Even though most of Madera lay quiet and sleeping when Josh returned from the fiesta, he decided to visit the church. His first glimpse of the brown wood building sheltered by trees and topped with a steeple filled him with awe. Light from a full moon and countless stars streamed down like a heavenly benediction. Modest and unassuming, Christ the Way Church could never compete with Bayview Christian. Yet something about it drew Josh.
He stepped inside. Moonlight streamed through the clear glass panes. It lit some of the wooden pews and left others in shadow. He walked up the center aisle and knelt before the altar. Peace fell over him like a mantle.
After a long time, Josh rose and silently slipped out into the glorious night. A sense of Someone walking beside him grew as he began his walk back to the Yosemite Hotel. “Why does this cow town church cry out to me?” he whispered. No answer came, but the Presence remained. The faith that had led Josh to test God by coming to Madera became knowledge: This was where he belonged.
The next morning, Josh awakened to the chime of church bells summoning the faithful to worship. He sprang from bed and peered out the open window. No fog or shining bay greeted him, only smiling skies and a dusty street leading to Christ the Way Church. Josh filled his lungs with morning air. “Thank You, Lord, for bringing me to this place. Help me speak words of truth and of You.”
After a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s pleasant dining room, Josh escaped Captain Perry Mace, the talkative proprietor, and hurried to the church. To his delight, the church had lost none of its charm in daylight. The sensation of being inexorably drawn to it intensified, and the sound of music lured him inside. Dark-haired Abby Fallon sat at a small organ. She smiled, continued softly playing, and said, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Thank you, yes. I’ll just put my Bible on the pulpit and get back outside.”
Abby’s eyes twinkled. “Good idea. Folks will want to see you.”
Josh grimaced. “I know. Preacher on trial and all that.” To his amazement, Abby didn’t argue. It gave him food for thought.
Josh stepped outside and watched an assortment of conveyances roll up and disgorge their passengers. He saw townspeople, singly and in groups, hurrying up Main Street. Riders hitched their horses to a nearby rail and tried to rid their boots of clinging yellow dust. A battery of eyes turned toward Josh: friendly and welcoming except for the four men who stood with Luther Talbot, all wearing wait-and-see expressions. Josh targeted them as the church board. Luther looked like he’d been drinking vinegar. Had he already expressed doubts about the visiting minister?
“Morning, Josh.” A cheerful voice sang out.
He turned to see a grinning Tim Sterling helping Ellie out of a buggy. She looked absolutely fetching in a simple, light blue gown and matching hat. Josh searched for something to say to keep from betraying his excitement at seeing her again. “Good morning to you both. Nice clothes, Tim. Not as flashy as what you wore for the fiesta though.”
Tim twitched the string tie adorning his plaid shirt. “Naw. I gave them back to Juan.” He cocked his head and blurted out, “How come you’re wearing a suit?”
“Tim!” Ellie protested. “That’s rude.” Color stained her smooth cheeks.
“Why?” her brother wanted to know. “Matt said city preachers mostly wear fancy robes and turn their collars backward.”
Josh couldn’t stifle his amusement. “Not this preacher. Besides, I may be a country preacher pretty soon.”
Tim’s enthusiastic “Yippee-ki-ay” turned heads and made Josh cringe. But the light in Ellie’s eyes and her barely audible “I hope so” helped restore his equilibrium enough to change the subject.
“I forgot to ask Red how the church got its name. It’s certainly unusual.”
“A real jim-dandy,” Tim announced. “Matt and Dori’s folks helped build the church. Folks didn’t know what to call it, but William Sterling said flat out it was Christ’s church and should be named for Him. It’s been Christ the Way ever since.”
“A good name and a good story,” Josh approved.
The church bell pealed a warning note. Tim looked worried. “You better get a move on, Josh. Luther Talbot looks sour enough to curdle milk. C’mon, Ellie.” He hurried her up the steps and inside with Josh at their heels.
This is it, Lord, Josh prayed. He took his place on the raised platform. Luther settled into a chair beside him. Josh surveyed the packed church. Sunlight streamed through the clear glass windows. It reflected on steel-rimmed spectacles and Sheriff Meade’s badge and sent rainbows dancing around the room. It touched worn hymnbooks and the faces of a congregation far different from Bayview Christian. Clothing ranged from spotless but unfashionable to brand-spanking-new. Captain Perry Mace removed his ever-present top hat and gave Josh an encouraging smile.
Josh’s gaze landed on Caleb Sterling. Face still damp from a recent scrubbing, cowlick slicked down, the small boy gave Josh a gap-toothed grin.
It changed the course of the service.
Lord, everyone here needs to hear of Your great love, but none more than the children. Give me the courage to do what I feel I must.
Luther stepped forward, exuding importance. He cleared his throat. “Most of you know that as chairman of the church board, I’ve been in charge of the services since our former minister moved on to new pastures.”
Josh fought the insane desire to howl. New pastures. Bad choice of words. After today’s sermon, Luther would be more careful how he used that phrase!
Luther continued. “Reverend Joshua Stanhope is here with us today. I ask for him your kind attention. But first we will sing ‘Bringing in the Sheaves.’ ” He added, “Our Lord told us the harvest is white but the workers are few. This has never been more true than now.” Luther droned on and on, louder and more emphatic, until Josh wondered if there would be time for a second sermon.
