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Month: February 2020

Gratitude

The past month has been, well, unique for me.
I began the month looking forward to my retirement looming just at the horizon. I could see the glint and glitter of my own Emerald City as the rays of the sun caressed it. The reflections dancing on the wisps of clouds that soared so high above.

Then, I have what?!?

And, the roller coaster plunged down that first hill.
Cedar Point got nothing on this one!

The weeks that followed my diagnosis have been, well, a tad turbulent.
I’ve had what appeared to be one setback after another. From suspicious spots on my liver to a failed cardiac test.
All of these things adding to the stress and anxiety that was already present.

Oh, and still trying to get all of the details nailed down for that retirement thing.

It’s been, well, interesting.

Yet, even as I sit here, still uncertain about what’s next, I am filled with gratitude.

I am extremely grateful that on that November Monday morning in 2011 that Dr. Dean Nukta was on call at Fairview Hospital. He was the person who put two stents in the main artery of my heart that was 100% blocked. He saved my life that day.
I am grateful that he is still my doctor and, when an abnormality showed up in a stress test, immediately scheduled a cardiac cath so he could determine what was happening. He cared enough about my upcoming cancer surgery to shoe-horn me in. He also oversaw this procedure. In all of the years that I’ve been his patient, yesterday was the first time that I saw him smile as he told me that everything looked great.
So, thank you Dr. Nukta.

Staying with that theme, I want to sincerely thank the entire cath team for their work.
They were professional, yet personable. They were a comfort both in their presence and their expertise.
The team in Pre/Post, especially Jackie, deserve cudos. Again, their care, compassion, and professionalism were greatly appreciated.

I want to thank all of you who have been following this continuing saga. Your concern and well-wishes are appreciated more than you can ever know.
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

Of course, my wife and daughter have been pillars for me. Even though they are both battling illness, they have risen to the task of supporting me physically and emotionally.
There are not enough thanks that can be offered for them.

God, too, is deserving of my gratitude. Perhaps not for the reasons that some of you may expect. I am grateful to Yahweh for Presence. I am not some kind of holy person. I don’t walk around with my religious head up my sanctified butt.
But, I do recognize God’s Presence. If I seem comfortable and peaceful it’s not because I have some ability to rise above circumstance. I don’t. In truth, I am a real pain in the ass. However, if I can testify to anything at all it’s that God has been fully Present throughout this time.
Please don’t think that I’m saying that God is somehow orchestrating the process. I don’t believe that for a second.
God is Present in the process.
God Empathizes wholly with what I am experiencing and has chosen to walk beside me as I go through all of this.
So, yes, I am grateful to God for Presence.

I am still awaiting the outcome of that MRI I had yesterday.
That will be the final determinate as to whether I have surgery on Monday or, um, something else less encouraging.

I do appreciate you all for your support.
And, I hope that I don’t need to return this particular favor.
I don’t wish what I am experiencing on anyone.
But, if the time should come, I will do my best to walk with you.

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I Think That I Need A Sherpa Guide To Navigate These Mountains

Ok!
I said that I was going to chronicle my journey with cancer. I found out a little over two weeks ago that I have a mass in my colon. Biopsy showed it is cancer.
Now, for a normal person that would mean a CT scan to see if there was any spread.
Once done, surgery would be scheduled and the cancer removed.

Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who knows me knows that there’s nothing normal about me. So, of course this has turned into one major cluster-f@#k.
First, the CT scan showed a couple spots on my liver. They are too small to determine xactly what they are. So, the surgeon ordered an MRI. Of course, that requires
pre-certification from my insurance company.
Add 10 days to the wait for surgery.

In the mean-time, I had to involve my cardiologist because I had a heart attack in 2011. They put 2 stents in the LAD artery, the so-called “Widow Maker.”
My cardiologist ordered a nuclear stress test to determine how well the blood flows through my coronary arteries.
Even though I studied hard, I apparently failed that test.
I saw my cardiologist yesterday. He explained that there are two parts of my heart that showed poor blood flow.
He ordered a cardiac cath so that he can go in and see exactly what the issues are.

So, what does all of this mean?

