Welcome to the Blog Tour for Singing Through Fire by Lara Silverman, J.D., hosted by JustRead Publicity Tours!

About the Book

Title: Singing Through Fire
Author: Lara Silverman, J.D.
Publisher: Isaiah 4320 Press
Release Date: August 26, 2025
Genre: Christian Romance/Memoir

What if you fall madly in love on the brink of eternity?

Singing Through Fire invites readers into the Job-like true story of a young woman who loses everything—and dares to ask why a good God allows it.

When Stanford Law graduate Lara Palanjian collapses on her dream job, she never imagines it will lead to four years bedridden—or to the love of her life.

Enter Matthew Silverman: a witty, wise, and impossibly joyful youth pastor and professor facing terminal cancer. What begins with a few random encounters soon ignites an extraordinary, God-written love story that neither of them saw coming.

As their unlikely romance unfolds between medical crises, late-night laughter, and unexpected musical performances, Matthew’s unshakable faith challenges everything Lara thinks she knows about God’s goodness—and what it means to walk with Christlike faith, resilience, and joy in the face of overwhelming grief and suffering.

But with time against them, one question looms louder than the rest: What if this gift is only for a moment?

Shockingly funny and spiritually rich, Singing Through Fire is a modern-day Job meets Lucille Ball. It explores what it means to suffer, love, and even laugh and make music while your life is burning down around you. It eloquently gives voice to the aching questions many sufferers quietly carry—then takes readers inside the breathtaking story of two people who found miraculous love and defiant joy amid heartbreaking loss.

It reveals how God can use even our deepest pain to write the most beautiful love stories—even on the cusp of eternity.

PURCHASE LINKS: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop

Book Excerpt

The Dream Job – Chapter Three

January 2018, three months later

“I’m Lara. Nice to see you again.” 

I give the attorney next to me a wide smile and a firm handshake—firm enough to assert confidence, but not so firm that I’d get sued for battery.

Goal: make an amazing first impression. 

I’m donning “law and order chic” today—a white silky blouse and a fancy black suit jacket and skirt set tailored precisely to my measurements. I just bought it in Hong Kong during my mini “in between jobs” vacation. 

As I sit down in the black conference room chair behind me, I notice the walls are lined with dark wood paneling polished to a sheen, creating a sense of gravitas. In one corner, a large American flag stands proudly. The floor is covered with a plush, deep burgundy carpet that adds warmth to the otherwise austere atmosphere. 

The Criminal Division Chief, Alyssa, begins speaking with a blend of professorial authority and eager enthusiasm. 

“Welcome Jared, Lara, and George! I hope you three settled in last week. For orientation today, we’re refreshing the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure. Then it’s off to your new caseload.”

As Alyssa talks, I can barely focus, because I’m preoccupied with one simple fact.

I’ve made it. 

I’m a thirty-year-old brand new federal criminal prosecutor, or “Assistant United States Attorney.” It’s my second week on the job in downtown San Francisco. To say I’m stoked would be like saying a squirrel is kind of into nuts.

This is one of the most sought-after roles in the legal world, and I’m deeply grateful because God prepared me for this moment my entire life. Middle school speech contests, college mock trial competitions, stints at the District Attorney’s office and the U.S. Department of Justice, trial work at the law firm. One of my favorite verses has always been Isaiah 1:17—“Learn to do right; seek justice… Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” Now, I finally have the opportunity to be a trial lawyer fighting for criminal justice day in, day out.

This isn’t just a job. It’s my calling. 

Drug lords? Gangs? 

Bring on the Al Capones of the world, baby. I’m one of three lucky new hires out of thousands of applicants, who now has the privilege of saying these coveted words in a federal court of law—“Good morning, Your Honor. My name is Lara and I represent the United States of America.” After law school, I landed prestigious jobs with two federal judges to increase my chances of landing this specific position later. The plan—I’ll do ten years as a prosecutor, then some smart President will appoint me to serve as a federal judge for life—if only I work hard enough.

Today, I’m one step closer to the promised land. 

Ten minutes later, Alyssa is still talking but I’m doing an internal panic check. 

Abdominal pain. Sweaty palms. Intense ear pain. A headache that feels like a construction crew is jack-hammering inside my skull. Hold it together, Lara. Focus. What’s wrong with you? Do you have the flu?

Minutes pass. 

Nothing changes. 

Pain seems to intensify. 

