One statement by Jesus caught my eye today as I looked at the Scripture reading. From Mark 8, Jesus tells Peter:
“Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.”
How often do I set my mind on the things of man, and not of God?
Every day I make my plans, for that day and the ones to follow it, in the light of what I think; What I think I need to do, what I think that someone else wants me to do, what looks like the right thing to do. In short, what I think circumstances have dealt to me and how I should respond to them.
When I gave the 'Choices' talk in prison the other day, a lot of it was a consideration of time periods in our lives. From the past, which we can do nothing to alter, to the future which we cannot know, our actions take place in the present, which is the only time period that we can do anything about.
What does God want for me in the present? Those things that would bring glory to Him, those that would prepare me for service for Him and those that would show my reliance on Him. All of the above for Him and not for me.
So, how do I look toward the future with these in mind? I cannot know about tomorrow and those tomorrows that follow it, so what does my mind dwell on? Do I make plans on what I think the future may hold? Do I go through different scenarios and decide how I might handle those? Or do I live life in the present and trust that He will be there and guide me at the time?
I know the answers to the above, and they are easy to acknowledge, but how hard is it to keep my mind in the right gear? How hard to strive for the mind of God and not project my own thoughts into His plans?
Perhaps pondering the answers to those questions above is a good first step on life's road, no matter where it leads.
I pray that it is so.....
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Stepping Stones
Last Sunday evening I was leading a small home group in the video series, The Truth Project. The session was on History and talked a lot about historical revisionism. One section caught my attention, a quote from the Pilgrim leader, William Brewster.
"Lastly, and which was not least, a great hope and inward zeal they had of laying some good foundation, or at least to make someway thereunto, for the promoting and advancing of the gospel of the kingdom of Christ in those remote parts of the world; yea, though they should be but even as stepping-stones unto others for the performing of so great a work."
The idea of stepping stones, that those men and women who were our forefathers in this land of freedom, were willing to be as nothing more than a path for future generations, not regarding themselves as the main characters in God's continuing story, but only being the enablers of those in that future that would seek to walk after God. They did not want to put their names on their stones so that people might know them and their contribution, but were satisfied to be unknown helpers to those who came after.
Romans 12 begins with these words: 12:1 "Therefore I exhort you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a sacrifice – alive, holy, and pleasing to God – which is your reasonable service."
A living sacrifice, a way of living that places others ahead of myself, willing to take on a very minor role in the story of God in history for the benefit of those who come later. Not looking for my name to be associated with something great, but to be content to be unknown for His sake.
Stepping stones.
"Lastly, and which was not least, a great hope and inward zeal they had of laying some good foundation, or at least to make someway thereunto, for the promoting and advancing of the gospel of the kingdom of Christ in those remote parts of the world; yea, though they should be but even as stepping-stones unto others for the performing of so great a work."
The idea of stepping stones, that those men and women who were our forefathers in this land of freedom, were willing to be as nothing more than a path for future generations, not regarding themselves as the main characters in God's continuing story, but only being the enablers of those in that future that would seek to walk after God. They did not want to put their names on their stones so that people might know them and their contribution, but were satisfied to be unknown helpers to those who came after.
Romans 12 begins with these words: 12:1 "Therefore I exhort you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a sacrifice – alive, holy, and pleasing to God – which is your reasonable service."
A living sacrifice, a way of living that places others ahead of myself, willing to take on a very minor role in the story of God in history for the benefit of those who come later. Not looking for my name to be associated with something great, but to be content to be unknown for His sake.
Stepping stones.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Sometimes the Enemy is Me
This morning I read the Scripture in Mark 8 about the feeding of the 4,000. Then I proceeded to go through my usual plan and journal about the reading, adding some thoughts about food in prison. When I saved the journal, opened the blog site and returned to copy and paste my thoughts here, it was gone. Maybe I was not supposed to talk about that this morning. It was not real good anyway,
So I am reflecting on my time over the past weekend, how I was blessed by being in prison and talking with men that God put in my path. I have blogged previously about the two men that were so affected by the story of the lady in the nursing home. One thing that I did not say about one of the men, and his story, happened after he had finished sharing his disappointment in himself. He looked me in the eye and told me that it was the first time he had ever shared what he felt about that situation, and that was because it was the first time he had felt that a person was listening that really cared about him. The fact that the listener had shown love and respect to him was the thing that allowed him to unburden himself of his guilt. Listen, listen, love, love.
