When Today is as Far as We Can See
Had a few items collect over the last week for posting...
Books A Million - I realized that Books A Million is the anti-Borders or Barnes & Noble. The place has absolutely no atmosphere. It is all white, the music is this tacky muzak, the chairs are a strange grey leather, and there is no hint of interior decorating. Still, I somehow found myself at home there. I ended up spending an hour or so reading in one of their cushy, grey chairs, all the while catching a spattering of employee conversation. I thought to myself, "These are real people, and this is a real store," not some manipulated environment created by Trading Spaces designer wannabees. Hats off to BAM.
Why was Brad Reading Anyway? - That's a good question. I finally got around to picking up Neil Peart's Ghost Rider. I read about two chapters in the store and decided I had to take it home. Great stuff as always from my favorite all around writer. Engaging non-fiction that is as poetic as his song lyrics - really holds my attention. Ghost Rider is the story of Peart's self imposed motorcylce exile following the death of both his daughter and "wife" within a two year period. I'm always intrigued by how poeple deal with loss. Rush's Vapor Trails album was the musical counterpart to this book, so it is cool to gain new insight into Peart's process of recovery which was hinted at in his lyrics. It's interesting to me that a common reaction to the loss of close family always seems to be guilt: at still being alive, at not being grieved enough, or of not being able to save the person you loved. I wonder if believers and non-believers share this struggle in the same way. One dissapointment was finding out that Peart was married to his "wife" only by common-law. Not surprising for someone who doesn't "believe" in God to not take any vows to demonstrate his commitment to his spouse. Note to self, agnostics make bad role models. "I'm not a role model, I'm a drummer. I just hit things with sticks."
Man is Not Free - So long as man must depend on another man to cut his hair, man is not free. At best, man can hope by force of will to cause another man (or woman) to give him the hair cut he desires. Yet the lack of perfect communication between different entities will always prevent the exact replication of the cuttee's desires by the cutter. Sometimes lack of communication will prevent the cuttee from getting inside the shop of the cutter.
They're There to Protect Us - Why is it that I wave to everybody I see in the neighborhood except for the security folks? Why do they make me feel so nervous? I think it is because I feel that they are outsiders, not actually part of the neighborhood. It is the reverse feeling I have when I drive around in a different neighborhood. I feel like everyone knows I don't belong and is suspicious of me. Weird huh?
1 Timothy 2:13-15 - For Adam was formed first, then Eve; and Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor. Yet she will be saved through childbearing--if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control.
I've always read this and wondered how the woman is saved through childbearing. Maybe it has to do with the seed of the woman crushing the head of the serpent. But I think the reason this verse seems so strange is that our society disparages the role of childbearing in womanhood. It is seen as optional, something a woman may or may not do in her lifetime. While some women are not called to be mothers, the Bible teaches the exact opposite of what is generally accepted in our culture. Childbearing is closely tied to what it means to be a woman. I think the refusal of a woman to have children is being paralleled with Eve's original transgression in the garden, in which she denied her God given roll as subservient to God through Adam's headship.
90125 - Every time I think I've exhausted the best of music from the 80's, I uncover another hidden gem. Well, this was more like a recovery than a discovery. I'm not a huge Yes fan, but I can't deny the exuberant catchiness of this record. I've always held the belief, albeit a tenuous one, that if people had more 80's rock in their lives, they would be a lot more positive. Listen to Our Song and tell me if having that bass line in your head doesn't give you a little pep in your step. It did for me on my way into work. Thank you Mr. Squire!
Foot upon the stair
Shoulder to the wheel
You can't tell yourself not to care
You can't tell yourself how to feel
That's how it is
It's such a cloudy day
Seems we'll never see the sun
Or feel the day has possibilities
Frozen in the moment - the lack of imagination
Between how it is and how it ought to be...
- Neil Peart
Monday, October 30, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
The Importance of Being Man
The Importance of Being Man
I've been thinking again. I know, dangerous you say. Well, I'm open to correction or rebuke on this one, whichever is necessary.
