This series began with two questions: who was Joseph of Arimathea, and why was he allowed to claim the body of Jesus? Anna’s journey grew from that wondering, and the Arimathea Chronicles follow the threads of healing, faith, and unexpected courage across first-century Judea.

Why Anna? Why now?

The question readers ask most often is: "Why create a fictional daughter for Joseph of Arimathea?"

The answer is simple: I wanted to see Jesus through fresh eyes.

We know the Gospel accounts by heart—the miracles, the teachings, the ultimate sacrifice. But what did it feel like to be there? To watch a teacher heal the broken, challenge the powerful, and gather a ragtag band of followers who would change the world? What did it truly feel like to know Jesus as a friend and a person?

Anna gave me that opportunity, and the more time I spent inside her head, the more I fell in love with her.

Who Was Joseph of Arimathea?

The Gospels give us tantalizing glimpses of Joseph: a wealthy member of the Sanhedrin who was "waiting for the kingdom of God" and who, despite his position, became a secret disciple of Jesus. When Jesus died, Joseph boldly asked Pilate for the body and provided his own new tomb for the burial. A true act of courage that risked everything Joseph held dear.

Historical tradition suggests Joseph was a tin merchant, trading along the routes that connected the Mediterranean world to the tin-rich mines of distant Britain. Some accounts even propose that young Jesus traveled with Joseph on these trading voyages.

Beyond the biblical record, legend fills the gaps with stories of Joseph traveling to Britain after the crucifixion, bringing the Holy Grail, and founding the first Christian church at Glastonbury. Whether these tales hold historical truth or reflect medieval imagination, they testify to the enduring fascination with this mysterious figure who stood at the crossroads of power and faith.

What we know for certain is this: Joseph was a man of means and influence who chose to honor a condemned prophet when doing so could cost him everything. That choice, and what led to it, is where Anna's story began for me.

The Research Journey

Creating authentic biblical fiction required diving deep into first-century Palestinian life—not just the big theological moments, but the texture of daily existence. How did people travel? What did they eat? What did healing practices look like before modern medicine?

I did my best to represent that time period properly. Anna’s journey begins on the estate of Armithea, but where was it?

Finding Arimathea

One of the first challenges was a geographical mystery: Where exactly was Arimathea?

The biblical text tells us Joseph was "from Arimathea," but scholars have debated its location for centuries. Some place it at Ramathaim-Zophim (Samuel's birthplace), others suggest Rentis near Lydda, still others point to Ramallah. The truth is, we simply don't know with certainty.

For this series, I chose to place Joseph's estate in the hill country between Jerusalem and the Mediterranean coast—close enough to the holy city for his role as a Sanhedrin member, yet far enough to provide the seclusion Anna's story required. The region's terraced vineyards, olive groves, and strategic location along ancient trade routes made it a fitting home for a wealthy, influential family navigating the political and religious tensions of their time.

Sometimes the gaps in history become gifts—room for a storyteller to imagine what might have been.

The Heart of the Story

But historical accuracy alone doesn't make a story worth telling. At its core, The Arimathea Chronicles is about what it costs to believe, what we gain when we risk everything to follow truth, even when it leads us into danger.

Anna's journey is fictional, but the questions she wrestles with are universal: Can I trust what I cannot see? What if faith requires more than I'm willing to give? How do I love someone whose calling might destroy us both?

These are the questions that haunt us still. And perhaps, by walking alongside Anna through the dusty roads of ancient Judea, we might find answers for our own journeys.