This is an Announcement

 

This is an Announcement

This is an Announcement - Audio/Visual 

Early on Sunday morning, as the new day was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went out to visit the tomb. Suddenly there was a great earthquake! For an angel of the Lord came down from heaven, rolled aside the stone, and sat on it. His face shone like lightning, and his clothing was as white as snow. The guards shook with fear when they saw him, and they fell into a dead faint. Then the angel spoke to the women. “Don’t be afraid!” he said. “I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn’t here! He’s risen from the dead, just as he said would happen. Come, see where his body was lying. (Matt. 28:1-6)

What's the wildest announcement you've ever heard? I was just wondering because a few years ago I was about to hear one. Any second an airline agent was going to pick up his microphone and make an announcement. I could see him. He looked sane. He appeared normal. The guy probably golfs and loves his kids. But what he was about to say would qualify him for a free night in a padded cell. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is the pre-boarding announcement for Southwest flight 2068 to San Diego. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes time. Thank you."

Now, think about what he just said for a moment. He was inviting me, small kids and people requiring special assistance to ascend almost six miles into the air in a plane the size of a modern-day ranch house and be hurled through the sky at three times the speed of the fastest NASCAR racer in history. Can you believe what he was asking us to do? Of course you can because you’ve probably flown before. But what if you'd never heard such an announcement? Wouldn't you be just a little stunned?

Wouldn't you feel like the women who heard this announcement three days after Christ had died on the cross? "He isn’t here! He’s risen from the dead, just as he said would happen." (Matt. 28:6) “Early on Sunday morning, as the new day was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went out to visit the tomb. Suddenly there was a great earthquake! For an angel of the Lord came down from heaven, rolled aside the stone, and sat on it. His face shone like lightning, and his clothing was as white as snow. The guards shook with fear when they saw him, and they fell into a dead faint.” (Matt. 28:1-4)

My, how conditions had changed since Friday. The crucifixion was marked by sudden darkness, silent angels, and mocking soldiers. Now, at the empty tomb the soldiers are silent, an angel speaks, and light erupts like Mt. Vesuvius. The one who was dead is said to be alive, and the soldiers, who are alive, look like they’re dead.

The women can tell something’s up. What they don't know is that Someone is up. So, the angel informs them: “Don’t be afraid!” he said. “I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn’t here! He’s risen from the dead, just as he said would happen. Come, see where his body was lying." (vv. 5-6)

Those words can mess with you. Like the words of the gate attendant, they cause you to either leave the airport or get on the plane. And here, if the angel’s words are false, the body of Jesus is like Ol’ John Brown's – “a-moldering in a borrowed grave.” If they’re false, then we have no good news. An occupied tomb on Sunday takes the good out of Good Friday. But if they’re true, if the rock is rolled and the Lord is living, then pull out Ol’ John Brown’s fiddle and put on your dancing shoes.

Heaven unplugged the grave's power cord, and you and I have nothing to fear. Death is disabled. So, get on board and let a pilot you've never seen and a power you can't understand take you home. But can we trust the announcement? The invitation of the angel was, "Come and see . . . ." That’s because the empty tomb never resists an honest investigation. A lobotomy is not a prerequisite for discipleship. Following Christ demands faith, but not blind faith. So, "Come and see," the angel invites.

Look at the vacated tomb, for instance. Did you know the opponents of Christ never challenged its vacancy? No Pharisee or Roman soldier ever led a Congressional committee back to the burial site and declared, "The angel was wrong. The body’s here. It was all just a scandalous rumor." They would have if they could have, because within weeks disciples occupied every Jerusalem street corner announcing a risen Christ. What quicker way for the enemies of the church to shut them up than to produce a cold and lifeless body? Display the cadaver, and Christianity is just as dead. But they had no cadaver to display. That helps explain the Jerusalem revival. Because when the apostles argued for the empty tomb, the people looked to the Pharisees for a rebuttal. But they had none to give. As A. M. Fairbairn said long ago about these events, "The silence of the Jews is as eloquent as the speech of the Christians!"

