I distinctly remember the feeling that I had back in May 2010. I was sitting in an old musty pew at our denomination’s conference center for a Sunday morning worship. I hadn’t been to church very often since I finished high school in 2003, but for whatever reason I felt the conviction that this was the weekend I wanted to attend my childhood church’s annual retreat. As I sat in worship that morning many things felt familiar. The order of worship. The affirmation of faith. The hymns. Even the prayers sounded like an old friend. But I was not quite prepared for what would happen when the pastor stood up to preach his sermon that morning. As he preached from the Gospel of Matthew, it