sits at the center of Christmas. The Light (Jesus) did not wait for darkness to retreat. It entered it — fully, deliberately, lovingly.

In S.O.L.A.D.™: Soldiers of Light Against Darkness™, this reality hits hard. Kevin (Angelo™), Juanita (Angeline™), Wiseman J and Jeff: Ward of Law don’t always get perfect choices. Sometimes the mission demands what the heart finds hard. Sometimes the cost of doing nothing is far greater than the cost of doing something imperfect.

In today’s Tony Tips Tuesdays™, we dive deep into the art of crafting powerful endings—those that echo like a final note of a symphony, or a prayer whispered just before sunrise.

Some of the most important seeds God ever gives you must be planted in obscurity — where no one claps, no one affirms, and no one sees the effort except Heaven. And for many believers, this is the hardest field to stay faithful in. God still does some of His best work in secret places.

Today marks 11 years since my father passed. Yesterday, I stood in Memphis and attended the funeral of my cousin. Life continued. Faith remained. But the weight was present. There are moments when grief doesn’t scream—it sits. It doesn’t demand attention—it simply exists. And faith doesn’t erase those moments. Faith walks through them. This message isn’t about loss taking over. It’s about faith that carries us through loss—steady, grounded, and unbroken.

Stan Lee has repeatedly cited classic monster duality as core inspiration—especially Frankenstein and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—for the concept of a man wrestling with an uncontrollable other self. Jack Kirby also leaned into the “Frankenstein in all of us” idea when describing why the Hulk worked as a character people could relate to. That’s the genius of the Hulk: He’s not just a superhero. He’s a myth. A warning. A mirror.

Divine renewal is not God fixing what’s broken —it’s God refreshing what has been faithful. It is the holy reset of the soul. The quiet rebuilding of strength. The gentle reminder that you are not meant to pour forever without being filled again. Divine renewal is God saying, “Come rest. I’ve got you from here.”