Nonillion

A Big Night aka God Is Faithful

2011-01-29T02:47:00.000-08:00

2011.

Here are some of the big things that have taken place so far.

I started a new semester at school. I’m taking journalism, communication, public relations, Spanish, and philosophy.

I started a new job as a part-time graphic designer.

I’ve been dating Kerri six months.

And tonight I saw God move across a community, reveal his heart for justice, and open up his storehouses.

For the past few months, through Resonate and Activate I’ve been helping to plan an event as part of an on campus awareness week focusing on global education. The event was a benefit concert and silent art auction with all proceeds going to Chris Low and his non-profit, Yokefellows.

A little over two months ago we had no musicians, no artists, and no place to reasonably host the event. So we prayed.

A month and a half ago my very talented friend Bart Budwig, a local folk musician, generously agreed to play for the event. Around that time Campus Christian Fellowship agreed to sponsor the event. The sponsorship meant we would be able to meet for free in the largest room in WSU’s student union building. A couple artists agreed to donate pieces for the evening. We still needed another musician, many more pieces, and many many other details taken care of. So we prayed.

A month ago, after some searching and much emailing, Samuel Dickison, an amazing and local musician, agreed to play for the evening as well. I asked about payment. He said ten dollars just to cover gas. A couple more artists got back to me and agreed to donate. Still, there was more needed. So we prayed.

Two weeks ago we were pulling hard into Resonate funds (a church plant has very little). My friend Brian Kalwat, the best graphic designer I know, made some amazing flyers to be handed out during awareness week. To my best count I expected fifteen pieces of art. We kept praying.

Last week our on campus newspaper heard about what we were doing for Awareness Week and gave us a weeklong half page ad. That’s a $1000 normally. My friend Matt Slotemaker worked throughout the afternoon and night making a video to promote Yokefellows and the benefit concert/auction. On Sunday four local churches let us show that video and hand out some flyers. Even more artists agreed to donate. And we kept praying.

Tuesday and Wednesday local businesses let us hang up posters for the event. ASWSU, WSU’s student association, heard about Awareness Week and agreed to allocate almost all the funds we needed to make the week a success. Still more prayer.

Yesterday I counted twenty nine pieces of art donated. And we continued to pray.

At 5 pm today a group of amazing people showed up to help set up for the event. By 5:30 there were twice as many there to help.

At 6 we realized the projector we needed for the night had been left in Moscow, a good fifteen minutes away. So Kerri let me use her car and I drove over as fast as I legally (and at times illegally) could. While driving I thought about the evening. I thought maybe fifty people would show up. I hoped for maybe two hundred dollars. As I drove back to Pullman with the projector I prayed desperately and with expectation.

“God, I expect 50 people. Give us 100 more. God, I expect $200. Give us $1000 more.”

Around 7:30, when the event was supposed to start, only a few people had showed up.

By 7:40, out of nowhere, people began to stream in. The musicians played and entertained. Works of art were set up on tables throughout the room and people were bidding.

By 11:00 the sound equipment was loaded back up, the tables were torn down; the cookies were gone; the coffee pot was empty; the art had been collected and brought home by its various new owners. And the final numbers were realized.

Around 20 volunteers. 45 pieces of art donated. More than 150 people attended. And over $2500 raised for Yokefellows.

Whether He gives or takes away, God is faithful to exceed our expectations—may He always be praised.

Papa Bill

2010-12-17T12:38:00.000-08:00

My grandpa died this week. Tuesday at 9:20 in the morning he passed away.

For the last five years my grandpa, my Papa Bill, has lived in a nursing home. He was ready to leave. For a Texas Baptist preacher who loved adventure a nursing home was a cage. Near his bedside hung a picture of him dressed as a classic western outlaw; cowboy hat, eye patch, and all. His small, two person room and its stale smell, the bedpan and automatic bed, these were not my grandpa. That picture though, now that was my grandpa–an outlaw and sojourner of this world and a resident of a world to come. My last memory of my grandpa is standing with my siblings by his bedside. As a tear rolled down his face he said in the smallest voice, “I just hope that I have shown you all how much Christ loves you… and how much I love you.” As I left his room that day that picture of him was the last thing I saw.

