2/17/2015

Liberation, FL

When I became a Christian at 16, the primary appeal to me was that Jesus made things clean. I didn't just want my sin forgiven--I wanted my whole life to be better. Because I came from a background of abuse and chaos, I wanted assurance that I would have a good, clean life, replete with lovely friendships and a good job and, eventually, an amazeballs husband, perfect marriage, perfect kids, lovely home...you get the idea.

Not a smidge of yuck anywhere. Just obeying God and getting a bright and shiny life as a result.

I thought that forgiveness of sin and sealing of the Holy Spirit meant that I--and all other Christians--would be perfectly able to be good and right and make life so good and lovely. That Christians just inherently became more wonderful and lovely people simply for having become not a heathen anymore.

{My sweet Jesus just laughed with me because...well...Christians are the worst. They do just as ugly and awful things as non-Christians, but then say it's what Jesus would have them do and they feel justified that the God of the universe told them to be a jerk. Let's just be honest.

Don't believe me? That's just me linking to someone being nice about it.}

But Jesus wasn't so much someone to love, to be known and comforted by, as someone to make my life immensely better than my childhood had been. I just needed to obey him enough to earn his blessing.

I was all in for all the wrong reasons.

It got me into trouble. In high school, a guy friend from youth group asked my opinion on dating, and I shared my belief that if he didn't date and waited on God to basically marry the first girl he had a crush on around age 20 then he'd be "doing the will of God" and have an "untarnished marriage." And, yes, I die inside writing those words. Unfortunately the girl he wanted to date was a pastor's daughter, and the pastor brought down the boom on the youth group leaders, who brought down the boom on me. I'll never forget it--after doing nothing but trying to say "yes" to everything, immersing my entire life to revolve around youth group, and desperately trying to make her like me--my mousy youth group leader's wife took me outside in the middle of the singing one Wednesday night, got right in my face, and told me through angry whispers (because if NO ONE CAN HEAR you it makes it okay) that if she heard a single word about my opinions on dating then I'd be out of the youth group and never welcome back.

I gotsta insert David Spade saying, "buh-bye" here because it's so tragic, yet so ridiculous and she was so awful, that I can laugh about it now. But there isn't a good YouTube of the original so just go to 8:30 on this one if you need some "buh-bye" in your life like I do in this moment.

In college,  I foolishly thought pastors and their families were pretty much perfect (God only makes the very best of his people leaders! Insert more Jesus laughing here), and became convinced that if I could just marry the worship pastor's son at my church then I'd be a part of their perfect family, that I'd be loved as a daughter by a guy whose actual daughter called him "daddy" and it was beautiful and not weird. The "crush" I had on the oldest son had virtually nothing to do with the boy in question, but unfortunately my attempts to make myself "available" for him to notice and fall in love with me resulted in yet another Holy tirade. This it came late at night, in an empty church. I was ushered into the pastor's office; I felt like I was going closer to Jesus just entering that room, I kid you not. This time the boom was delivered by both said worship pastor's wife (the boy's mom) and the head pastor's wife, telling me that I was a pervert, because they knew I had been sexually abused as a girl, and I was a college sophomore and he a high school junior so PERVERT ALERT [irony: he's now married to a girl who was a good friend at the time and she's the same age as me and he had a crush on her the same time I had a "crush" on him when I was being called a predator] and if I so much as looked at the boy again I could consider myself out of the church.  And that I wasn't to even talk to his mom anymore, that I disgusted her, even though she had been my mentor. And no, no one else would be mentoring me. I needed to just focus on the college group and stay away from everyone else. But they "loved" me so that was why they were telling me all this. They wanted me to be able to shape up. Just...alone with Jesus because they had to keep their distance and protect their sons.

I went home to my dorm room and cried like I had never cried in my entire life. Honestly. I just collapsed onto the cheap Fred Meyer rug and sobbed in the dark for THREE WHOLE HOURS. Completely alone and terrified that I would be kicked out of my church. The church that I had, yet again, made the complete center of my entire life, ostracizing college friends who didn't get Christianity exactly right like only that church did, all because I had been convinced that was what obedience looked like. It was what God wanted of me.

Goodness, I wish the me of today could go hug that poor 19 year old girl, tell her about Jesus and grace and all three of those women were full of BS...but that's jumping ahead.

