“Remember what the Bible tells us in John, chapter eight, verse twelve. Jesus proclaims, ‘I am the light of the world! Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life!’ Believe in Him and I tell you, brothers and sisters, all who accept Jesus Christ will have everlasting life!”
Rev. Ray had done this work long enough to know everything looked better on television, except the numbers. For five years, he’d courted an audience from a low-power cable TV station in St. Louis, confident his message would attract followers looking for salvation. A couple thousand worshippers invited The Road to Calvary into their homes, but it wasn’t enough. He had spent more of his own money than he cared to admit; however, expenses kept rising, and there was relentless competition for viewers, members, and revenue.
Even now, Ray was conflicted in his decision to close what had seemed a promising venture. He’d never lost his enthusiasm or the feeling he was indeed proclaiming the word of God and news of salvation. Ray knew everyone was a sinner, including himself. He hoped The Road to Calvary would spur people to rise above their sins, accept the Good News, and find the true meaning of Christ in their lives. The reverend smiled warmly at his audience and motioned for them to stand. “Let us share our belief in Jesus Christ by praying together our prayer of deliverance.”
The congregation rose to their feet and repeated the words they had come to know by heart: “Lord Jesus, I believe in You. I believe You died for my sins and rose again to save me from a world mired in sin . . .”
At the prayer’s end, a cheerful male voice yelled off stage left, “That’s a wrap!”
The prayerful opened their eyes. Ray bid his flock goodbye. “Thank you for joining us, and see you next week for another taping.”
The rented studio space had emptied out, and Ray steeled himself as he prepared to break the news to his miniscule staff. Jeff Jones and Buck Neal had worked with him since the beginning and, other than the cable channel volunteers, were his only employees. After Ray’s wife died, he’d needed a break from running a church, and low-power cable seemed the perfect avenue to reach a larger audience.
Although the pay was low, it was more than either Buck or Jeff thought Ray could afford, so they had risen to the occasion time and again, working long hours to produce the show. Jeff, a Gulf War veteran who had left the army with a medal for bravery, had taken the cable station’s courses on how to run the camera equipment, while Buck, with a background in TV production and IT, handled the lighting, edited the videotape, acted as stage director, and greeted audience members. But in the world of low-power cable, local religious programming was a staple. With limited resources, Ray had underestimated the toughness of that competition.
As he stood on the edge of the carpeted stage with his cohorts, he marveled at their vast differences. Short in stature, Jeff made up for it with his buffed physique that won area weightlifting contests, while, in stark contrast, Buck sported a mullet, a paunch, and a silver earring. He was a recovering alcoholic, and unlike Jeff who had never married, Buck had three failed unions behind him. As a team, they’d worked together in seamless tandem, and now it was going to end.
Ray cleared his throat. “I always promised you’d be the first to know the fate of The Road to Calvary, and unfortunately, that moment has come.”
“You’re ending the show?” Buck asked.
“I don’t want to draw this out, but yes. Even with the reasonable cost of low-power cable, we can’t pay the weekly rent for the space. We have a small, loyal following, but we can’t survive much longer. The money just isn’t there, and I can’t afford to keep subsidizing us. I’ll tell the congregation and cable station next week that we’re going off the air at the end of the month.”
“Guess it’s a good thing none of us quit our day jobs,” Jeff said.
“And I thought our faith in Jesus Christ would make this show work,” Buck added unhappily.
“Me, too,” Ray said, a sad smile across his handsome, character-lined face. “We gave it five years and put all of our energy into this venture.” He draped long arms around each man’s shoulder. “No regrets. We didn’t change the world, but we put our heart into every show, and I’m eternally grateful to the both of you.”
A woman’s voice startled all three men. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said softly. They turned and saw a slender woman dressed in a cream pantsuit with chestnut hair in soft ringlets framing a heart-shaped face. “I’m sorry to startle you,” she apologized, “but I’ve been standing in the back. Rev. Williams, could I speak with you for a moment?”
Stepping from the stage, Ray extended a hand. “Certainly, Miss—”
“Baker. Susannah Baker,” she replied, shaking Ray’s outstretched hand firmly. “But Susannah, please.”
“Susannah, it’s a pleasure.” He paused and recalled the very pretty face from previous tapings. “You’re one of our recent regulars, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I started coming around two months ago. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” She smiled.
“You said you wanted to talk?”
She laughed nervously, gesturing toward Buck and Jeff. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But when you’re done, I wondered if we could talk privately.”
Ray turned to the younger men. “There’s nothing else to add, unless one of you has questions.”
“You do what you need to do,” Buck said, patting Ray’s shoulder. “Jeff and I will put the equipment away and lock up the building.”
“Miss Baker, did you want to talk here, or would you rather go somewhere else?” Ray asked. “There’s a coffee shop up the block.”
“That would be lovely,” she said, her eyes lighting up.
“I’ll see you gentlemen next week,” Ray said, offering Susannah his arm. They left the office building and stepped out into the warm, spring air, chatting casually as they walked. “Are you new to the area or just our show?” the pastor inquired.
“Both,” she said. “But you have a wonderful program, Reverend, and I’m sure it’s helped many people.”
“Well, not as many as I’d like,” he replied. If Miss Baker were asking for a sympathetic ear, Ray thought it best not to drive her away with talk of going off the air. His role for now was to be an attentive listener. At the diner, they ordered coffee and took a table near the windows.
She didn’t waste an instant getting to her point. As she fortified herself with a long sip, Susannah Baker’s dark eyes were bright with anticipation, as though she were going to impart a happy secret. “Not to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I’m here to give you a message that ending this wonderful program is the worst thing you could do.”
Ray cradled the warm ceramic coffee mug in his large hands. “A message? From whom?”
Susannah Baker paused, searching the pastor’s handsome face. “God,” she said.
He stared at this mysterious woman. Her pronouncement was genuine and earnest, but a career in ministry had taught him some of the world’s craziest souls were absolutely sincere and committed to their own warped reality.