“The Lord said to me, ‘Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes.’”—Hosea 3:1

“I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.”—Revelation 21:2

I had a moment of clarity yesterday during worship. Maybe not so much clarity as stark, hard, cold reality slapped me across the face. It happened, strangely, not during the sermon (which was excellent and listened to intently); it was not during the songs; it was not during the time when we received communion at the altar (although there are a lot of things that were realized while I knelt and received the body and blood of Christ).

It happened, strange as it may sound, when my wife held my hand.

I think of 18 years of marriage and what has she seen, heard, and known about me and there she stands in the place where we are most unmasked, most undone—the worship—holding my hand while we pray. Is anything more absurd? Is anything more true and untrue at the same time? I held her hand back; later I pulled her close and put my arm around her. But she is the one who started it. She held my hand. It’s funny, I know, so go ahead and laugh.

I’m not one for public displays of affection so the hand and the arm are about as far as it gets, but there was that moment of clarity when I realized that this woman, this beautiful, spectacular, young, cooks-a-mean-pot-o-chili, girl—still loves me. After all she has seen; after all she has heard (and she has heard nothing short of the most ungodly misery over the last 4 and half months); after all the foolish decisions I have made; after all the poor choices I have decided upon at one time or another; after all the times when I have been mean and unpleasant at best—there she stood, in the worship, in the Spirit, in the presence of Holy Christ holding my hand. Not ashamed. Not embarrassed. Loving.

I’m not sure which is more amazing: that she has stayed married to me or that she has not filed for divorce.

I’ve heard a lot of complaints about the church; many of them are true. Many of them are hurtful. Many of them are just unhappy people complaining because they have nothing better to do. Often the church seethes with ugliness. And much more often there are those among us who do really well at complaining about how ugly the church is. It’s easy to point out the ugliness and wrong and think that what is best for the church is to redo the way we do church. I suppose that is what the satan does all day long as he constantly accuses the church and slanders her (Revelation 12:10, just so we know where the accusations really come from.)

Everyone has a better plan for the church–and a better picture, a better idea to make her more pure, more perfect, more holy. And everyone has a swell picture of all that the church has done wrong. We are adept at painting pictures of ugliness. Reading through Scripture gives that idea sometimes: the church can be an ugly place, the church can be an unfaithful bride. And yet all Jesus does is continue to love us in spite of ourselves. “Go and love your wife,” the Father says to the Son.

My dad taught me that lesson one time too after my wife had an argument with my mom. “Dad,” I complained, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Go with your wife. Love her.”

Then there’s God’s words to Hosea: Love your wife.

Then there’s John’s vision: I saw the Bride; beautiful; glorious.

And Jesus remains faithful to us even though we are, well, what we are. He—as amazing as this is—stands there in the worship and holds our hands, covers us with sloppy wet kisses, puts his arm around us with deep affection, and loves us. The wonder is that despite our fears and inhibitions to demonstrate our affection publicly, I wanted to dance yesterday and didn’t), he stands right beside us and can’t stop showering us with affection.

I cannot escape the wonder of it: She loves me; He loves us. Can you make sense of it either?

Yes. “The church is wicked, evil, wrong, hypocritical, blah, blah, blah, etc, ad infinitum, and so on and so forth…day and night, forever and ever…”–the world.

“HEY WORLD, HEY ACCUSERS, HEY HATERS, I STILL LOVE MY BRIDE!”–Jesus

The wonder is not that we are in worship or taking communion or singing songs. The wonder is not that we have anything to bring before him. The wonder is that He shows up.

The church is bloody. Beaten. Bruised. Crushed. Unfaithful. Undone. Rebellious. A whore. And loved. Loved. Loved–loved more than we can hope or imagine or dream. Sometimes we try to hard. The wonder is that He loves us in spite of our complacency.