Here’s the down low.

  1. MRI
    If the spots on my liver are normal cysts or something else that isn’t a problem, I would be cleared for colon surgery on Monday.
    If, however, the spots are possibly cancer, the surgery is off and I get to start chemo.
    fun.
  2. Heart cath
    If the cath shows no major problem, then I go home and am clear for surgery on monday.
    If the doc finds something serious and needs to put in a stent or other intervention, then I stay in hospital and the surgery is postponed.

As you’re reading this, I’m prepping for the MRI.
And, I still don’t know a thing about anything.

I won’t know if surgery is a go until, perhaps tomorrow.

So, for a normal person the surgery would have been done almost 2 weeks ago and that person would be sitting at home healing.

For me?

Well, shit!
Normal’s no fun!!!

I will try to keep you all updated as this somewhat rocky journey continues.

Oh, does anyone have a compass?

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Sleep, Blessed Sleep

Midnight.
Sleep eludes.
It runs and hides from the Maelstrom of my Mind
Menacing.

Thoughts.
Images.
Emotions.

Rushing, Churning.
“When will it stop?!”

Awake and restless.
Like a Horizontal Square Dance,
“Toss to the left; Turn to the right.
Sit up straight; Awake all Night.”

“Please, Yahweh, Let Sleep, Blessed Sleep
fall upon me.”

Yet, here I am still.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Praying.

“Please, help.”

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Breaking Out To Become Light

I’ve written before about the use of the word “Metamorphosis” in the Gospels and Paul’s Epistle to the Church at Rome. How it’s translated as “transformed,” or “transfigured.” I’ve also written that those words really seem to lack in nuance. Compare the image of transformed, like water when heated transforms into steam, with the image of Metamorphosis, a beautiful butterfly breaking free from its previous form.

This past Sunday the lectionary selections were from the Gospel according to Matthew and 2nd Peter. Both shared the story of Jesus’ transfiguration.
In that story we see Jesus going to the top of a mountain with his three buds, Peter, John, and James. While on the mountain Jesus was transfigured. His face shone brightly and his clothes became radiant. The Light that Is God filled Jesus and He shone as a source of light, not a reflection of it.
Stop here and think about that.
Visualize it in your mind’s eye.
What did that look like?
I’m just thinking, Wow!

As I listened to our parish priest talk about this, suddenly gears began falling into place.
I saw something beyond the exegesis that I shared at our Bible study that morning.
Our priest alluded to what I began to think.
That the Church, AKA the Body of Christ, may be the only Light that many people see. He went on to encourage us to walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Helping the poor, the outcast, the Other, and leaning into humanity just as God did in Jesus.

I get that.
That’s how we who follow Jesus should not just act, but should BE to the world around us.

I saw something else, though, in these texts.

In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus told his followers, “You are the light of the world.”
Ok, cool. How do we do that? How do we become that Light that Jesus talked about?

Paul wrote to the Church at Rome and told them, “Hey, folks…don’t follow the ways of this world. Don’t let your life be formed in that mold. But, rather, allow your mind to be renewed so that you may Metamorphosize.”

I think that if we who follow Jesus truly desire to walk that path, we too, must experience that Transfiguration that Jesus experienced.
Somehow, our minds are capable of renewal and we are capable of experiencing transformation that will, in fact, make the Church a source of Light in this world.
A beacon of love and hope where all are welcome.

Unlike many who claim to be christian, who choose to remain in larval or pupate form, who eat and eat and eat, and take and take and take, we are asked to grow beyond that narrow life. We are asked to look to a Big God Whose Light may course through us a shine from deep within.

Let us seek God’s renewal.
Let us BE transformed.
Let us BE LIGHT!!!

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There’s Nothing Sweet About the Sorrow of Parting

Juliet said to Romeo, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
Little did she know at the time what a great tragedy was in store for them both.

That phrase is still used today to convey hope that there will be a future return.
Those parted will one day find their paths converging in a joyful reunion.
Such is the hope, anyway.

I am finding no sweetness in the partings that lie before me.
I will be officially retiring from active employment at the end of March.
However, with cancer surgery looming large on the near horizon and at least a month of recovery time, I will be leaving my current workplace at the end of next week.

