Author Interview: Singing Through Fire by Lara Silverman, J.D.

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

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Excerpt (Chapter 18)

My Funny Valentine

Knock. Knock.

My heart pounds as I waddle slowly to the door, clasping onto walls.

I open it, and Matt stands there in beige work trousers, a blue button-down dress shirt, his regular black jacket, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. His signature wide smile falters at the edges, twitching nervously.

Nothing in his hands.

My heart drops.

“Hi Lara,” he says, lips tight, glancing down at his feet.

“Hi Matt,” I respond, gesturing him in.

He parks himself in an isolated chair, then anchors his gaze at his feet.

Mr. Couch sits empty—our usual spot. He seems…nervous? I need a minute.

“Be right back.” I shuffle to the bathroom and close the door behind me. He didn’t bring anything. No flowers? No card? Does he even care? I bite my lip. Why are you so ridiculous? Calm down. You’re just “hanging out.” The guy has cancer. What did you expect, tickets to Paris? Maybe.

I take a breath, square my shoulders, and head back to find Matt perched stiff in the chair, fidgeting with a Kleenex. He darts me a glance when I sit across from him in my own chair. I wrap the pink blanket tight around my legs. Just friends.

Silence.

We sit here frozen, glaring straight at each other, two deer caught in headlights.

I shuffle my feet. (My fuzzy pink unicorn slippers scream “cozy grandma,” but at least my lip color screams “I’m trying.”)

“Hi Matt,” I try again, biting my lower lip.

“Hi,” he says, flashing a tight smile, his hands locked together.

Silence again.

Seconds stretch into an awkward eternity.

I look down at the floor to avoid eye contact.

So does he.

So much for all the emotional intimacy from the last six hangouts. Hollywood lied—there’s no romantic violin playing in the background.

And then, Matt abruptly moves. He rummages through his backpack, stands, and walks toward me.

“I got you somethin’.” He smiles, bashfully, holding out an adorable white and black polka-dot stuffed animal puppy, and a beautiful red box of chocolates.

Relief floods my chest. So sweet. Phew.

“Oh, Matt. Thank you.” I grin wide and clutch the puppy. “I’m naming him Fluffy.”

His eyes light up. “Remember when you asked me why everythin’ can’t just be puppies and butterflies? Well, here’s your puppy. God tells us He’ll give us joy, even in suffering.” He fumbles over his words, backing away from me and clasping his hands together again.

Silence.

Lara, change the energy. Say something.

“Did you notice, um, how I’m wearing makeup? First time in… Feels like I’m alive.”

“Yeah.” Liar. Guys never notice these things. “But you don’t need it.” Ooh, that’s kind.

“For the record, I’m not high-maintenance,” I tease. “You can take me out just for burritos sometime if I ever leave this dumb house.” Yeah, sure you’re not high-maintenance. That’s why you almost lost it at the thought that he showed up empty-handed.

He cocks his eyebrows. “You do realize you’re wrapped in a pink blanket with hearts on it. And pink slippers.” I look down as far as I can go. Touché. I can’t look down too far or my ear crystals will unlodge, causing a harder spin.

“Girly isn’t the same as high maintenance, Matt. And I’ll hurt you if you tease me again.”

“Ooh, I’m scared. You can barely walk.” He grins wide, taking his black jacket off. Ooh. Edgy, dry humor? Ice is broken? Wait… The guy can flirt? He never showed me this side in 2017. Hmm.

My eyes dart to his left ear, which is attracting my attention. Why does it pop out slightly more than the right one? Is it a strategic antenna for theological debates? It’s actually really…adorable?

In no time, the awkwardness fades into deep conversation. Debating theology. Suffering. Our safe space. Common ground. We share some chocolates, and the smooth, velvety chocolate melts on my tongue, balanced by the satisfying crunch of roasted almonds. I haven’t had chocolate in four years. Delicious.

Half an hour later, we’ve drifted to the dining room table, sitting next to each other at a close angle.

“Matt, I feel so abnormal. Do you ever feel that way?”

“Yeah. Like, why do I have to go through cancer twice? I’ve asked the Lord that a lot.”