I'll share another random story. At one point in a discussion, the man sitting next to me started talking to me about what he did with his free time (of which they have a lot). He talked about a type of game that they played that involved each inmate putting in some article, usually a packet of soup, in order to play, and the winner got all the pot. His next thought was a question related to the game and whether or not that would be considered gambling and should he participate?
I answered with a quick response that said something about a pack of soup not being a major thing, and that it was only a game after all, with no big stakes and with each person putting in something that would not hurt him to lose. Then I reflected on my answer and was taken aback with my flippant attitude toward what could be a major issue in the life of that man. What if because of my answer he felt it OK to gamble regardless of the amount of contribution, and what of the possible consequences down the road?
During a lull in the conversation, I turned to him and told him I needed to give him a better answer than the one I had put out there. We then talked about the effects of his life on anyone around that may be looking to him for guidance. Did he love them enough to put their welfare ahead of his own? Could an attitude about gambling, no matter how inconsequential the stakes, be a detriment to another? Even though he thought something was Ok for him to do, could he put it aside for the sake of another brother?
So, there in the space of a couple of hours I had given respect and love in one case and a flippant answer in another. That I recognized what I had done was a good thing, but how much better to have come up with a better response after the original question.
Maybe I should just stick to listening...
So I am reflecting on my time over the past weekend, how I was blessed by being in prison and talking with men that God put in my path. I have blogged previously about the two men that were so affected by the story of the lady in the nursing home. One thing that I did not say about one of the men, and his story, happened after he had finished sharing his disappointment in himself. He looked me in the eye and told me that it was the first time he had ever shared what he felt about that situation, and that was because it was the first time he had felt that a person was listening that really cared about him. The fact that the listener had shown love and respect to him was the thing that allowed him to unburden himself of his guilt. Listen, listen, love, love.
I'll share another random story. At one point in a discussion, the man sitting next to me started talking to me about what he did with his free time (of which they have a lot). He talked about a type of game that they played that involved each inmate putting in some article, usually a packet of soup, in order to play, and the winner got all the pot. His next thought was a question related to the game and whether or not that would be considered gambling and should he participate?
I answered with a quick response that said something about a pack of soup not being a major thing, and that it was only a game after all, with no big stakes and with each person putting in something that would not hurt him to lose. Then I reflected on my answer and was taken aback with my flippant attitude toward what could be a major issue in the life of that man. What if because of my answer he felt it OK to gamble regardless of the amount of contribution, and what of the possible consequences down the road?
During a lull in the conversation, I turned to him and told him I needed to give him a better answer than the one I had put out there. We then talked about the effects of his life on anyone around that may be looking to him for guidance. Did he love them enough to put their welfare ahead of his own? Could an attitude about gambling, no matter how inconsequential the stakes, be a detriment to another? Even though he thought something was Ok for him to do, could he put it aside for the sake of another brother?
So, there in the space of a couple of hours I had given respect and love in one case and a flippant answer in another. That I recognized what I had done was a good thing, but how much better to have come up with a better response after the original question.
Maybe I should just stick to listening...
Monday, March 12, 2012
Behind the Razor Wire
One of the major themes of any Kairos weekend is that of personal responsibility. All of us, the team included, have to face up to the fact that they are responsible for their own choices. That was the first point in the choices talk that I gave on Friday morning. We are all in the position we occupy in the present because of the choices we have made in the past. Even some of the guys who protest their innocence of the felony they have been sentenced for, will admit to the fact that they should not have been in the vicinity of the illegal act in the first place. Some admit to committing other crimes and not getting caught for those, even while saying they were wrongly convicted for the one that landed them at Ware.
A major black cloud that hangs over a lot of the men in prison, whether they are Christian or not, is that of unforgiveness. At the time of the felony it could be the officer, the prosecutor, their defense attorney, the judge or some false witness. While they are locked up it could be the officers, bully inmates, their cell mate, the ones that steal from them, or it could be their family. One of the saddest tales an inmate may share is the fact that his family has not visited or written in several years, and has, in fact, written him off. Wives can divorce them, marry another, and not let the children visit or write.