Five more workdays.
Two of those will be taken by tests for the upcoming surgery.
So, three days.

Three days to pack in almost 30 years of shared experience.

Yeah, it’s true that there are some that I work with who I will be glad to show my heels.
Not everyone gets along in any family. Right?

There are those who you know on sight, but need to check their shirt in order to remember their name.
“Hey! How ya doin’ uh, Mark?”
These are good folks, but nothing more than fellow grunts in the trenches.

The others, though.
The ones that you have laughed with over the years.
You shared in the joys of marriages and the birth of children.
They’re the ones that you would gladly take dinner to when they have need.
Friends with whom you shared their most deep and painful loss.
How do you say goodbye to these?
People who each own a piece of your heart?

I suppose that there are people who can go through their entire career and not forge bonds like these. For them, when it’s time to move on to the next phase of life they simply wave and they’re gone.

I’m not like that.
These are folks that I have spent the better share of 30 years with.
Folks that I have spent more waking hours with than my own family.
People who I love and care about deeply.

Sure, my company has graciously agreed to let me work from home for the few weeks between surgery and retirement. I am more than grateful to them for this.
So, in a way, these who are beloved will still be present with me.
But, what about their faces?
The laughter shared over a joke. Or, the eyes that suddenly open and shine with sudden understanding at the solution to a problem.
These things will be missing.
Then, when April showers come along, I will be gone.

Yeah, I know. There are ways to stay in touch. I can always go back for a visit.
Maybe, I’m just being overly emotional about this.

Sorry. I can’t help that right now.
I’m emotionally invested in these people.
Heartstrings are being pulled and stretched to the breaking point.

I hope that I can adequately thank these, my dearest friends and comrades, over the next few days.
I’m not sure that such gratitude can be expressed.
But, I’ll try.

I love you, guys.

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The Flesh Ain’t So Bad After All

Chains come in many shapes and sizes. When I think of chains that bind my mind conjures an image of Jacob Marley confronting his old partner Ebenezer Scrooge. I’m sure that you remember that. Marley trudges up the stairs of Scrooge’s house. We here the Thump of his footfalls. There is the sound of metal dragging and clunking up the wooden steps. Marley enters the room completely bound in iron links with locks and iron boxes attached along the length of the chain.

The purpose of this blog is to look at the chains that we willing allow ourselves to be caught up in, and to get out the keys and the bolt cutters so that we can be freed from this burden.

So, I ask questions.
Most of the time I have no answers to those questions.
Just asking may be enough to remove a link or five.

One thing that I’ve questioned over many years is, “What is the flesh”?
For those of us who have our spiritual roots in the World of Evangelicalism, the answer is pretty clear.
The flesh in the New Testament refers to the sinful nature of all humans as a result of Adam and Eve disobeying God.
It is something that we are born with.
It is something that must be overcome and defeated.

In short, it is an evil stain on our humanity that is wholly corrupt.

As a result, there is nothing that humans can possibly do that will please God.
Only through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ can we have any hope at all of putting our Flesh to death and becoming people pleasing to God.

Pretty cool, huh?

Now, there are some philosophical underpinnings to this idea. A thing called Neo-Platonism influenced theologians. In that philosophy the entire physical cosmos is corrupt. It doesn’t live up to some Ultimate Ideal that exists in some other reality.
(Don’t worry. I’m not gonna chase that rabbit.)

My question, though, is “Are they correct”?
Is the Flesh evil, or at least, contrary to God?

I want to say, No, it’s not.

In fact, I want to stand in direct opposition to that entire notion.

For those who want a pithy quote to hang on to,

“The Flesh Ain’t So Bad After All.”

What?!?!
I can hear all of my evangelical friends crying out, “Heretic! Fuel the Bonfire!”

Not so fast, my friends.
There may be more to this story than your leaders have figured out.

Perhaps the most important thing that I learned in seminary was that the Bible was NOT written to us. When those ancient people, living in ancient cultures, spoke and wrote those ancient words, they were not thinking, “Gee, I think I need to write something to those folks living in America 2,000 years from now.”
The trouble is, many people believe that they did.
They think that the words in Scripture can be cut from their original context and pasted into ours.
Wrong.
They can’t.