“It must be so incredibly hard.”

He exhales. “Thanks. Small intestinal cancer is so rare that docs don’t understand it. They don’t even know how I got to Stage 4 so fast.”

“I can’t even imagine. Look at us Matt. This is so sad. We’re both grieving.”

“But we’re also comfortin’ each other. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted, right?”

His eyes brighten. “Here, let me show you somethin’.” He pulls out his laptop, flipping to a CAT scan of his intestines.

“See these big yellow cancer blobs? Three weeks later—before I had even started chemo for this cancer—gone. Miraculously. God can do anything. My docs were baffled. Gave me a chance to witness to one of ‘em actually. No idea if he took me seriously. Sometimes it’s in our greatest suffering that God gives us the best opportunities.”

Feeling stiff, I start rolling my shoulders and self-massaging my neck to ease my electrical nerve pain. When I grab the table to steady myself against a more acute vertigo wave, Matt’s chair scrapes against the floor.

In seconds, he’s behind my chair, his hands hovering near my neck. What is he—

His fingers suddenly press gently into my skin.

What on earth? Is Matt, the Godly, introverted PhD, actually massaging my neck and shoulders? In like a surprisingly suave kind of way? Plot twist I didn’t see coming.

“This is what we do in Haiti after long days,” Matt says. “A stress-relief line.”

Yeah…I’m sure you do… This feels a bit…scandalous? Wonderful? Did he just cross the “no more than hand holding” barrier? Whatever, at least we’re both more at ease now. Did he enroll in acting lessons lately?

He’s so mysterious and aloof sometimes that I can’t tell if he knows exactly what he’s doing or is clueless. He’s one of those intensely cerebral people who only say twenty percent of what they think, unless you explicitly ask or engage them.

Fifteen seconds tick by in silence, the gentle touch of his hands lingering. Say something, Lara. Anything.

I decide to sing softly, “My funny valentine, sweet comic valentine, you make me smile with my heart. Your looks are laughable, unphotographable, but you’re my favorite work of art.”

Matt chuckles as he massages. “Are you sayin’ I’m funny lookin’?”

“No, it’s a popular jazz standard. But I can tease you when I like.” We both giggle and the tension cracks again.

“So, uh, Matt…favorite animal?”

“Eagles. I was an Eagle Scout. They remind me of strength and courage.”

“Any others?”

“Hmm. Whales.”

“Why?”

“During my first cancer, I watched Free Willy obsessively, then the Make-A-Wish Foundation sent us to Alaska to see the whales after I healed.”

“Was it magical?”

“Yeah.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?

“Mint chip.”

“Me too! Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Introvert or extrovert. What type?

“I’m type Matt.” Touché.

“Thing you hate?”

“Travel. The self-indulgent pictures, ‘luxury’ sights, airport lines.” He stops massaging and slides back into his chair.

“I love travel! Think history. Culinary and cultural delights! Okay, fine.” I roll my eyes. “Something weird about yourself?”

“My stubborn belief duct tape can solve anything.” He giggles.

“Favorite sport?”

His eyes narrow playfully. “This interrogation is worse than the first time I visited you on New Year’s.”

“When I get nervous, I go into lawyer mode. Lots of vicious questions.”

“I think you’re tamer than you think.” His eyes widen flirtatiously.

“But,” he adds, “badminton. Couldn’t run anymore after the first cancer because of back pain so I switched from soccer to the high school badminton team.”

Okay, Lara, bring out the big guns. He seems open. Let’s see what he’s got.

“Can I confess that a few years back, I thought it was sexy when you used Inspector Gadget as a metaphor in one of your Bible devotional videos?”

Sexy? Really? You literally just told the youth pastor he’s sexy? Does he even know that word? I think I meant attractive? Adorable? Either/or?

“That’s a weird thing…”

He flashes an awkward smile and his left ear—the one that adorably pops out—goes bright red instantly. After processing what I just said, his lips curve into a huge grin. “But I’ll take it.” Okay. Now I’ve warmed the guy up.

He cocks one eyebrow. “But you know, you should be focusin’ on the content of my devotionals.” He’s got sharp flirtatious instincts. Who knew?