One of the things that I think can become confusing about Christianity is what it has to say about man's worth. Sure, as Reformed Christians we affirm what the Bible teaches about the fallen state of man. All mankind, since Adam, has rebelled against its creator, is born in sin, and is thus worthy of condemnation. There is none who is righteous, none who seeks after God, and all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
Then one considers the incarnation again, and things get squirrly. The Son of God lays aside the glory of being God, and veils himself in human flesh, taking on a human nature (all while still being God), and lives and dies on behalf of fallen men, in whom there is nothing lovely or worthy of such grace. It's pretty difficult to wrap your mind around Christ's two natures. It is so easy to emphasize one over the other.
It occurred to me recently, that if Christ was God, than the incarnation should have been a sinch. I mean, what is 30 years to an eternal God? What is the minuscule temptation of the flesh for the one who created all flesh and who commands the angels in heaven? You might even say, when considering this, that the deck was stacked in Christ's favor. Well, certainly it was. There was never any chance of Christ failing in his mission, because God had determined and bound himself via covenant to redeem fallen man. It was over when God gave the covenant to Abraham. It was as good as done when God promised Adam and Eve that one of their seed would crush the serpent. It was finished before it started, in a way. God cannot be thwarted.
I'm not going to try to figure out, much less explain, the correlation between God's perfect decrees and the will of man. However, there is a balance there, and I think it was present in the incarnation. In other words, Christ was a real man and he experienced that fully (short of possessing a sinful nature). But what really strikes me, is that the incarnation, and the value of Christ's life and death demonstrate the value of man. Schaeffer uses the term, "the mannishness of man." Man is made in the likeness of almighty God, and in spite of his sin he still bears God's image. Thus his feelings, desires, and emotions have worth. There is something about man that is noble, valuable, and significant. The incarnation proves this.
First, it was no mere pin prick that Christ experienced in his life and death on earth. The pain and suffering he felt was real, and it was valuable. We know from scripture that God cares about human suffering. He knows our needs in intimate detail. God has granted humans significance. "What is man that you are mindful of him, yet you have made him a little lower than the angels." If being a man were an insignificant thing, than I believe the incarnation would be less significant, and the death Christ died wouldn't seem all that great.
Secondly, if man were not created noble and righteous and for greatness, than the fall would be less significant. At various points throughout history, different theologians and philosophers have tried to explain the fall as being the natural result of a created being which was by definition imperfect. I think we can degrade God's creation too much in this way. Rather, consider the depth of depravity that a righteous being, made in God's image and having fellowship with his creator, has fallen to in his sin. If you begin to get a sense of man's importance than you begin to understand the wrath of God that our sins deserve. To whom much is given much is required.
Finally, if this is so, than the judgment poured out on Christ becomes all the more significant. Human suffering is a real and significant thing, because human nature is significant. Sin is a significant thing, because the status of man is significant. And the wrath of God towards sin is significant, because of this. It was no small suffering that Christ experienced on the cross. The full wrath of God was placed on Christ in the place of all whom God had chosen to save. This was the complete wrath of God, that not even the most depraved sinner can ever fully exhaust in Hell. Certainly, this would not be possible if Christ were only human. However, all of this emphasizes the point that we have a great high priest who can sympathize with our weakness, because he is fully man -- a significant thing.
Secular philosophy sees Christianity as devaluing and degrading to man. It denies man his pleasures and confines him to the chains of obedience to a higher being. Certainly, this philosophy in itself is the mind set of rebellion. However, as Christians, we have the ability to demonstrate the value of man, that Christ would identify with us and elevate us to an even higher status than that in which we were created. We shall be called sons of God.
I've been thinking again. I know, dangerous you say. Well, I'm open to correction or rebuke on this one, whichever is necessary.
One of the things that I think can become confusing about Christianity is what it has to say about man's worth. Sure, as Reformed Christians we affirm what the Bible teaches about the fallen state of man. All mankind, since Adam, has rebelled against its creator, is born in sin, and is thus worthy of condemnation. There is none who is righteous, none who seeks after God, and all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
Then one considers the incarnation again, and things get squirrly. The Son of God lays aside the glory of being God, and veils himself in human flesh, taking on a human nature (all while still being God), and lives and dies on behalf of fallen men, in whom there is nothing lovely or worthy of such grace. It's pretty difficult to wrap your mind around Christ's two natures. It is so easy to emphasize one over the other.
