Go forth, daughter. Be gentle and take up the fight …
Not now, Lord, I can’t … Her knees began to tremble.
Her boss’s face grew still darker. “I said, do I make myself clear?”
Be strong and courageous. I will go before you …
Send someone else, Father. I’m not strong enough.
Daughter, nothing is impossible with Me …
But it was no use. Her knees were already weak; if she stood up to Dick Baker now she was likely to faint flat across the man’s feet. “Yes, sir.”
At Faith’s compliant answer, her boss’s scowl eased. “You’re a darn good reporter. Don’t get me wrong. We’ve … ” He paused as though he didn’t want to share this information with her. “Well, we’ve had calls about you and Chase. There’s talk about moving you up.” He pointed at her, his finger inches from the bridge of her nose. “The network’s watching, Faith. Don’t do anything to ruin it for yourself.”
Her heart felt as though it had been shredded by competing emotions. The network? Was it possible? Were they really interested in her for a potential national spot? Hope surged through her, then dimmed as her boss’s words rang in her mind again: Don’t do anything to mess it up … to mess it up … to mess it up.
In other words, don’t be a fanatic. Don’t wear your beliefs on your sleeve. Don’t be sold out to God.
Faith sighed. “I won’t, sir.”
Her boss smiled. “Thatta girl. When you look good, we all look good. Remember that.” He started to turn, but paused. “Don’t let me see that prayer thing again, Faith. I mean it.”
She caught herself nodding, and the sensation made her picture Peter two thousand years ago sitting around the fire outside the room where his friend, Jesus, was being interrogated. I swear, I don’t know the man … She could almost hear the ancient words of the apostle’s betrayal, feel the way his heart must have sank as he met the eyes of Jesus at that very moment.
Faith walked slowly to her car. Was she any different from Peter? Drawn and pulled and tempted to give up pieces of her soul—bit by bit—in a proud climb toward a position of power. The feeling clung to her like a damp blanket in summertime, and she couldn’t will it away no matter how hard she tried. What’s this feeling, Lord? As if trouble’s brewing and I’m not hearing Your will for me. And my enemies are rallying against me on every side.
Be strong and courageous … the days ahead will bring testing.
Testing? Great. Haven’t I been tested enough, Father?
She climbed into her Jeep and headed back to Bethany, wishing her father were still alive. Mom always turned in just after nine o’clock when she wasn’t out at a fundraiser or charity event. Once a week she’d tape the news and the next morning she and Faith would watch it over coffee. Her mother always said the same thing. You look lovely, dear … your father and I have always been so proud of you. Faith loved that time with her mother, but Dad … he was something else. He’d stay up until the news was over waiting for Faith’s call. She would never forget those conversations as long as she lived.
She’d call him from her cell phone the minute she climbed in her Jeep. “Dad, it’s me. What’d you think?”
“Sweetheart, you were more beautiful than ever. One of these days the network suits are gonna give you a call, and then everyone’ll know what a wonderful reporter you are!”
The memories dissipated and Faith drove home in silence. What would her father think of Rosa’s words being edited? Or of the way Dick Baker had practically threatened to fire her if she used stories that mentioned prayer or God? The worst part of it all was that Baker was right—Faith had signed the contract knowing the rules upfront.
The heaviness grew worse. She knew what her father would think. He’d tell her the same thing the famous Jim Elliott said before he was killed on the mission field: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”
It was her father’s favorite quote outside of Scripture.
Fifteen minutes later she pulled into her driveway, climbed out, and headed straight for her bedroom. How strange it had been to hear Mike Dillan’s name after so many years. Strange to think that she had survived not only the breakup with him, but also the accident that followed. No one had ever broken her heart the way Mike had. At least not since she was thirteen, the year she lost Jordan. Her heart drifted still further downstream. Jordan Riley. The boy she’d grown up with, the one she thought she’d marry some day.
As she walked back through the milestones of the past, she realized that at every turn her father had been there. Always it was Dad who held her close and convinced her that through prayer and trust in the Lord her losses would turn into something beautiful. It was only months after she’d taken the Philadelphia job that he quit working for the big city law firm and opened an office with his best friend.
“That way I can help keep an eye on you, sweetheart.”
She could hear his voice even now as she lay in bed and uttered one last prayer before falling asleep. “Thank You, Lord, for all You’ve brought me through. And please tell my dad—wherever he is up there and whatever he’s doing—tell him I said hi.” She paused.
“And tell him I miss him.”
4
The meeting took place at Alvin’s because, other than the Jesus statue in Jericho Park, it was the most well-known landmark in all of Bethany. Despite the smattering of fast food places that had sprung up along Highway 40, Alvin’s had continued to thrive. It was the only place in town where you could still get a burger, fries, and Coke for less than three dollars and not go away hungry.
At a quiet table for six in the back corner of the diner, Joshua met Mayor Frank, three of the city councilmen, and an attorney who handled general matters for the people of Bethany. The men exchanged pleasantries, talked about how big the trout were this time of year and the number of weeks until football season started. Then a silence fell over the table, and Frank cleared his throat.
