What ministry or outreach might be open to you now?

Though I have hinted at possibilities before, let’s take it a little further.

            There has been a time or two when people acquainted with my failures/struggles have shown up at the church I pastor to see if there may not be hope for them also. They feel secure with the thought they will not be rejected or ignored. In the most recent event of this nature the person did not announce himself, describe his situation, whine, blame, or complain but simply got involved a little at a time. In time we talked, and I found out all I needed to know.

            That last sentence is somewhat important. I do not need to know the details, and I do not ask for them. If the details emerge, all right, but it is not necessary. I find it helpful to avoid my natural curiosity or prurient interest in how or “who done it.” Yes, I am concerned to protect the congregation from anything of a predatory nature, and if information is revealed in the person’s past history, then I want to discuss this, but in a manner that is not a deal breaker for the person’s recovery.

            Let me simply say that I have likely heard it all, or close to it. A reader might suppose I am looking for sexual stuff, affairs, homosexuality, child molestation, rape, and so on. And these are indeed serious and must be dealt with at some point before any kind of ministry opens up. I heard someone say decades ago, “Truth is communicated across a bridge of love.” This form of love, this agape love, is what Paul is talking about in 1 Corinthians 13. It, as the old Jesus People chorus has it, is to “save each one’s dignity and save each one’s pride.”

            Dignity can be so thoroughly trashed that chronic depression sets in and never or nearly ever goes away. Dignity is that sense of ourselves that we are loved by God and, though erring, are yet in the Family of God and cherished. Pride, not the selfish sort of thing where we think more highly of ourselves than we ought, but that sense of ourselves as worthy in Christ and not in ourselves, is where we can go. Dignity and pride: these are both worth preserving and building upon, as they are crucial elements in recovery from serious failure.

            Now then, some thoughts on how to go about taking the risk of serving the Lord once again in an active and public manner despite failure. First of all, this is approached a little at a time, taking baby steps, rebuilding confidence slowly over a period of time.

            In the context of an actual congregation, I find that the choir is great for this, maybe a praise band, or something akin. Ushering, perhaps clean-up, set-up, take-down, practical things that are relatively safe to do. By safe I mean that there are fewer chances for criticism due to inconsistency, absence, or getting things confused. With support and instruction, a former preacher/teacher can be re-introduced to these, but here the possibility for a failure grows exponentially. When one stands before the congregation as a worship leader, Scripture reader, Bible teacher, or Gospel preacher, much more is expected even demanded. Here now is when the mentor, even if considerably younger than the mentee, plays a large role but one I cannot spell out here.

            Outside a congregational setting the possibilities are many and varied. There is blogging, podcasting, and various social media platforms to utilize, but these do not provide the person-to-person contact that many hope for. That aside, it may be a place to start. In the community there are hospitals, hospices, retirement communities, and a myriad of other volunteer opportunities. There are para-church ministries, rescue missions, evangelistic outreaches, prison ministries, and the list goes on. Google searches can open up a world unknown.

            Let me re-emphasize; before we start anew, we must be careful to be sure we have recovered sufficiently to trust ourselves and not betray the trust of others. Here we must be honest with ourselves. And there should obviously be at least one other person who knows who we are and to whom we can be accountable.

Luke 23:26–43

Find a quiet place, alone and apart from distractions. Be comfortably alert, still, and at peace. Say the Lord’s Prayer. Sing or cant the Jesus Prayer. Pray for family, friends, neighbors, and yourself. Slowly and carefully read the passage of Scripture.

1.         Early Friday morning, Jesus is being taken to be crucified, and being weakened by being beaten, cannot carry the crossbeam, and a man named Simon is made to carry that part of the T shaped cross.

2.         A large crowd is following the procession and Jesus speaks to them. And it is a ‘lament,’        as Jesus speaks of a great time of sadness and devastation to come. This would be some 40 years in the future, the destruction of Jerusalem and the deaths of hundreds of thousands.

3.         Two other convicts were to be crucified alongside Jesus at the Skull or Cranium in Greek. The first of seven words Jesus speaks while on the cross, is a request to the Father to forgive those who are responsible for crucifying Him.