It occurred to me recently, that if Christ was God, than the incarnation should have been a sinch. I mean, what is 30 years to an eternal God? What is the minuscule temptation of the flesh for the one who created all flesh and who commands the angels in heaven? You might even say, when considering this, that the deck was stacked in Christ's favor. Well, certainly it was. There was never any chance of Christ failing in his mission, because God had determined and bound himself via covenant to redeem fallen man. It was over when God gave the covenant to Abraham. It was as good as done when God promised Adam and Eve that one of their seed would crush the serpent. It was finished before it started, in a way. God cannot be thwarted.
I'm not going to try to figure out, much less explain, the correlation between God's perfect decrees and the will of man. However, there is a balance there, and I think it was present in the incarnation. In other words, Christ was a real man and he experienced that fully (short of possessing a sinful nature). But what really strikes me, is that the incarnation, and the value of Christ's life and death demonstrate the value of man. Schaeffer uses the term, "the mannishness of man." Man is made in the likeness of almighty God, and in spite of his sin he still bears God's image. Thus his feelings, desires, and emotions have worth. There is something about man that is noble, valuable, and significant. The incarnation proves this.
First, it was no mere pin prick that Christ experienced in his life and death on earth. The pain and suffering he felt was real, and it was valuable. We know from scripture that God cares about human suffering. He knows our needs in intimate detail. God has granted humans significance. "What is man that you are mindful of him, yet you have made him a little lower than the angels." If being a man were an insignificant thing, than I believe the incarnation would be less significant, and the death Christ died wouldn't seem all that great.
Secondly, if man were not created noble and righteous and for greatness, than the fall would be less significant. At various points throughout history, different theologians and philosophers have tried to explain the fall as being the natural result of a created being which was by definition imperfect. I think we can degrade God's creation too much in this way. Rather, consider the depth of depravity that a righteous being, made in God's image and having fellowship with his creator, has fallen to in his sin. If you begin to get a sense of man's importance than you begin to understand the wrath of God that our sins deserve. To whom much is given much is required.
Finally, if this is so, than the judgment poured out on Christ becomes all the more significant. Human suffering is a real and significant thing, because human nature is significant. Sin is a significant thing, because the status of man is significant. And the wrath of God towards sin is significant, because of this. It was no small suffering that Christ experienced on the cross. The full wrath of God was placed on Christ in the place of all whom God had chosen to save. This was the complete wrath of God, that not even the most depraved sinner can ever fully exhaust in Hell. Certainly, this would not be possible if Christ were only human. However, all of this emphasizes the point that we have a great high priest who can sympathize with our weakness, because he is fully man -- a significant thing.
Secular philosophy sees Christianity as devaluing and degrading to man. It denies man his pleasures and confines him to the chains of obedience to a higher being. Certainly, this philosophy in itself is the mind set of rebellion. However, as Christians, we have the ability to demonstrate the value of man, that Christ would identify with us and elevate us to an even higher status than that in which we were created. We shall be called sons of God.
And it's all because you made me see
What is false and what is true
Like the inside and the outside of me
Is being made again by you
- Marillion
Monday, October 09, 2006
The Ghosts of Mississippi
The Ghosts of Mississippi
Every man should encounter the reality of death while he is still young. A youth must also overcome fear of the unknown if he is to ever become a man. And with such thoughts in mind, the hero of our tale did set out nigh to midnight with four companions on a trip to the infamous ghost town of Rocky Springs, Mississippi.
Rocky Springs was a small agrarian community, once thriving but doomed to extinction by the bubonic plague, the Civil War, and poor soil conservation. Now all that remains are two bank safes, the church house and the old graveyard. It is rhumored to be among the most haunted places in Mississippi. A good place for five youths to go at midnight.
A mile's hike through the woods lay between our campsite and the town. I suppose we were all a little thankful for the nearly full moon which made midnight seem extraordinarily, and perhaps unnaturally, bright. I kept imagining myself as a renegade or a refugee, traveling by night with fear and adrenaline driving my escape from what lay behind and blinding me to what might lay ahead in the dark. Perhaps 200 years ago some runaway slave trod this same path, albeit in the other direction, with the slave catcher's hounds hard on his heals.