Of course, I know that the ones that we see most often in Kairos are those that want to change, that want to find a better way or that have started walking on that new path. They hurt for the things they have done, but they also hurt because their loved ones are unable to give them a second, or third or fourth chance. They have disappointed the people closest to them, embarrassing everyone with what they have done, and, for some relatives and friends, it is the last straw.
The inmates can hold unforgiveness in their hearts for a long time. It can become a highly polished stone in their wall self protection, or a ball and chain, dragging them down. Most of all it keeps them in bondage, kept from the freedom that Christ gives the believer. Probably, a lot of the time, the person who has been the object of this attitude does not even know it, and may have long since forgotten the person and the situation. The only person hurt by this is the inmate himself.
So, the forgiveness ceremony is one of the more powerful ones that the inmates participate in. They are encouraged to write down the names of the people they need to forgive, and want to at least start that process. They use rice paper and then at the appropriate time, place these papers, with these names on them, into a solution that dissolves the paper and the names vanish. It is only a symbol, and for some it is only a beginning of ridding their minds and hearts of these things that they hold against another, but it is a start, and just the simple act of wanting to begin the process, is a freeing moment.
The Bible says that God has forgiven our sins when we ask believing, and He remembers them no more. It is hard for us to forgive and forget, but at least we can make the conscious decision to forgive and ask God to help us in the process of forgetting.
I have seen men in prison begin to smile again, when that load of unforgiveness is lifted from them, and they are enabled to live a more fruitful and productive life
Could there be a lesson in there for people on the outside of that razor wire also?
A major black cloud that hangs over a lot of the men in prison, whether they are Christian or not, is that of unforgiveness. At the time of the felony it could be the officer, the prosecutor, their defense attorney, the judge or some false witness. While they are locked up it could be the officers, bully inmates, their cell mate, the ones that steal from them, or it could be their family. One of the saddest tales an inmate may share is the fact that his family has not visited or written in several years, and has, in fact, written him off. Wives can divorce them, marry another, and not let the children visit or write.
Of course, I know that the ones that we see most often in Kairos are those that want to change, that want to find a better way or that have started walking on that new path. They hurt for the things they have done, but they also hurt because their loved ones are unable to give them a second, or third or fourth chance. They have disappointed the people closest to them, embarrassing everyone with what they have done, and, for some relatives and friends, it is the last straw.
The inmates can hold unforgiveness in their hearts for a long time. It can become a highly polished stone in their wall self protection, or a ball and chain, dragging them down. Most of all it keeps them in bondage, kept from the freedom that Christ gives the believer. Probably, a lot of the time, the person who has been the object of this attitude does not even know it, and may have long since forgotten the person and the situation. The only person hurt by this is the inmate himself.
So, the forgiveness ceremony is one of the more powerful ones that the inmates participate in. They are encouraged to write down the names of the people they need to forgive, and want to at least start that process. They use rice paper and then at the appropriate time, place these papers, with these names on them, into a solution that dissolves the paper and the names vanish. It is only a symbol, and for some it is only a beginning of ridding their minds and hearts of these things that they hold against another, but it is a start, and just the simple act of wanting to begin the process, is a freeing moment.
The Bible says that God has forgiven our sins when we ask believing, and He remembers them no more. It is hard for us to forgive and forget, but at least we can make the conscious decision to forgive and ask God to help us in the process of forgetting.
I have seen men in prison begin to smile again, when that load of unforgiveness is lifted from them, and they are enabled to live a more fruitful and productive life
Could there be a lesson in there for people on the outside of that razor wire also?
Saturday, March 10, 2012
A Completely Unrelated Story
For staffing purposes, and since we are short of clergy on our 7 tables in prison, I was asked to be a substitute clergy person on the Table of Luke. The incident below is typical of an inmate to team member encounter, regardless of the team member being laity or clergy.
The resident sitting next to me today was the young man from Chicago. We had just finished hearing a talk by a team member on Discovery. Now the Discovery talk was to be about Christian study, leading to a more thorough understanding of God. For some reason the speaker, at the end of his talk, launched in to a personal story that revolved around his relationship with an older lady in a nursing home where his aunt resided. This lady, Ms. Myrtle, took a shine to him and made him 42 crosses to be given to the inmates on the next Kairos walk he was working. He was so touched by her willingness to be a part of this ministry, that he almost could not finish telling the story. His emotions almost conquered him.