4.         The soldiers rolled dice to see who would get Jesus clothes, exactly as prophesied in Isaiah. And all the while the ruler and soldiers mocked Him.

5.         Luke tells us of the inscription on a piece of wood that would be attached above Jesus’ head on the cross that stated the reason for the execution, which was common practice.

6.         One of the two criminals railed at Jesus while the other did just the opposite; he knew Jesus had done nothing wrong and said so. This man acknowledged who Jesus was and asked Him to remember him when He came in His kingdom.

Chapter Six

Is it all right to talk with friends and family about past troubling events?

This is a difficult question indeed. Yes and No would have to be the answer. Yes when it would be safe, and No when it may not be.

When would it not be safe? Perhaps this would be when a person was not emotionally and spiritually strong enough to hear of what might be unpleasant. There has been a time or two, when I was much younger, that it hurt me to hear of events that involved close family members. I needed to know these things, I guess, but it impacted me negatively. I would say that there are some things that need go unreported.

There have been times in my life when I had to shut up about stuff I knew about family members. Just sitting here in front of my computer a couple, of instances rolled through my mind. Sometimes it might be better just to let things ride. Yes, it might be of some relief to get things out, but damage to others could be the result. I am suggesting that there be time spent in prayer, and careful consideration taken before making decisions.

So the “no” part is complicated. Actually it is all complicated. This is a “weak” chapter because I am uncertain of what I should write here.

Concluding this brief piece, let me say that one needs to be careful about revealing that which might best be forgotten and hidden. Based on my own counselling years both as a therapist and a pastor, revelations of a serious nature might well do more harm than good.

I would quite easily state however, that if someone has a need to talk about past events, it would be time to go to a professional or to someone who is not connected to the events. Over the years, as a pastor, some 52 years plus now, I have heard many an unhappy story, which needed to be gotten out into the light of day but must not go any further.

We may well have to sit on tales that yet cause pain, and I think this is what maturity is about, the strength to know the horrors of past events and turn the pain over to our Lord who is always ready to listen. Yes, He is the great counsellor.

Chapter 7

Few knew it, and many do not know it now, but I am essentially shy, triggered by an event when I was a kid of fifteen and heard my dear Aunt Cleo say (she didn’t know I was in ear shot), “Well, Kent, he is kind of homely.”

My family hails from the Sand Hills of northwestern Nebraska, and “homely” was a word I heard from time to time. Since I really was just a skinny little kid with big ears, I internalized the idea that I was funny looking, so I avoided ever dating a girl or going to a dance while I was in high school. Although an average student and a fairly good athlete, I nevertheless acquired a kind of shyness. It is with me to this day.

So, there I was on Haight Street in the winter of 1967, and it scared me. Here were all these hipster types looking and acting weirdly in their multi-colored, strange clothing and long scraggly hair, and I didn’t know how to approach them. I wanted to, and inside of me was a desire to tell them about Jesus, but I could not bring myself to do it. What to do? I had nothing, no Gospel tracts or New Testaments to hand out yet, so I walked up and down the sidewalks of several streets trying to get up courage to talk with someone.

Walking toward Masonic Street on Haight one day probably in March, I spied a scruffy kid sitting on the curb, and beside him was a battered green suitcase. I noticed a number of similar kids with sleeping bags and old suitcases (back packs came later) around the district, and I knew they were new arrivals.

This happened before the days of my journal writing, so I don’t know the kid’s name or too much more about him, but what I do remember is that I worked up enough courage to sit down next to him on the curb, which was a big deal at that point.

I said “hi” and waited. I told him my name. Nothing. I asked, “How you doing?” He started to cry. With the dam now broken, he told me his story—how he had read about “it” all in the papers and wanted to give it a try. He didn’t want to go into the Army either, so he headed out west. His parents didn’t know where he was.

This kid thought he was a Christian; yes, I did start to tell him about Jesus. He listened politely, did not get upset, and told me he had gotten saved as a little kid. I asked him if he was sure. He said no. I asked him if he wanted to make sure. He said yes. We prayed the traditional sinner’s prayer.

The rest of the story is pretty simple. I called his parents, they talked to their boy, and in about an hour he was on his way home on a Greyhound Bus.

