Down from the Cross by Joyce Livingston

hear me out, God.
“Yes, Keene is quite famous, highly respected in the music world, and very much in demand.”
    “What’s that got to do with our problem?” The man with the little glasses leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
    “Like I said, I work for Keene. He is making his home in Providence for the next few months, learning and rehearsing the new opera he will be performing next year. We’ve… we’ve become good friends.”
    Pastor Congdon cleared his throat. “Go on. Tell them your idea, Jane.”
    Her heart raced. If she didn’t feel God’s guidance in this, she would run out of the room and never look back. “I–I don’t know if Mr. Moray would have any interest in what I am about to propose, or if it’s even possible with his contract, but I’d like the board’s permission to ask Keene to sing Jim Carter’s part—the part of Jesus—in
Down from the Cross.”
    One of the younger men leaped to his feet and glared at her. “Do you have any idea what it would cost to hire someone like him? I know the church wouldn’t be able to afford it!”
    “I’m sure he has a contract of some sort that requires union fees. We sure couldn’t afford to pay him that kind of money,” another added.
    Jane chose her words carefully. “I–I was hoping he’d figure out a way to do it for a minimal fee, maybe even gratis.”
    “Why would he do that? He’s never even been to our church, has he?” another asked.
    Pastor Congdon stood and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, if I may, I’d like to add something to what Jane has said.”
    All eyes turned his way.
    “When Jane called me, I was skeptical about this idea just like you are. But the more she talked, and the more I listened, I realized this could be the answer to all our prayers—prayers that, in some way, God would make it possible to provide this community with the truth of His Word through our Easter presentation.”
    He paused and rested his palms on the conference table. “This man may not even consider Jane’s idea, but then again, maybe he will. She feels it is worth a try to ask him. I agree with her.”
    “But is he saved? Does he know the Lord?” a man seated next to the pastor asked.
    Jane felt she should answer his question since she was the only one personally acquainted with Keene. “No, he is not saved, though I have been witnessing to him nearly every day. At times he seems open, and I’m praying he’ll confess his sins and ask God’s forgiveness before he leaves Rhode Island. He’s a wonderful man and a gentleman. You’d all like him.”
    “I’ve always questioned anyone playing the part of Jesus, even Jim Carter, but an unsaved man? I’m not sure that would be wise,” another man offered, concern written on his face.
    “I understand what you’re saying, Milton,” Pastor Congdon said kindly. “But let’s think about this carefully. What is our goal here? Is it not to reach the people in our community with the message of God’s Word? Through music and the spoken word? Isn’t that the reason we always have an altar call at the end of each performance?”
    “But an unsaved man singing the part of our Lord?”
    Pastor Congdon rubbed his chin. “Tell me, Milton, do you know for sure that each member of our choir is saved? We have a big choir, some 150 people on any given Sunday. Some folks just like to sing and want an outlet for their talent.”
    Milton stared at him for a moment before answering. “I hate to admit it, but you may be right.”
    Pastor Congdon gave the man an appreciative smile. “Let me bring up another point here. We have a fairly large orchestra to back up our choir on Sunday mornings, right?”
    Everyone present nodded.
    “Have you forgotten we hire about half of those people? They are not even members of our church, but we hire them because they are professionals and we need them. The other half are our own dedicated church members who do it for free because they want to serve