SUNDAY MORNING service had already begun when Josiah edged into an empty space that sandwiched his car between a silver BMW and an early model Mustang that was candy apple red all over, except for the driver’s-side door. It was black, an obvious replacement for the original. Josiah felt fortunate to spot a vacancy so close to the structure. The owner of the BMW had parked over the line, probably intentionally, with the hopes that no one parked beside it. Owners of expensive cars did that kind of thing all the time to lessen the possibility of getting dings and scratches on the precious frames of their automobile. Fitting between the two vehicles wasn’t too great of a challenge for Josiah’s coupé. He figured that the owner of the BMW wouldn’t be too upset to see the car nestled so close beside his was also a German-made showpiece.

Josiah had purposefully arrived late, hoping that doing so would allow him to be inconspicuous in the crowd. Not that anyone here would remember him after so many years. He realized that the chances were better than good that the Smiths may no longer worship here. But if no one else remembered him, Josiah hoped that the pastor would. No doubt, Dr. Charles Loather could tell him how to get in touch with Thomas and Joanne Smith. They had been loyal members of the church for quite some time. Even if they had moved out of the city of Atlanta, or out of the state of Georgia, Josiah was sure that they wouldn’t have done so without informing Dr. Loather of their whereabouts.

Dressed in a single-breasted, charcoal grey Armani suit, Josiah climbed out of his car and used his tinted windows to check his reflection. Then he took a moment to absorb the enormity of the new improved structure that stood before him. The church itself was at least twice the size it had been when Josiah last attended. And that wasn’t including the large school that had been built on the grounds beside it. KINGDOM BUILDERS ACADEMY, the sign on the front of the learning center said. The property looked massive in comparison to what it had been fifteen years ago.

The overhead sun beamed down on Josiah, and after being outside his car for only a few minutes, he could feel beads of sweat forming on the top of his shaven head. The handkerchief he pulled from his pocket made quick work of absorbing the moisture.

Long strides narrowed the gap between Josiah and the front entrance of Kingdom Builders Christian Center, and when he opened the door, cool air from the air conditioner greeted him much like the air at MacGyver did every morning upon his arrival at work. It felt good.

“Welcome, and God bless you,” a greeter said, handing Josiah a church bulletin.

“Thank you.” He tried not to appear surprised. He couldn’t remember KBCC being a multicultural church when he attended as a child.

Josiah must have looked like an outsider because the Caucasian redhead immediately handed him a visitor’s badge and said, “My name is Jill; and you are?”

“Josiah,” he responded. He offered his hand and hoped hers were clean.

She accepted his handshake and said, “As in the biblical Josiah, king of Judah?”

Shrugging, Josiah replied, “Same spelling anyway.” He didn’t know if anything else about his life and King Josiah’s could compare.

“Praise God!” Jill was far too excited. “What a blessing. Is this your first time worshiping with us?”

“Yes … I mean, no.” Sounds from inside the church diverted Josiah’s attention. The choir was singing, and their harmony was delightful to the ears. Josiah appreciated Jill’s warmth, but he longed to enter the main sanctuary. He fumbled with the buttons on his suit jacket, but never took his eyes off the woman who stood before him. “It’s been several years since I’ve been here, but I’ve been here before,” he explained.

“Good. I pray that you enjoy the service today.” Her smile showed off braces that were almost invisible. Josiah wanted to ask her who her dentist was so that he could pass along the contact information to Mickey. Jill swept an arm toward the double wooden doors. “Go right in and an usher will be more than happy to direct you to the best possible seats.”

“Thank you.” Josiah had no intention of sitting anywhere near the front.

The male usher at the door smiled his greeting just before presenting Josiah with an envelope in which he would place his monetary contribution if he so deemed. Josiah accepted the Tiffany blue envelope, then pointed toward the corner seat on the back row, indicating that it was where he wanted to sit.

Though the edifice was large, it was more wide than long. The pews and carpet were the same blue as the offering envelopes. Josiah estimated that the church seated eleven or twelve hundred worshipers, and although it wasn’t filled to capacity, there were easily a thousand people already inside. The church membership had grown by leaps and bounds since the three or four hundred that were there when Josiah was a boy. For the first few minutes of his arrival, all he could do was take in the sight of it all. It felt good to be back in the place where he’d had his first worship experience.

Josiah’s attention snapped to the choir stand as they began singing a new song. The piece was a slow tempo worship song that was probably considered by most gospel music lovers to be a classic. “The Anointing” had been made famous by John P. Kee and the New Life Community Choir in the ’80s. Josiah remembered it best as a song that the Smiths would play in the cassette player of their van back in the days that he shared their home.

Josiah watched as an eye-catching female stepped from the soprano section of the choir and took the mic to perform the lead vocals. “Good gracious alive.” When the middle-aged woman sitting next to him gave him a critical glare, Josiah knew that he had said the words out loud and not just in his mind as he’d hoped. He squirmed in his seat and made every effort to avoid eye contact with his disapproving neighbor. The sister in the choir stand was much easier on the eyes anyway.

