Thoughts, Prayers, and the Widow’s Mite: Sermon for November 15, 2015

12249738_10153171783211787_8883653876062982129_nPeople sometimes joke with pastors that we only work on Sunday mornings. Like we preach for an hour each week and then go golfing every other day. To be honest, even I think it’s funny.

But the reality, of course, is different. During the week, along with all the other things ministry entails, we get ready for Sunday morning. And by midweek the service is starting to be prepared in the office. Sermon titles, hymns, prayers, and more are chosen. And by early on Friday a stack of bulletins is ready to go for Sunday morning.

That’s what happened this week. Today is pledge dedication Sunday, when we ask you to bring your pledge cards for 2016 in, and when we dedicate them for next year. It’s the official end of our stewardship campaign. And as you can see in the bulletin, today’s sermon was entitled “Budgeting for Gratitude”. I was preparing a sermon that was about generosity, and how giving is a way of expressing our thanks for all that we have been given.

And I was sitting down on the couch on Friday night, about to write that sermon, when it became clear that something really terrible was happening in Paris. And so for the rest of the night, we watched the news, and prayed for those who were still in danger, and hurt for a beautiful city. And the next morning, like many of you, we asked “Is this what our world is now? Is the world always going to feel this unsafe?”

And then, I thought about this morning. And it just felt wrong to be talking about our stewardship season here when terror is holding so many captive around the world. And I wondered if I should change the text this morning from the story that we just read, to something new.

But, in the end, I didn’t, and it wasn’t just because the bulletins were already printed. This morning the deacon read what’s commonly called the story of the widow’s mite, a mite being a very small amount. And that was what this woman put in the treasury: two small copper coins that didn’t really amount to very much.

Jesus was watching as she did this because all of the people would all come and put their money in the temple’s treasury, and anyone could watch. And so, for some it could be a bit of a production. You could get noticed for your large gifts. And some people, particularly some of the religious officials, made a show of their giving and their piety. And so they also got the place of honor at dinners and events, and they always commanded respect, even if they did not treat others well.

But this widow who is barely scraping by comes into the square, with her two little coins. And she puts them in the treasury. And Jesus says to his disciples, “that woman has just given more than all the others put together”. Because the others had given what was just extra to them. They didn’t even feel it. But she had invested greatly from the little that she had.

The implications for stewardship season are clear there. It’s why churches don’t name their biggest donors. Because this is not a contest to see who can give more. There are no tiered giving societies here. No Pastor’s Circle or, if you really give a lot, Jesus’ Circle. And it’s why I don’t know, and do not want to know, who gives what. That’s because each of us has to figure out what faithful giving looks like given what we have. For some that might be $1 a week, for others that might be a $1000. And those gifts, though vastly different financially, are worth the same to God if they truly come from the right place.

To me, the right place is from our gratitude, and from our hope and courage. Are we giving for recognition? Or are we giving that others may be seen and loved and lifted up? Are we giving to say “thank you” for what we’ve already received, or are we giving to say “I’m important, and you should thank me.” Are we giving from an abundance so big that we don’t even notice the gift is gone? Or are we giving from faith, and are we feeling it just a little when we put our pledge in the plate?

Are we giving like the scribes? Or are we giving like the widow?

These are all the questions that guide my giving. But about right now you might be wondering, what does this have to do with Paris?

To me that all comes back to Jesus line about giving from abundance, versus giving when times are tight. Because I think that same thing could be said about love, and about loving when it is easy for you to do so, and loving when it is tremendously, tremendously difficult.

It is easy to sit here across the ocean, and to say “our thoughts and prayers are with Paris”. And they are. And they will continue to be in the coming days. And then one day, far too soon, something else is going to happen in this world filled with violence. And our thoughts and prayers will be with the next place.

I’m not saying that we are being insincere. But I am saying that for those of us who are not directly affected by the things that happened, it’s not that difficult to say “my thoughts and prayers” are with you. It’s one reason why when people say “we are Paris” I hesitate a little. Because we may love Paris, and stand by Paris, but we are not suffering the way they are. We are not Paris.

And so, it’s okay to say you are praying for Paris. It’s fine to change your Facebook profile picture to the French flag. It’s normal to feel sad and afraid. But in a sense we are giving all of that from our abundance, as people who are relatively untouched.