Wow, I thought, that was easy. So, I kept this up for the next three-plus years. That battered green suitcase often came to mind while sending yet another young boy or girl homeward bound on the bus. It was wonderful. If I had had any sense of the future, I would have taken pictures, but it simply did not seem like a big deal to me to send prodigals back home. I hope it meant something to many parents who graciously received them back.

Now first of all, the wrecked ship needs restoring and repairing. The damaged hulk will have to be dragged off the rocks and hauled to a safe place for rebuilding and restoring. No such place may be available, which is not unusual. There are generally few resources to cover the costs of the time and money involved. There is often absolutely no help at all.

Christian leaders may actually want to be out from underneath the pressures that go with ministry. They may create a crisis, even on an subconscious level, which effectively forces an end to a ministry. This, in fact, describes many leadership failures. In such circumstances, the minister may eventually, after rebuilding, long to be back in action—somehow, somewhere.

Most people do not realize the pressures weighing on a minister, especially the pastor of a congregation. The pastor/teacher is carrying a load that few are aware of. Pastors rarely feel as though they are succeeding and are mostly aware of what is not getting done. They are painfully acquainted with people who are hurting and whom they do not seem to be able to help and encourage. Other care giving professionals rely on creating distance from those they serve, but this does not work in Christian ministry. The load is upon the shoulders, and it never lets up. How many pastors actually commit suicide is unknown, but from what I have gathered, it is a small but quantifiable percentage, nevertheless. It is then obvious the size of the rebuilding job that may be necessary.

There are many ways to serve our Lord Jesus other than pastoring a church. Though the church is a vital venue for service, it is not the only one. It may be publishing, writing, evangelism, serving abroad in difficult places; it may be as simple as handing bulletins to worshipers on Sunday morning. Over the years, I have found a number of those who were drummed out of the professional ministry, and some of them for good reason, who created businesses of one kind or another and therein found ways to count and witness. Whatever it may be, there will be a place to work for the Kingdom. The manager of the vineyard will find work for any who want it, even for those who show up late.

Our concern here now is rebuilding and restoration. I have learned that healing from a catastrophic collapse is not simply accomplished. Perhaps it will be a lonely and private struggle, as some Christian communities practice effective shunning techniques. Or, due to circumstances, there may be no time or money for such.

Ministers who must suddenly leave their place of employment are often without resources. What then? Here is where the internet might be helpful. If drugs or alcohol are involved, there are Twelve Step programs, which can be wonderful. These folks know what it is to stumble and to do so badly. They will be welcoming and affirming. Within the broad range of groups within the Twelve Step family are also groups that involve issues other than substance abuse. And there are men’s groups of all sorts. Some of these can be discovered on MeetUp.com.

There are Christian congregations that have mature believers who can be counted on, even among churches that are Christ-centered and biblically faithful. Christianity is far from a cookie-cutter phenomenon. It takes searching, asking, phoning, whatever it takes—but the point is, no one can do it alone. Even those who take up a monkish lifestyle and head for the desert or a mountain to pray, meditate, reflect, repent, and go back to basics—this is only a beginning. The Church, the blood-bought community of faith, that gathering where Jesus walks in its midst, is the place of ultimate healing.

After a crisis some Christian leaders fall apart and apparently, seemingly, depart from the faith. I have seen plenty of this. I had also seen that some of these “fallen” often make a comeback at some point. This is more often the case than one of no return. Once born again from above and one is a son or daughter of God, this does not change. Parents know that whatever happens, their kids are still their kids. Is it not so with the Father—does He not continue to love His erring and damaged children? Will He not lead them out of sin and its consequences and into green pastures? You know the answer, at least in your head if not in your heart.

Let us examine, briefly, some helpful passages of Scripture that speak to our issue.

James 5:19–20 reads:

[19] My brothers, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, [20] let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (ESV)

James, half-brother of Jesus, who many think was the first pastor of the first Christian congregation in Jerusalem, whose letter is likely the very first inspired document to emerge from the Christian Church, speaks to the issue of shipwreck very directly. The “if” in the first sentence is a conditional clause of the third class and is predicting the high probability of an event where someone wanders from the truth. To wander or stray from the truth is certainly a shipwreck scenario. Pastor James was concerned about such brother and sisters and encourages members of the flock to bring them back, the result of which is of the highest good.