Before long we came to the church. The artificial light of the streetlights outside managed to dull the mood and took something away from the aura of a place that was supposed to be deserted (the church is still in regular use). We proceeded to enter the church, which oddly enough remains unlocked for adventurers such as us to come and go as they please. A rather humorous sign was placed by the piano, instructing anyone who wanted to play it to kindly replace the red velvet cloth over the keys before leaving.
The companion known as Nathan sat down to play. The one room church had a rich resonance, and the piano filled the air, thick and warm in contrast to the cold night outside. As we sung Amazing Grace I couldn't help but feel a little sacrilegious. It seemed like more of a charm to ward of the evil spirits than a hymn of praise to our Creator Redeemer. Imagine our surprise and amazement when Nathan then transitioned into the morose tones of Black Sabbath's Iron Man. In sudden fear of what such an arrangement might conjure, Nathan again transitioned into Blessed Assurance. Inspite of the original glances around the room and sudden turns to scan the dark behind us, we soon became relaxed in the spooky setting.
Our party proceeded to the graveyard, which was a much more somber location than the church. As we stopped to read the names and ages of the deceased, we naturally were reminded of the brevity of life. So many young among the dead, by our modern reckoning at least. We stayed for some minutes, weighing the reality of death and the uncertainty of whether or not those dead really did haunt this place. However, as we left I couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief that we didn't encounter any haunting spirits, and dissapointment that there really wasn't anything to be afraid of. The desire to experience first hand and with certainty what you only hear of in dubious accounts and urban legends would remain unfulfilled.
It is interesting how, as a child, I was deathly afraid of the dark, the supernatural, and the unknown. At some point in time, without realization or event, these things lost their mystery and awe and no longer hold sway over my emotions. I suppose it is a combination of age, sanctification, and a jaded scientific understanding of the world around me. I remember being young, and wondering how my parents could not be afraid. I suppose I've a little better understanding of that now, and a story to tell my children.
On certain nights when the angles are right
And the moon is a slender cressent
Its circle shows in a ghostly glow
Of earthly luminescence
Earthshine, a becon in the night
I can raise my eyes to earthshine
Earthsine, a jewel out of reach
For a dream to rise to earthsine
Reflected light to another's sight
And the moon tells a lover's story
My borrowed face and my third hand grace
Only reflect your glory...
- Neil Peart
Every man should encounter the reality of death while he is still young. A youth must also overcome fear of the unknown if he is to ever become a man. And with such thoughts in mind, the hero of our tale did set out nigh to midnight with four companions on a trip to the infamous ghost town of Rocky Springs, Mississippi.
Rocky Springs was a small agrarian community, once thriving but doomed to extinction by the bubonic plague, the Civil War, and poor soil conservation. Now all that remains are two bank safes, the church house and the old graveyard. It is rhumored to be among the most haunted places in Mississippi. A good place for five youths to go at midnight.
A mile's hike through the woods lay between our campsite and the town. I suppose we were all a little thankful for the nearly full moon which made midnight seem extraordinarily, and perhaps unnaturally, bright. I kept imagining myself as a renegade or a refugee, traveling by night with fear and adrenaline driving my escape from what lay behind and blinding me to what might lay ahead in the dark. Perhaps 200 years ago some runaway slave trod this same path, albeit in the other direction, with the slave catcher's hounds hard on his heals.
Before long we came to the church. The artificial light of the streetlights outside managed to dull the mood and took something away from the aura of a place that was supposed to be deserted (the church is still in regular use). We proceeded to enter the church, which oddly enough remains unlocked for adventurers such as us to come and go as they please. A rather humorous sign was placed by the piano, instructing anyone who wanted to play it to kindly replace the red velvet cloth over the keys before leaving.
The companion known as Nathan sat down to play. The one room church had a rich resonance, and the piano filled the air, thick and warm in contrast to the cold night outside. As we sung Amazing Grace I couldn't help but feel a little sacrilegious. It seemed like more of a charm to ward of the evil spirits than a hymn of praise to our Creator Redeemer. Imagine our surprise and amazement when Nathan then transitioned into the morose tones of Black Sabbath's Iron Man. In sudden fear of what such an arrangement might conjure, Nathan again transitioned into Blessed Assurance. Inspite of the original glances around the room and sudden turns to scan the dark behind us, we soon became relaxed in the spooky setting.