But looking at Paris on Friday night, I was amazed at some of the ways Parisians, people who like the widow had so little emotionally to give in that moment, opened up and found generous hearts. In one example, Parisians on social media started posting and tweeting that if anyone was stranded and needed a place to stay, they would open their homes to them. And I thought, “how extraordinary…because if there were ever a time for Parisians to fear the stranger it is right now” and yet are choosing to live in abundance instead.

That is what it means to give, and to act, like the faithful widow in the world. To hold nothing back out of fear, but to choose to invest all of yourself, even your heart, in the work that is yet to be done. Because saying “you’re in my thoughts and prayers” without actually intending to do anything is a little like the scribe who has all the money in the world making a sizable deposit in the treasury. It looks good, but you don’t really feel it.

And that is what it should mean when we say a place, or a person, or anything is in our “thoughts and prayers”. It’s not just about thinking about those things for a moment. It’s not saying a quick prayer to God the way we might send an email or something, getting it off our desk and onto God’s. It’s about joining ourselves with the cause, and choosing to invest in it with our lives. Especially when we feel like we have nothing to give.

And that’s because prayer is more than words. Prayer is not something that is over the moment we say “amen”. Amen means “truly” after all. As in “I truly mean this God”. And so, in a profound way, I think that when we say “amen” that means we are just getting started with the praying.

And so, if your thoughts and prayers are with Paris, how will you truly mean that? Will you work for peace in this world? Will you live in hope, and not in the fear that the terrorists hope that we will embrace? Will you stand up in the coming days to the Islamophobia that we will doubtlessly hear all around us?

And I want to say something specifically about that. Because those refugees in Europe who are now being looked at with suspicion came there because ISIS was doing these same things in the places they are fleeing. And ISIS is as much a Muslim organization as the Klan was a Christian one. They weren’t burning those crosses because they wanted to destroy them. They burned them as symbols of their faith. Thank God we Christians are not judged by them. So let’s make sure our Muslim neighbors aren’t judged by the actions of those who would sully their faith.

In all these ways and more, how will you pray for Paris? And how will you pray for all the other places where terror reigns? For Beruit. For Iraq. For Syria. For those places in our own country.

I’m of the mind that terror wins when it forces us to live in fear. It wins when we are no longer generous people, but instead live with closed and suspicious hearts. And it wins when a night of horror halfway around the globe can dampen the basic faith in humanity of people here.

And so I’m reminded of the old bumper sticker phrase, that despite its brevity actually has a lot of truth in it: think globally, act locally. We are not in Paris. But we are here. And we can choose this day, and each day, how we will live in the world. And we can choose how we will give of ourselves in every part of our lives.

We can choose love. We can choose understanding. We can choose generosity. And we can choose to invest all of us in the people and things that we believe in.

But more simply, we can choose to live like scribes, with closed hearts, and actions that cost us nothing. Or we can choose to live like the faithful widow, who believed God would bless even those two small coins she put in the plate. We can choose to live with our fears in charge. Or we can can choose to love with our hearts wide open. The choice is ours. And the prayer that is our lives starts now. Amen?

A Prayer for Good Friday

Prince of Peace, redeemer of us all, crucified God, we have gathered at the foot of the cross, and at the entrance to the tomb, and we have rolled the stone across it.

524013_10100263836785808_2011523557_nThe world sometimes does it’s worst, even to those who don’t deserve it. You know that, because you once lived as one of us, loved as one of us, and died as one of us.

Today we leave the tomb, as your disciples did centuries ago, knowing our friend is gone, and that a good man has died.

The ones who knew you and loved you could find no consolation that night. They mourned. Just as there have been nights when we have mourned. Just as there have been nights when we have looked for mercy that didn’t seem to come.

And yet, some would dare to look for hope…

God, as you send us out into the world today, stay close to us. As we wrestle with the big questions, as we ask why there is pain, why there is suffering, why there is loss, do not leave us alone. Help us to find you in our hours of greatest doubt.

And at the right hour, draw us back together. To gather at the tomb. To look for the light. To look for you.

For hope, for you, we will be waiting. Amen.