Those are just two sad examples of my tragically misled and poorly taught heart trying desperately to keep the spiritual rules to earn God's favor. If I could just obey enough I could get to that good life. Fill in the blank to how I needed to obey, but here are just a few:


  • Pray in a room alone at least 30 minutes every day, never saying "I'll pray for you" and not actually getting that person onto the list 
  • Read my Bible also at least 30 minutes, but 60 if I loved and was serious about the Lord
  • Memorize huge portions (read: Psalm 119, Philippians, etc) of scripture because otherwise I wasn't serious about God 
  • Be at the church for every study, every service, every prayer meeting 
  • Lead, lead, and lead some more at every opportunity 
  • Share the Gospel all. the. time. (not kidding--I was taught that using an ATM or self-checkout at grocery store was sin; I should go to the store at the same time once a week, use the same teller or checkout line, and build a relationship with the worker so I could help them become a Christian and come to church, and then they could get everyone they worked with saved) 
  • Go on mission trips that were 25% physical help, if at all, but primarily sharing the Gospel (I went on seven mission trips in five years, always "giving Jesus my Spring Break") because Jesus' command was to "take the Gospel to all corners of the earth" and if I didn't do that, didn't sacrifice my school vacation at the altar of Jesus' gospel then I didn't--you guessed it--love Jesus nor take him seriously. 
  • Plus camps and service projects and ministry teams and trips...church was a full 50 hour a week job for most of high school and all of college
  • It was also dressing modestly and not tempting the boys but I was fat so no one ever worried about me doing that.


My life was either all Jesus' or I was a joke. A fake. A phony Christian. A carnal Christian. If I didn't want those labels, then I better not live like they belonged on me.

It was constant rules and purpose and being intentional with every. single. second. of my life to make sure I "redeemed the time" and didn't waste my youth/college years/singleness, etc. Always had to be making sure God wouldn't be disappointed in my choice of how I spent even one moment of a day. I remember, actually, when I pretty much had given up by my senior year of college (my rule keeping never did earn me any more love with leadership in that church) and a girl from the college group that I lived with heard me listening to Push by Matchbox Twenty and said, ver batim, "Do you think that's edifying?" with the craziest fire in her eyes and sneer on her lips.

Satan at play.

Every relationship was either about me being discipled by someone "superior", me being accountable to / with a peer, or me discipling someone to whom I was superior. I was even an RA so I could convert a bunch of college freshman to super dedicated Christians who would go to my church. Not church--my church.

And by "dedicated" I mean legalists just like me. No "secular" music, books, or TV and movies. Well, for TV and movies it was ok if it was the equivalent of PG or below. Except for the Lord of the Rings trilogy was ok because Tolkien was friends with CS Lewis, doncha know. [Fact: I love those movies. Still a stupid rule for grown ass adults.] But even with a PG branding, nothing too sketchy. Mulan had ancestor worship. Out. American Idol was way too worldly, plus, secular music. Out. During the Super Bowl we turned the TV off during commercials and after 3 minutes or so would turn it back on. The insane football fan that I am went NUTS when we would miss important plays because we waited too long but this was pre-TiVo. But better to miss the game than to risk possibly seeing a girl's midriff.

Ahneeway.

Look, this is gonna be a hellalong--no, tamilong--post, but can I just tell you a funny story?

We can argue later, but I no longer believe that it's inherently sinful to listen to "secular" music. But on one college mission trip my struggle was #soreal because we were on a party strip where clubs would blast music. For whatever reason one club kept blasting Linkin Park's In the End (not exactly dance music, so I dunno) and I was obsessed with that song. When I would be "sinning" I'd use my college's intranet to go find music on other people's computers to copy to mine. Or if that failed, I'd use Napster (yup, I'm that old) and the first song I'd always find was In the End. And then, when I was being "obedient" I'd always ceremonially delete that song first. So that song is always so loaded with my legalist past if I hear it somewhere.

Kinda wanna listen to it now.

But EVEN MORE CRAZY is that when I became a Christian in high school I rid myself "secular" music for the first time, so I gave all of my BMG and Columbia House CD's to a friend named Starr. When she saw that one of them was the, at that time, newish and crazy popular Yourself or Someone Like You she about lost her mind. Who would just give that away? And I explained that it was sinful so I couldn't listen to it anymore because I loved Jesus now. I always wonder if she thought, "Sooooo...I can listen to it since I'm headed straight for hell?"

Ah, Christian culture. You horribly blind buggar.