Speaking of the Christians, remember the followers' fear at the crucifixion? They ran. Scared as cats in a dog pound. Peter cursed Christ at the fire. Emmaus-bound disciples bemoaned the death of Christ on the trail. After the crucifixion, "the disciples were meeting behind locked doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders." (John 20:19) These guys were so chicken you could call the Upper Room a henhouse. But fast-forward forty days. Bankrupt traitors have become a force of life-changing fury. Peter is preaching in the very precinct where Christ was arrested. Followers of Christ defy the enemies of Christ. Whip them and they'll worship. Lock them up and they'll launch a jailhouse ministry – as bold after the resurrection as they were cowardly before it.

Why? Was it greed? No, they made no money. Power? They gave all the credit to Christ. Popularity? Most were killed for their beliefs. Only one explanation remains – a resurrected Christ and his Holy Spirit. The courage of these men and women was forged in the fire of the empty tomb. The disciples did not dream up a resurrection. The resurrection fired up the disciples.

Have doubts about the empty tomb? Come and see the disciples. And while you're searching, come and see the alternatives. If Christ is not raised, if his body is decayed into dust, what are you left with? Well, how about Eastern mysticism? Let's travel back in time and around the globe to India. It's 490 B.C., and Buddha is willing to see us. Here’s our question: "Can you defeat death?" He never opens his eyes, just shakes his head. "You are disillusioned, dear child. Seek enlightenment." So, we do.

 By virtue of a vigorous imagination, we travel to Greece to meet with the father of logic, Socrates. He offers a sip of hemlock, but we take a pass explaining that we have only one question. "Do you have power over the grave? Are you the son of Zeus?” He scratches his bald head, and then calls us raca, which is Greek for turkey brains. Undeterred, we advance a thousand years and locate the ancient village of Mecca. A bearded Muhammad sits in the midst of followers. From the back of the crowd, we cry out, "We are looking for Allah incarnate. Are you he?" He stands and rips his robe and demands that we be silenced as infidels. But we escape.

We escape back in time to Jerusalem. We ascend the stairs of a simple house where the King of the Jews is holding court. The room is crowded with earnest disciples. As we find a seat, we look into the radiant face of the resurrected Christ. The love in his eyes is as real as the wounds on his body. If we ask the question of him – “Are you raised from the dead? Are you the Son of God?" – we know his answer. Jesus might well personalize the words he gave to the angel. "I am raised from the dead as I said I would be. Come and see the place where my body was."

Quite a claim, and quite an announcement. And just like passengers in the airport about to board a plane, we get to choose how we respond. Either get on board and trust the pilot – or try to get home on our own. I know which choice I prefer.

Grace,

Randy

Escape from the Valley of the Shadow of Doubt

 

Escape from the Valley of the Shadow of Doubt

Escape from the Valley of the Shadow of Doubt - Audio/Visual 

“Why are you frightened?” he asked. “Why are your hearts filled with doubt? Look at my hands. Look at my feet. You can see that it’s really me. Touch me and make sure that I am not a ghost, because ghosts don’t have bodies, as you see that I do.” As he spoke, he showed them his hands and his feet. Still, they stood there in disbelief, filled with joy and wonder. (Luke 24:38-41)

Woody Allen doesn’t sleep well at night. He’s a restless soul. Fears keep the moviemaker awake. To look at him you'd think otherwise – his timid demeanor and gentle smile. His hair seems to be the only ruffled part about him. But beneath the surface fears nibble away at him. The void overwhelms him. A strident atheist, Allen views life as a "meaningless little flicker." No God, no purpose, no life after this life and, consequently, no life in this one. "I can't really come up with a good argument to choose life over death," he admits, "except that I'm too scared. . . . The trains all go to the same place. They all go to the dump." So, he makes films to stay distracted. He’s not alone.

My Woody Allen moments tend to surface, of all times, on Sunday mornings – the day I stand before a congregation of people who are willing to exchange twenty minutes of their time for some conviction and hope. And most weeks I have plenty to go around. But occasionally I don't; times when the seeming absurdity of what I believe hits me. I remember one Easter in particular. As I reviewed my notes, the resurrection message felt mythic – closer to an urban legend than the gospel truth. Angels perched on cemetery rocks; burial clothing needed, then not; soldiers scared stiff; a was-dead, now-walking Jesus. I half expected the Mad Hatter or the seven dwarfs to pop out of a hole at the turn of a page. The valley of the shadow of doubt. Perhaps you know its gray terrain because maybe you’ve been there.