How to Pray: Sermon for January 11, 2015

Matthew 6:9-13

9 “Pray then in this way:

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
10 Your kingdom come.
Your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
11 Give us this day our daily bread.
12 And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
13 And do not bring us to the time of trial,
but rescue us from the evil one.

Some of the first prayers I ever remember saying were during football games. My dad’s side of the family is all from Washington, DC, and they are all Washington football fans, and my dad in particular takes games very seriously. In fact, on most Sundays in football season my dad and I both watch the game, hundreds of miles away from each other, and we text one another through every touchdown, every fumble, every interception.

I knew football was something important in my family growing up. In fact I remember being about six years old and watching Washington play the Dolphins in the Super Bowl. We were watching them on TV, and I could see everyone was so intent and so anxious. And so, though I didn’t understand much about God or prayer or how to pray, I decided to take action. And through the game I kept praying that the pass on third and long would connect, or the field goal would make it through the uprights.

Washington won that Super Bowl, and the players did okay in that game, but I held myself partially responsible for praying the way to that Lombardi trophy. And I thought I was on to something good with this prayer stuff. But then the next year, my team went to the Super Bowl again. And this time they played the Raiders. And, despite my best attempts at prayer, they were absolutely crushed.

It was probably my first experience of religious disillusionment.

I don’t pray about football much these days, though I still sometimes catch myself saying, “Oh please, God, let him catch it,” and I feel a little embarrassed. I don’t think it’s ever wrong to talk to God, but I still feel self-conscious and like I’m doing something wrong. I still want to know, “Am I praying the right way?”

10403016_827092474010019_3062638086161016394_nMaybe you’ve asked that too. If you have, you’re not alone. Even back in Jesus’ day, people were wondering if they were praying the right way. And one day one of Jesus disciples said to him, “Teacher, teach us how to pray.”

Jesus responds by teaching them a prayer that we recite here every week, and that Christians around the world have recited daily since: “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

It sounds a little different than the words we say now, but there’s no mistaking that it’s the Lord’s Prayer. And it’s as close as we have ever gotten to a perfect prayer. And that makes sense, because it came right from the source.

When you look at the prayer, just in those few lines, there is so much there that is so rich. Jesus calls God “Father”, which means he is inviting us to enter into a conversation which is personal, and loving. We ask that God’s reign would come. We ask for our daily bread, trusting for God to provide what we need. And ask forgiveness, and we ask for help forgiving others. And, finally, we ask God to keep us safe, and out of harm’s way.

Really, everything you need is in that prayer. If there is such a thing as a “right way to pray”, this is it.

Now at this point you might be thinking, “that’s all very good and well, but I have prayed before and I don’t think it works.” Maybe you prayed for something you really and truly needed, not just a football game, and you didn’t get what you need. Or maybe you prayed for someone you loved dearly who needed healing, and you ended up losing them anyway. Or maybe you have just cried out asking, “God, are you there”, but you haven’t had any response.

I wish I could give you an easy answer at this point, one that explained all that, but the fact is that I can’t, and it would be condescending for me to try. And at this point a lot of people would quote the words of CS Lewis, a well-known Christian writer, who once said, “Prayer doesn’t change God. It changes me.”

And, he’s right about one part of that. Prayer does change us. If you’ve ever gotten into a regular routine of praying, you know that. Your attention shifts. Your priorities change. You feel your life change in ways that make it better.

Two of my favorite prayers, the Prayer of St. Francis, and the Serenity Prayer, are two good examples of prayer that changes us. They teach us how to order our lives. They remind us of what matters and what we can do. And if we really mean what we pray, they change us.

And that, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing. But if prayer were only a one-sided conversation with ourselves, it wouldn’t be all that much better than something written by a motivational speaker. We would feel good, but where is God in all that?

Prayer is not just about us. It’s about God, and it’s about a conversation that we are having with God. And time and again in Scripture, we are provided with examples of a God who does listen to us, and who does respond. That doesn’t always mean that we get what we want, and that doesn’t always mean that we are answered with a “yes”, but it does mean that, somehow, we get what we need.

But, on our side, that means that we have to be a part of that conversation too. And sometimes that means that we have to recognize that prayer is more than just words. It’s not just a wish made to God.