The current thoughts in evangelicalism about the language of “Flesh” is an example of that.

The Apostle Paul is the authority that most of these folks turn to. After all, he wrote more about the Flesh than any other New Testament writer.
They cite texts about how that works of the flesh produce death. The list of the so-called works of the flesh is given in a negative context to the so-called works of the spirit.
By the end of the day we are presented with a dichotomy or warring people parts.
Flesh Bad/Spirit Good!

The problem with this lies in our Western concept of humanity. The Ancient Greeks influenced not only our philosophy, but our theology as well.
They fired their best shot at understanding the relationship of Spirit and Flesh.
And, they missed the target entirely.

When Paul wrote about the flesh he was writing about one thing, and one thing only.
This skin tent that we all live in.

That’s it.
Period.

I don’t know about you. But, I don’t see anything moral or immoral about that.
It’s necessary for us.
Can’t live without it.
It holds our bones together and keeps our innards from spilling out on the floor.

So, why all the Bad Flesh language today?

The ancient Semitic view of a person was one in which we are all a complete and unified Soul. Body, spirit, the whole shebang is a singular and inseparable unit.

There is a difference between the parts. But, all are necessary for a person to be Whole.

I want to suggest that the difference lies, not in the Flesh alone, but in the appetites that we have and how we live with those.

I think that there is a sort of asceticism that Paul and the other writers encouraged. They seemed to desire that people learn how to discipline themselves, to control their appetites, in such a way that appetites did not control them.
In their view the flesh is not evil, but can get unruly. We can become enslaved to the instincts and desires of our physical body. These may then push us beyond our needs and into the realm of doing real harm to ourselves and others.

The early Church decided in their Councils that physical things are not evil. After all, God looked at creation and said that it was “Very Good.”
Jesus, the Son of God throughout all eternity, put on a “Tent of Flesh” and became human.
Just like you and me.

No, the whole idea that our flesh is somehow an evil that must be defeated is Wrong!
It is Deadly!
It needs to go away to the Pit where it belongs.

We are Human.
We are Worthy.

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More Letters To Julia – 2/20/2020

Good Morning, Julia!
How are you doing? I hope all is well in sunny New Mexico!
It’s been pretty sunny here recently. But, bloody cold!

Anyway, I was debating whether or not to share this with you. It’s kinda dark. And, you know how we humans hate airing our own dirty laundry in public!
(But, we really like getting other folks’ nasty BVDs out there!)

This is especially difficult for me because I have a public image that may cause folks to think I’m some squeaky-clean holy guy who has his shit all together.
Yeah, really! Who? Me?

The truth is that I don’t.
I never have.
I’m as flawed as anyone else.
Probably more than most.

For a lot of years I hung out with someone who I thought was a good friend.
He used lots of different names.
“Jack,” “Tullamore Dew,” and my favorite, “Jameson.”

Of course, these are all whiskeys.
Whiskey…the Water of the Gods…they say.

And, I jumped right into that with both feet.
I think that I spent the better part of a decade, maybe more, doing my best to drown my head; my heart; my liver.
I didn’t worry too much about it, though.
I wasn’t what you’d call a ‘Mean Drunk.’
In fact, my mother once told me that I was more fun to be around when I’d had a few.

And, I probably was. I don’t know. I really don’t remember too much about that.

People say that drinking causes people to become different. That they change under the influence.
We really don’t.
What alcohol does is release the beasties that already live within.
They get to run around and play and cause all sorts of havoc.
But, they are what’s in our heart.
I did a lot of really, really stupid stuff when I drank.
Because, when allowed to run free, those things that live within are really, really stupid and self-destructive.
When people told me that I had a drinking problem I would tell them, “Not really. I drink. I get drunk. I fall asleep. See? No problem!”

But, it was a problem.
I’m very fortunate that I didn’t kill anyone when I got in my car to drive to the store for more.
I’m fortunate that I didn’t kill myself when I fell down stairs or passed out on the floor.
I’m really fortunate that I didn’t destroy every important relationship that I had.
That there were still people who, although stressed to the max, still stood with me during that time.