For the record, hell is very real. Just pretty sure one's eternal damnation is not based on obedience to cutting Rob Thomas's raspy lyrics from our lives.

But, the point is, I was a crazy legalist and moralist who was taught to vote for GW in 2000 and again in 2004 if I loved Jesus and insert 80 million other nonsensical things that had as much to do with Jesus and his gospel as...well...things that have zero anything to do with Jesus and his gospel.

Who Would Jesus Vote For?
Although, truth: I like the guy. Just not so much his politics
because now I'm a Libertarian

I'm not trying to completely crap on that time in my life. There was some good that came from it--I took very seriously that God's word is real and we can look to it for wisdom. Also, God himself is very real and actually cares about our lives, every intricacy. He's not distant and aloof, and his Holy Spirit is actually here to help us live out lives that aren't aimless and wasted. Those are good things to believe are true.

But there was a LOT of bad. The most tragic part is that I was explicitly taught that if I would just obey enough then God would bless me. Remember the Prayer of Jabez? "Breaking through to the blessed life"? It's ironic to me that my church thought that whole movement was a pile of garbage, yet what they did was add on to it. It wasn't just praying a prayer and believing God enough to be blessed. It was doingallthethings so God had no choice other than to bless your obedience.

Not to step on toes, but while my church taught that Joyce Meyer and her brand of "mind battling" to believe God and think the right ways was false teaching, they were all about Henry Blackaby's Experiencing God and, for da ladeez, any words breathed by Beth Moore were only thisfaraway from actually being breathed by God, except just straight to women. And while Mrs. Moore is a sweet and funny lady, and I admittedly haven't read her in a decade and might receive her differently now, what I got from the 80 jazillion of her big ol' studies that I did was, basically, "Here is what God says. It is true. Now believe it and do it so God's time spent on you isn't a waste." Which isn't so different from Mizz Meyer. Both have almost nothing to do with Jesus' performance on our behalf. Jus' sayin'.

Man alive, just typing this out is exhausting. How did I live that way for well over a decade? Lord have mercy.

That all is a lot of weight on a person. Because I wanted desperately to never doubt God. I wanted to believe that God had a perfect plan and a husband for me, to not think, "Is he the one?" and hope every cute boy who came to youth group would fall in love with me. But I sure didn't stop thinking and hoping for a husband. Every journal from that time is about a boy I wanted to fall in love with me, but if it wasn't from the Lord, could he please just take away the feelings? And if he was allowing it, could he remove the thorn from my flesh that Satan had sent to buffet me? Let me just trust him enough to be ok with his timing for a husband, someone to finally, truly love me?

See, at the root of it all, deep down I simply just wanted to be loved. Accepted. Told that God died for my sins so that I could be free from the wages of death, to go forth in freedom and joy. And now here was a husband of tangible proof that God loved me.

Instead, I was told that Jesus loved me and died for me, but that my life was not my own (which is true), so I needed to obey and become more like Jesus (which isn't exactly true). You know what's funny about that? I hunted the Bible down for a verse that said, "Jesus died for you, so now become like him." I cannot find it. I found someone else's composite of 50 verses that are about becoming more like Christ. What I found was that there are a whole lot of glorious verses about what Jesus did for us and commanding us to walking like he did (loving others) out of a response to what he's done for us, basically, yet not a one that actually says, "Become more like Jesus."

That's a huge deal. You might think I am saying we don't actually become different as a Christian. I emphatically am not. What I am saying is that allowing Christ to affect the world through us isn't about us. It isn't about me believing enough, memorizing scripture enough, praying enough, evangelizing enough, attending church enough, etc.

There is no "enough" that we can attain.

Here's the problem I see--if we can dig down deep and find the discipline to be obedient enough to be less ourselves (an inherent sinner) and more like Jesus (part of the triune deity that is the one true God), then why did Jesus have to die? Does having the Holy Spirit magically unlock an ability to become more and more actually like Jesus--aka more into God himself?

I am not writing this to have a scripture battle about sanctification with anyone. But I will tell you what I know from experience--I desperately tried to be like God. I tried to never be angry, to always be motivated only by love and wanting God's best for people, on and on.

You know what I discovered? It's damn hard to know exactly what God is thinking all the time and to perfectly see the world from his perspective. There's this pesky little verse about the human heart:

The heart is deceitful above all things,
and desperately sick;
who can understand it?

[Jeremiah 17:9]

Do you see what I see? In plain english, even when we're trying our best to do what we believe God wants, our own hearts can have not-god motives that get us in trouble.