My first thought as he finished and sat down was, "what in the world did that have to do with the object of the talk?" As far as I could determine, there was really no connection.
After the talk, as our table was discussing what the speaker had talked about and how it affected them, the Chicago lad leaned over to me and started telling me that when he was a teenager, about 15, he had a job in a nursing home near his home. There was a lady there, Ms. Anne, who befriended him. All the time he worked there, this older lady treated him like one of her family. Then, as tears started rolling down his face, he said he never did pay that much attention to her and wished he had been more attentive. She had since passed away, and he never got to tell her how much that meant to him.
Fast forward into the next break we took. Everyone left the table to stretch except one man. He just sat as read his Kairos booklet. So, I went over and sat next to him, just to see if there was anything he wanted to talk about. He started telling me about his grandmother, who had had a large part in raising him. He stated that, after he got into trouble with the law, she made him promise to straighten up and live right. But as young men sometimes do, he backslid and ended up in prison. Again, with tears in his eyes, he lamented the fact that he had let her down and had not kept his word. He knew she was right, but the call of the crowd had overpowered his desire to follow the way she had shown. He had let her down when she had faith in him, and the remembrance of all of that was causing a sense of anguish in his life. Here he was, sitting in a prison gymnasium, in a white uniform with State Prisoner on the back, crying because he had failed her.
Then I thought again about the talk. Why had the speaker deviated from the topic assigned and told the story of Ms. Myrtle?
At least in the hearts of two inmates, that particular story had struck a chord, and they both were able to talk about a situation in each of their lives, stories that maybe had lain dormant for some years and just needed to be told. They each needed a listening ear, that was all.
The Kairos motto is Listen, Listen, Love, Love and God used that simple act to minister to two black inmates on this March morning.
Who said the story did not have any place in that talk?
The resident sitting next to me today was the young man from Chicago. We had just finished hearing a talk by a team member on Discovery. Now the Discovery talk was to be about Christian study, leading to a more thorough understanding of God. For some reason the speaker, at the end of his talk, launched in to a personal story that revolved around his relationship with an older lady in a nursing home where his aunt resided. This lady, Ms. Myrtle, took a shine to him and made him 42 crosses to be given to the inmates on the next Kairos walk he was working. He was so touched by her willingness to be a part of this ministry, that he almost could not finish telling the story. His emotions almost conquered him.
My first thought as he finished and sat down was, "what in the world did that have to do with the object of the talk?" As far as I could determine, there was really no connection.
After the talk, as our table was discussing what the speaker had talked about and how it affected them, the Chicago lad leaned over to me and started telling me that when he was a teenager, about 15, he had a job in a nursing home near his home. There was a lady there, Ms. Anne, who befriended him. All the time he worked there, this older lady treated him like one of her family. Then, as tears started rolling down his face, he said he never did pay that much attention to her and wished he had been more attentive. She had since passed away, and he never got to tell her how much that meant to him.
Fast forward into the next break we took. Everyone left the table to stretch except one man. He just sat as read his Kairos booklet. So, I went over and sat next to him, just to see if there was anything he wanted to talk about. He started telling me about his grandmother, who had had a large part in raising him. He stated that, after he got into trouble with the law, she made him promise to straighten up and live right. But as young men sometimes do, he backslid and ended up in prison. Again, with tears in his eyes, he lamented the fact that he had let her down and had not kept his word. He knew she was right, but the call of the crowd had overpowered his desire to follow the way she had shown. He had let her down when she had faith in him, and the remembrance of all of that was causing a sense of anguish in his life. Here he was, sitting in a prison gymnasium, in a white uniform with State Prisoner on the back, crying because he had failed her.
Then I thought again about the talk. Why had the speaker deviated from the topic assigned and told the story of Ms. Myrtle?
At least in the hearts of two inmates, that particular story had struck a chord, and they both were able to talk about a situation in each of their lives, stories that maybe had lain dormant for some years and just needed to be told. They each needed a listening ear, that was all.
The Kairos motto is Listen, Listen, Love, Love and God used that simple act to minister to two black inmates on this March morning.
Who said the story did not have any place in that talk?