Jesus loves his bride. The wonder is that after all the years, after all the anger, after all the sins, and mistakes, after all the unfaithfulness—He remains. The wonder of it all is that Christ Jesus has not divorced the church. The wonder of it all is that though now we are beaten, broken, and bruised, yet someday we all together will be that beautiful bride prepared by God and ready for the wedding-feast.

though i am poor and needy
my Shelter You’ll be
not by my merit lead me
to where You say

waste my time on lover’s quarrels
speed my breath and hope to stumble
out of my disdain and still
You Remain
–Jennifer Knapp, You Remain

The wonder is not that I am a catch or pleasant or all that much fun to be around. The wonder is that Renee loves me. The wonder is that she is faithful. The wonder is that she has not divorced me. The wonder is that after 18 years she is still here, still refreshing me each day with her affection, grace, mercy, and love. The wonder is that she believes that I am worthy of her love even though I am clearly not.

I fact, I can think of no better metaphor for grace than that of the love that a wife has for her husband. Marriage is about so much more than we think. Marriage is about so much more than feelings. Marriage is about holiness and Christ means to perfect us thus he stays with us, faithful in season and out of season, day in and day out, rain and sun—the wonder of it all is that he still loves the church. And he will purify us because he is faithful, because he loves us even when we fail.

Ugly we may be. But we are loved. And nothing or no one is going to change Jesus’ mind about that.*

*I hate to have to add this disclaimer, but the internet can transmit ideas that were not intended by the author of a blog post. Thus, my post should not be interpreted to mean that I have been unfaithful to my wife in any physical way. Of course, as with most men (except the superheroes among us) my eyes and heart have been wayward at times, and I have confessed and repented. And Renee and I have talked about this and she assures me that although she believes Don Draper is dreamy she has not been unfaithful to me either.

Today’s Gospel lesson was taken from Mark 12:28-34.

And one of the scribes came up and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, asked him, “Which commandment is the most important of all?” Jesus answered, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” And the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher. You have truly said that he is one, and there is no other besides him. And to love him with all the heart and with all the understanding and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbor as oneself, is much more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” And when Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And after that no one dared to ask him any more questions.

I’m sure all of you have heard sermons from this passage or read it. Maybe you have a t-shirt with these words emblazoned on them. I do not know what you have done with these verses, if anything.

This morning as they were read to the congregation by the pastor heard something that struck me as meaningful. It’s that small word: ‘is’. It is there in plain sight. It’s not making any attempt to hide itself. There it is.

Is.

The greatest commandment is. (v 29)

There is no other commandment greater than these. (v 32)

‘Is’ bookends Jesus’ thoughts.

And not only that, but Jesus’ answer stymied everyone so badly that ‘from then on no one dared to ask him any more questions.’ Not one more? Really?

So what Mark is saying is that Jesus’ answer was so profound, so deep, so meaningful, so wonderful, so inspired that it answered all questions they had and all questions they might be considering. Whatever question they might have had from that day forward, in the future, they could not ask because, for better or worse, they remembered this answer and it silenced them. (I wish I had that sort of intellectual prowess.)

Is.

The tense of the verb has not changed. I suspect that if Jesus were standing right beside us, or if he were over there and we had to run up to him, and we asked him this question his response would be the same.

There’s not much point in giving us any other commands. I think I know what the fella was getting at. It was something like, “OK. I’ll just ask Jesus what the greatest command is. I’ll do it. Then I’ll be all set.” Then Jesus completely undoes the man by telling him that the greatest command is neither as sublime nor mundane as he might have supposed. It’s neither; it’s both.

Is.

I think Jesus’ point is something like this: “You are gonna have trouble enough with this one. Manage this and you will be set.” Right.

It’s enough to love God and to love people. That love will manifest itself in a thousand million ways. For some it will mean suffering alongside those who suffer, for others it will mean marching alongside those who march. For some it will mean protesting the vilest and most disgraceful among us, and for others it will mean giving a cup of cold water in Jesus’ name to our worst enemy. For some it will mean fighting wars, for others fighting peace. It will mean discovering and rediscovering each day how to love people, all the people, whose paths we cross, whose lives intersect ours, a thousand times a day.