The girl with the microphone didn’t appear bashful, but her lean build wasn’t convincing that she was up to a task the size of John P. Kee’s hit. Josiah expected the sound that eventually came from her mouth to be as delicate as she looked, but the soloist proved that looks could be deceiving. When she opened her mouth, the hairs on Josiah’s arms came to full attention. He could feel them pushing against the fabric of his shirt.

When she reached a pinnacle in the song, balled up her left fist, and reared back as she held a lengthy high note, the crowd rose to its feet, blocking Josiah’s view of the pulpit. Undaunted, his eyes locked onto one of the big screens that hung from the church ceiling. It provided a better view of the sister whose angelic voice had managed to get the church in such a frenzy. Slender curves and smooth, flaxen skin made her physically alluring. Her facial appearance bore a striking likeness to fashion mogul Kimora Simmons, only this singer was a bit thinner and fell far short of Kimora’s six-foot stature.

Josiah flipped through the church bulletin in search of her name, but it wasn’t listed. When he realized what he was doing, Josiah couldn’t help but chuckle. He had just turned into Craig Wilson. Scanning a church program in hopes of learning an attractive woman’s identity was definitely something his best friend would do.

When the rousing song ended, Josiah stood with the others and gave the choir their much deserved accolades, but his applause was more for the soloist than anyone else. Josiah wondered if she were married … and whether or not she was a triple B. She was definitely beautiful, and since she was working in ministry within the church, Josiah couldn’t imagine that she wasn’t a Bible-believer, which was the most important “B” of them all. And brilliance was relative. If she wasn’t a college graduate, he could deal with that. A person didn’t have to have a college degree to be bright. But idiocy was a deal breaker. He couldn’t see himself in a relationship with a woman who acted like a Lucy Ricardo or a Rose Nylund. Not even a beautiful Bible-believing one.

Becoming aware of his ridiculous wandering thoughts, Josiah shook his head at his own craziness. He’d been around Craig too long.

“Let’s just take a moment to bask in God’s love,” the pastor said as he took the podium. “Truly, His love makes the difference in our lives. Let’s worship the Lord this morning. Let’s worship Him in the beauty of holiness.”

Josiah tried to concentrate on worship, but now he had been provided with a new distraction. He was confused by the man who now held the microphone. When the choir director introduced the second song, he said that the next voice they would hear would be that of Pastor Charles Loather, but the man in the pulpit wasn’t the Charles Loather who had served when Josiah lived in Atlanta.

The new Pastor Loather eventually took his text and began ministering to the crowd, but Josiah remained detached, suddenly wondering if he were in the right place. It would be more than coincidental for this church to have the same name as the one he attended fifteen years ago and for the pastor to have the same name as the one who served as shepherd here fifteen years ago.

Forty minutes after the sermon began, Bibles were being closed, with Josiah barely retaining one word of the day’s message. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces as the altar call was made and droves of people vacated their seats to receive special prayer.

“Please, God,” Josiah whispered. “You didn’t bring me this far to waste my time. I know you didn’t.”

When the altar call ended, he searched more faces as the people made their way back to their seats.

Still nothing.

The choir stood once more and began singing one last song as the congregants were encouraged to prepare their tithes and offerings. Church leaders stood across the front of the church, holding gold buckets in their hands to receive the monetary contributions.

Josiah took a fifty dollar bill from his wallet and stuffed it in the envelope he’d been given upon entering. He didn’t bother to fill out the personal information on the envelope. Instead, Josiah simply checked the box marked VISITOR and tucked the flap inside. He flinched at the sight of those around him who so readily grazed their tongues across the glue on the flap before sealing the envelope shut. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that.

With joyous music setting the tone, Josiah followed the orders of the usher and fell in line with the others who marched toward the front to place their monies in the buckets. He wanted to catch a closer view of the sister who had led the song earlier, but Josiah was afraid that his fixation would be too obvious. His eyes remained focused in front of him until he looked in the face of the woman who was holding the offering bucket that he was to drop his envelope into.

For a fleeting moment, she held him prisoner. This one captivated him for a different reason. Josiah searched her face, and she searched his right back. Gathering himself as best he could, he managed to release the envelope and continue the trek to his seat. God was merciful enough to allow Josiah to make it to his place on the pew before his legs gave way.

He sat glued to his seat, not even able to stand for the benediction as instructed. And while others rushed to vacate the building after the last “Amen,” Josiah remained in place, trying to collect his strength, trying to gather his nerves. He needed to get it together. He’d found her, but he needed to find her again. This might be his only chance to …

“JT?”

Josiah’s heart was placed under arrest when he heard the voice of the woman who had been the one to give him the two-letter nickname at the age of eight.

“Lord, have mercy, Jesus.” Her words were slow, and her voice owned a slight tremble. “JT, is that… is that you?”

He didn’t have to find her. She’d found him. It had been fifteen years, yet she remembered.