“Don’t get smart with me. I can break up with you,” I reply.

Matt leans in, smirking. “We haven’t even started yet.” Ooh, Matt: 10. Lara: 10. Why is this so exhilarating? I can’t remember the last date who kept me on my toes. Wait, I can’t remember my last date, period. Ugh.

“Tell me something else I wouldn’t expect about you Matt.”

“Hmm, let’s see. In college, I survived on eight dollars a day for food, just to see if I could for three months. Wanted efficiency in my cookin’. And I made a California proposition analysis series using stick figure jokes and flowcharts. Non-partisan.” Oh my gosh, that big brain is just so…

“See? You were meant to be a lawyer or policy analyst,” I tease. “Anything else I wouldn’t expect?”

“I can sew.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on a competitive knitting team too?”

“Nope. Just patches. Things fall apart, I fix ‘em.”

“No Versace frontlines in your future?”

“Don’t know what that is. Been wearin’ the same suits for years. They fit just fine. But every Christmas, Mom insists on buying me the ‘trendy’ stuff.” So that finally explains why some of his outfits are meh, while some are at studmuffin level!

I turn to questions about his current job as a professor, shaping the minds of hundreds of students who go on to test blood in hospitals. He tells me about playing flute in the UCLA marching band and his experiences as a Christian camp counselor.

“So there I was,” Matt recalls, giggling, “in front of a room full of kids, explainin’ chemical reactions when—BOOM!—the beaker foamed over like a volcano. They went wild, cheerin’ like I was a science magician. I gave a little bow, secretly prayin’ the table wouldn’t catch fire. The kids clapped and shouted, ‘Do it again!’”

I smile, but the spinning and electrical pressure in my head overwhelm me. “Mind if we move to Mr. Couch now? Need to lie down soon. Feel really faint.”

“Sure thing.”

We get up and sit on the plush blue cushions side by side. A beautiful sunset paints a picture right outside the big windows. Hues of orange, red, and gold cut across the sky like an artist’s bold brushstrokes. We watch in silence, soaking it in. Good timing. My right hand inches toward the empty space between us, and the ghost of his touch lingers in the gap. The air feels charged between us, like something has shifted. Does he want to take my hand? I need… I want…

“After being stuck inside for so long, and with my eyes closed, seeing all this feels unreal,” I whisper. “The first time I saw myself in the mirror after everything… I bawled. My eyes are open now. Open! I know I’m spinning harder as a result, but I don’t have a choice. Whether I heal or not, I have to keep sitting up. But firecrackers are going off in my brain nonstop.”

“I know, Lara.” He slides an arm around me, as his other hand finds mine. Finally.

I feel so vulnerable. But so safe. Mr. Couch has become our sanctuary. A place of stolen moments. Giggles. Escapes. And now, he’s…holding me. In both arms.

“The sunset’s beautiful,” Matt whispers, his eyes on me now.

I meet his gaze. How come I never realized how handsome his almond shaped brown eyes are? I falter, unsure whether to look away.

He doesn’t look away.

Neither do I. This is so intense.

“You are too, Lara.”

My heart flips…fast. Did he just tell me I’m beautiful? Oh, when he says Lara in that deep voice…

“Thank you, Matt. I…” My voice wavers. “I’m so sorry I’m an angry basket-case of grief these days. Where’s old optimistic Lara? I’m still singing, but…pissy. I used to love the Lord so much.”

“I don’t see you as depressed. I see you as fightin’. For your health and life. And you’re still talkin’ to God.” I arch an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he adds, “maybe yellin’. But you haven’t lost your faith. You could have walked away by now. Strength isn’t measured by success; it’s measured by courage and perseverance in faith, even despite great testing.”

He sighs. “Look, maybe next time we can watch ten minutes of a terrible movie or eat yummy snacks. You know, normal people stuff. Whatever you can handle given the whole electrical wave sensitivity thing. Here, let’s pray.”

As Matt prays, the garage door rumbles open. Mom and Pops are home.

Matt’s arm instantly slips off me, and he stands, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. “I should get goin’. You need rest.” He helps me stand and I grip onto him for balance against the turbulent shaking of the room.