A few years ago my cousin got married and I had the honor of helping my grandpa get ready for the wedding. In the mirror in the front room of my grandma’s apartment I watched as he carefully straightened his tie and his toupee. Then my grandma walked up, hugged him from behind, finished straightening his tie, and gently said, “You look great Bill.” It was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen. I know my grandparent’s relationship was not always the most outwardly romantic, and I know they’ve had their struggles, but I can only hope that one day I have a marriage full of the sweet and heavenly affection I saw that day.

I don’t remember my grandpa singing very much, but my mom does. He loved singing. We even have a record of him at our house right now. A full album of wonderful hymns sung in the deepest, fullest voice. He hasn’t been able to sing like that for a long time.

Now he’s finally free of that nursing home. And his voice is as rich and deep as ever. He’s praising his Lord at the top of his lungs and he’s finally home.

Papa Bill, thank you for teaching me how loved I am by Jesus Christ. Thank you for showing me how much you love me. Thank you for living your life completely for the Lord, I very much hope to do the same.

I’ll see you soon.

Jackass for Jesus

2010-12-06T18:23:00.000-08:00

I am learning what it means to be a jackass for Jesus (and please excuse my King James). I don’t mean in the least that I want to be a jerk and tag the name of Jesus to my actions; that is quite the opposite of what I mean. No, when I say jackass (and I’ll use the word donkey from here on out) I mean the biblical realization of how God used donkeys.

While in a sense donkeys are quite a useful animal, they are in much more profound sense nothing but smelly, dumb animals. And yet in the Bible God uses donkeys in some incredible ways.

In Numbers 22 there’s a man, a prophet of God by the name of Balaam who was in direct communication with the physical voice of the Lord, who was sent out by a king to travel with a people of the region, the Moabites. As Balaam traveled on his donkey, an angel with sword in hand blocked his path; but it was not Balaam who saw the angel, it was the donkey. Three times the donkey turned Balaam around refusing to approach the angel. Three times Balaam beat his donkey. And then the Lord opened the donkey’s mouth, and he spoke to Balaam about the angel. A donkey was given the ability to speak with a human tongue. Not only that, but the donkey revealed to a prophet a thing concerning the most high God.

And during Jesus’ time on earth, during His most glorified physical earthly moment, as the crowds shouted Hosanna, Jesus choose to ride in His glory on a donkey.

God used a donkey to reveal His plan to a prophet. God gave the donkey an incredible gift, a gift to speak in a manner that was infinitely above itself. And God let the donkey suffer well and persevere through it.

And God used a donkey of no particular value to ride in on glory. A donkey felt the physical touch of Jesus Christ.

I want to be a donkey. A donkey knows its weakness, knows its foolishness, and still lives according to its purpose. And God has used donkeys in tremendous ways.

2 Corinthians 12:9 says that His grace is sufficient for me; that His power is made perfect in my weakness. When I say I want to be a donkey I mean that I want to live in a manner that does not let my own weakness or foolishness stop me from living according to my purpose. I want to live in a way that I allow God to be made known not in spite of my weakness, but within it.

I want to be a jackass for Jesus.

I Met a Carpenter Once

2010-10-14T19:37:00.000-07:00

A carpenter seeking to build
A building across this old earth
A place of hope, a vast stronghold
The beauty of his death and birth.

When he looked for a foundation
No stone was found, no plank in sight
So he laid himself at the base
Hammered down in the darkest night

But the grave could not stop his work
He was the first board lifted high
And he’s been building ever since
A perfect structure in his eye.

A reprise in response…

Hire me holy carpenter
You’ve given me a second birth
Hire me holy carpenter
I long to see you known on earth

Halloween and Crosses

2010-10-08T12:54:00.000-07:00

When I was maybe five years old—I very well could have been four or six, I can’t quite remember—I learned an important lesson: When you live down a long, dark, and creepy street, trick-or-treaters don’t tend to stop by your house.

Growing up my family didn’t celebrate Halloween but as an ever acute child I knew that for most kids Halloween meant a grand time acquiring endless amounts of tooth decaying joy. I’m fairly certain that God gave humans baby teeth for the sole purpose of allowing children to eat as much candy as they want with few regrets.

One certain Halloween, although we had no candy at the house, I didn’t want to disappoint all of the potential trick-or-treaters who I eagerly expected to stop by. So I grabbed some construction paper and scissors and cut out paper crosses. As many crosses as my little hands could cut.