To one degree or another, we all venture into the valley. And at some point, we all need a plan to escape it. Today, those occasional Sunday morning sessions of second-guessing dissipate pretty quickly thanks to a small masterpiece in the last pages of Luke's gospel. The physician-turned-historian dedicated his last chapter to answering one question: how does Christ respond when we doubt him?

Luke takes us to the Upper Room in Jerusalem. It's Sunday morning following Friday's crucifixion. Jesus' followers had gathered, not to change the world, but to escape it; not as gospel raconteurs, but as scared rabbits. They'd buried their hopes with the carpenter's corpse. You'd have found more courage in a chicken coop. Fearless faith? Not here. Search the bearded faces of these men for even a glint of resolve, a hint of courage and you’ll come up empty. One look at the bright faces of the females, however, and your heart will leap with theirs. According to Luke they exploded into the room like the sunrise announcing a Jesus-sighting. “[The women] rushed back from the tomb to tell his eleven disciples – and everyone else – what had happened. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and several other women who told the apostles what had happened. But the story sounded like nonsense to the men, so they didn't believe it.” (Luke 24:9-11) Periodic doubters of Christ, take note and take heart. The charter followers of Christ had doubts, too. But Christ refused to leave them alone with their questions. He, as it turned out, was anything but dead and buried.

“When he spotted two of the disciples trudging toward a village called Emmaus, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him. He asked them, ‘What are you discussing together as you walk along?’ They stood still, their faces downcast.” (Luke 24:15-17) Apparently, for this particular assignment, angels wouldn't do. An emissary wouldn't suffice. An army of heaven's best soldiers wouldn't be sent. Jesus himself came to the rescue. And how did he bolster these disciples' faith? "Jesus took them through the writings of Moses and all the prophets, explaining from all the Scriptures the things concerning himself." (v. 27)

Well, what do you know? Christ taught a Bible class. He led the duo through an Old Testament survey from the writings of Moses (Genesis though Deuteronomy), into the messages of Isaiah, Amos and others. He turned the Emmaus trail into a biblical timeline. Of special import to Jesus was what the "Scriptures said about himself," because Jesus’ face watermarks more Old Testament stories than you might imagine. Jesus is Noah, saving humanity from disaster; Abraham, the father of a new nation; Isaac, placed on the altar by his father; Joseph, sold for a bag of silver; Moses, calling slaves to freedom; Joshua, pointing out the promised land. Jesus "took them through the writings of Moses and all the prophets." Can you imagine Christ quoting Old Testament scripture? We don’t know what he said, but we know its impact – the two disciples felt "our hearts burning within us while he talked." (Luke 24:32)

By now the trio had crossed northwesterly out of the rocky hills into a scented, gardened valley of olive groves and luscious fruit trees. The seven-mile hike probably felt more like a half-hour stroll. All too quickly fled the moments and the disciples wanted to hear more. "By this time, they were nearing Emmaus and the end of their journey. Jesus acted as if he were going on, but they begged him, 'Stay the night with us.' . . . As they sat down to eat, he took the bread and blessed it. Then he broke it and gave it to them. Suddenly, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And at that moment he disappeared!" (vv. 28-31) In other words, Jesus taught the Word and broke the bread, and then – like a mist on a May morning – he was gone.