Right now loving my neighbor means loving a young man in my neighborhood who treated my youngest son badly today, physically by hitting him and emotionally by saying vulgar things about my son’s mother. I know I could call him out (he’s on my little league team and really wants to pitch next year). I could call his mother. I could make him stand in the hallway at lunch tomorrow and eat by himself. I could impose my fairly large size and intimidate him. But that would not be love, would it?

Is.

The command doesn’t change just because we do. The command has not been altered or rescinded just because we are seeing Jesus say it on paper and not with his mouth. The command has not been countered just because we hear it in our hearts and not with our ears. I heard someone say, “You can love your neighbor without loving God, but you cannot love God without loving your neighbor.” True.

Sometimes I wish we had the option though, don’t you?

I have to teach my son that I will protect him, but that I also still love the young man who treated him poorly. Not an easy choice for someone like myself who is anything but a pacifist, someone who swore a long time ago an oath against bullies and punks and all sorts of bully mayhem.

I’m stuck on ‘is.’

It’s easy to love God so long as I do not have to put flesh on him, but make him a person who is as worthy of my love as I suppose God is and I am undone. And there is no getting around it. Jesus said, and I either believe it or I do not, ‘is.’ You know as well as I do that ‘is’ leaves none or less room for wiggle. Nor, for that matter, is it something we have the right to contemplate. ‘Is’ is ‘is.’ There are no two ways about it. The greatest commandment is the two things we find it most difficult to do: Love God; love people.

I’m stuck on ‘is.’

But maybe that’s not such a bad place to be.

I’m pressing my luck using this series, but I want you to understand that even though at this point much of Claiborne’s argument is lost on me, I am trying hard to understand his point of view. I think he has many, many important things to say and that we should listen when we can and even when we cannot.  So if I am arguing with you loudly during these posts it’s not because I necessarily disagree with you it is because I’m am speaking out loud my objections to what I read in order that others among us can help clarify what I may have missed.

So I press on in the hope that I might have a deeper understanding of the faith that I profess and cling to. Since the Lord has seen fit to silence my voice for now and prohibit me from entering the pulpit for a season, I think it best to learn to listen to those around me. This means reading books by authors I might not otherwise read (like Claiborne, or Lamott, or MLK). It’s all a part of the reshaping of my faith all over again for the first time ever. It happens about every ten years or so for me. So here’s today’s ‘whaddya think?’

Hell is not just something that comes after death but is something many are living in this very moment: 1.2 billion people groan for a drop of water each day; more than thirty thousand kids starve to death each day; and thirty-eight million folks are dying of AIDS. It seems ludicrous to think of preaching to them about hell when we would do better sitting at the well and asking them for a little water. We see Jesus spending far more energy loving people out of hell, and lifting people out of the hells in which they are trapped, than trying to scare them into heaven. And one of the most beautiful things we get to see in community here in Kensington is people who have been loved out of the hells they find themselves in–domestic violence, addiction, sex trafficking, loneliness.

[...]

…Jesus reassured Peter that the ‘gates of hell will not prevail against you.’ As adolescents, we understood that to mean that the demons and fiery darts of the Devil will not hit us. But lately we’ve done a little more thinking and praying, and we have a bit more insight on gates. Gates are not offensive weapons. Gates are defensive–walls and fences we built to keep people out. God is not saying the gates of hell will not prevail as they come at us. God is saying that we are in the business of storming the gates of hell, and the gates will not prevail as we crash through them with grace.

[...]

People sometimes ask if we are scare of the inner city. We say that we are more scared of the suburbs…As Shane’s mother says, “Perhaps there is no more dangerous place for a Christian to be than in safety and comfort, detached from the suffering of others.” We’re scared of apathy and complacency, of detaching ourselves from the suffering.  (Jesus For President, 291, 292)

Whaddya think? There is much in these statements that I agree with entirely. But I want to know what you think. Later, if I argue with you, don’t get angry. Let’s learn together.

