camp high.

Transparent. Be transparent, Ash.

I keep repeating that to myself, because I feel self-conscious, and slightly cheesy being "that girl" who goes on a hyper-spiritual "camp high" after a womens' conference. The first church I joined would talk about it as the "honey moon phase."

I remind myself that there's nothing cheesy about it--refilling and clarifying and strengthening are in fact the points of having a conference, or a camp retreat. I tell myself that I'm not alone. That it'd be sad if I had come out without a new perspective, or a changed heart.

So I'll be transparent. I'll be honest, and maybe cheesy, and naive, and I might gush a little bit. That's okay. Smart, strong, realistic women can gush.

Something changed. I went into DFL as one person. And have come out as a different person. That's a bold statement, I know. But true.

I worshiped openly. I talked openly about faith. I made a resolve to accept this life as my own. Something changed.

There's a lot to say, and I hope to get to all of it this week. God spoke to me about identity--who I am in Christ. About my relationship with my parents. About the courage to step out in serving, and giving, and in choosing. He made solid all that has been wiggling, and sliding into place over the last few months. Something changed.

I have a sense that if you ask me in twenty years about the major transitional points in my faith, I will talk about DFL 2010 as one of them. I'll tell you about these issues of identity. I'll say that I had been struggling with accepting my life in Christ as the core reality of my self, but that God laid to rest all questions of ownership. I'll tell you that those days of the conference were the moments in which my faith became real to me, in which I began to truly understand my relationship to God in worship, during which I shifted from seeing faith as an obligation to faith as an identity, and to understand my role as an every day evangelist as one that begins with God and leads to a love of people not above God, but from God--because He loves them, and I love what He loves.

In 20 years, from my office as a professor, or a statistician, or an Olympic figure-skater, if you ask me about my faith, I'll tell you that it all happened differently because of three days in October of 2010. That I took chances I wouldn't have taken. That I made choices I wouldn't have made. That I stepped out where I might have stayed safe--had it not been for the way that God used the words and worship of DFL to speak to me.

I don't know what will happen next. That's scary. I do know that something changed. I know that my faith is fundamentally different today than it was a week ago, and that I am whole-heartedly excited about my faith, my love for God, and the way that my love for Him will play out in the lives of others.

Something changed.