“I’d like to explain the situation to Joshua.” Frank’s face was a mask of somber lines, and Joshua felt his heartbeat quicken. What could be this serious?
“Go ahead, Frank.” One of the councilmen nodded, and the others moved their heads in agreement.
Frank sighed. “You’ve heard of the HOUR group, right?”
Joshua’s mind raced, trying to remember. “They’re opposed to religious freedom … I’m trying to remember.” This was Bob’s expertise, not his. He felt a sense of panic as the others waited for him to place the group. “Wait a minute, I know. Humanity Organized and United in Responsibility.”
Frank nodded. “Exactly.”
A waitress appeared and took their order. When she was gone, Frank continued. “I have a connection in New York who called me yesterday. He told me on Monday morning someone from HOUR is planning to file suit against the town of Bethany.”
Joshua’s heartbeat accelerated. He looked from Frank to the other men and back again. File a lawsuit against Bethany? The town was too quiet, too small to ruffle the political feathers of a group such as HOUR. “Why would they do that?”
The men at the table exchanged glances, and just when Joshua thought he couldn’t take the suspense any longer, Frank spoke up. “They want the Jesus statue.”
For a moment Joshua was confused. The Jesus statue? What would a group such as HOUR want with Bethany’s Jesus statue? “I’m not sure I understand.”
Frank leaned closer. “They want it down, Joshua. Removed from the park. It’s a Christian symbol standing on public property, exactly the kind of thing HOUR loves to go after.”
A tingling sensation began in Joshua’s fingers and made it’s way up through his arms and down his spine. HOUR wanted to remove the Jesus statue? Immediately his mind kicked into gear. “This is big … ”
Frank sat back in his chair. “Exactly.” He looked at the others. “Joshua, we’ve had a meeting and this is a battle we don’t want to lose. We need more than general attorn
ey wisdom this time.” The general attorney in the group raised his eyebrows and took a sip of orange juice. Frank obviously was not worried about hurting the man’s pride. “We’ll have to wait until they file suit, but if they do … we’ve all agreed we want you to be our primary counsel on the case.”
HOUR wanted to remove a monument that had stood as the single, most well-loved landmark in town for more than a hundred years? The story was bound to gain statewide attention—even nationwide. Joshua had a sudden sense of panic.
This was too big for him. He needed Bob for this kind of thing.
As I was with Bob Moses so I will be with you.
But this is serious, Lord. It’ll take more than me—
Joshua, I will never leave you nor forsake you.
Frank was looking at him. “I’m assuming you want the job.” He paused, his gaze leveled at Joshua. “It’ll be the biggest case you’ve handled since you and Bob opened shop.”
“Right, I know.” Be strong and courageous … “Of course … I’d be honored. The statue has to stay, it’s that simple.”
“Off the cuff, could you … I mean, you know, if you had to make a guess at it now … do you think they could force us to take it down?” Frank’s usual eloquence had fled in light of all that was at stake.
Joshua swallowed hard. “Depends on how much precedent they pull.”
“Precedent?” Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t the law clear-cut?”
“Not usually.” This from the general attorney, who cast a look at Joshua. “My understanding is that case precedent works against us this time, am I right?”
Joshua nodded. “Right. HOUR prides itself on eliminating the aspects of American culture they feel violate the separation of church and state. The Jesus statue is the perfect target.”
There was silence as Frank crossed his arms, his teeth clenched. “That statue’s part of this town. They don’t have the right to come in here and—”
“We’ll have to find a loophole, a way to outsmart them.” Joshua hung his head for a moment and then looked at the others again. “I have to be honest, with Bob gone it won’t be easy.”
“You’ll have our support, whatever we can do.” The general attorney tapped his pencil. “It isn’t a matter of the religious right or separation of church and state. That statue belongs to the people of Bethany, and my guess is there’s not a person within a hundred miles offended by it.”
“Save that.” Joshua smiled. “We might need it for closing arguments—”
Frank broke in. “None of it matters unless they actually file suit. And we won’t know that until Monday.”
The men agreed to keep the issue to themselves unless it became a reality. In that case, they’d need all the favorable media contacts they could get. Joshua thought of Faith Evans and hoped it wouldn’t have to involve her. She’d been through enough without adding this.
The meeting was over, and the men went their own ways—all but Frank and Joshua. They talked about the possibilities as they wandered toward the parking lot. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you.” Frank shoved his hands in his pockets. “Be ready.”
Be ready … be ready … The same words he’d felt God laying on his heart the day before. Be strong … be ready … I’ll go before you. Yes, though the situation might seem impossible, the Lord had His hand in it.
Frank drove away and Joshua followed. But instead of heading home to Helen, he turned right and then right again on Main Street … half a block down to Jericho Park. It was a small place, really. Not like those built by newer communities, with tennis courts and indoor swimming pools and play equipment stretching half an acre. On the left stood a double swing set and two slides—set in sand. Also in the play area were two teeter-totters and an old metal merry-go-round, the kind kids powered by running alongside. Ancient maple trees edged the park on both sides, and a cement walkway meandered along the entire perimeter. Across from the play yard was less than two acres of neatly manicured mature grass.