James does not consider these wandering sheep as hopelessly lost at all. Perhaps echoing the teaching of the Good Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and goes out searching for the single lost lamb, he actually concludes his general pastoral letter with this beautiful, sensitive, and realistic admonition.

In 1 Timothy 3:1–13, we find Paul’s qualifications for overseers and deacons. The lists are formidable indeed: above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money, a good manager of his household, have submissive children, not a recent convert, well thought of by non-Christians, dignified, not double-tongued, not addicted to much wine, not greedy, having a thorough understanding of the Faith, tested beforehand so as to prove themselves blameless, and with wives who are dignified, not slanderers, sober-minded, and faithful in all things.

It might also be helpful to look at 1 Thessalonians 4:1–12 as well.

My thinking is that if anyone of us in Christian leadership was to sober-mindedly examine these qualifications, we would have to resign immediately. The calling is extraordinarily high, and this is in addition to loving the Lord our God with all we are and our neighbor as ourselves!

As I write this section, I cannot help but say to myself, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Isaiah 6:5) Then the angel of God assured Isaiah, to whom the words were directed, that by the grace and mercy of God he was forgiven and by that grace he would fulfill his calling.

By my own strength I can only fail. Though appearing outwardly like I am faithful and obedient, I would know, and I do know, that I do not measure up. Though I may often be briefly commendable, to be honest, I do not qualify. The issue is that no one does, and those who do not know this about themselves are like a mine in the minefield. Am I too harsh in my judgment after fifty-two years in pastoral ministry? I think not.

Luke 23:13–25

Find a quiet place, alone and apart from distractions. Be comfortably alert, still, and at peace. Say the Lord’s Prayer. Sing or cant the Jesus Prayer. Pray for family, friends, neighbors, and yourself. Slowly and carefully read the passages of Scripture.

1.         Again the chief priests and the rulers, and now including “the people,” are before Pilate, the Roman procurator of Judea.

2.         Pilate declares, that after examining Jesus, he finds no fault in Him, and this for the second time. And Pilate says that in addition, Herod had found no fault either.

3.         Pilate hopes to assuage the Jesus’ accusers by punishing Him, and Matthew, Mark, and John say this is a scourging, which often resulted in the death of the one badly beaten.

4.         The opposers say no to this, they want Him crucified, which is the meaning of “away with this man.”

Instead they want a man named Barabbas, a name that means “son of a father” or could also mean “Rabbi” to be set free instead.

5.         Barabbas had led an insurrection against Rome, many others had done the same, and he would have been crucified had not the tradition of releasing a person sentenced to death on the Feast of Passover been fulfilled by releasing him.

6.         Pilate then for a third time tried to release Jesus, saying again that he could find no fault in Him. But His opponents screamed to have Him crucified.

7.         Pilate gave in, had Barabbas freed, and then gave Jesus over to His enemies. This took place about 8am on Friday morning.

Hello Everyone,

Almost 15 years ago I started to write an essay titled “Why I Decided Not to Kill Myself.” It was a time, after my second divorce, that I began to be haunted with thoughts about committing suicide. After setting out my experiences on paper, it occurred to me that others might be going through the same thing I was.  

Therefore, I sent out, via email, an invitation to others to send me a short piece about their struggles. And some came in. 

Now, taking up where I left off those years ago, my wife Katie and I have pretty much finished what we call a booklet with that very title. And then we thought we would send out an invitation to others to send us a short description of their struggles with thoughts of ending their lives.

This booklet is Christian oriented because it was my relationship with Jesus that kept me alive. 

If you would like to send in a short account of your own struggles, we welcome it, and you would not have to include your name. Send it to kentphilpott@comcast.net. Kent and Katie Philpott

Hello Everyone,

Almost 15 years ago I started to write an essay titled “Why I Decided Not to Kill Myself.” It was a time, after my second divorce, that I began to be haunted with thoughts about committing suicide. After setting out my experiences on paper, it occurred to me that others might be going through the same thing I was.  

Therefore, I sent out, via email, an invitation to others to send me a short piece about their struggles. And some came in. 

Now, taking up where I left off those years ago, my wife Katie and I have pretty much finished what we call a booklet with that very title. And then we thought we would send out an invitation to others to send us a short description of their struggles with thoughts of ending their lives.