For example, my heart told me I wanted to honor God in all things and be pure before marriage. In reality, as I discovered a few years into marriage, I sinfully had just expected that if I was "good" sexually God would give me a dreamy fairy tale marriage where I rarely fought with my husband and the sex was really fulfilling and great and he--nor I--would ever be tempted to even think about sexual stuff with anyone other than each other. Ever. Because God blesses obedience.

You know the problem with that? Sure, it's good to want a healthy marriage with fulfilling sex. But to think that obeying God earns a lack of struggle, lack of sin and its effects, lack of the fact that we live in fallen world? That's not real life. It's perfect fairy tale world. And you know who you don't actually need in perfect fairy tale world?

Jesus.

Why would I need him if my obedience leads to a lovely life, free of needing a savior? Real life has my own sin and this broken world. Both are so ugly that they lead to me recognizing my desperate need for a savior. Real life has beauty from beyond me that sends me running in gratitude to that same savior who is so good to me, so tender and patient and faithful and there,  when things are ugly.

What if the blessing from obedience isn't that we actually obey so perfectly that there are no bad side effects, but rather that we see how sinful we actually are when we fail to obey and we have more real relationship with, reliance upon, the one who did obey perfectly?

See, for years (and years and years) I lived under the weight of Christian teaching that Jesus died to save me, so now I'm free from eternal hell, but I damn well better not waste this life. God saved me and sure he loved me but really he just wanted to save more and more people through me. I was less someone Jesus loved and died for and more part of a holy pyramid scheme. Which meant that I didn't have a relationship with him, not really. I was peddling his products and hoping to earn some real good rewards but the head dude didn't give a crap about me--unless I messed up, of course. Then he had to discipline me (insert those women from the stories at the beginning) so I could get back on track.

But God? He died for me, sure, but he didn't actually, emotionally love me.

I was desperate. Desperate to know that someone loved me. I've written about some of this before, but in my heart I believed God to be the Ultimate Abuser. He didn't care about me, not really. I guess in heaven I'd be in mansion on the outskirts of town, on the other side of the tracks near the pearly gates, while the people he really loved got to live in the urban core. But maaaaaybe here on earth I could get a few of those people, Christian leaders like pastors and their ilk, to love me. That was why I obeyed God--if I could just be good enough he might show me favor and prove he loved me by having other people, the ones he actually really did speak to and show tenderness toward, love me.

I never could get it right. Like those anecdotes at the beginning displayed, even my best intentions just kept getting me into trouble. I thought I was seriously such a shitty Christian, that I actually was the problem. That I just wasn't trying hard enough.

Somewhere a few years into my marriage I was telling my husband how it was all my fault, the pain that was in my past from my high school and college years that had me so jacked up and terrified of any Christian authority, and my husband got SO ANGRY. He is a pretty steady Eddie, so it caught me off guard.

He said, "Dammit, Tami, no! Yes, you are a sinner and you made some foolish choices. But you know what the problem was? Those women shouldn't have pointed you toward how to keep their rules lest you lose the ability to be in fellowship with the only people that were family to you.

They should have pointed you to Jesus, how deeply he loves you and how he wanted to meet you in those places where you were scared that he didn't actually love you. They should have told you that you didn't need to perform for acceptance--that you were already accepted!

Tami, they sinned against you!"

Oh, man. Those words rocked me. Something in me wanted to believe him, but it seemed so dangerous. Could it actually be that no matter what I did, Jesus loved me? Already accepted and forgave me? And that he was close and intimate and real and personal and he really truly loved me?

I haven't written much about my time at Mars Hill, and someday I may, but right now I will simply say that, though there were beautiful parts of Mars Hill, there was a lot of the same moralism, the sermons consistently saying, "Jesus loves you! So now here's how to structure your life and keep all these rules", the same "get lots of people saved and have all the parties and know every neighbor and get them to this church so they can do it for their friends and neighbors" pyramid scheme, and there was scary stuff going on with leaders and power over people and the pressure to conform or be labeled "probably not even saved." Seriously. It's not hard to go find gazillions of stories from people who experienced this.