I shift in my seat. Sweat dampens the back of my neck under my tight hair bun, and my body is involuntarily swaying in an ironic effort to steady itself. The room feels too warm, and yet my fingers are ice cold, clutching the edge of the conference table. My thoughts are foggy, my vision is oddly blurry, and I can’t focus on Alyssa’s voice. Something’s off. Very off. 

Alyssa’s voice drifts in and out. She’s saying something about Criminal Rule No. 16 when—

BOOM, the world flashes white in my vision. What on…

Alyssa pauses, eyeing me as I hobble up in an effort to stand. “Lara, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, Alyssa. Can I please go to the bathroom?” 

She furrows her brow with concern. “Of course.”

I wobble to the bathroom, holding onto walls to keep myself steady and avoiding eye contact with anyone at all costs.

In seconds, I’m sitting on an uncomfortable toilet seat with the toilet lid down, hunched over with my hand on my chin, a vision of pure confidence.

I gulp down my water bottle, wondering if dehydration is the issue. 

No change. 

I sit a little while longer. I can’t believe this is happening. What am I missing in the orientation room? Why do I feel so off? They didn’t tell me in law school that the real courtroom drama happens in a bathroom stall.

I guilt myself for another ten minutes, shaming my body that it’s a complete failure. (In “Laranomics,” self-compassion and rest are for the weak, and feelings are for defense attorneys.) Why are the fluorescent lights attacking my eyeballs? Do I have sunglasses? Oh, great idea—just throw on some aviators and channel your inner undercover agent. That’ll earn you credibility real fast in court.

And then it happens again— 

BOOM, something explodes in my left ear, and my vision flashes white again. But this time, I see another lightning flash out of the corner of my right eye and the bathroom door starts waving back and forth in my vision, as if it’s about to take flight. What on earth?

I clutch the bathroom door, trying not to lose it. Gross. 

I’m holding onto everything—my dignity, my balance, my very sanity. In seconds, I pull the toilet seat up, lurch forward, and out comes the beautiful croissant I ate it this morning. My newly tailored Hong Kong suit now has the distinct aroma and feel of regret and partially digested pastry. Fantastic. Nothing screams “future judge” like eau de vomit. This cannot be happening. 

I force myself to regroup, giving myself a psychological pep talk. Look, God has always protected and blessed you because He loves His children. You’ll get better. Just drag your caboose in there and handle this.  

A few minutes later, I walk out of the bathroom like a disgraced pageant queen and saunter back into the conference room. All eyes turn to me as I walk straight to Alyssa and state the unthinkable in Laranomics. 

“Sorry Alyssa, I think I need to take a taxi home. I don’t feel right, and I think I might have the flu…or something.”

“Of course.” 

I stuff my newly minted Department of Justice badge into my briefcase, slap my black coat on, and wobble out of the federal building, holding onto walls when necessary. Perfect. I’m debuting my new legal career with the impression of a drunken flamingo. This better heal fast, whatever it is. 

If I have to limp into my first court trial like this, the only thing I’ll be prosecuting is my dignity.

About the Author

Lara Silverman is a Christian author, lawyer, jazz singer, comedic actress, and violinist. She holds a J.D. from Stanford Law School and a B.A. in both Economics and Political Science from UC Berkeley, where she was one of six finalists for the University Medal, Berkeley’s highest academic distinction. Before falling seriously ill in 2018, Lara worked for two federal judges and practiced high stakes litigation for three years at Arnold & Porter Kaye Scholer LLP, where she specialized in intellectual property, antitrust, and contract cases of all kinds.

In 2023, Lara co-founded The Silverman Show—a multifaceted comedy, music, and theology show—and released her debut jazz/pop album as her own music producer in February 2024, even while bedridden. In September 2024, she debuted as Mrs. Serious in her solo Armenian comedy show online. Lara’s writing has been featured in various respected Christian blogs, where her reflections on faith, suffering, and grace have encouraged others. Even as she remains mostly bedridden today, she anchors her unwavering hope in God.

Connect with Lara by visiting her website, Facebook, Instagram, and her YouTube channel.

Tour Giveaway

(1) winner will receive a $30 Amazon gift card!

Full tour schedule linked below. The giveaway begins at midnight September 15, 2025 and will last through 11:59 PM EST on September 22, 2025. Winners will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US/CAN only. Void where prohibited by law or logistics.

Giveaway is subject to JustRead Publicity Tours Giveaway Policies.

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