And speaking of old friends. . . . When last we visited John Stevens here, I was extolling the virtues of his biographical portrait Baja’s Wounder Healer: On the Frontline on the War on Human Trafficking. This collection of fictional stories covers some not entirely dissimilar territory. So read on, and see whether you’ll . . . um, read on. . . . Honestly, the title itself should provide a pretty good indicator. . . .

John G. Stevens. Battle Stations: Using the Stations of the Cross to Assault Complacency, Sanctimoniousness, and Empty-Headedness in His Church. 136p., $14.00 (hardocver), Amazon/Kindle.

As might already be evident, John uses an ingenious device to tie his stories together, using each of them as illustrations of the stations of the cross. Together, they remind us that no matter what we go through, Jesus has been there and is there, and meets us in our own brokenness. Which, given many of the stories that follow, will prove to be a good thing.

For example, victims of sexual assault and strugglers with same-sex attraction are frequent in these stories. At times the accounts seem too close or too dark for comfort—like maybe we shouldn’t be looking in—but we’re invited to do so anyway.

Be also forewarned: You won’t like some of the characters here, like Belinda, who prays for the death of her husband—and helps accomplish it by way of her manipulative religious beliefs. But others you’ll root for, like the young rape victim Amanda and her gay/celibate Christian friend Caleb who helps her raise the son that came out of that horrific event; and the Mexican high school student Abran, trying to sort out the genuine Christians from the more racist imposters tormenting him.

There are times when the frequent movie and literary references get in the way of the story directly in front of us, and the alternation between third-person and first-person stories can jar the reader before he/she knows how/when to shift gears. But by and large, John’s style is disarmingly honest, poetic, and enjoyable. You will feel for (most of) the characters in these stories, maybe shed a tear or two, and maybe . . . just maybe . . . like Simon of Cyrene, be inspired to help carry someone else’s cross.