t began with a simple, slow walk through the dark woods. It was one of those gorgeous summer nights—still warm enough to be in short sleeves, but cool enough to submerge into a hooded sweatshirt. The buzzing mosquitoes helped me opt for the latter. As I gazed at the bright night sky, glowing with stars rather than reflections of fluorescent streetlights and skyscrapers, I wondered how atheistic thoughts were possible.

 

The trek involved about 15 of us. Some were familiar faces, some I barely knew their names. We’d all come to Broken Arrow Ranch to serve God, and that was plenty to unite us. Suddenly an unnatural wooden structure appeared in the tree above. Because the moon was our only light, I tend to think it providential that we stumbled upon the tree house.

 

We needed »