The reason I bring up MH right now, though, is I just kept right on in those "perform for Jesus" ways. By mid-2012, I was drowning. I actually had made some wonderful relationships and had some truly wonderful leaders, and I was finally realizing that how I had experienced authority in the past was wrong. But in so many other ways I was sick to death of trying to keep all the lists I was being told equated with godliness. I dreaded every Sunday and going to church. I still tweeted about all things Mars Hill all the time, "read mark's new book!" and "come to this amazeballs sermon launch party!" I kept up the charade, but inside, to be completely honest, for well over the last two years before we left (in May of 2014) I was miserable. I prayed my heart would change, thought I was the problem.

Enter God's sweet grace to me. The grace in this instance can really be summed up in a name, so let me rephrase that.

Enter Tullian Tchividjian.

I feel kind of like a drug addict trying to recount how they got addicted, but in a glorious way. "It started here, I think, with a little bit of this, then, I don't know, it just snowballed until nothind else could satisfy anymore." Because I did get addicted to something--I got addicted to grace, and Tullian Tchividjian was my dealer.

Still is.

I can't remember exactly how I first heard of him. I think I read a few articles online. I know I first mentioned him on this blog here in a post counting down the days to meeting my baby girl Juliet; you can do a 'ctrl+f' on PC or 'splat+f' on Mac for "Day 67" but here is the money quote:

[The article about sanctification] was written by Tullian Tchividjian, whom I just love. He's a man who preaches grace according to the Bible--free, unlimited, and all about Jesus and his goodness and not a thing to do with us. For the longest time I thought grace was that Jesus died for me so I better obey him so I could deserve his grace. That's a false, false, false gospel. If we can do anything to earn Jesus' grace then that means his death is in vain.

Oh man, I get chillllllls just reading that. I remember how it felt--realizing that Jesus actually loved me. That everything I was desperate to be true about the Bible and the Gospel and Christian living--THAT GOD LOVES US--was actually true.

I will admit that after being allz about the Mark Driscoll bandwagon for the better part of a decade, it's really scary to me that I love one man's teaching so much. But, as my dear friend Marella and I were talking about one day, it's just that Tullian's beautiful redundant teaching feeds our souls.

By redundant, I mean that every sermon boils down to the fact that Jesus did it all. It is finished. Jesus + Nothing = Everything. As in John 8:11, Jesus makes it clear that we are not condemned. We're forgiven. We're free. Free from trying to earn acceptance by trying to not sin and instead free to repent when we do sin. We get to really know that neither our failure nor our accomplishments define us. The love of Christ, his poured out blood, and his perfect record, defines us. And Tullian says that over and over and over, in every sermon. God's grace to us is Jesus Christ; nothing we do or don't do can get us any more or any less of God's approval. We're loved. We're liberated.

In fact, Tullian poked fun at himself and another dude yesterday by retweeting this tweet; included here is my response:


So Tullian's teaching has been such grace to me. Listening to his Romans series last spring when I was murdering my health trying to be a runner just flooded my heart with so much desperately needed grace from Jesus. I was parched from the spiritual desert of the last two years of moralistically centered teaching, teaching that said if I trusted Jesus enough I'd get it right, and the water of the word, of glorious "it is finished" grace, was drenching me yet I could not be quenched.

Still can't, really.

Another way Tullian played a life-changing role was in Jason and I reading Glorious Ruin after Roger was diagnosed with autism. And a year later when the pain wasn't any less devastating. And then the book's message was balm to our souls when a month after that Juliet was diagnosed with autism. Plus the teaching--that suffering frees me from trying to make this life my source of joy, instead allowing me to find comfort and rest in Jesus, who suffered immensely for me--has been grace to my soul through many various trials. So much suffering has been met with even more grace because of how Jesus knit himself into the weave of my soul through that one book.

Then, at a training day in the early spring of last year with Elyse Fitzpatrick, whom I also love, a friend offhandedly mentioned the Liberate Conference 2014 (Liberate is the ministry Tullian started, both to share his teaching and to network the teaching of others who teach the same stuff about grace), and had I listened to the sessions? Because Elyse's teaching there was incredible and made her think of me, and I should go look up the Liberate app.

Long story short, I listened to the teachings and...oy. Just life changing.

Because it all happened as we were in the midst of leaving Mars Hill and my heart was breaking and I was angry and broken and so jacked up.

But that teaching about the grace of God meeting us right where we are? No more moralism or rules or earning anything? That yes, we are sinners who get mad, so we get to admit we're mad, even if we're mad at God, and repent but also God still loves us and isn't trying to fix us? That he shows us his character by being merciful instead of full of wrath that we effed it all up again?