The Emmaus men weren't far behind, however. The pair dropped the broken loaf, grabbed their broken dreams, raced back to Jerusalem and burst in on the apostles. They blurted out their discovery, only to be interrupted and upstaged by Jesus himself. “And just as they were telling about it, Jesus himself was suddenly standing there among them. ‘Peace be with you,’ he said. But the whole group was startled and frightened, thinking they were seeing a ghost! ‘Why are you frightened?’ he asked. ‘Why are your hearts filled with doubt?’” (vv. 36-38)

Don't hurry too quickly past Christ's causal connection between fright and doubt. Unanswered qualms make for quivering disciples. No wonder Christ makes our hesitations his highest concern. "’Look at my hands. Look at my feet. You can see that it's really me. Touch me and make sure that I am not a ghost, because ghosts don't have bodies, as you see that I do.’ As he spoke, he showed them his hands and his feet. Still, they stood there in disbelief, filled with joy and wonder. Then he asked them, ‘Do you have anything here to eat?’ They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he ate it as they watched. Then he said, ‘When I was with you before, I told you that everything written about me in the law of Moses and the prophets and in the Psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures.” (vv. 36-45)

The disciples didn't know whether to kneel and worship, or turn tail and run. Someone decided the moment was too good to be true and called Jesus a ghost. Christ could have taken offense. After all, he'd passed through hell itself to save them, and they couldn't differentiate between him and Casper's cousin? But ever patient, as he is with doubters, Jesus extended first one hand, then the other. Then an invitation: "Touch me." He asked for food, and between bites of broiled fish Jesus initiated his second Bible lesson of the day. "'Everything I told you while I was with you comes to this: All the things written about me in the Law of Moses, in the Prophets, and in the Psalms have to be fulfilled.' He went on to open their understanding of the Word of God." (Luke 24:44-45)

Detect a pattern here? Jesus spots two fellows lumbering toward Emmaus, each looking as if they’d just buried their best friend. Christ either catches up or beams down to them and takes them through a “Know Your Bible” course. Next thing you know, a meal is eaten, their hearts are warmed, and their eyes are opened. Jesus pays a visit to the cowardly lions in the Upper Room. Not a Superman-in-the-sky flyover, mind you. But a face-to-face, put-your-hand-in-my-wound visit. A meal is served, the Bible is taught, the disciples find courage and we find two practical answers to the critical question: “What would Christ have us do with our doubts?” His answer? Touch my body and ponder my story.

We still can, you know. We can still touch the body of Christ. We'd love to touch his physical wounds and feel the flesh of the Nazarene. Yet when we brush up against the church, we do just that. "The church is his body; it is made full and complete by Christ, who fills all things everywhere with himself." (Eph. 1:23) Questions can make hermits out of us, driving us into hiding. Yet a cave has no answers. Christ distributes courage through community; he dissipates doubts through fellowship. He never deposits all knowledge in one person but distributes pieces of the jigsaw puzzle to many. When we interlock our understanding with each other, and we share our discoveries . . . When we mix, mingle, confess and pray, Christ speaks. And on this point, the adhesiveness of the disciples is instructive.

They stuck together. Even with ransacked hopes they clustered in conversant community. They kept "going over all these things that had happened." (Luke 24:14) Isn't that a picture of the church? Sharing notes, exchanging ideas, mulling over possibilities, lifting spirits? And as they did, Jesus showed up to teach them proving that "when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I'll be there." (Matt. 18:20) And when he speaks, he shares his story. God's go-to therapy for doubters is his own Word. "Before you trust, you have to listen. But unless Christ's Word is preached, there's nothing to listen to." (Rom. 10:17)

Could it be that simple? Could the chasm between doubt and faith be spanned with Scripture and fellowship? Try it. The next time the shadows come, immerse yourself in the ancient stories of Moses, the prayers of David, the testimonies of the Gospels and the epistles of Paul. Join with other seekers and make daily walks to Emmaus. And if a kind stranger joins you on the road with wise teaching . . . consider inviting him over for dinner.

Grace,

Randy

"I Will Come Back to You Again"

 

“I Will Come Back to You Again”

I am telling you these things now while I am still with you. But when the Father sends the Advocate as my representative — that is, the Holy Spirit — he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you. I am leaving you with a gift — peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. (John 14:25-28)

If only we could order life the way we order a Starbucks coffee. Wouldn't you love to mix and match the ingredients of your future? "Give me a tall, extra-hot cup of adventure with two shots of good health; no room for danger." Or, "I’ll have a decaf of longevity, please; heavy on agility but without the disability." Or maybe, "I'll go with a Grandé happy-latte, with a dollop of love, sprinkled with a Caribbean retirement." We’d all like to go to that coffee shop. Unfortunately, it doesn’t exist. The truth is, life often hands us a concoction that’s entirely different from the one we ordered.