Then I took the crosses and asked my mom to write something on them. I could write decently but my lettering would’ve been too big to fit all the words I wanted to on the cross.

“Please write, ‘Just as you are knocking on our door tonight, Jesus is knocking on the door of your heart’,” I asked my mom.

And then I got on our computer, started up Windows 3.1, and wrote out Revelation 3:21.

“To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne.”

I printed out that verse for as many crosses I’d made. And the verse would be used to tie the crosses together. And I’d give a completed cross to every person that stopped by my house. And I prayed that all who got a cross would come to know Jesus. And I waited ever so excitedly for the first knock at our door.

But no one came. All night and not a single trick-or-treater stopped by our home.

My mom says I cried. “With big tears, quiet sobs and this look of devastation,” she says.

This story has been on my heart a lot recently. Even now my heart is heavy as I think about it. It would be easy in reflection for me to question God. Why would you let a young child who wanted nothing more than to see you kingdom spread know such disappointment? But before I can even think the question God speaks to me.

Remember the prophets, whose lives were spent speaking words to a nation that refused to listen, God says to me. Remember my martyrs and missionaries, like Jim Elliot, who were not only ignored but were killed for proclaiming my name. I promise you though that Ezekiel never knew such a delight in all the earth as when I gave him my word and it was like honey to his lips. And I assure you that Isaiah never knew such ecstasy as when he saw my glory.

God is teaching me to be satisfied not in what I do or what I see, not in even what I see God doing in front of me, but to be satisfied in Him alone. “Whom have I in heaven but you?” the psalmist proclaims. “And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.”

God is teaching me who He is. He is teaching me how to be found and fulfilled in the person of Christ. And it’s a fearful joy that has begun to consume me.

I hate poetry.

2010-09-22T16:08:00.000-07:00

No one ever wants to read poetry.
It just develops so very slow-etry.

Rhymes of course are no fun at all-etry
Rather spend my day talking to dry wall-etry

Free verse too is so dull and dumb-etry.
Rather spend my day sucking my thumb-etry.

How about we make it illegal to read poetry?
Then the world will be full of joy-etry.

If person reads a poem in it's entire-etry
We’ll lock ‘em up and throw away the key-etry.

And yes, that even includes you… etry.

Romans 6:1-14

2010-08-11T17:31:00.000-07:00

I'd like to write about death and grief, such a classic of topics,

But the only death I've known is my own. And when I was layed down grief was nowhere to be seen.

Freedom was at the funeral though, joy too. But they only came to say good riddance, and then the three of us walked briskly away.

Read About It.

Whom He Died For

2010-08-03T00:39:00.000-07:00

A ten year old, freckled face little girl finds herself a stranger in what she is told will be her new home. Her bright blue eyes and deep black eyelashes match bruises of similar hues. It was a look her mother wore often before she left for someplace east. She clutches a little doll given to her by her foster family, as though it were some sort of substitute for the innocence that was stolen from her so many times. At least they’ll feed her decently here. She has never known her real dad. Her mom wasn’t even sure who he was. But she knew her step-father. She knew his smell, a sickening blend of beer and smoke. She knew his anger, a rage that sent her mother packing without even a goodbye. And he had known her. Time and again he had known her. The only thing he’ll know for a while though are the bars in front of him and his own fecal matter resting in a bowl beside him; for thirty years at least.

Jesus, God in the flesh, the God of the oppressed died for the little girl; died that she might realize her worth, realize her purity. He died that she, in the midst of horrible circumstance might be caught up in the love of the perfect father. He died that she might be clothed and fed and that she might be made whole and complete in the arms of a Dad whose goodness is greater than she could ever have dreamed. But Christ died for the man in jail as well. Because God—the God of the oppressed—sees a much bigger oppression than what we see. He sees a world that is a slave to sin; a world whose paycheck could only ever be death and zero cents. So he took the death for us. And then he gave us righteousness. “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.” So it is in all wisdom that Jesus tells us both to feed the hungry and to visit those in jail; because He wants us to break the chains of oppression. Sometimes that means raising a little girl as our own and giving her a doll. And sometimes that means telling a man in jail that even he can be forgiven.