And the amazing thing is that when we have nothing else to say, He is still willing to listen. Happy Monday.

During the Willow Creek Association’s Global Leadership Summit this year Tim Keller spoke from the text of the parable of the prodigal son. He recently wrote a book titled The Prodigal God and I assume much of what he said is expounded upon in the book which I plan to read soon.

Tim mentioned that the word prodigal also incorporates the idea of reckless expenditure and because this parable involves the reckless expenditure of love by the father (i.e. God) Tim titled his book The Prodigal God. The sub-title (aim) of the talk was to diagnose spiritual deadness and reveal the cure for it.

The parable of the prodigal son was told to Pharisees and religious folk. In Luke 10 we read that the Pharisees and scribes complained because Jesus ate with and received sinners. In the light of this Jesus told three parables, the third of which is the prodigal son.

In the parable we often miss the fact that it was not only the younger brother that was alienated from his father but so was the elder. The younger did not love the father but rather he loved the money of his father and so he asked for his share of the inheritance and goes and spends it. But the older brother wasn’t much different and his attitude is revealed in Luke 15:29 –

“he said to the father, Behold, so many years I serve you, and I have never transgressed a command of you. And you never gave a goat to me, so that I might be merry with my friends.”

He also was after his father’s possessions though he went after it in another fashion.

At this point Tim mentioned that people try to gain salvation in two ways. The one way is like the younger brother – ignoring God and be immoral and irreligious. The other is like the elder son – be very moral and religious. But in both these ways the heart of the person is not drawn to God but rather what can be gained from God – salvation.

By the end of the parable it is the older brother that is outside the house trying to save him. He is lost because of his goodness. This is what religion does. It acts morally in order to gain salvation while salvation is not gained in that manner. Religion says obey and be accepted. Elder brothers serve God to get things from God. In other words doing what they think is expected of them and so getting leverage over God.

The Gospel turns this on its head – you are accepted, now obey out of love towards the One who accepted you. We get a righteous record because of the Son and then obey because we want more of God himself not of what God can give us.

So, diagnosing spiritual deadness – it is caused by the attitude of the older brother. At one level we believe the gospel, but persistently our hearts go back to religion – we go back to being elder brothers. Elder brothers, and here is the source of spiritual deadness, believe they’re getting leverage over God

• Elder brothers get angry when their life doesn’t go well
• When elder brothers are criticized they either attack or are demoralized
• There is no intimacy in an elder brother’s prayer life – it is about what is to be gained
• Elder brothers have a sense of superiority because of their good works. Their self image is based on right doctrine and they loath all who disagrees with them.
• They look down on people who have or know less as lazy
• They get merciless – forget from where they themselves where saved

What to do about this spiritual deadness.

• Get to a new level of repentance.

  Repentance that means much more than just being sorry for wrong done and confessing it. It goes to the level of repenting for the reasons behind actions both wrong and right. Repenting from that motivation behind our good actions that seeks to gain something from God.Often the elder brother/Pharisee types are even proud of their repentance. It is one more “good” thing to do by which leverage over God can be gained.

• Break through to a new level of rejoicing.

  Here Tim touched on something I have never thought about before. The estate of the father was already divided in two because of the younger brother’s request. He went and spent his part of the inheritance so the only reaming part of that estate would then be the elder’s inheritance. At the return of the young brother the father commands a feast must be held and the young brother is given a ring and robe – all of it at the expense of the older brother’s part of the inheritance! Understandably the older brother is furious. Here this squanderer of his father’s possessions comes back and gets all the advantages of the household for which he has not worked and that at the expense of the older brother – scandalous!

  We however have an elder Brother quite unlike the one in the parable. Our elder Brother brings us back to our Father at His expense – his very life.  We, the squanderers, gets welcomed back, a feats is held and we get to share in all of God’s house – all at the expense of our elder Brother.

  This moves us to humility.

  This is cause for rejoicing.

This is truly Good News!!!