Friday, March 9, 2012
A 'What If' Story
Friday was our firs full day in Ware State Prison for Kairos 38. A total of 30 Kairos team and 42 inmates make up the population for this weekend, and it is an eclectic group for sure.
One interesting thing happened the day before we got there on Thursday. Three of the dorms in the compound were locked down and we lost a total of 11 residents for the weekend. Fortunately, we were able to get to the alternate list and get 11 replacements for a full grouping. Who knows what kinds of men were held out and how the weekend might have been different if they had been included. But you have to think that God was not surprised and that the 11 new ones were the ones that He wanted to be in attendance.
Regardless, it has been a good session so far. The men are participating well, the singing is good, the attention is good and the schedule has progressed without a hitch so far.. Since we have all of our activities, from the opening prayer to the closing one, in the same building, there is not problem with weather, although we could hear rain on the roof throughout the evening hours before we dismissed.
I have six inmates at my table along with two other team members. These guys come from Griffin, Bainbridge, Browntown in Camden Co., Gainesville, Lafayette and Chicago, IL. They are all pretty quiet, but participate in the discussions well. I'm sure they will all say that they are Christian, but we have not gotten that far in the program as yet. We will have much more time to assess all of that tomorrow.
We are eating good. In the old days when we ate with the residents in the chow hall, it was not good. It seemed like we took our life and stomachs into our own hands when we ate there. Now churches from the outside bring in delicious food and we all eat good, probably too good.
Tomorrow at 7am we will go in again. It will be a full day and will come too early for almost everyone.
Before I go to bed, I need to tell you about one man in particular, that I had a chance to visit with as we were waiting for the count to clear tonight. His name was Cesar, and he was from Mexico City. He came to the US when he was 18 and had been incarcerated for 8 years. I don't know the crime or the sentence, but it must be for some major crime. As we talked, I could see the tears forming in his eyes as he talked of home in Mexico and how much he missed it. My heart went out to him. Here was a man who was very articulate in his faith, serving time here and not knowing when he would be released, at least he could not tell me. Of course I do not know the whole story, whether or not he was an illegal or not (if that matters), or the crime. All I could see was a lonely 26 year old.
What could I say to him that had any meaning? That God was in control, that He had the best in mind for him whatever that meant, that I would be praying for him? It seemed like so little to a man who wanted so much more, yet I know it was true. Maybe if I knew the whole story I would not be so sorry for him. Maybe I should not have seen those tears in his eyes. That would have made it easier.
What if I had been his dad, waiting for him in Mexico?
What if???
One interesting thing happened the day before we got there on Thursday. Three of the dorms in the compound were locked down and we lost a total of 11 residents for the weekend. Fortunately, we were able to get to the alternate list and get 11 replacements for a full grouping. Who knows what kinds of men were held out and how the weekend might have been different if they had been included. But you have to think that God was not surprised and that the 11 new ones were the ones that He wanted to be in attendance.
Regardless, it has been a good session so far. The men are participating well, the singing is good, the attention is good and the schedule has progressed without a hitch so far.. Since we have all of our activities, from the opening prayer to the closing one, in the same building, there is not problem with weather, although we could hear rain on the roof throughout the evening hours before we dismissed.
I have six inmates at my table along with two other team members. These guys come from Griffin, Bainbridge, Browntown in Camden Co., Gainesville, Lafayette and Chicago, IL. They are all pretty quiet, but participate in the discussions well. I'm sure they will all say that they are Christian, but we have not gotten that far in the program as yet. We will have much more time to assess all of that tomorrow.
We are eating good. In the old days when we ate with the residents in the chow hall, it was not good. It seemed like we took our life and stomachs into our own hands when we ate there. Now churches from the outside bring in delicious food and we all eat good, probably too good.
Tomorrow at 7am we will go in again. It will be a full day and will come too early for almost everyone.
Before I go to bed, I need to tell you about one man in particular, that I had a chance to visit with as we were waiting for the count to clear tonight. His name was Cesar, and he was from Mexico City. He came to the US when he was 18 and had been incarcerated for 8 years. I don't know the crime or the sentence, but it must be for some major crime. As we talked, I could see the tears forming in his eyes as he talked of home in Mexico and how much he missed it. My heart went out to him. Here was a man who was very articulate in his faith, serving time here and not knowing when he would be released, at least he could not tell me. Of course I do not know the whole story, whether or not he was an illegal or not (if that matters), or the crime. All I could see was a lonely 26 year old.
