Mrs. Delaney smiled at her daughter. “It thrills my heart to see you and Keene so happy.”
“Isn’t he wonderful?” Jane asked as they sat on a front pew of Fort Worth’s spacious Briarwood Community Church. “The Lord has really been able to use Keene in a mighty way since his horrendous throat problems. Only God could have guided Dr. Coulter’s hand and protected Keene’s vocal cords during that intense surgery.”
Mrs. Delaney grasped her daughter’s hand in hers. “Yes, Keene is wonderful. He is like the son I never had and always wanted, and he has taken such good care of me. Without him, I never would have been able to afford to have my knees replaced. Now look at me. I can walk without my walker, and I am able to take care of myself while you two go traipsing around the world to all the exotic places where Keene performs. I have a nice place to live only minutes away from your lovely house in Providence, friends to keep me company, and a daughter and son-in-law whom I adore. God has blessed me more abundantly than I ever could have imagined.”
Jane patted her mother’s frail hand. “You know, Mom, the day Keene ran that red light and plowed into me with that heavy car of his, I thought God had forsaken me. The whole side of my little car was caved in, I had a broken leg and a massive bump on my head, was three months behind in my car and insurance payments, out of a job, and I had no idea where the next month’s rent money was coming from or if we’d have food on our table. Now we have a beautiful home, and I’m able to travel with my dear husband as he performs in the opera and gives concerts.” She gave her mother’s small hand another loving pat. “God is good, isn’t He? He has certainly provided well for our needs.”
Mrs. Delaney leaned into her daughter, her face twisted into a mischievous grin. “Maybe someday you’ll fill up that beautiful house with my grandchildren.”
Jane could not contain her smile as her palm flattened against her belly. “Maybe.”
“Don’t wait too long, honey. I want to be around to enjoy them.”
“I won’t, I promise. Keene loves performing as a Christian artist, and he’s already contracted to produce several albums over the next few years.”
“Oh, my, how can he take on so many projects? Won’t that mean he’ll be away from home even more?”
Jane smiled broadly. “No, in fact, he’s already talking about retiring from opera. Other than the Christian concerts he’ll be doing, he will spend most of his time at home learning new songs and preparing for his recordings.” Jane glanced at the podium then put a finger to her lips. “Shh. It’s time for his concert to begin.”
The pastor moved to the microphone, surveying the crowded sanctuary. “We’re so glad to have you here with us tonight. You are in for a real treat. The name Keene Moray is known all over the world. Keene is a professional and at the peak of his career. But a little over a year ago, God spoke to his heart, and Keene accepted Christ as his Savior. Now a major portion of his time is spent giving concerts like the one you’ll be hearing tonight.” Gesturing toward Keene, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and privilege to introduce to you… Keene Moray.”
With an adoring glance toward his wife, Keene rose and stepped to the front of the platform. “Thank you, Pastor. But before I begin, I must introduce my wonderful, supportive wife. Jane, would you stand, please?”
She stood and waved to the crowd.
“And with Jane is her mother, Lutie Delaney.”
His mother-in-law turned and smiled at the audience.
“If it weren’t for Jane and her patient and consistent witness to me,” he went on, “I wouldn’t be here tonight. Her prayers are what brought me to a saving knowledge of Christ. Thank you, sweetheart.”
Jane blew him a kiss. Though Keene always introduced her and said the same sweet things about her, she never tired of hearing them.
“Much of the music I’ll be performing tonight is from an Easter pageant. Its words and music, plus the prayers of Jane and the other members of Randlewood Community Church in Providence, Rhode Island, are what brought me into God’s fold.”
He paused, and Jane knew he was remembering that night.
“A little over a year ago, I was invited to sing the part of Jesus in the Easter pageant Down from the Cross. At the time, I did not believe God existed. But through singing the part of Jesus and realizing the suffering He endured to take my sins upon Him and die on the cross, I knew I was a sinner and wanted to be saved.”
Keene pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at his eyes. “On the final night of the pageant, Easter night, as I hung on that cross, I realized I was a sinner and unworthy to portray the Son of God. I frantically asked the soldiers to take me down. I could not bear to hang there a minute longer. When they stood me to my feet, I fell at the foot of the cross and asked God to forgive me of my sins and accept me into His family.”
He bowed his head, his chest heaving silently. When he finally looked up at the audience, tears were streaming down his ruddy face. “I implore each of you: If you have not accepted Christ, do it tonight. Don’t put it off like I did.”
He nodded to his accompanist, and she began to play.
“Please, listen to the words. Let them touch your heart as they touched mine that night, over a year ago, when I came ‘down from the cross’ to accept my Lord.”
To my dear husband, Don Livingston, who is also my number one fan. Of all the books I have written, this one—Down from the Cross—is his favorite. Two months ago, Don was diagnosed with brain cancer and underwent surgery to remove a golf ball–sized tumor. Things looked bleak. On his way to the hospital, he turned and with tears in his eyes said he wanted the Lord to allow him to live long enough to hold the published book in his hands. You see, he is in this writing ministry with me. Each time one of my books is released, Don purchases a number of copies and mails them to family, friends, and those he wants to see accept Christ as their Savior. He believed so strongly in the message of Down from the Cross, he wanted to live long enough to share it with a long list of people, many who are in the public eye. As I write this dedication, Don is still with me. God willing, he will live long enough to meet his goal. I love him dearly and cannot imagine life without him. Please pray for us.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Joyce Livingston
Author Relations
PO Box 719
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
JOYCE LIVINGSTON has done many things in her life (in addition to being a wife, mother of six, and grandmother to oodles of grand-kids, all of whom she loves dearly), from being a television broadcaster for eighteen years, to lecturing and teaching on quilting and sewing, to writing magazine articles on a variety of subjects. She’s danced with Lawrence Welk, ice-skated with a chimpanzee, had bottles broken over her head by stuntmen, interviewed hundreds of celebrities and controversial figures, and done many other interesting and unusual things. But now, when she isn’t off traveling to wonderful and exotic places as a part-time tour escort, her days are spent sitting in front of her computer, creating stories. She feels her writing is a ministry and a calling from God, and she hopes Heartsong readers will be touched and uplifted by what she writes. Joyce loves to hear from her readers and invites you to visit her on the Internet at www.joycelivingston.com.
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