And standing proudly in the center of the grass was the Jesus statue.
Joshua climbed out of his car and walked toward it, remembering all the times he’d worked or played or loved or laughed in the shadow of that chiseled, ten-foot piece of stone. A few years ago the Bethany Chronicle ran a story about the statue, detailing the history of the piece. Created by a local artist, it was donated to the city before the turn of the twentieth century. Of course, back then Bible lessons were taught in public schools and the Ten Commandments hung in every classroom. The townsfolk received the statue gratefully, in awe of the artist’s ability to capture Christ’s expression of compassion.
Over the decades stories had risen and become part of the town’s folklore—stories of people passing through town, spotting the Jesus statue, and being so moved they gave their lives to the Lord then and there. Or of people who’d been to the park a hundred times suddenly seeing something about the eyes of the sculpture that caused them to come clean with God and pray for a fresh start.
Joshua moved closer to the statue. It was no surprise.
The statue depicted Jesus, arms outstretched, palms up, beckoning those with hurts or fears or pain to come to Him. There was something about the eyes … something steeped in love and peace and grace and forgiveness. Something that showed the way Christ would always yearn for the return of His people.
Joshua was at the foot of the statue now and he read the placard engraved at its base: “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest … Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Jesus.”
That was it. A person could actually feel his soul resting in the presence of Christ’s words, in the shadow of His image. Not that the statue itself held any power, it simply directed one to consider the greatness of God, the peace one might experience if only he took Jesus up on His offer.
Certainly in light of the political climate and in light of the persecution promised in Scripture, it was understandable that some might find the statue offensive. But remove it from the park? Joshua thought about other public places he’d visited, parks with statues of famous generals, influential Native American leaders, or great men and women in the Civil Rights movement. If those statues were allowed, what right did HOUR have to remove one that depicted Jesus Christ?
Regardless of whether people took Him at His word, Christ was real. He lived and died and made a tremendous impact on people, both in His day and in the present. That alone should be justification for keeping the statue up. Christ was an historical figure.
But Jesus was so much more than that. And Joshua was willing to bet the people at HOUR knew this. Certainly they were aware that no other man in history had affected mankind as much as Christ. No other had demonstrated the power to instill such deep emotions and widely varying reactions from people. His presence was life-changing for some while it filled others with violent hate. There was no one else who evoked such a dramatic response from all who came to know of Him.
But then no other man was the Son of God.
Joshua sighed, studying the statue’s eyes. They seemed so lifelike. So full of love, of compassion.
Joshua closed his eyes. Don’t let them file suit against us, God. What if we lose? What of the cost to the people of Bethany if the statue is forced to go?
Joshua blinked and turned his back to the statue. Gazing into the blue sky over Bethany he begged God again to keep HOUR from filing, painfully aware that the law was on their side, not his.
Be strong and courageous, Joshua, I will go before you.
The holy whispers resonated in Joshua’s soul, bringing a sense of peace he hadn’t felt since Bob died. Somehow he knew that whatever might happen Monday, God would see him through. He rested in that thought for a moment. Okay Lord … I’ll trust You.
After all, what choice did he have? Outside of Gods intervention, if HOUR filed suit against Bethany on Monday the situation wou
ld be hopeless.
Whether Joshua was strong and courageous or not.
5
Jordan drove to Bethany Sunday afternoon and by ten o’clock that night had checked into a local motel. Normally, seven hours in the car would give him time to review his caseload, strategize about upcoming lawsuits, and work on closing arguments for those in progress. This time, though, he’d been plagued by unwanted images, memories that had propelled him into an exhausting inner battle. Every few moments he was drawn to remember the past, to walk through it and touch it and savor life the way it had been. But just as quickly would come his determination to keep such thoughts at bay. He was a survivor, not a sentimentalist. He refused to live in yesterday’s time zone.
If that wasn’t enough, he was burdened by the uncomfortable feeling that his life’s work was somehow flawed. His opponents were defenseless types, such as the New York schoolteacher or pastors or youth group leaders. Was there really victory in winning cases against such people? People who certainly had never intended to cause harm? Shouldn’t he have been using his legal talent to rid the streets of real criminals?
Of course, anyone who encouraged public expression of religion was a criminal in Jordan’s mind. But still the feeling remained.
In the end he blamed his confusing thoughts on overwork and a lack of sleep. When he reached the hotel, he put away his things, brushed his teeth, and dropped into bed, where he immediately fell asleep.
When he awoke Monday he fairly sprang out of bed, showered, shaved, and had a cup of coffee two hours before he needed to be up. He had three very special visits to make. How they went would determine his final decision about filing suit against Bethany. His boss would agree with him either way. If Jordan called and said he’d changed his mind, that the statue was not as offensive as he remembered it to be, Hawkins would never mention it again.
Fifteen minutes later, he drove up in front of the Bethany courthouse and found a parking space. As he made his way up the steps, Jordan caught his reflection in the mirror. He prided himself on looking nice and today was no exception. A professional wardrobe should make a statement and his consisted of Armani suits, starched buttoned-downs, and soft leather dress shoes.