Ever feel as though the barista-from-above called your name and handed you a cup of unwanted stress? "Enjoy your early retirement, Joe, but it comes with marital problems and inflation." Or, "Here’s a hot cup of job transfer six months before your daughter's graduation, Susie. Would you like some patience with that?" Life comes caffeinated with surprises. Modifications. Transitions. Alterations. You move down the ladder, out of the house, over for the new guy or up through the system. Some changes are welcome. Others? Not so much. And in those rare seasons when you think the world has settled down, watch out because we just don't know. The fear of what's next grabs our attention, leaving us awake at night. We might request a decaffeinated life, but we don't get it. The disciples didn't, either.

"I am going away." ( John 14:28) Imagine their shock when they heard Jesus say those words. He spoke them on the night of the Passover celebration, Thursday evening, in the Upper Room. Christ and his friends had just enjoyed a calm dinner in the midst of a chaotic week. They had reason for optimism: Jesus' popularity was soaring, and opportunities were increasing. In three short years the crowds had lifted Christ to their shoulders. He was the hope of the common man. The disciples were talking kingdom rhetoric, ready to rain down fire on their enemies and jockeying for positions in the cabinet of Christ. They envisioned a restoration of Israel to her glory days. No more Roman occupation or foreign oppression. This was the parade to freedom, and Jesus was leading it. And now this – “I am going away."

The announcement stunned them. And when Jesus explained, "You know the way to where I am going," Thomas, in exasperation, replied, "No, we don't know, Lord. We have no idea where you are going, so how can we know the way?" (John 14:4-5) Christ had handed the disciples a cup of major transition and they were desperately trying to hand it back. And wouldn't we like to do the same? But who ever succeeds in handing it back? What person passes through life surprise-free? If you don't want change, go to a soda machine – that’s the only place where you won't find any. Remember the summary of Solomon in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8? You know, “For everything there is a season . . .”? There are twenty-eight different seasons. Birth, death, lamenting, cheering, loving, hating, embracing, separating, etc. God dispenses life the way he manages his universe: through seasons.

When it comes to the earth, we understand God's management strategy. Nature needs winter to rest, and spring to awaken. So, we don't dash into underground shelters at the sight of spring trees budding, and autumn colors don't prompt warning sirens. Earthly seasons don't upset us. But unexpected personal seasons do. "The board of directors just hired a new CEO. Take cover!" Or, "Load the women and children into the bus and head north. The department store is going out of business!" Change trampolines our lives. And when it does, God sends someone special to stabilize us. On the eve of his death, Jesus gave his followers this promise: "When the Father sends the Advocate as my representative — that is, the Holy Spirit — he will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you. I am leaving you with a gift — peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid." ( John 14:26-27)

As a departing teacher might introduce the classroom to her replacement, Jesus introduces us to the Holy Spirit. And what a ringing endorsement. Jesus calls the Holy Spirit his "representative." The Spirit comes in the name of Christ, and with equal authority and identical power. Earlier in the evening Jesus had said, "I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever." (John 14:16) The Greek language employs two distinct words for “another.” One means "totally different," and the second translates, "another just like the first one." When Jesus promises "another Counselor," he uses word number two, promising "another just like the first one." And who’s the first one? Jesus himself. Hence, the assurance Jesus gives to the disciples is this: "I’m going away. You’re entering a new season; a different chapter. A lot will be different, but one thing remains constant: my presence. You’ll enjoy the presence of 'another Counselor.'"

“Counselor” means "friend" (MSG), "helper" (NKJV), "intercessor, advocate and strengthener." (AMP) All descriptors attempt to portray the beautiful meaning of parakletos, a compound of two Greek words: para, meaning "alongside of" (think of "parallel" or "paradox"), and kletos meaning "to be called out, designated, assigned or appointed." The Holy Spirit is designated to come alongside you. He is the presence of Jesus both with and within his followers. And can you see how the disciples needed that encouragement? It's Thursday night before the crucifixion. By Friday's sunrise they will abandon Jesus. The breakfast hour will find them hiding in corners and crevices. At 9 a.m. Roman soldiers will nail Christ to a cross. By this time tomorrow he’ll be dead and buried. Their world is about to be turned upside-down. And Jesus wants them to know this: they'll never face the future without his help. Nor will you.

