Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! “So who is going to preach?” This question lingered in my Honda Accord for several exits as we headed down Interstate 71 from Wooster, Ohio, to Cow Creek, Kentucky.  There were three of us in the car that fall Friday in 1980:  Jim, now a retired cardiologist, Jenny, who married me twenty years later, and me.  All seniors in college, we had volunteered to lead worship for Joe Powlas, long-time pastor, missionary, and friend who would be away that weekend from this tiny hamlet in the hollers. So we drew straws, and I literally came up with the short stick. Yikes. ...