I was a late bloomer. The morning of my wedding, I decided to shave my peach fuzz for the pictures. I shaved again every Sabbath morning for the next few weeks and came to the realization that shaving wasn't any fun. What eventually appeared on my upper lip looked more like a shadow cast by my rather substantial proboscis than a mustache, but over the next 27 years it became a part of my permanent identity—that was until I heard the words, "I think you should shave it off."

I was on an island halfway around the world to make arrangements for a series of evangelistic meetings and health presentations by 25 teenagers to take place a couple of months later. I met the delightful people we would be working with and everything was coming together just fine, until my host said, "You know, your mustache and beard make you look like a bandit. I think you should shave it off for the meetings or the people will not believe you are a preacher."

Shave off my mustache? I've had my mustache for 27 years and my beard for 26. I don't even know how to shave!

Two months later, I arrived at the airport with a face that looked similar to the one I had in high school. My kids wondered what had happened to their dad, and my youth group asked why I would let someone tell me to shave it off. So I explained, "I will put up with any inconvenience rather than hinder the gospel of Christ" (1 Corinthians 9:12).

That's what you do when you are in partnership with God. Besides, it grew back on the way home.

Gary Burns is the communication director of the Lake Union Conference.