Man alive. No more trying to not be angry, but instead dealing with the anger with God instead of for him? No more fearing that God would be disappointed in me or give up because I hadn't learned how to trust him and never be angry by now? And, even harder, dealing with all of the pain beneath the anger? Feeling let down by God, toyed with by God? And admitting that to him? And then he says, "Frail and weak child, I love you and died for you feeling this. You can trust me and rest in me," and he means it? I mean...come on now.

That's beautiful.

That's grace.

So then, I'm writing this today because tomorrow the most amazing thing is happening.

Tomorrow morning we're getting up earrrrrrrrly and our good friend Josh is driving us to the airport while his incomparably lovely wife Becky begins the daunting task of seven full days with our kids and her 6 month old. He's helping when he's not working, duh.

But Josh is taking Just Jason and Me--my favorite two people to be alone together--down to good ol' SeaTac.

Because, dream of dreams coming true, we're going to Liberate Conference 2015.

I still could cry about it. Truly.

This is so tamilong--told ya--but the theme of my life since starting to listen to Tullian so much last year has been one resounding gong:


It is finished. 


I even commissioned my dearly beloved Lizzy (who did the design on this blog! And has the greatest Etsy shop!) to make me a print that is on our gallery wall.



[True fact: I'd show you the whole gallery wall but it's been in a limbo state of 60% done for decades of weeks because #reallife and #thestruggleisreal so #nope. You'll see it when you see it.]

No more striving. No more rules and lists and trying to prove a damn thing to God because he sees and knows all of me, already died for me, already accepted me, already declared me righteous because Jesus imputed his perfect record onto me already.

It is finished.

I even decided that, when I feel right about the timing, I'm going to get "it is finished" tattooed just under my left clavicle, signifying it being tattooed onto my heart. [Yes, the heart is actually in the middle, blah blah blah, it's my body, under my clavicle would look better, so suck it.]

Last year, Jason and I had a lot of conversations about this "it is finished" theme in my life, and I had yearnnnnnnned to go to the next Liberate Conference but figured it was like how I want to weigh 160 pounds--possible? Maybe. But probably never happening.

When I heard that the theme of the 2015 conference was "It is Finished" I just about died, and I asked Jesus (and Jason) to be able to go. By some string of miraculous grace, Jason got a better job and financially it wasn't crazy. Sure, we could pay off some more debt instead...but this just was what we knew we had freedom in the Lord to do. And I anticipate it being priceless.

So. I can't even handle this, but yes. Tomorrow we're flying across the country and going to the Liberate conference. Then, after like 3 actual talk-to-one-another, just be together and not some event or obligation, date nights since Juliet was born, we get to go spend 2 nights in the Florida Keys.

I have never been to that part of Florida--my only Floridian experience was my sophomore year of college, a week doing street evangelism to the drunk college kids during Spring Break in Panama City Beach--TRUE STORY and I told you I did #allthemissiontrips--and I am so excited.

Key West sounds like a dream place, that doesn't really exist, so I am so excited to go to there.

Our hotel is actually in Marathon, but same difference. 

Plus I LOVE bridges and I am DYING over this one, and Marathon
means we drive over it bunches more while going back and forth.

I am going to go to there. 

Shut up.
JUST SHUT UP.


Now, what you have to know about me (if you don't already) is I am constantly afraid of offending people or making them jealous or seeming braggy or prideful or something bad. Because still a sinner. The biggest problem is how much time and energy I put into those fears and trying to avoid anything like that.

So, despite wishing I could bring everyone with me {MARELLLLLLAAAAAA}, I would still love to let you know that even if you cannot be there in the flesh, you, too, can be fire hosed down with grace via the Liberate Conference. Not only will they post the sessions later, but they also just announced that they are live streaming it! Woot! Yes, it's $40, but SO DANG WORTH IT.

I mean, get this li'l tidbit:

At the conference we are going to be talking about how to embrace Jesus’ message of “it is finished” in a world that shouts the opposite. We’ll explore how the finished work of Christ affects how we approach this exhausting world we live in. This 3-day conference promises to be a weekend of freedom, as we shift our focus from what we have to do, and celebrate what Jesus has already done.

How could you pass that up?

So, here you go: enjoy the conference using this link! It has allthedetails you need.

Otherwise I'll tell ya all about it when I get back (maybe during! Because new MacBook!), I promise.

I want to end with the beautiful slogan of Liberate; I pray it reverberates endlessly through your soul like it does mine:


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