You have a traveling companion. When you place your faith in Christ, Christ places his Spirit before, behind and within you. Not a strange spirit, but the same Spirit: the parakletos. Everything Jesus did for his followers, his Spirit does for you. Jesus taught; the Spirit teaches. Jesus healed; the Spirit heals. Jesus comforted; his Spirit comforts. As Jesus sends you into new seasons, he sends his Counselor to go with you. God treats you the way one mother treated her young son, Timmy.

Mom didn't like the thought of Timmy walking to his first-grade class unaccompanied. But he was too grown-up to be seen with his mother. "Besides," he explained, "I can walk with a friend." So, she did her best to stay calm, quoting the 23^rd Psalm to him every morning: "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life . . . ." Then, one day, she came up with an idea. She asked a neighbor to follow Timmy to school in the mornings but to stay at a distance so he wouldn’t notice her.

The neighbor was happy to oblige – she took her toddler on morning walks anyway. After several days Timmy's little friend noticed the lady and the child. "Do you know who that woman is who follows us to school?" "Sure," Timmy answered. "That's Shirley Goodnest and her daughter Marcy." "Who?" "My mom reads about them every day in the 23^rd Psalm. She says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life.' Guess I'll just have to get used to them." And you will too.

God never sends you out, alone. Are you on the eve of change? Do you find yourself looking into a new chapter? Is the foliage of your world showing signs of a new season? Heaven's message for you is this: when everything else changes, God's presence never does. You journey in the company of the Holy Spirit, who "will teach you everything and will remind you of everything I have told you." (John 14:26) So, make friends with whatever's next. Embrace it. Accept it. Don't resist it. Change is not only a part of life, change is a necessary part of God's strategy. To use us to change the world, he alters our assignments. Take Gideon, for example. He went from farmer to general. Or, Mary – from peasant girl to the mother of Christ; or Paul – from local rabbi to world evangelist. God transitioned Joseph from a baby brother to an Egyptian prince. He changed David from a shepherd to a king. Peter wanted to fish the Sea of Galilee; God called him to lead the first church. God makes reassignments. All the time.

But what about the tragic changes God permits? Some seasons don’t make any sense whatsoever. Who can find a place in life's puzzle for the deformity of a child, or the enormity of an earthquake's devastation? When a company discontinues a position, or a parent is deployed . . . do such moments serve a purpose? They do if we see them from an eternal perspective. What makes no sense in this life will make perfect sense in the next. Need proof? Consider your life in the womb.

You probably don't remember that prenatal season, but every gestation day equipped you for your earthly life. Your bones solidified, your eyes developed, the umbilical cord transported nutrients into your growing frame, etc. Why? So you could stay in your mother’s womb? Just the opposite. Womb time equipped you for earth time; it suited you up for your post-partum existence. Some prenatal features went unused before birth. For instance, you grew a nose but didn't breathe. Eyes developed, but could you see? Your tongue, toenails and crop of hair served no function in your mother's abdomen. But aren't you glad you have them now? Well, at least the tongue and toenails part.

Certain chapters in this life seem so unnecessary, like nostrils on a pre-born. Suffering. Loneliness. Disease. Pandemics. If we assume this world exists just for pre-grave happiness, these atrocities don’t qualify. But what if this earth is the womb? What if these challenges, severe as they may be, serve to prepare us, equip us for the world to come? As Paul wrote, "These little troubles are getting us ready for an eternal glory that will make all our troubles seem like nothing." (2 Cor. 4:17). Eternal glory. “I’ll take a Trenta-sized serving of endless joy in the presence of God. Go heavy on wonder and no room for heartache." So, go ahead and order. The Barista is still brewing – until he comes back again.

Grace,

Randy