Grandpa Thornton and Little Stained Hands

2010-08-02T00:25:00.000-07:00

My Grandpa Thornton (my Dad’s side) is an amazing man. Eighty two years old and full of life, love, and Christ. When I was younger he didn’t live too terribly far from us and I was able to see him relatively often. I caught my first fish with him. That same day he saved from what was essentially a mud version of sinking sand. Around the time we moved to Washington though he and my grandma moved back to Texas. It’s there they live now, in Telephone, Texas. I last saw him on a trip to visit family in Arizona. That was my junior year of high school. And it has been at least eight years since I’ve seen him in Texas. This Christmas though my family has been blessed with the opportunity to make a trip to Texas and see him, my grandma, and the rest of my Texas family.

I write all this because to be honest I don’t know a lot about my grandfather. But recently he’s taken some time to write a sort of memoir for his family to read. As I read it I find myself amazed to learn what sort of a person he is. Growing up through The Depression and WWII he has countless stories of unimaginable hardship. I’d like to share an excerpt from his college days. This story takes place in an extremely impoverished area of Texas where every weekend my grandpa would travel eight hours and do church. Talking about one of the families in his ministry my granddad writes,

“The oldest little girl was about 9 or 10. That Christmas she came to the church with a little package and gave it to me. As she handed it to me I noticed her hands; they were almost solid black. About a mile down the road was a large pecan grove; people would pick up pecans and try to sell them for a few cents for a gallon bucket. The dye will stain your hands very badly. She had spent several days picking up pecans, hulling them, and had sold enough to buy me a Christmas present. It was a tie clasp. I kept that clasp for years and somehow it has gotten lost. I wish I still had it for it reminds me of love. Every time, and it is many times, that I see her stained hands I see the blood stained hands of Jesus.”

Building a House

2010-06-22T17:08:00.000-07:00

In 1 Chronicles 17 we find King David desiring to build a house, a temple, for the Lord—a noble task—but not God’s will.

3But that same night the word of the LORD came to Nathan, 4"Go and tell my servant David, 'Thus says the LORD: It is not you who will build me a house to dwell in. 5For I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up Israel to this day, but I have gone from tent to tent and from dwelling to dwelling. 6In all places where I have moved with all Israel, did I speak a word with any of the judges of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people, saying, "Why have you not built me a house of cedar?"

Moreover, I declare to you that the LORD will build you a house. 11When your days are fulfilled to walk with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom. 12He shall build a house for me, and I will establish his throne forever. 13 I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son. I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from him who was before you, 14but I will confirm him in my house and in my kingdom forever, and his throne shall be established forever.'" (1 Chronicles 17:3-6, 10-14)

God is astounding here. He is unlike any other gods. David wants to build the Lord a house, but God’s response? “No, no, no. Don’t build ME a house. I don’t need one. The whole world is mine. Instead, I AM going to build YOU a house!” This is astounding. This is unlike any other gods of the time, of any time. That God would be our provider is unbelievable. The most incredible part, however, of this whole verse is the bigger picture, the messianic aspect.

Concerning the immediate future God is telling David that He will build him a house and later an offspring of David will build the temple. And Solomon, David’s son, does exactly that. But the wording God uses here, the structure, in undeniably not about Solomon. See David was looking to build a physical temple, but God wanted to build something bigger for himself, and in doing so He would establish a house, a place of security and rest, for David. “…I declare to you that the Lord will build you a house.” How? “I will raise up your offspring after you…and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for me, and I will establish his throne forever.” Solomon’s kingdom certainly did not last forever. What God is saying here is much bigger than Solomon. From David’s own line there will be one whose kingdom shall never perish, one that God says is a son to Him.

Jesus.

Jesus is the one who builds God’s temple, and that temple, that dwelling place of God Himself, is now our hearts. And Jesus is the one through whom God ultimately builds David’s house. And he is telling us the same thing. We are often so busy, working and serving and running around trying to figure out what to do next. And it’s not necessarily bad, for faith without works is dead. But works without faith is pointless and fruitless, for only faith will please God. But here’s the glorious thing about faith. Often faith simply means listening to God and being in His presence. And if we allow ourselves to listen we will quickly hear him saying,

“Hey, stop trying to build ME a house. That’s already taken care of. You see, I’m building YOU a house. In fact, I already have—He’s my Son, the Christ. Let Him be your house. Let him be your stronghold, your security. Let Him be your place of refuge, your habitat; where you run back to whenever you find yourself alone outside at night, where you invite people over to hang out at, where you keep all your dirty laundry laid out across the floor. Let Him be your place of rest. And know this; I’ve set you apart, to be my temple. I AM with you, and I AM building you a house.”

