The Life of Faith
An Apprenticeship in Celebration
It’s hard to find the freedom faith was meant to bring—and even harder to live it. Not because Jesus didn’t set us free, but because somewhere along the way,
the gospel got repackaged as a possibility instead of a proclamation.
So let’s start here, with what the first Christians believed:
The gospel isn’t the news that something can happen if we believe rightly. It’s the news that something already has happened.
God has already made His home in us.
That’s not a potential truth waiting for your permission; It's a settled reality Jesus revealed that’s waiting for your attention.
Faith doesn’t make this relationship real.
Faith is what allows you to see it, trust it, and enjoy it.
That’s the difference between religion and relief.
Religion says, “You can invite Jesus into your life.”
The gospel says, “Jesus has invited you into His.”
Turns out grace isn’t a temporary pass while we get our act together—it’s a lark, a joke on religion, played by the God who never followed our rules.
If we miss the punchline, we’ll keep treating faith like a business plan for holiness instead of an invitation to the party that’s already in full swing.
Why Celebration Matters
If the gospel is done, and Jesus has unveiled the God we’ve been missing, then the only thing left to do is pop the cork. When something’s “finished” (John 19), you don’t manage it—you marvel at it.
Celebration isn’t denial in the inevitable hard times of life. It’s defiance—learning to laugh again in a world obsessed with proving itself.
That’s why Jesus’ first miracle wasn’t raising the dead or calming the sea. It was keeping the wine flowing. He didn’t offer lessons on excess; He saved a party. And in doing so, He was saving us—showing us that the kingdom of God looks a lot more like joy than judgment.
Because here’s the truth: you can’t celebrate and control at the same time.
You can’t rest and strive in the same breath.
The posture of joy is the posture of trust.
Which is hard to see when you’re surrounded by the gospel of hustle; told faith is about doing things for God, and the church is a club you join to get fit.
But you can’t institutionalize grace without killing it.
And you can’t market freedom without losing it.
Perhaps this is why the Church Jesus started isn’t a brand to maintain; it’s a movement of everyday believers who believe everyone already belongs—right where they are.
Why This Changes Everything
If the gospel is fixed news, then celebrating it is all we can do. Which, ironically, is how we learn to live free. That’s what discipleship really is—an apprenticeship in celebration.
We rehearse the good news because we’re prone to build ladders to climb.
We remind each other that grace is still grace when the paycheck’s late, the marriage is hard, and the doctor calls with a bad report.
We eat, laugh, cry, forgive, and remember that love has already won.
In short:
You don’t “live out” the gospel like a marching order;
you carry it around like a song that won’t leave your head.
You hum it over dinner, you sing it in conversations with friends,
and there, it sounds like freedom.
This isn’t a discipleship theory, it’s the tangible practice of:
Listening to the good news again and again.
Feasting like you actually believe God is good.
Resting in who Jesus is instead of striving for Him.
Laughing at the madness instead of managing outcomes.
Telling stories that remind everyone the grace never runs out.
It’s not a curriculum. It’s a way of seeing. A journey of remembering. A life that treats joy as holy rebellion in a world addicted to religion.
The Bottom Line
Wherever the celebration of good news spills out—around tables, in backyards, at kitchen counters—is a gathering of the Church.
Not because doing so makes us right or something more, but because Jesus made His home in us, and we’re learning to enjoy it.
That’s the real story.
The Church was never meant to be a club for the committed; it’s the ongoing party of the forgiven—ordinary people who keep raising their glasses to the good news that never stopped being good.
And the more you celebrate the gospel, the more you believe it. And the more you believe it, the more you—and the world—breathes.
Now, as beautiful as that sounds, know this: it isn’t easy. Not because faith is hard, but because of two things.
First, our addiction to self-justification—our need to prove we’re enough—will always pull us toward things that promise control: formalized churches, political parties, causes, entrepreneurship. And second, we’re surrounded by religious noise that keeps us from the truth that sets faith free.
That’s why this series exists: to help you recover the life of faith through the lens of who Jesus already is for us.
Through it, you’ll see what religion buried and reimagine what things like church, discipleship, worship, and leadership were always meant to be.
Because when you see who Jesus already is for you, faith stops being a project to manage and starts becoming a life to enjoy.
NOTE: If you haven’t read All A Lark, you may want to start there. Everything that follows builds on the foundation gained through this fun read.