Luther didn’t stop expounding until Tim gave a loud cough and muttered, “Sorry.” The chairman nodded at Abby and said, “Let’s stand for the opening song.”
Josh didn’t dare look at Tim. He concentrated on the hymn. Bayview Christian never sang it, but “Bringing in the Sheaves” had been one of Uncle Marvin’s favorite songs at the rescue mission. It brought back memories. The down-and-outers had sung it as fervently as this congregation, now on the last line of the refrain: “We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.”
God, grant that the harvest may be great, Josh prayed.
The song ended. Luther offered a long prayer before directing the congregation to be seated. He returned to his chair and Josh relaxed. Having Luther behind him was a blessing, considering what “Reverend Joshua Stanhope” was going to do.
Blood pounding in his ears until it threatened to deafen him, Josh walked to the front of the platform but didn’t step behind the pulpit. “I’m glad to be here with you.” He took a deep breath. “Will the children please come forward?”
Eyebrows rose. A gasp from Luther echoed through the church. It did not deter Josh. In all the time he’d been preaching, he’d never been more sure of himself.
At first, no one moved. Josh saw Caleb look at Matt for permission before heading toward the front of the church. Gideon followed; then a whole flock of children surged forward. Josh seated himself on the shallow steps leading up to the platform and motioned for the children to join him. “I have a story for you. Your mothers and fathers are welcome to listen, too.”
Luther’s chair tipped over with a bang. “Really, Reverend, I must protest.”
Josh turned. “Please be seated, Mr. Talbot.” Their gazes clashed and held. Then to Josh’s relief, Luther gave a loud harrumph and resumed his place.
Third round. Stanhope, 1. Talbot, 0.
Josh swallowed a chuckle and turned back to the children. “How many of you live on cattle ranches?” he inquired. Several hands shot up.
“How many of you go riding in the hills with your daddies?” Other hands raised.
Josh leaned forward and said in his most mysterious voice, “Do you know that God is a cattle rancher?” He thrilled at the interest in the children’s eyes. “God says in the Bible that he owns the cattle upon a thousand hills. I saw a lot of cattle yesterday but not that many!” He kept his attention on the children. “Even though God owns all those cattle, His Son, Jesus, is called the Good Shepherd. That’s funny, isn’t it?”
The children nodded, but Luther mercifully kept still. Josh went on. “A long time ago Jesus told a story that shows how much God loves everyone. We call it the story of the lost sheep.” Josh glanced at the congregation. A small group sitting near the back wore broad smiles; Josh suspected they were the sheep owners. Others in the congregation scowled. Even Tim looked doubtful, but Ellie’s blue eyes sparkled.
“A certain man had a hundred sheep. One day when he counted them, one was missing. The man left the other ninety-nine and went to find the sheep that had wandered away from the flock. The story says the shepherd was really happy when he found his sheep and brought it back where it belonged.”
“I bet the sheep was happy, too,” Caleb piped up.
Josh laughed and rejoiced when the congregation joined in. “I’m sure you’re right, Caleb. You may all go back to your parents now.” He stood, waited until they scrambled back to their places, then crossed to the pulpit and opened his Bible.
“Isaiah 53:6 says, ‘All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.’ ” Josh closed his Bible and leaned forward. “You probably wonder why I chose to preach about sheep here in cattle country.” He waited for a murmur to die. “I don’t know much about cattle and sheep, but I know one important thing: You can herd cattle. Sometimes the ornery critters object and sometimes the herd stampedes, but cattle can still be driven.”
Josh leaned forward, aware of quickening interest in the congregation. “Sheep can’t be driven. They have to be led by someone who understands them and cares about them. Someone who is willing to give his life to save the flock.” He paused. “The biblical account of the lost sheep doesn’t list details, but the fact that the shepherd left the ninety and nine in the wilderness shows us the search couldn’t have been easy.
“I’ve asked Miss Sterling to sing a song that tells what the search may have been like. In 1874 a man named Ira Sankey was on an evangelism tour in Scotland with Dwight Moody. Sankey tore a poem from a British newspaper, put it in his pocket, and forgot about it. At a service later that day, Moody asked Sankey for a closing song.
“It caught Ira by surprise, but the Holy Spirit reminded him of the poem. He took it out, said a prayer, and composed the tune as he sang. ‘The Ninety and Nine’ was Sankey’s first attempt at writing a hymn tune.” Josh nodded to Ellie. “Miss Sterling.” He went back to his chair.
Ellie stepped to the front of the church. Abby played a few notes. Ellie began singing. The first clear note laid a hush over even the smallest child. Josh sat spellbound. Where had this rancher’s daughter learned to sing like this? Ellie’s voice surpassed the finest soloists who held highly paid positions at Bayview Christian. The words filled the sanctuary:
“There were ninety and nine that safely lay
In the shelter of the fold.
But one was out on the hills away,
Far off from the gates of gold.
Away on the mountains wild and bare.
Away from the tender Shepherd’s care. ”
The song continued, painting unforgettable pictures of the obstacles the shepherd encountered in his quest to find the lost sheep. The congregation sat transfixed. When Ellie reached the final stanza, her voice swelled with joy:
“And the angels echoed around the throne,
‘Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!
Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!’”
Ellie took her seat. Tears crowded behind Josh’s eyelids. He rose and slowly walked to the pulpit. He struggled for words to match the triumphant ones lingering in the sunlit air. Finding none, Josh bowed his head and said, “Let us pray.”