Barcelona and melting clocks.

2010-06-02T07:08:00.000-07:00

Today, I am in Spain. It is incredible. I live in a flat above a fruit stand. On my block there is a little café. A simple café con leche (espresso shot with a very small amount of milk) is better than any coffee I’ve ever tasted before.

So far Jordan and I have explored by foot, bike, and metro, much of the city—the intense calluses can testify to that. I will be living here for eight weeks and I couldn’t be more excited. Barcelona (the c is pronounced as a ‘th’ here) can only be described as a melting pot of culture. I must hear five languages a day, English often being the rarest one. And if I do hear English spoken it is more often than not with a British accent. All the signs here are in Catalan but it is rare for people to speak it; everybody speaks Spanish. I really can’t describe how beautiful it is here. The architecture ranges from old Roman aqueducts, to crazy contemporary glass skyscrapers. Every street corner has a museum of some sort and I hope to explore most of them. What’s more, the beach, la Playa Barceloneta, is only about a five minute metro ride from my apartment.

I’m not here on vacation though; class is a four hour part of my day. Still, I’m quite excited. My Spanish language class is solely in Spanish, which is a wonderfully challenging thing, and my other class is a Spanish art and heritage class taught by a woman with a fantastic Australian accent. Today was actually the first day of class. In Spanish art and heritage the teacher lined out all that we would be learning throughout the short summer semester. One of our sections will be on Salvador Dali. The teacher said in a comment concerning his work that I found very interesting. He once painted his “muse” using only circles in order to represent the idea that we are all made out of atoms and molecules. What we see certainly isn’t electrons flying around, we see the human form. But Dali explored what it might be like to see things differently in order that we might think about things with a deeper understanding.

What if someone was able to paint us in such a way? I don’t mean paint us as circles, but paint us in truth. What if someone was able to paint the people we see every day in a way that exceeds our natural ability to see? What our eyes are capable of understanding is often drastically different from truth. What if when we saw someone whose life had been changed by the love and sacrifice of Christ, we saw not their humanly figure, but rather we saw the glorious righteousness of Jesus that that person had been clothed with? What if as we walked around we didn’t see flesh mistreated, but we saw the image of God being abused?

What if today when I looked into the mirror I didn’t see a twenty year old sun-burnt face with a few pimples and in need of a shave? What if I looked into the mirror and saw a struggling sinner who has been made holy by the holiness of Him who calls me His precious and loved son? It would change the way I live.

Proverbs 4:23.

2010-05-21T02:46:00.000-07:00

Reblogged from my good friend Ryan Williams. Well said Ryan.

Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.

I can’t say how many times I’ve let my interests or passions get in the way of what it is I’m called to do. This proverb sticks out to me so much because both I, and the people I know have experienced a dead end trail when following something they’ve given their heart up to carelessly, whether that be a person, item, or hobby. The fact is the only thing we need to be saving our heart for is God. Cause if He has our heart, then He has our future, and if He has our future, then we’ll experience bigger and greater things than our dreams could hold. Trust God, the rest of your future will pan out before you. It’s that simple. So my friends, I encourage you, Guard your heart.

7 Stupid Trends (That I still want to be a part of)

2010-05-09T03:07:00.000-07:00

Here is a list of seven ridiculous things that are considered to be trendy, even hipster:

1. Curly Mustaches

2. Fanny Packs

3. Short-Shorts

4. Fake, Nerdy Glasses

5. Faux-Mullet

6. Fixed Gear

7. Using lists to blog about trends
(and linking said blog to your twitter).

What did the penguin say during Judo?

2010-04-28T12:59:00.000-07:00

My good friend Drew is in a Judo class here at WSU. He loves it. He constantly talks about how he could flip me over and put me in a life ending choke. I tell him he couldn’t—he probably could though.