This booklet is Christian oriented because it was my relationship with Jesus that kept me alive. 

If you would like to send in a short account of your own struggles, we welcome it, and you would not have to include your name. Kent and Katie Philpott

I often feel guilty when I am with others who know what kind of person I have been.

Wish this was not true of me, but I have to admit this will happen to me. For years now I have avoided those who knew full well what a jerk I have been. Seems though now that I am easing up on this guiltiness, in fact, in recent sermons I have even mentioned this.

Yes, two weeks ago, last Sunday in April of 2023 I mentioned one of my divorces and how badly I felt about it even to the point of resigning from the church I now pastor and disappear into the world. I was amazed at two people, one man and one woman, who looked intently at me and nodded their heads in agreement. And I knew both of their pasts and I think it was a relief for them to hear this from me, and from the pulpit.

I wonder how many people there are like me who could no longer face a congregation who knew the truth. Okay, I know it may be argued that it is better to keep silence, but then again, maybe not.

Is it not true that all have sinned? And I am not talking about only our pre-Christian lives, but ongoing lives as well.

Right now I am thinking of what happened with those who believed in John Wesley, founder of the Methodist church movement, when toward the close of his life he said it was possible to live a sinless life, which then spawned the holiness movement. It was not long  before some of the ordained leaders of this off-shoot of Methodism failed. Indeed, some of the leaders proved they were not all that holy, and though the history is convoluted and complex, it spooned the Pentecostal movement. So the great gift of the Holy Spirit became speaking in tongues. And in my opinion, this was a step in the right direction.

Some may say, well Philpott, you are given out a license to sin, or you are saying that it is not a big deal if a Christian, especially a Christian leader, sins. Absolutely not, we are called to walk in the footsteps of Jesus and flee from sin. And especially for those of us called to the work. Yet, I know that I am not without blame, I know I am vulnerable to attack. Let me say that I face temptation each and every day. Most of the time I am able to turn away from sin, and I am not talking about the big stuff, but little stuff like tooting my own horn, exaggerating something I did not did not do, making excuses to avoid difficulties, failing to follow though on ministry to someone I knew needed encouragement, not pouring myself into the preparation for the Sunday sermon, and on and on I could go.

Do I ever have sexual temptation? Certainly I do, goes with the territory. Such is not sinful, but could be a step in the wrong direction. Porn, hmmm, anyone reading this guilty here? A large percentage of Christian men in particular, but women too, so engage. It is a powerful and twisted impulse. Every so often a man, almost always a male, will feel safe enough with me to tell me of their compulsion. A case of this occurred two and half weeks ago. Porn addiction is probably one of the major stumbling blocks we face today. More are messed up over perverse sexuality than ever before. It stares in the face daily.

1 Peter 5:8 is a verse that has been in mind for a couple of years now. “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” Based on lots of pastoral experience, I have come to see that the one who insists he or she is not vulnerable is. In fact, most vulnerable.

Indeed, we have to tell ourselves the truth, we have to admit our weaknesses, and be quick to ask our forgiving Lord for forgiveness and also those whom we might have harmed.

It is no simple thing to be a follower of Jesus in this sin scarred world we live in. We are called to be honest with ourselves, with others, and the God to whom we pray.

Chapter 6

Byron is still a small farming community in a bend in the road between Brentwood and Tracy off Highway 4 in Contra Costa County. A large subdivision was developed there called Discovery Bay, but that was long after I was gone. In fact, the Excelsior Baptist Church disappeared long ago, although the old building is yet standing that once housed the Excelsior School followed by the church.

Toward the end of my first year as a seminarian, I had a strong urge to pastor a church. Pastoring was what we “young lions” were constantly talking about. We were either going to be missionaries or pastors, one or the other for sure. I wanted to pastor.

The seminary often posted announcements of churches looking for a pastor. Someone called my attention to that, I made a call to Joe Smith, the area missionary for Contra Costa County, which was east of Marin, and he offered me the chance to preach at the Excelsior Baptist Church in Byron. Was I ever excited, and I went right to work on a sermon that I was sure would clinch the deal. I was right, and quickly they “called” me as pastor and gave me a salary of $20 per week.

