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This morning, I am sitting here reflecting on a conference I just returned from over the weekend. When I say "conference," I am loosely describing a gathering of one’s own church with a couple of visitors from the outside—my family and I being among them. It has been years since I attended any sort of conference, and honestly, I did not want to go. In fact, I sort of loathed the idea, as it was just another thing on my already packed schedule. My days are full with a full-time job, pastoring a church, and serving as a school board member. I highly value my weekends because, to be honest, Saturday is the only day I have to sleep in and relax. Through the summer, I can also enjoy Fridays, but once September hits, my Fridays are gone. So there I was at this conference, in a room with the same group of people, where they claimed it was sold out, yet a quarter of the seats were still open. There were two, maybe three, altar calls (sometimes more) given in each teaching session, us...