Today Drew randomly started saying the word “Kiai” (pronounced key-eye). After hearing it a hundred times I suddenly realized I had no clue what the heck he was talking about. He explained to me that Kiai is the yell that one shouts during a martial arts match. He explained that it was actually a lot more than simply getting your adrenaline pumping. Kiai is a focusing and a releasing of air; without it the intensity of a fight causes a person to hold their breath and pressure is sustained internally—the result of which is not only diminished fighting ability but also an intense headache from the pressure.

Life often feels like a fight, an intense battle. We find ourselves in situations that feel like we’ve been put in a headlock and we’re holding our breaths desperately trying to escape. But luckily we’ve been given a kiai, we have a reason to shout: Jesus. Praise is not something to be done in only the happy moments of our lives, but in the most desperate times as well. Half the psalms are songs written in times of deep distress. Psalm 22 begins a cry from David, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” In Romans 8:26 we are encouraged that when times are tough “…the Spirit helps us in our weaknesses. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.”

So life sometimes seems like a Judo match, and one we’re losing at that. But we know that, “The one who loves us [Jesus Christ] gives us an overwhelming victory in all these difficulties” (Romans 8:37). So we save ourselves from a headache… we yell, we shout, we scream, dance, praise, and proclaim the glory of the one who is saving us.

I Do Speak Good.

2010-04-15T13:49:00.000-07:00

Communication is rare: at least good communication.

All around us we see forms of dialogue that are only one sided. Books, movies, advertisements, speeches, even everyday conversation often do nothing more then throw out words; they don’t actually communicate, or what they do communicate is not at all what they are saying. The problem is that communication is much more than just words.

Our word for communication comes from the Latin word communicare. Its root words are ‘cum’, meaning with, and ‘unio’, which is where we get our word union. One of my professors describes communicare as a journey between two (or more) people. Communication is a union with someone, a sharing of some story, a journey to some mutual conclusion. Good communication requires the communicator to meet people where they are at. The best books I’ve ever read are those that make me feel like I’m right there in the story, a part of the action. In all honesty though, good communication is risky. Anytime unity is required and sharing is involved we are vulnerable. Great communication takes courage.

The most audacious and incredible communicator in all of history is Jesus Christ. He didn’t appear in glory with thunder and lightning. He didn’t shout from the heavens “I AM God!” Instead, the king of the universe came and lived a human life—born in a manger, lived as an outcast, killed as a criminal. He met us, humanity, where we were, where we are. He didn’t talk at us, he communicated with us so that we could share with Him His story: a book whose pages are drenched in a love; a protagonist who defeats death, sorrow, and pain; and a conclusion that overwhelms with joy.

So in light of all this it seems appropriate that we ask ourselves…

“How well am I communicating?”

Just a Couple of Kissing Pigs.

2010-03-31T02:44:00.000-07:00

I've recently realized I have a bit of a fixation to attractive couples. Maybe I'm not the only one. Maybe that's why People magazine can run a million issues with Brangelina (or is it Angelad) on the cover (as shown on left).

I'm not actually writing about movie star attractiveness though. When I use the word attractive I'm talking more about the way people act. Here's what I mean. When I see a couple—a boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, or whatever it may be—who treat each other with love and respect, I have a tendency to stare. Just the other day there was a young couple walking into Dismores as I was leaving with some milk and eggs. They each had the biggest smile on their face as they held hands and walked and talked. I had to force myself not to turn around and watch them. Maybe I'm just a creeper.

There is a part of me that is a strong romantic. It is a part that often battles against the logical/realist part of me. But to be honest, my captivation with attractive couples has little to do with the romantic part of me, at least in the worldly sense. The reason that I tend to wonder at healthy couples is because they remind me of Christ and how we, the church, have the privilege to be called His bride.

When I see a young married couple who seem to swoon at the very idea of their partner, I am reminded of the joy I first received when I was found by Christ.

When I happen to oversee an embrace or a kiss, I am prompted to dwell on how God sent his son to embrace a dying world.

When I learn of a couple who has been able to overcome great mistakes, forgiving one another, I can't help but think about how the Lord has forgiven my sins through His blood.

When I'm around a couple who seem to make each other somehow holier and more of themselves than if they were apart, I am amazed that through Christ's death on the cross, and his resurrection from the grave, we the church are made and declared holy, free to live life to the fullest and in abundance.