What could I say to him that had any meaning? That God was in control, that He had the best in mind for him whatever that meant, that I would be praying for him? It seemed like so little to a man who wanted so much more, yet I know it was true. Maybe if I knew the whole story I would not be so sorry for him. Maybe I should not have seen those tears in his eyes. That would have made it easier.
What if I had been his dad, waiting for him in Mexico?
What if???
Thursday, March 8, 2012
A Time to Listen
The story of Jesus feeding the 5,000 men, and probably the women and children who were with them, was written by Mark with two bookends. Small incidents that showed the importance of what was truly needed in a world of activity, even good activity.
The disciples had just returned from their two by two mission trips. They were eager to share with Jesus and each other, all the things that had happened, what the result of their work had been, but Jesus stopped them saying, "Come away to a more isolated spot where you can rest". It would be a place where all the 'going and doing' could be replaced by a reflecting and understanding of what had gone on in their lives.
The other bookend to this narrative, after the feeding of so many people with the 5 loaves and 2 fish, is the simple statement that Jesus dismissed the people and went up into the mountain alone to pray.
Jesus knew what the twelve disciples needed after those trips of activity, He also knew what He Himself needed after being with the crowds, feeding them with physical and spiritual food. They all needed a time of being alone with their thoughts. They, each one, needed to be able to listen to God's voice, even in the midst of serving where He had put them. If Jesus needed this time alone, how much more do I?
Over these next few days, I won't be able to have a lot of alone time. Prison activity will take away the opportunity for this. We will go into the compound early each morning and come out in the evening with things that need to be done so we can do it again the next day. The days will be full also, without much time for anything else except the program requirements. Not that this is bad, it isn't, but I have to look for time to listen, really listen, to God speaking into my life.
Physical isolation is not always possible, except in the evenings when I go to bed, but an attitude of listening can bring me insights, even in the middle of a program with other voices around. A lot of my personal enjoyment in this ministry is listening to the inmates relate the stories of their lives one on one with me. Not just casual listening, but with my heart, hearing their joys and sorrows, their frustrations and their victories, their plans and goals and where they feel they are at this point in their lives.
God speaks in many ways, and I do not have to be out in the woods by myself to hear His voice, it can happen in the middle of a gym, with a lot of other people around, just two people talking and listening to each other. The openness of my heart to hear is the key.
Let it be so.
The disciples had just returned from their two by two mission trips. They were eager to share with Jesus and each other, all the things that had happened, what the result of their work had been, but Jesus stopped them saying, "Come away to a more isolated spot where you can rest". It would be a place where all the 'going and doing' could be replaced by a reflecting and understanding of what had gone on in their lives.
The other bookend to this narrative, after the feeding of so many people with the 5 loaves and 2 fish, is the simple statement that Jesus dismissed the people and went up into the mountain alone to pray.
Jesus knew what the twelve disciples needed after those trips of activity, He also knew what He Himself needed after being with the crowds, feeding them with physical and spiritual food. They all needed a time of being alone with their thoughts. They, each one, needed to be able to listen to God's voice, even in the midst of serving where He had put them. If Jesus needed this time alone, how much more do I?
Over these next few days, I won't be able to have a lot of alone time. Prison activity will take away the opportunity for this. We will go into the compound early each morning and come out in the evening with things that need to be done so we can do it again the next day. The days will be full also, without much time for anything else except the program requirements. Not that this is bad, it isn't, but I have to look for time to listen, really listen, to God speaking into my life.
Physical isolation is not always possible, except in the evenings when I go to bed, but an attitude of listening can bring me insights, even in the middle of a program with other voices around. A lot of my personal enjoyment in this ministry is listening to the inmates relate the stories of their lives one on one with me. Not just casual listening, but with my heart, hearing their joys and sorrows, their frustrations and their victories, their plans and goals and where they feel they are at this point in their lives.
God speaks in many ways, and I do not have to be out in the woods by myself to hear His voice, it can happen in the middle of a gym, with a lot of other people around, just two people talking and listening to each other. The openness of my heart to hear is the key.
Let it be so.
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