Sometimes the best kind of prayer can be our own action. Prayer is a form of action because it is inviting God’s involvement. But good prayer doesn’t stop with words. In fact. prayer cannot just stop with words if it is real. Prayer can take many forms. And actions can be prayers as well.
When you write out a donation to disaster relief, that is a prayer. When you go and help rebuild houses, that’s a prayer. When you give food to those who are hungry, that’s a prayer. When you work for justice and peace, that’s a prayer. And when you get up in the morning, and get out of bed, and commit yourself to loving the people around you as best as you possibly can, that’s a prayer too. A life of action, a life of living out your faith, is the best prayer you can say.

And it’s also the best way you can change the world, and be a witness to what God is doing in it. Because there’s another part of prayer, too, and it’s one I was reminded of in a big way this week, and that’s the way that prayer helps to shape our lives together, and helps to tell the story of who we are and what we believe.

I think that Jesus was trying to tell us something when he said we should start our prayers with “our Father” and not just “my Father”. I think he was reminding us that prayer is better when it finds its home in community. And sometimes it is most powerful there too; more powerful than we could ever imagine.

Many of you remember Jane and Michael Henderson, who were the co-pastors at this church in the 1990’s. And many of you remember their daughter, Abby. She grew up in this church, going to Sunday school, sitting in worship, listening to the prayers, and later joining in them herself.

Abby is now a minister herself. And this past week we were both at the same continuing education event out in Arizona, and we had the chance to share several meals together and to talk about this church, and how it had shaped her, and I was reminded in a profound way about what a community gathered together in prayer can teach. Your prayers helped to shape her.

But you don’t have to just look at someone who grew up in this church twenty years ago to see that it works. Because the examples are all around us. One of the parents of one of our five year olds told me a story about this this week, and she gave me permission to share it with you this morning.

On Sunday mornings, during the prayer of confession and after the time of silence that we keep, I always pray something along the lines of this: “Brothers and sisters, hear the good news, who is in a position to judge us? Only Christ, and Christ came to love us. In Jesus Christ we are all forgiven, Amen.”

I don’t think of those lines as particularly memorable, particularly not for a small child. But the other night at bath time, one of the moms in our congregation walked in to find her five year old looking at her brother and saying “sisters and brothers, hear the good news!” and then talking about the very everyday ways that Jesus loves us.

I was blown away. And I was reminded of how important prayer can be for our community. Because our prayers, the ones we say together every Sunday, are more powerful than we can imagine. Because sometimes prayer is about telling a story, and we tell the best stories when we tell them together. We teach the stories to whole new generations. And those generations will teach those stories to generations after them, and long after you and I are gone, the story we tell in prayer here in our life together will continue. The prayers will go on.

It’s a heavy responsibility. But it is also an unbelievable joy. Prayer is so much more than a set of words on a page. Prayer is a whole way of living in the world. And prayer is the lifeblood of a church, and of the world.

And so, pray. Pray to change yourself. Pray to change things. Pray with your hands and feet and heart. Pray to tell the story. And pray with one another, starting here, so that the story will be told from generation to generation, until God’s kingdom comes, and God’s will is done, on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Prayer and Action: Sermon for July 28, 2013

200px-Super_Bowl_XVII_Logo.svgSome of the first prayers I ever remember saying were during football games. My family is full of Redskins fans, and my dad in particular takes games very seriously. I remember being about six years old and watching the Redskins play the Dolphins in the Super Bowl. We were watching them on TV, and I could see everyone was so intent and so anxious. And so, though I didn’t understand much about God or prayer or how to pray, I kept praying that the pass on third and long would connect, or the field goal would make it through the uprights.

The Redskins won that Super Bowl, and I thought I was on to something good. Joe Theismann did okay that game, but I held myself personally responsible for praying the way to that Lombardi trophy. But the next year, the Skins went to the Super Bowl again. And this time they played the Raiders. And, despite my best attempts at prayer, the Skins were absolutely crushed.

It was probably my first experience of religious disillusionment.

I don’t pray about football much these days. Though I still sometimes catch myself saying, “Oh please, God, let him catch it,” and I feel a little embarrassed. I don’t think it’s ever wrong to talk to God, but I still feel self-conscious and like I’m doing something wrong. I still want to know, “Am I praying the right way?”