And on those rare occasions, when I see the ninety year old couple, sitting hand-in-hand on a park bench, I rejoice in the knowledge that we the bride will have the immense pleasure to live with Christ for all of eternity.

An Adventure To Mexico.

2010-03-12T02:19:00.000-08:00

Today I had the pleasure of sitting down for a couple of hours and reading Alice In Wonderland. It is really quite a fantastical story. It has inspired me to share a story of my own.

In sixth grade I was a short, unusually shy, and overzealous little guy. I didn't necessarily like being shy, however, but I wasn't quite sure how to go about being anything else. In fact, at one point there was a leader in our youth group who wondered if I was not a foreign exchange student. I of course was not a foreign exchange student, but during the summer between sixth and seventh grade I did have my very first opportunity to actually be a foreigner somewhere. I had the tremendous opportunity to go with my youth group down to Ensenada, Mexico so that we might build a house for a family in need.

It was a ten day trip. The first three were spent in preparation and the during last seven we built the house. The evening before the day we were to go out and start construction the group of us found ourselves up on the roof of the YWAM base we were staying at. Our youth pastor urged us to step out and begin to encourage each other in the simplest ways, telling each other things we appreciated about each other. It was a simple task, but the next day we were about to share the love of Christ with people of a completely different culture, and it was imperative that we at least be able to share such a love with one another first.

Although to me the eighth graders on the trip seemed to be giants of people, I was eager nonetheless to share what simple things I appreciated about their company.

"You're a very cool person."
"Thanks for being my friend."
"I like your passion for Jesus."

These were some of the things I shared. Simple things. Easy enough to say. But by the time I was sharing with the fifth person I could hardly bring myself to speak. Tears had begun to stream down my cheeks. My legs gave out. I fell flat on the ground, completely surprised by joy. I'd known Christ since I was a child, but never like this. The presence of Jesus was real, even tangible in that moment. Maybe it sounds crazy. Maybe it is. Maybe not. Maybe a savior who died for the world happens to care so much for both community and individuals that he decided to completely change the life of a shy little sixth grader. And my life was certainly changed.

And tomorrow I leave on another week long trip to Mexico. It's been eight years and I haven't been able to recover from that first trip to Mexico. This next week I'm not building a house but I am getting to serve the people of Mexico through a local church that my church has been able to partner with now for three years. I am extremely excited. Your prayers are very much appreciated. I'll write again in a week with great stories from down south.

Bending Towards Justice.

2010-03-03T00:51:00.000-08:00

This whole week, thanks to my church Resonate, is "Abolition Week" on the campuses of WSU and U of I. It is only Tuesday and already I am wrecked. How could I not weep when I hear of girls as young as five forced into prostitution? It is unjust. It is slavery. And it is happening all over the world.

During the days of the transatlantic slave trade, before slavery was outlawed, it is estimated that 12 million people were taken from there homes and forced into slavery. And yet today it is calculated that 27 million people around the globe are in some form of modern day slavery. The number is unimaginable, incomprehensible. But this week Mike Hogan from the International Justice Mission, a guest speaker at church and on both the college campuses, did a terrific job contextualizing the statistics, "Twenty seven million people," he said, "is significantly more than even the entire population of the Pacific Northwest."

Imagine that everyone around you was in slavery. Imagine that you wake up everyday forced to move bricks until the point of exhaustion. In doing so you make a mere four dollars a week, but your 'master' charges you five dollars a week to live on his property. When you try to escape you are hunted down and beaten nearly to death, forced to return, and told that should you ever try it again your family would be beaten. Now imagine that your youngest sister, beautiful and innocent, was kidnapped from your home and is held captive in a brothel. She is raped ten to fifteen times a day for the profit of her pimp. She has been forced to have multiple abortions, and her health greatly deteriorating. During the day she is kept underground and has not seen daylight for months.

These imaginings are real. They are not dramatized; how I wish they were. No, they are specific examples that demonstrate the reality of what happens to millions around the world daily. But there is hope. There is always hope.

This evening I had an opportunity to watch a documentary by the International Justice Mission called "At the End of Slavery". Here's the trailer for it.