Our party proceeded to the graveyard, which was a much more somber location than the church. As we stopped to read the names and ages of the deceased, we naturally were reminded of the brevity of life. So many young among the dead, by our modern reckoning at least. We stayed for some minutes, weighing the reality of death and the uncertainty of whether or not those dead really did haunt this place. However, as we left I couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief that we didn't encounter any haunting spirits, and dissapointment that there really wasn't anything to be afraid of. The desire to experience first hand and with certainty what you only hear of in dubious accounts and urban legends would remain unfulfilled.
It is interesting how, as a child, I was deathly afraid of the dark, the supernatural, and the unknown. At some point in time, without realization or event, these things lost their mystery and awe and no longer hold sway over my emotions. I suppose it is a combination of age, sanctification, and a jaded scientific understanding of the world around me. I remember being young, and wondering how my parents could not be afraid. I suppose I've a little better understanding of that now, and a story to tell my children.
On certain nights when the angles are right
And the moon is a slender cressent
Its circle shows in a ghostly glow
Of earthly luminescence
Earthshine, a becon in the night
I can raise my eyes to earthshine
Earthsine, a jewel out of reach
For a dream to rise to earthsine
Reflected light to another's sight
And the moon tells a lover's story
My borrowed face and my third hand grace
Only reflect your glory...
- Neil Peart
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Sometimes a View from Sinless Eyes
Sometimes A View From Sinless Eyes...
Last weekend I watched the movie Barry Lyndon, directed by Stanley Kubrick. It is based on the novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackeray. It made me ashamed for being a part of the human race and overall left me feeling dirty. The main character Redmond Barry (aka Barry Lyndon) is an 18th century Irish youth who kills a British army officer in a duel for the woman he loves and is forced to flee his hometown. His character can be summed up in the line, "I'd sooner go to Hell than go to Dublin." What follows is a story of lying, cheating, infidelity, delusional pursuit of status, and all around selfishness. Barry is an opportunist who uses people and cirmcumstances to advance his status in life, going from a runaway to an enlisted man to an officer, and eventually to a gentleman.
However, his sins eventually catch up with him, and the movie leaves him a broken, poor, exiled man. Everyone around him also ends up ruined. However, the movie daftly avoids giving the viewer any real sense that justice was meeted out. The fact of the matter is, there are no characters in the movie who are worthy of justice. Barry's mother, though a poor widow, is ultimatly just a scheming, and self-serving miser. The characters Barry meets along the way are thieves, conivers, and flatterers. All of 18th century Europe is indicted on the charge of being trivial, opulent, and fake. The nobility live in great splendor and are surrounded by all the pleasures of life. But they are hiding behind powdered faces and wigs, performing services only to get ahead, marrying only for status, and spending all of their time in meaningless passtimes like playing cards (a central and particularly poignant motif in the film). Kubrick closes the movie with the pronouncement that all of these characters who strove for favor, wealth, and status in those days are now equal in the grave.
All of these events are portrayed against the breathtaking backdrop of Europe's landscape, art, and architecture, and set to classical music. The contrast is stark. This place has such great beauty, and history has painted it with a grand legacy, but its people were exceedingly hollow and ugly. The narrorator tells the tale as if it were one of significance, and as if the story were of a worthy subject. But ultimately, we find there was nothing noteworthy about Barry, save his exceedingly great wickedness.
Last night I was in a discussion about the incarnation, and this morning my mind traveled back to Barry Lyndon. The question arose of what it must have been like for the Son of God to not only lay aside the splendor of Heaven and become an insignificant man, but also to identify with a sinful people in his circumcision, baptism, and death. If simply watching the acts of others on screen can fill me with such disguist for being human, without even really taking stock in my own sinful character, what an absurd prospect it is for Christ to willingly become a man and die for a people which were as unlovely and sinfull as Redmond Barry.