Maybe you’ve asked that too. If you have, you’re not alone. Even back in Jesus’ day, people were wondering if they were praying the right way. And one day one of his disciples said to him, “Teacher, teach us how to pray.”

Jesus responds by teaching them a prayer that we recite here every week, and that Christians around the world have recited daily since: “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

It sounds a little different than the words we say now, but there’s no mistaking that it’s the Lord’s Prayer. And it’s as close as we have ever gotten to a perfect prayer. And that makes sense, because it came right from the source.

When you look at the prayer, just in those few lines, there is so much there that is so rich. Jesus calls God “Father”, which means he is inviting us to enter into a conversation which is personal, and loving. We ask that God’s reign would come. We ask for our daily bread, trusting for God to provide what we need. And ask forgiveness, and we ask for help forgiving others. And, finally, we ask God to keep us safe, and out of harm’s way.

Really, everything you need is in that prayer. If there is such a thing as a “right way to pray”, this is it.

So, that being said, why didn’t Jesus just stop talking then? Why is there the rest of this passage? Jesus tells a story about a man who goes to a friend’s house late at night because he needs somethings and he knocks on the door. The friend shouts, “go away, I’m sleeping”. But the man still knocks, and eventually the man gets up and gives his friend what he needs. Jesus tells us, “Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.”

He’s talking about prayer. He’s talking about the persistence of prayer. And he’s saying that when we care enough to keep knocking, God will answer. Jesus then tells his disciples, “You wouldn’t give your kids a snake if they asked for a fish, and you wouldn’t give your kids a scorpion when they ask for an egg, right? So why would God, who loves us as a parent, and who is a far better parent than any of us could ever be, withhold what we need from us?”

Now at this point you might be thinking, “that’s all very good and well, but I have prayed before and nothing has changed.” Maybe you prayed for something you really and truly needed, not just a football game, and you didn’t get what you need. Or maybe you prayed for someone you loved dearly who needed healing, and you ended up losing them anyway. Or maybe you have just cried out asking, “God, are you there”, but you haven’t had any response.

I wish I could give you an easy answer at this point, one that explained all that, but the fact is that I can’t, and it would be condescending for me to try. And at this point a lot of people would quote the words of CS Lewis, a well-known Christian writer, who once said, “Prayer doesn’t change God. It changes me.”

And, he’s right about one part of that. Prayer does change us. If you’ve ever gotten into a regular routing of praying, you know that. Your attention shifts. Your priorities change. You feel your life change in ways that make it better.

Two of my favorite prayers, the Prayer of St. Francis, and the Serenity Prayer, are two good examples of prayer that changes us. They teach us how to order our lives. They remind us of what matters and what we can do. And if we really mean what we pray, they change us.

And that, in and of itself, isn’t a bad thing. But if prayer were only a one-sided conversation with ourselves, it wouldn’t be all that much better than something written by a motivational speaker. We would feel good, but where is God in all that?

Prayer is not just about us. It’s about God, and it’s about a conversation that we are having with God. And time and again in Scripture, we are provided with examples of a God who does listen to us, and who does respond. That doesn’t always mean that we get what we want, and that doesn’t always mean that we are answered with a “yes”, but it does mean that, somehow, we get what we need. As Jesus said, God would hand us snakes and scorpions, and God’s door won’t go unanswered.

But, on our side, that means that we have to be a part of that conversation too. And sometimes that means that we have to recognize that prayer is more than just words. It’s not just a wish made to God. Sometimes the best kind of prayer can be our own action.

In the aftermath of the recent Oklahoma tornadoes, I saw a lot of people on TV and online saying, “pray for Oklahoma”. A few days later, some atheist groups countered with their own saying: “actually do something for Oklahoma”. Now, you all know that I don’t think atheists should be the punching bag for people of faith. They have their belief, and we have ours, but I remember thinking, “I don’t think you understand what prayer means.” Because praying for Oklahoma and actually doing something for Oklahoma are not mutually exclusive.

I do believe that prayer in and of itself is action. It’s asking for God’s involvement. But prayer doesn’t have to stop with words. In fact. prayer cannot just stop with words if it is real. Prayer can take many forms. And actions can be prayers as well.