I think my first day as pastor of the little church was in July of 1966. The congregation was tiny; I remember some of the folks there: Al and Ruby Belah and Hartman Shelton were the deacons. The Belahs had one daughter, and the Sheltons had two, Pam and Rhonda. (When Pam was a senior, she had no one to take her to the senior prom at Liberty High School in Brentwood, although she was a wonderful and attractive person. Hartman asked me to take his daughter to it, since I was only twenty-four.) I came to love this family, and they were faithful to me the whole time. There was also Ruby Bauguss, the Lansfords, and especially Lorraine and Myron Williams. They took special care of their seminary pastor, of which they had had quite a few. I got the chance to preach twice a week and did not have to attend even one business meeting, which is not a small thing.

On October 2, 1966, the church ordained me, and Bob Lewis, my pastor from First Baptist Church of Fairfield, California, preached the ordination sermon. My dad made the trip, but my mother did not. Although a staunch Methodist, my mother was never born again, and this is not a charge against her but something she proclaimed loud and long. I never did figure that out. A few weeks after David’s arrival in Mill Valley, he began to accompany me to Byron. My practice was to travel up on Saturdays and Sundays, 75 miles one-way, meaning 300- plus miles per weekend. My 1956 Ford sedan had already been driven too many miles, and it was forever breaking down. J.C. Penney & Co. allowed me weekends off, and I was incredibly busy with work and classes four days per week.[1] Seminary education was real graduate work. To be accepted as a student one had to have a BA degree from an accredited institution, and the professors loaded their students up with tons of reading and papers. As I think about it now, I had begun a pattern that would excessively take me away from my family. Here were doors opening up, which seemed to me to be by the Hand of God, yet in walking through them I was also harming my family. It is something I have had to live with and wrestle with, never coming to a clear understanding of it.

David and I began to see what inroads we could make in the Byron area. For one thing, we contacted the local juvenile hall. David had practically grown up in state institutions; California had, in a real sense, been his father and mother. He was quite comfortable visiting there, and before long the entire boys’ home was coming to church every other Sunday; the other Sunday they went to the local Methodist Church, the only other church in town.[2]

Oddly, this did not sit well with the deacons, maybe because it took my attention away from them, yet I still visited every single household in the church at least twice a month. Byron was and is so small, that I could park at the church site and walk to most every church member’s house.

The situation deteriorated further when David and I started walk­ing through the local migrant workers’ camp on Hwy 4 between Byron and Brentwood. One particular family of seven quickly responded to the Gospel. They lived in a one-room shack in the migrant settlement, and I baptized all of those over about age ten. Soon other Mexican people were coming as well, and the church got crowded. Soon after this the deacons cut my salary to $10 a week.

Perhaps they knew more than I did, because trouble followed almost immediately. One Saturday morning I arrived at the church building alone without David to find that almost all the windows had been broken. Tomatoes from the fields that surrounded the building on three sides had found their way into the chapel and schoolrooms. It was a huge mess. I put out a call for help, and soon most of the church members arrived to clean up the splattered tomatoes and bro­ken glass.

The next week David was with me, and as we entered the migrant workers’ housing area, two large German shepherd dogs rushed out to attack us. It was a fight for our lives; David and I fought them off, and soon the dogs were whimpering and whining, but David and I were a complete mess—dirty, bloody, and completely scratched up. None of the occupants of the camp, including those who had been attending church, emerged to help us, except one elderly man who told us that the priest at the Catholic Church in Brentwood had put the dogs on us.

We drove to the Excelsior Church, cleaned up, and then headed to Brentwood and the Catholic Church. Both David and I had grown up having to fight and stand up for ourselves. Parking in front of the church, we loudly called the priest out, and when he emerged we verbally let him have it, and in no uncertain terms. He knew we could have made a lot of trouble for him if we had gone to the police.

That was the last time we had any trouble, and the migrant workers continued to come to church while harvesting work was going on.

[1]  An M.Div. degree normally required four years but the government money lasted only three years, so I loaded up to take the maximum units in order to graduate in three years.

[2] As soon as the Methodist pastor heard that the boys were visiting the Baptist Church he demanded equal time and got it.