We don't preach ourselves, but the Lord Jesus Christ. And yet, we can certainly speak to the grace that he instilled in our lives, and to him we all glory. Like Dr. Beattie, I, too, was raised in a godly home, godly grandparents, godly aunties, uncles, elders, pastors in the north of Scotland. the Lord's Day, the Lord's Day, and worship the Lord in his house, and family worship, morning and evening, every day, and Wednesday night, prayer meetings. I was immersed in the scriptures growing up. From a child, I've known the holy scriptures, which are able to make one wise unto salvation. And yet, I was blind. I did not. I once was a stranger, as Jane said, to grace and to God, and knew not my danger or felt my load. I would say I had conviction of sin to some degree in my early years. And it probably was not until my upper teen years that I really think the Lord worked in me, saved me. It's hard for me to tell. I can't put a time, I can't put a date, I can't put a specific text upon it. I can put a time period. Sometimes looking back, you think, was I saved then? Then why did I do this? I remember a text that, after the Lord had worked in me, if it is so, why am I lost? If I, indeed, am a child of God, why this sin? So I think one of the things to bear in mind People who are born and raised in church circles, they're not outwardly rebellious, say, might find it more difficult to put a time on the text, as it were, over conversion. But there certainly were sermons and events that give, in my mind, a clear indication that this was the time the war was working. This wasn't necessarily, but February 1999, I'm about 17, 18. It's a communion, more or less, a Sabbath morning. It's Alfred McDonald who preached until he was 95, I think, and died a year or two ago. Read John Owen repetitively. He was a powerful preacher in the north of Scotland. He preached on. Son of Solomon, chapter 2, verse 1. I am the rose of Sheol and the lily of the valley. And the thing that would make me think that there was something there that day was I came out of that service saying to myself, I've seen something today that I've never seen before. And I believe the same sweetness, the same of Christ that I smelled and saw that day, I have to this day. But there were other things, like the death of my grandfather. My grandfather was an elder, and in our background, the elder would exhort. He would never say he was preaching, but he was exhorting. The last time I heard him, preach or exhort. He was speaking on the words of Joshua, which is, you this day, whom you will serve, who are the gods on this side and that side of the river. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. Now, I don't remember anything he said in that sermon then. But what struck me then, what struck me a few months later when he died, was that was true of him. He lived the street above. We were in his house almost every day. I remember him sitting down with me and singing Psalm 1, singing Psalm 25. We sang these songs together. He was a quiet man, generally. But there was something about his life. This was a reality to him. Christ was real. Christ was precious. He loved God's house. He loved God's day. He loved God's worship. He loved God's people. And his house served the Lord. And when he died, and this text, in my mind, chooses whom you will serve. As for me and my parents, we will serve the Lord. I knew my grandfather was something I don't have. And I loved the God of my grandfather. And I sought the Lord earnestly, and he found me. And then there's other things to say. I do think I came to a liberty, by the way. I believe I was converted before this time. But I came to a liberty in the gospel. About a year later, another large communion, a Sabbath morning sermon, Psalm 84, verse 9. Behold, O God, our shield, and look upon the face of thine anointing. Look away from me, Lord look away from me, but behold though God is she. There's this agreement, God's coming and saying, behold my son. Now we're so busy beholding ourselves and our sin and our can I be this or one of the elect and the Lord's saying, behold my son. And suddenly, faith comes and says, yes, Lord, behold your God, your shield. Look upon the face of thine anointed. And there's this agreement. And that day, I saw Christ, I believe, as glory. Then with the call to the ministry, that's a, you know, my testimony is different to Dr. Beattie's. Because there's so many things I think about and could say. But my time of conversion wasn't crystal clear in my work. But I can say, whereas I was blind, now I see. The same for the call into ministry. It wasn't like this decisive moment, but it was something that built in me from a child. I remember what I think was my lost days, weeping over lost sinners. And I feel this burden from people who didn't know the gospel. But I don't know it as far as they know it. I mean, of course, I had two very godly aunties in Glasgow. They lived together. They were both spinsters. And they used to preach and join it. My dad said I used to take a good hour and a half of the sermon, too. So I kept me long. I promise I won't do that today. But I had a sense of, you know, early on, but I could push it away. I came, as Stephen said, to teach in Ontario. I met Dr. Beakey in the seminary there. It was 2006-7. I went back to Scotland to teach, University of Glasgow, University of Edinburgh. I was sort of on the verge of promotion here and there. It's a strange analogy. I felt like a fly in a spider's net. The more I was trying to get away from this sense of calling to ministry, the more entangled I was becoming in it. I couldn't not. And so one thing led to another. I prayed over this, sought the Lord's guidance. The texts were coming to my mind, certainly. But I applied to Puritan Reform in 2010, came there. I think the Lord really confirmed that sense of ministry when I began to preach in the churches, maybe even practice preaching as well. So that's my story, as it were. It sounds maybe a bit of a ramble here. My wandering was all, the psalmist says. What they have been, the Lord thou knowest. Their number into thy bottle thou hast put my tears. Are they not in thy book?