In 1998, I walked across the stage at Asbury Theological Seminary to receive my Master of Divinity degree. It was a four-year program—long, demanding, and stretching in every way. But what I received that day was far more than a diploma.
I received confirmation of a calling.
Going to seminary was not an easy decision. At the time, I had a well-paying job as an engineer in the Sultanate of Oman. My employment at Sultan Qaboos University provided everything my family needed for a comfortable life—good salary, free housing, medical and dental benefits, and forty-five days of paid leave each year. The university even covered airfare for our family. By every practical measure, we were secure.
Leaving that behind did not make financial sense.
But the desire to be equipped for God’s work burned stronger than the comfort of stability. So in 1994, we packed our suitcases and flew to Wilmore, Kentucky—not just relocating geographically, but stepping out in faith.
Edita enrolled alongside me in the Master of Biblical Studies program. We were both students again. We were both trusting God.
Between the two of us, Edita worried more about finances than I did. As a mother and provider at heart, she carried the weight of uncertainty deeply. There were moments when the future seemed fragile.
One day, I came home and found her crying.
Alarmed, I asked if something terrible had happened back home in the Philippines. She shook her head and quietly pointed to her open Bible.
She had been reading in the Gospel of Mark about the twelve disciples. After witnessing Jesus feed the five thousand, they later argued and blamed one another for not bringing bread with them as they crossed to the other side of the lake. They were anxious about having no food—even though the Miracle Worker Himself was in the boat with them.
Through tears, Edita said, “I am like them. They just saw Jesus feed five thousand people, and yet they worried about bread. Jesus was with them. And here we are worrying about finances when God called us here.”
Her words pierced both our hearts.
Right there, beside our bed, we knelt and confessed our lack of faith. We surrendered our anxieties to the Lord. We asked Him to arrest our doubts and replace them with trust.
That moment marked a turning point.
From then on, we refused to allow worry to distract us from what God had called us to do. The financial questions did not disappear overnight—but fear lost its grip. Peace settled in its place.
And just as He promised, God sustained us.
Provision came in many forms. Needs were met. Tuition was covered. Groceries filled our pantry. We were never abandoned. We experienced firsthand the truth of His promise:
“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Seminary became more than a place of academic training. It became a classroom of faith.
While I studied theology and prepared for pastoral ministry, God was shaping our hearts as a couple. We were learning not only doctrine—but dependence.
In 1998, I graduated with my Master of Divinity. And Edita, through perseverance and faith, earned her Master’s degree in Biblical Studies.
We left Wilmore not only with degrees—but with deeper trust.
Looking back now, I see that season as one of the defining “high five” moments of our lives—a chapter where obedience replaced comfort, faith replaced fear, and grace sustained us daily.
The diplomas hang on the wall.
But the greater testimony is this:
When God calls, He provides.
When we doubt, He reminds.
When we step out in faith, He meets us there.
And He did.
myJOURNEY 