“God is not moody or capricious; He knows no seasons of change. He has a single relentless stance toward us: He loves us. He is the only God man has ever heard of who loves sinners. False gods–the gods of human manufacturing–despise sinners, but the Father of Jesus loves all, no matter what they do.”

-Brennan Manning

The accusation that somebody is telling a lie has been thrown around a lot lately.  You have likely seen it on TV between cable news channels, between politicians, between cable news and politicians (including the white house staff), on this website (by authors and commenters alike). Some of you have probably even seen it in church.

I started thinking about the validity of accusation of lies when my first child at the age of 4 began to realize that sometimes we would say one thing (often involving her getting something she wanted) and that thing not come to pass.  I can’t remember the events surrounding the first accusation, but I do remember her getting upset with her parents and pouting and telling us that we lied to her.  I made her come back into the room and calmly explained to her that we did not lie because besides the fact that getting upset and pouting about not getting your way is immature and that even at such a young age we try to teach her how to handle situations maturely, she was just plain wrong.  I believe that in that particular instance, the situation had changed preventing us from following through with our previous claim.

I think that most of the accusations flying around (here and “out there”) are wrong as well.  There’s a difference between telling a lie and being wrong/ignorant.  A lie has the intent to deceive.  Deceit is the thing which makes something that is false or untrue a lie.    Technically, Merriam Webster’s Dictionary does say that a lie can be “b. an untrue or inaccurate statement that may or may not be believed true by the speaker.”  But that is referring to the noun (the untruth itself) and not the accusation that a person is a liar or telling a lie.  In fact, the dictionary definition for the verb “lie” always contains the element of deceit.  But besides that, when personal accusations go flying, the people making the accusations rarely mean that the accused gave “an untrue or inaccurate statement… believed true by the speaker.”  If they thought that, they’d call them wrong, ignorant, stupid, etc.

For years people believed that the Sun revolved around the earth.  We don’t think of them as liars, just ignorant.  When you sign your tax return, you aren’t saying that there aren’t any errors, just that there aren’t any that you know of (you aren’t intentionally or consciously giving them false information).  We also don’t call out scientists as liars when they come out with a statement that something we’ve been teaching in 5th grade text books for 40 years is actually not true.*

When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, the results are very clear: sexual immorality, impurity, lustful pleasures, idolatry, sorcery, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, dissension, division, envy, drunkenness, wild parties, and other sins like these. Let me tell you again, as I have before, that anyone living that sort of life will not inherit the Kingdom of God.

But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!

Those who belong to Christ Jesus have nailed the passions and desires of their sinful nature to his cross and crucified them there. Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit’s leading in every part of our lives. Let us not become conceited, or provoke one another, or be jealous of one another. (NLT Ga 5:19-26, Emphasis mine.)

*I considered siting references for all of my examples, but I realized that I would be doing it because I dislike ignorance, laziness, and false information almost as much as I dislike lying.  The point of this post is not to point out individual errors but to expose our immature penchant for accusations.

Lately I have found it difficult to pray. Could be that many of us have this similar experience at times. When that happens, I don’t think God suddenly gets worried or that he loses sleep. I think he’s patient. I’m glad for His patience because I certainly have none.

A recent post concerning Rich Mullins caused me to break out my worn copy of Mullins’ The Jesus Record and listen to the beautiful lyrics and music that Mullins composed shortly before his death. In the midst of some whining (my own) that I never quite hear from God as much as some others seem to, the lyrics to one of the songs stood out to me and I heard His voice loudly.

