Some books entertain, and books enlighten, but Bigger by Anthony Gifford manages to do both without ever raising its voice. It’s the kind of story that seeps in quietly, showing that revelation often enters through the ordinary through a man, a moment, and a simple red stone that refuses to be explained.

Anthony Gifford, the protagonist and the author, begins his story weary of the world. He has lived faithfully, written passionately, and waited patiently, only to feel that purpose has passed him by. Then, one evening in Kingston, the extraordinary literally lands at his doorstep. A luminous object, neither frightening nor familiar, becomes the vessel through which the divine enters his life again.

What Gifford does so beautifully is strip faith of its grandeur and return it to its essence: relationship. The rock doesn’t give Anthony power; it gives him perspective. His health improves, yes, but more importantly, his heart opens. The energy he receives is not meant for him alone; it becomes a current of compassion that flows outward, touching the lives of strangers, skeptics, and sufferers.

Gifford’s prose reads like a prayer disguised as fiction. Each sentence invites reflection; each scene feels like a meditation on what it means to see the sacred in simplicity. The author avoids dogma entirely, choosing instead to let grace move through gesture. The miracle isn’t thunderous. It’s the way Anthony listens more deeply, forgives more easily, and loves more freely.

Throughout Bigger, the line between heaven and earth dissolves. Gifford reminds us that perhaps the divine doesn’t descend, perhaps it’s always been present, waiting for recognition. His Kingston streets become modern temples, his ordinary interactions quiet forms of worship.

By the story’s close, readers realize that Bigger isn’t just a narrative; it’s an invitation. It asks us to stop searching for the extraordinary and to start noticing it. Anthony Gifford’s rediscovery of purpose becomes our own reminder that holiness is not reserved for saints; it’s woven into every act of kindness, every breath of gratitude, every ordinary doorway that leads us home.