The confession almost freed her as it left her mouth. “My faith was something I lost with everything else.”
Tarr reached over and took her hand, then lifted it gently to his lips. “But you said you believe and you pray.”
“Yeah, I do,” Briar said. “But it’s only been in the last couple of weeks that I’ve started to think and believe that God didn’t abandon me the way everyone else did.” She watched the snowylandscape go by out her window, her hand tightening around Tarr’s.
“I fear it’s another thing you’re going to have to be patient with me about.”
“I’m going to be winning awards and certificates and gold stars for patience.” He chuckled and then dropped her hand to put both of his on the wheel as the truck slid around a particularly icy corner. “I keep forgetting to tell Ashton about that,” he said, glancing in his rearview mirror. “It’s not the main way on and off the farm, so I forget.”
He hadn’t deposited them in the snowbank on the side of the road, and Briar relaxed further as the heater in her seat calmed her.
Tarr left her to her thoughts on the quick fifteen-minute jog to church. As she dropped to the ground, he linked his arm through hers. “You just stick right with me, sweetheart. I promise nothing bad is going to happen here.”
Once again, Briar believed him, and she stepped with as much feigned confidence as she could. The bright white brick of the church house called to her; the steeple rose into the sky, practically puncturing it. As they stepped inside, heat warmed the air in her lungs, and she was able to relax her shoulders.
Tarr led her through a foyer and a set of double-wide doors that had been thrown open. Gentle piano music came from inside, and the moment she entered, she pulled in a breath and held it.
In front of her, the entire Garden of Eden bloomed to life in gorgeous, delicately colored panes of glass. Hundreds of them sat arranged to make trees, shrubs, flowers, rocks, and waterfalls. A deer caught her eye on the left side, and bright light came through the very center top window, which was white and seemed to halo directly above Adam and Eve, who stood peering up at the light from behind a tree.
“Wow,” Briar said, all of her artistic genes admiring the scene before her. “That’s incredible.” She turned to Tarr. “Can you imagine making that?”
“I sure can’t,” he said. “But I love walking into the sight of it every week.” He took a step, and Briar went with him.
The chapel had three sections with longer benches in the middle and shorter ones on each side. He led her down only a few rows and then gestured to the pew on the left. She entered it first and left him plenty of room to sit beside her on the end. He sat right next to her easily, lifting his arm around her shoulders and cradling her against his chest.
Briar blinked, and in that moment, other people came into focus, though none of them seemed to turn around and whisper about her being there with Tarr—or her being there at all. That helped her calm even more, and Briar closed her eyes and used all of her other senses to experience being back in church for the first time in five years.
Only a minute later, the music stopped and her eyes flew open at the same time the pastor said, “I am delighted to welcome you to your Sabbath day service today. My name is Pastor Johnson, and I’m thrilled to see so many people here, even though it’s not Christmas or Easter.”
A few people twittered, but Briar couldn’t look away from the charismatic man standing at the pulpit. He too wore a white shirt and tie with a jacket over it, but his was a regular suit coat and not cowboy leather. He also didn’t wear a cowboy hat, though with one quick sweep of her eyes, Briar realized that several other men did.
“We’re going to be blessed to hear a couple of hymns from our choir,” he said. “Apparently they had a few more to sing for our Christmas program, but it had to be trimmed due to time, and then one of our own, Jeremy South, will give us our invocation.”
Briar stayed seated, though others stood to sing along with the choir. Tarr stayed steady and silent at her side. As Briar continued to soak up everything happening around her, she felt akin to a sponge—just taking everything in and letting its goodness wash through her. By the time the prayer had been said and the pastor stood in front of the mic again, Briar had already decided to come back to church next week.
There was a difference between attending and not attending, as her belief and faith could be cultivated here in a way she couldn’t do alone. There were so many things that Briar couldn’t do alone, including put the leaf in her table for holiday meals, sometimes opening that sticky jar of pimento—and apparently feeding off the faith and testimony of others. Probably because she’d isolated herself in every way possible, and the church community Tarr had spoken of couldn’t be achieved if she was the only one in attendance.
“Today, I want to talk about the ninety and nine,” Pastor Johnson said. “This may be a familiar parable to many of you, but there’s a reason why we study the scriptures over and over throughout our lives. We don’t get the same thing from them each time we read them, because we bring ourselves to the equation. Every time we turn a page, the experiences you have today shape what your thoughts and feelings are for tomorrow. And even if you read the Bible last year or last month.”
He grinned with all the wattage of the sun. “You are not the same person today as you were last year or last month. Your unique and new perspective comes with you each time you open the Bible to read a passage from God. So while the story of the lost sheep may be familiar, perhaps you’ll indulge me as who you are today, in this moment, and what you can take from this parable into your life moving forward.”
Briar really liked that, because it reminded her that people changed, and it was actually okay—no,necessary—to change.
She did know the story of the lost sheep decently well, but Pastor Johnson had a captivating, deep voice that entertained, and she found herself being swept along as she listened to the story of the Good Shepherd tending his one hundred sheep and realizing that one had wandered away and had been lost.
“Perhaps you see yourself in one of the ninety-nine sheep who stayed,” the pastor said. “I want to make it clear that the Lord did not abandon them in favor of another. He knew they were safe, and His demonstration of leaving them to go find the one that had wandered only further solidified to those who had not that they too would be rescued if they ever found themselves walking in a dark path. So for those of you who don’t feel like the one, be reassured that God knows and sees and understands you as well—and that if you do ever find yourself lost or forgotten, remember that the Good Shepherd will come.”
Tears pricked Briar’s eyes, because while she didn’t feel like one of the ninety-nine who hadn’t strayed, she found so much comfort in the pastor’s words.Be reassured that the Good Shepherd will come.
Briar needed to do that with more faith and more obedience, and as the pastor finished his powerful testimony about God’s love for all of his children and the choir got up to sing, Briar once again felt like she herself was being personally tended to from on high.
She felt certain God had led her to this farm, knowing that Tucker Hammond would eventually buy it, and Tarr Olson would come with him. God knew that Tarr would be the only person who could tell Briar she had ten minutes to change her clothes or he was hauling her to Thanksgiving dinner in her pajamas. And God had known she would go.
God had also given her space and time to get to this place in her life where she was ready to feel His spirit and hear His voice again, and she marveled at how masterfully He could intertwinemultiple lives in order to provide blessings for each of His children.
“All right, honey,” Tarr said, and Briar blinked over to him. “It’s over. You made it through.”
She turned fully into him and wrapped him in a tight hug. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said, glad her emotions had not gotten the better of her and made her voice wobble. “This was incredible.”