This is great love, mercy, and glory that contrasts with and far overshadows the greatness of the evil that is displayed in Barry Lyndon. You see, Kubrick's Nihilsm only gets it half right. There is true morality and justice, and therefore true mercy, with God. When one considers that God, in His infinite wisdom, ordained all things in order to demonstrate His greatness in His Son through the redemption of His people, one should be filled with: 1. a sense of awe at who God is, 2. a humility and thankfulness for what He has done, and 3. a great sense of joy for being a part of that race of redeemed humanity.
But God will break you down forever; he will snatch and tear you from your tent; he will uproot you from the land of the living. The righteous shall see and fear, and shall laugh at him, saying, See the man who would not make God his refuge, but trusted in the abundance of his riches and sought refuge in his own destruction!
But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever. I will thank you forever, because you have done it. I will wait for your name, for it is good, in the presence of the godly.
- Psalm 52
Last weekend I watched the movie Barry Lyndon, directed by Stanley Kubrick. It is based on the novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackeray. It made me ashamed for being a part of the human race and overall left me feeling dirty. The main character Redmond Barry (aka Barry Lyndon) is an 18th century Irish youth who kills a British army officer in a duel for the woman he loves and is forced to flee his hometown. His character can be summed up in the line, "I'd sooner go to Hell than go to Dublin." What follows is a story of lying, cheating, infidelity, delusional pursuit of status, and all around selfishness. Barry is an opportunist who uses people and cirmcumstances to advance his status in life, going from a runaway to an enlisted man to an officer, and eventually to a gentleman.
However, his sins eventually catch up with him, and the movie leaves him a broken, poor, exiled man. Everyone around him also ends up ruined. However, the movie daftly avoids giving the viewer any real sense that justice was meeted out. The fact of the matter is, there are no characters in the movie who are worthy of justice. Barry's mother, though a poor widow, is ultimatly just a scheming, and self-serving miser. The characters Barry meets along the way are thieves, conivers, and flatterers. All of 18th century Europe is indicted on the charge of being trivial, opulent, and fake. The nobility live in great splendor and are surrounded by all the pleasures of life. But they are hiding behind powdered faces and wigs, performing services only to get ahead, marrying only for status, and spending all of their time in meaningless passtimes like playing cards (a central and particularly poignant motif in the film). Kubrick closes the movie with the pronouncement that all of these characters who strove for favor, wealth, and status in those days are now equal in the grave.
All of these events are portrayed against the breathtaking backdrop of Europe's landscape, art, and architecture, and set to classical music. The contrast is stark. This place has such great beauty, and history has painted it with a grand legacy, but its people were exceedingly hollow and ugly. The narrorator tells the tale as if it were one of significance, and as if the story were of a worthy subject. But ultimately, we find there was nothing noteworthy about Barry, save his exceedingly great wickedness.
Last night I was in a discussion about the incarnation, and this morning my mind traveled back to Barry Lyndon. The question arose of what it must have been like for the Son of God to not only lay aside the splendor of Heaven and become an insignificant man, but also to identify with a sinful people in his circumcision, baptism, and death. If simply watching the acts of others on screen can fill me with such disguist for being human, without even really taking stock in my own sinful character, what an absurd prospect it is for Christ to willingly become a man and die for a people which were as unlovely and sinfull as Redmond Barry.
This is great love, mercy, and glory that contrasts with and far overshadows the greatness of the evil that is displayed in Barry Lyndon. You see, Kubrick's Nihilsm only gets it half right. There is true morality and justice, and therefore true mercy, with God. When one considers that God, in His infinite wisdom, ordained all things in order to demonstrate His greatness in His Son through the redemption of His people, one should be filled with: 1. a sense of awe at who God is, 2. a humility and thankfulness for what He has done, and 3. a great sense of joy for being a part of that race of redeemed humanity.
Why do you boast of evil, O mighty man? The steadfast love of God endures all the day. Your tongue plots destruction, like a sharp razor, you worker of deceit. You love evil more than good, and lying more than speaking what is right. You love all words that devour, O deceitful tongue.
But God will break you down forever; he will snatch and tear you from your tent; he will uproot you from the land of the living. The righteous shall see and fear, and shall laugh at him, saying, See the man who would not make God his refuge, but trusted in the abundance of his riches and sought refuge in his own destruction!
But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever. I will thank you forever, because you have done it. I will wait for your name, for it is good, in the presence of the godly.
- Psalm 52
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