To them, “Sorry” doesn’t say enough.

But, I’ve been alcohol free for well over two years.
I have to thank my doc for helping me treat my Alcohol Use Disorder.
(Yeah, it’s a thing.)
It took a long time to Break those Chains that had me bound and sinking into the abyss.

I shared this, I think, because I’m becoming more and more convinced that we can Break the Chains that Bind.
Addictions are big, heavy links that are forged over time. Links are added every day that we live with them.
We don’t need to stay imprisoned, though.
Freedom is just one step away.

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It’s Grace…All The Way Down

The name of this blog is “Breaking the Chains That Bind.”
I chose that name for a reason.
Many folks are bound up in all sorts of chains.
Chains of tradition, patriarchy, theology, and expectations are just a few.
I try to talk about these from time to time in order to, perhaps, open a small crack of hope for those people. Maybe, I can hand them a key that will unlock the chains.
Other times I pull out a blade that can cut through the chains as if they were made of silk thread.

Today I want to look at something that I find all too often.
It derives from an insidious lie that has been poured into people’s hearts and minds for way too long.

Here’s how it usually presents itself.

Person 1: Hey! How’s everything?
Person 2: Not bad. You?
Person 1: I’m good. Although, I wish that I could find time to pray.
Person 2: Yeah, I hear ya. “Read your Bible, Pray everyday and you’ll Grow, Grow, Grow.”
Person 1: I know! I’ve been really convicted about this ever since Pastor brought that message about Paul writing, “Pray without ceasing.” I mean, who really does that?
Person 2: I know that I can’t. I guess that I just don’t have enough faith or something.
Person 1: Me too. I feel like a complete failure in the Christian life thing. I can’t even manage 10 minutes a day consistently.

I could go on. But, I think that you get the idea.
We are told time after time after time that unless we do certain things, like pray, in a specific manner we are something “Less Than.”
Less than committed.
Less than faithful.
Less than a true believer.

We are told that we are weak.
We are told that we are a failure.
We are told that if we don’t do everything that we are told by fallible people then God will be ever-so-pissed at us.
Shame on you!!!

The reason that I’m writing this today is to share a little secret with you.
Shhh!!!


God doesn’t care.

Whoa! What?!?
What do you mean God doesn’t care?

C’mon! Do you really think that God sits around with a scorecard to keep track of your prayer life?

God does care about you, though.
God cares that you have an abundant life.
God cares that you love your neighbor as yourself.
God cares that you care for the “least of these.” Your sisters and brothers.

And, yes, God cares when we spend time in God’s Presence.

But, keeping track of minutes and seconds?
No, not on God’s radar.
God knows that we have difficulty with this.
God did become one of us, remember?
So, God gets it.
That’s why God has provided grace for us.
Grace to desire God’s Presence.
Grace to follow in the footsteps of Jesus.
And, yes, even grace to pray.

God is faithful in this.
I know because there are days when for one reason or another I can’t find my way to that quiet place where I sit with God and we share our hearts and minds with one another.
And, God is gracious.
God is not pissed.
God’s desire is not to coerce us nor punish us because we don’t live up to the expectations of some preacher or writer or whatever.
God’s desire is simply to “Be” with us.
And, through God’s grace, we can also find a desire to “Be” with God.

So, be nice to yourself!
Don’t concern yourself with living up to someone else’s idea of spirituality.
Let God’s own Good Grace draw you gently into God’s Presence.

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But, What If?

Folks who know me understand that I have no qualms about asking questions.
Tough questions.
Of anyone.
For any reason.

Most of the time I ask questions in order to evoke reflection.
I’m not really challenging anyone.
I want them to think deeply about what they are saying or doing.
And, questions open up the possibility of discussions.
Discussion is always good.

Especially, for someone like me.

You see, many times I have no idea what I think about something until I actually say it out loud. (Or, write about it. Like now.)
So, in forming and stating questions I am more able to process the internal thoughts that roam free upon the ranges of my mind.