Our eyes lock, and there it is again—an electric pull buzzing between us.

He leans in.

Close.

Maybe nine inches from my lips.

Then—he steps back, exhaling.

“I have surgery comin’ up. Let’s skip next week, so I can rest up, yeah?”

“Of course.”

He pulls me into a hug.

Neither of us let go.

I breathe in his scent—clean, fresh, familiar, comforting. A scent I’ve grown attached to. Almost an airy cologne but softer.

“What cologne do you wear, Matt?”

“Soap,” he says with a smirk.

“Cologne isn’t in your ideal bag of basic blessings?”

“You, my lady, should focus less on that bag thingy and more on the treasures you’ll hold in Heaven.” My lady? He’s giving off major British gentleman vibes which is so my gig as an Anglophile.

As Matt drives off in his car, the thought hits me. Am I going to die before this man visits me next? Every goodbye lately feels like the end of a season finale. “Tune in next week to see if Lara’s still alive!” Ugh, I hate this feeling that the clock is ticking, but no one will tell me how much time I have left. Lord, why that dream?

I shuffle to my room, catching Pops murmur a joke to Mom in the family room: “Those two are all well and good with their health issues, all they need now is a little romance and heartbreak.”

Heartbreak?

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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.

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Author Interview

Q: What inspired you to write Singing Through Fire?

Lara: This book was born out of survival. I have spent years living with severe chronic illness, and in the middle of the pain, the grief, and the absurdity of it all, I kept writing—sometimes in journals, sometimes in scraps of humor on social media, and sometimes in theological laments that felt more like court briefs against God. Eventually, I realized those fragments told a story: not just about suffering, but about the presence of God in the fire. Writing became a way to testify that even when life doesn’t make sense, God does not abandon us.

Q: How long did it take to write this book?

Lara: In one sense, it took eight years—the whole long season of illness, loss, and wrestling with God. But the actual manuscript took nine months of concentrated writing, written from my bed (I am still bedridden half of each day). Some days it poured out like confession; other days it was like chiseling granite with a spoon.

Q: What surprised you while writing this memoir?

Lara: I thought I was writing a book about pain, but what surprised me was how much laughter slipped in. Some of the hardest nights became the funniest stories on the page. I also discovered that my doubts and my faith weren’t enemies—they were dance partners. The wrestling didn’t weaken my belief in God; it deepened it.

Q: Do you have a favorite quote from Singing Through Fire?

Lara: One of my favorites is: “People keep telling me to live in the here and now rather than focus on Heaven. But when you’re grieving, eternity isn’t a far-off idea—it’s the only hope that helps you survive the flames you’re currently in.” That line captures the tension I lived—caught between present suffering and eternal hope.

Q: What do you hope readers take away from Singing Through Fire?

Lara:I hope readers walk away knowing they are not alone. Suffering often feels like exile—like everyone else got to stay in the land of the living while you’ve been shipped off to Babylon. But God walks into exile with us. My prayer is that people see that their story, however broken, is still part of God’s eternal story—and that even in the darkest seasons, there can be both laughter and joy. God calls us to have joy in grief. It’s all over the Bible, so let’s take this to heart! Sorrowful, but rejoicing!

Q: Would you share something about yourself that most readers wouldn’t know?

Lara: I’m a jazz singer and comedian. I grew up playing wacky roles in musicals and dramas and loved every moment. I’m an actor at heart. Performing is my first language of joy, and I still sneak it into my life whenever I can!

Q: What are you currently reading?

Lara: I am reading He is Faithful In Every Season by Julia Rose. It is an absolutely breathtaking collection of poems written by an incredibly talented Christian author. The artistic and Biblical messages in it have really encouraged me in this dark season of grief.

Q: What is your favorite season and why?

Lara: Autumn is my favorite—it feels like the world is exhaling. The pumpkin spice lattes are number one in my book! The air sharpens, the colors blaze, and even the leaves preach a sermon: you can let go of everything, place it in God’s hands, and trust that your story will be beautiful, even in the pain. Even in the change. Autumn reminds me that painful endings still carry their own kind of glory.

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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.

Enter Giveaway

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