Christian Retreat Conference Center, located just east of Bradenton, Florida, spans 110 acres of paradise carved from wild orange groves along the Manatee River, which winds its way to the Gulf of Mexico. More than a conference center, it is a vibrant blend of community, ministry, and family church life.
After completing the Institute of Ministry, we returned to Christian Retreat in January 1977. With only a few hundred dollars, a car payment coupon book, and all our possessions packed into one vehicle, we arrived hopeful—longing for connection and a place to call home.
We found it, though not without some wandering. For a time, we bounced from house to house across the sprawling campus before finally settling into our own space. God’s faithfulness was evident in every step, guiding us through one experience after another. For brevity’s sake, I’ll share just the highlights.
Jean quickly secured a position in the center’s kitchen as the new baker, while I sought work off campus. Tropicana’s massive plant in Bradenton hired me into their box factory. Each day, our three-man crew clocked in at 6:30 a.m. and labored until 3:00 p.m., producing nearly 100,000 cartons for orange juice. The pace was relentless—machines cranking out 200 boxes every minute. It was grueling, far beyond what I had imagined, and I never expected to work so hard.
By God’s mercy, after two months of box-making I transitioned back to Christian Retreat, joining Jean in the kitchen. My duties ranged from washing dishes and cleaning restrooms to stocking vending machines across campus.
When the dining services director stepped down, a new leader arrived. Upon meeting the kitchen crew, he immediately appointed me his first cook. Though I had no real culinary training, I accepted the role. To my surprise, I discovered a natural aptitude for cooking. Under Fred’s leadership, I was soon recognized as head cook, while Jean continued her amazing baking. Together, we became a strong team, and the kitchen thrived.
Eventually, Fred’s lifestyle proved incompatible with the Christian community, and he was released. Responsibility for dining services fell to Jean and me. Overnight, we were in charge of the entire operation—cooking, baking, and managing staff. I didn’t known I was capable of such work, but with Jean by my side, we flourished.
But I was wrestling with pride. I believed the culinary world was beneath me, convinced I was destined for “greater” things—ministry. I imagined God’s Kingdom as a ladder, with rungs to climb toward higher callings. That attitude was misguided, yet God’s grace prevailed.
In 1979, I was ordained into the ministry and within weeks, I joined the pastoral staff at Christian Retreat, serving alongside Gerald Derstine and four other pastors. My responsibilities shifted dramatically—from cooking meals to coordinating conferences, and concert schedules filled with world-renowned speakers and artists.
During those years, I met believers from across the Christian world—Pat Boone, Tom Netherton, Anita Bryant, the Continental Orchestra and Singers, Costa Dier, Charles and Francis Hunter, Benny Hinn, and many more.
Our daughter, Rebecca, was born one very stormy morning on May 12th, 1980. What an amazing joy she brought into our lives.
Then, in the summer of 1981, we moved to central Florida to pastor our first church in the small town of Frostproof. The transition was jarring—like stepping from the frying pan into the fire. Rural central Florida felt worlds away from anything familiar, like we had left the country altogether.
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