I take this same approach when I speak to, and about, God.
Hey! I heard that collective gasp out there!
“What?!? You question God?”

Sure. Why not?
Do you really think that God is afraid of my questions?
Perhaps I might catch God off guard with something?
One time I said to a pastor of the church I was attending that God is OK with our questions.
His response?
“Well, maybe. But, I wouldn’t push it.”

Push God?

How exactly does a person “Push God”?

Anyway, that said, I want to get to the real reason for this post.
(The mark of a true writer is to be able to write a whole bunch of words before making a point. It boosts word count.)

Most of you know that I’m currently dealing with colon cancer.
It’s like going to a party and receiving a White Elephant gift.
“Ok, now what am I supposed to do with this purple Bobbing Bird?”
Many people have expressed their concern and have said that they will keep me in their thoughts and prayers.
I appreciate this sentiment. It reveals our common concern for others. We’ve all suffered through one thing or another. So, we try to empathize with those who are currently suffering.
So, to all of you, a heartfelt, “Thank You”!

But, what if……

There are a lot of people out there who think that all they need to do is garner enough faith and pray. They think that God will then miraculously heal them.
If they follow the correct procedure, according to their unique reading of Holy Scripture, God is almost obligated to heal them.
“But, God said if I have faith like a mustard seed I can tell this mountain to throw itself into the sea! And, it will! Hallelujah!”
I don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen a lot of heavenly landscaping recently.
These same people have built million dollar industries on the fear of people.
Folks get sick. The diagnosis is dire.
Benny Hinn says, “God will heal you!” as he puts his hands on your head.
The emotions of the moment are overwhelming.
You find yourself being helped to the floor by attendants who work for the scamvangelist.
People in the room and around the world see this and happily reach into their undernourished bank accounts to send money so that “God’s work can continue.”

But, what if……

God doesn’t work that way?

But, what if……

God’s only real promise to us is that,
“I will never leave you nor forsake you”?

But, what if……

God never intended for us to avoid all of the stuff, good and bad, that makes us human?

But, what if……

God understands our suffering and sorrows and will walk with us as we move forward?

I know that some folks will take issue with these thoughts.
Some may even question my faith.

But, what if……

God is not afraid of the questions?

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Joy

Yesterday morning I went to St. Barnabas, led a Bible class, and went into the sanctuary for the service.
Nothing unusual in that. That’s pretty much been my normal Sunday morning practice since last June.
I walked in and found my seat. Yes, we all have “our” seat, “our” place on the pew. And, heaven help that person who sits there before we get in! Don’t deny it!
“My” seat is at the back of the sanctuary.

The service began as it always does. We stand for a hymn while the priest and acolytes walk to their places at the front of the church.
A couple of prayers were offered. Then we sat down to listen to the readings that were selected for this particular morning.

As I sat there, I gazed around at the people who were all sitting in “their” seats. Their faces were all pointing toward the lectern where someone stood, reading words from our Holy book.

My heart became suddenly light.
Joy welled up within me as I watched these people.
Around 150 people had chosen to come here.
They chose to spend their time on this gloriously sunny morning in February together!

Later in the service as I knelt by the altar rail to receive communion, as the host was on my tongue, I looked back out over all of those people.


I smiled.

I thanked God for all of them. Every child. Every woman. Every man.

Why, I wondered, had they chosen to come here?
Why St. Barnabas and not St. Mattress?

In the early mornings, when all is quiet, I sit at my desk and seek God.
During this time I lift my hopes, dreams, concerns, and desires to the Heavenly Dwelling of Yahweh.
Daily, I remember the people of St. Barnabas.
Our priest and leadership.
Those who serve faithfully in myriad ways.

And, I always ask Yahweh to make St. Barnabas Church a beacon of Love, Hope, and Acceptance.
A lighthouse in the storms that rage, unseen, around and in each and every one of us.

Are these many people I watched yesterday, with all of their faults and foibles, all of their wounds and scars, all of their hopes for tomorrow, a result of prayers like mine?

Perhaps.

I can’t know for certainty.

What I do know, however, is that when I sat in that place, with all of those people, I felt God’s pleasure.

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