When I was called into ministry in 2001, at a small, then-United Methodist Camp called Camp Findley in the old Western New York Annual Conference, Mary and I had been engaged for about a month. I did not hear God audibly, but through a Bible conference preacher from the South. He was about twice my size, all decked out in a Stetson hat, cowboy boots, and the tackiest of wooden ties—the words as he preached filled my heart: “If you go, I will provide.” ... we had no idea what would happen.

When I was called into ministry in 2001, at a small, then-United Methodist Camp called Camp Findley in the old Western New York Annual Conference, Mary and I had been engaged for about a month. I did not hear God audibly, but through a Bible conference preacher from the South. He was about twice my size, all decked out in a Stetson hat, cowboy boots, and the tackiest of wooden ties—the words as he preached filled my heart: “If you go, I will provide.” ... we had no idea what would happen.

When I was called into ministry in 2001, at a small, then-United Methodist Camp called Camp Findley in the old Western New York Annual Conference, Mary and I had been engaged for about a month. I did not hear God audibly, but through a Bible conference preacher from the South. He was about twice my size, all decked out in a Stetson hat, cowboy boots, and the tackiest of wooden ties—the words as he preached filled my heart: “If you go, I will provide.” ... we had no idea what would happen.