Mullins had a brilliant way of reminding the pilgrim to just pay attention to beauty, to be completely honest with the one from whom we can hide nothing, and to cry and pray and cry and pray until you have nothing left to cry and pray. I lamented to some friends, just last night, that I never thought God could feel so far away. Then, these:

Rich Mullins
You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said
Still I’m so scared, I’m holding my breath
While You’re up there just playing hard to get
You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that’s not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness
Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on
And Your friends fall asleep
And don’t see the blood that’s running in Your sweat
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You’re up there just playing hard to get?
And I know you bore our sorrows
And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know
Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can’t see what’s ahead
And we can not get free of what we’ve left behind
I’m reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can’t see how You’re leading me unless You’ve led me here
Where I’m lost enough to let myself be led
And so You’ve been here all along I guess
It’s just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get

(Rich Mullins, Hard to Get, from the Jesus Record, my emphasis)

These lyrics came along at the right time. I’m glad that when I can’t pray my own words, there are the words of others that I can pray. I’m glad when I can’t pray, or won’t, that the Spirit never quits; that Jesus never stops interceding.

In full awareness that some of our readers despise truth when it comes from the mouths of those with whom they find no fellowship, I publish this beautiful paragraph from the pen of Anne Lamott:

[Rahab] did it [hid the Israelites spies under flax on her roof in defiance of the king's orders] because she was desperate, and so she listened to her heart. In my experience, there is a lot to be said for desperation–not exactly a bright side, but something expressed in words for which ‘God’ could be considered an acronym: gifts of desperation. The main gift is a willingness to give up the conviction that you are right, and that God things so, too, and hates the people who are driving you crazy….Something told Rahab that if she aligned herself with the people who had been brought so far by faith, she would be safe as well. This gave her the radical conviction that she should be cared for. Rahab believed that God was trying to get her attention, and she listened.

–Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, 20, 21

Today God got my attention.

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We’ve been talking about a number of important issues the last few days. I’m glad we have. It is important, no matter how much we disagree, to continue to dialogue with one another. Irony sharpens iron they say.

So we continue to talk and converse with folks from all corners of the haunted church because we recognize that it matters not where truth comes from if it is truth and, to be sure, we never know what sort of strange vessel the Lord may use to interrogate us, strip us naked, or beat us to a pulp. Lately, for one reason or another, the Lord has been using a class I am taking on Diversity in Educational Settings to strip me naked and expose my inherent, deliberate flaws.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling being the minority. Anyhow.

I’m reading a book that I recommended to a friend. I think some of my recent experiences with the church have left me not a little angry, hurt, and confused and the book is most helpful for exposing those things and working towards forgiveness and wholeness. I’m trying to get along with God right now even if it seems that he is rather content to get along without me. Churches are strange creatures. That book is Soul Survivor by Philip Yancey–a book I highly recommend if you have ever had issues with the church, with any church, or with the people who make up the church. Today’s thought comes from Yancey’s pen:

I have had to forgive the church, much as a person from a dysfunctional family forgives mistakes made by parents and siblings. An irrepressible optimist, G.K. Chesterton proved helpful in that process too. ‘The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried,’ he said.

[...]

For this reason, when people tell me their horror stories of growing up in a repressive church environment, I feel no need to defend the actions of the church. The church of my own childhood, as well as that of my present and my future, comprises deeply flawed human beings struggling toward an unattainable ideal. We admit that we will never reach our ideal in this life, a distinctive the church claims that most other human institutions try to deny. Along with Chesterton, I’ve had to take my place among those who acknowledge that we are what is wrong with the world. What is my snobbishness toward my childhood church, for instance, but an inverted form of the harsh judgment it showed me? Whenever faith seems an entitlement, or a measuring rod, we cast our lots with the Pharisees and grace softly slips away. (58, 58-59)

And so he says.

This is the lesson that I want (and need!) to continue learning every day if I am going to be a receiver and giver of grace. I also think this is one of those reasons why God continues to break us down, strip us naked, beat us up, tear us apart, and generally render us completely undone. God has no ability to work on people who are already put together, but those who are ripped to shreds–there is where the true miracle of Christianity is: He takes those shreds and weaves the tiny fibers back together until we are readable again.

You can’t make out a story when the book is torn asunder and the pages are scattered in mud. But when the pages are healed, put in order, and bound again to the spine–ah, then the complete story can be read.

And it makes sense.

Grace and peace.