When you write out a donation to disaster relief, that is a prayer. When you go and help rebuild houses, that’s a prayer. When you give food to those who are hungry, that’s a prayer. When you work for justice and peace, that’s a prayer. And when you get up in the morning, and get out of bed, and commit yourself to loving the people around you as best as you possibly can, that’s a prayer too.

If you are really intent on this Christian life, if you are really committed to prayer, then there is one way to live, and that is to live your life as a prayer. No matter where you are or what you are doing, use this one life you have to pray without ceasing. Make prayer your way of being in the world, and not something that you fall back on only when you need something. If you do that, everything will change. Because you cannot knock on that door for long before, one way or another, God will answer.

I’ll close with this. Many of you know that this weekend was the 50th anniversary of t he West Dover Fire Department. A few of us from our congregation are currently involved in the department, and many more have been for some time. I learned this weekend that members from our congregation were among those responsible for starting that department. People like Frank Smith, Paul Kammerlen, and Eddie Barber. I really think that what they did was a form of prayer. It was a form of communicating their love for God and neighbor into action.

And now 50 years later new generations go out in the middle of the night to pray themselves. West Dover, East Dover, Deerfield Valley Rescue, Ski Patrol, and our Dover Police. They pray by serving their neighbors. And that is a prayer that is always pleasing and acceptable to God. People like that teach us how to pray by what they do, not what they say. By living their life as a prayer.

There’s a capacity for all of us to do that, whether we wear a uniform or not. It starts when we go to God in prayer, but prayer is never complete until we commit to living that prayer. May God bless our prayers, and show us how to live our life as a prayer. And may all of our prayers glorify God. Amen.

Journey Through Lent: Day 39 (Good Friday)

524013_10100263836785808_2011523557_nA prayer for Good Friday:

Prince of Peace, redeemer of us all, crucified God, we have gathered at the foot of the cross, and at the entrance to the tomb, and we have rolled the stone across it.

The world sometimes does it’s worst, even to those who don’t deserve it. You know that, because you once lived as one of us, loved as one of us, and died as one of us.

Today we leave, as your disciples did centuries ago, knowing our friend is gone, and that a good man has died.

The ones who knew you and loved you could find no consolation that night. They mourned. Just as there have been nights when we have mourned. Just as there have been nights when we have looked for mercy that didn’t seem to come.

And yet, some would dare to look for hope…

God, as you send us out into the world today, stay close to us. As we wrestle with the big questions, as we ask why there is pain, why there is suffering, why there is loss, do not leave us alone. Help us to find you in our hours of greatest doubt.

And at the right hour, draw us back together. To gather at the tomb. To look for the light. To look for you. For hope, for you, we will be waiting. Amen.

The Wide Middle Ground – New article in “The Commons”

Last week an article entitled “In Vermont, gods don’t vote” was printed in The Commons, the weekly newspaper for Windham County, Vermont. You can read it here: http://www.commonsnews.org/site/site05/story.php?articleno=5525&page=1

This week, I countered with these thoughts on the legitimacy of having a devotional before town meetings: http://www.commonsnews.org/site/site05/story.php?articleno=5571&page=1

A Prayer for Good Friday

Let us pray:

Prince of Peace, redeemer of us all, crucified God, we have gathered at the foot of the cross, and at the entrance to the tomb, and we have rolled the stone across it.

The world sometimes does it’s worst, even to those who don’t deserve it. You know that, because you once lived as one of us, loved as one of us, and died as one of us.

Tonight we leave, as your disciples did centuries ago, knowing our friend is gone, and that a good man has died.

The ones who knew you and loved you could find no consolation that night. They mourned. Just as there have been nights when we have mourned. Just as there have been nights we have looked for mercy that didn’t seem to come.

And yet, some would dare to look for hope…

God, as you send us out into the world tonight, stay close to us. As we wrestle with the big questions; as we ask why there is pain, why there is suffering, why there is loss, do not leave us alone. Help us to find you in our hours of greatest doubt.

And at the right hour, draw us back together. To gather at the tomb. To look for the light. To look for you. For hope, for you, we will be waiting. Amen.