My favorite line in this documentary is this, "If history shows us that the monster of slavery assumes new forms, it has also shown us that its oppressive systems crumble in the face of those who heartily oppose them. It is our collective responsibility to oppose slavery in the time given to us. History is on our side."

The stories I had you imagine earlier are two individuals who have been freed through the work of IJM. They are living examples that there is hope. The man who was moved bricks now owns a tomato farm and is making more than the twice the national average in India. The girl in prostitution is now a mentor for girls who have been freed from that lifestyle. And stories like these are limitless. Hope is spreading. It may seem to be spreading slowly at times, but it is spreading nonetheless. And one day it will overwhelm us.

I've heard criticism before that a person who thinks too much of heaven is a dreamer. As if it was somehow wrong to daily appreciate the salvation we have in Christ. I think that in reality this is quite the opposite. I think that because we know it all ends well, we can confidently and actively fight for love and justice now.

So what can we do? How can we fight? What is our part? I would first encourage you to write your senator. There is a bill in the house that if passed will double the amount the government is spending to combat human trafficking across the globe. If we, the constituents, show that we care about this issue, no senator will be able to vote no once the bill leaves the house. Also, be informed and be an informer. Here are some excellent links for that...

Sending Justice
At the End of Slavery
IJM
Not For Sale

While there is so much to more write about human trafficking and so much more on my heart, there is little more I can articulate. I hope though that you've been both been made both dreadfully aware, calling you to action, and, with the realization that something can and is being done about injustice in our world, you have been unusually encouraged. Very little of the meat of this post is mine, but it is all so on my heart that I could not fall asleep tonight without sharing. So, in the spirit of referring back to people who are a lot smarter than myself, allow me to end with a brilliant quote by Martin Luther King Jr.

"When our days become dreary with low-hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice."

A Story of Joy...

2010-02-15T05:59:00.000-08:00

I've recently begun to realize how quickly I fall into the trap of living my life as if I was the only person around. I walk from class to class as quickly as possible, always eager to return home. Even spiritually, I am prone to live in the mundane, rather than the boldness and life that it means to be in Christ. So the following story is primarily to remind myself of the greatness and goodness of God. It's also to thank my parents.

Having accepted Christ at a very early age I, for the majority of my life, had never intimately experienced the radical, life changing power of the gospel. I didn't wake up in a ditch one day, with a needle in one hand and a bible in the other. I never overcame alcoholism cold turkey after discovering how much greater the love of Jesus is than any drink. And I certainly didn't go from killing Christians to seeing Christ face to face on the road to Damascus. There are real stories like these anxiously pacing around the hearts of people all over the world, eager to be told. But for most of my life, stories like these, while inspiring, were never personal. Even the great turmoil in stories like these was very foreign to me.

My freshman year of high school, however, my family went through one of the hardest times we've ever experienced--my parents separated. Growing up I remember my parents fighting, but I assumed to an extent that all parents fought and I really thought nothing of it. In reality though, their relationship had been growing farther and farther apart for many years, as their personal hurts, grudges, and insecurities grew closer and closer to their own hearts. These issues culminated one night when they sat us kids down at the dinner table and explained to us that they would no longer be living together. Although by that point we all knew my mom and dad were particularly struggling, I think that we all, myself at least, presumed they would eventually work it out. After all, that's what they had taught us to do. But in that moment at the dinner table my supposed reality crashed into a whole new and present one.

My mom found a condo within walking distance of our house, allowing us kids to still attend the same schools. My two sisters, my brother, and I would spent one week with my mom, and then the next with my dad, and so on. It was an interesting contrast in living environments, particularly on the weekends: A deaf dad who sleeps like a log at one place and a mom who would wake up to a mouse squeak at the other. And that was life. While obscure and difficult at first, I slowly began to get to used to it. And then something quite unexpected happened.

My parents had been officially separated and living apart for around nine months when, what seemed to be out of nowhere, my mom went on a date with my dad. They went to a concert. And a worship concert at that. When my mom had left my dad, like being thrown into a lake in the middle of the night, my dad was suddenly awoken to the fact that he had just lost one of the most amazing women on the planet. He spent months praying that the relationship could somehow to saved. So the date was a big deal. Still at that point, as she would tell you, my mom had no real interest in my dad. But it wasn't too long after that when the most incredible thing took place. The still small voice of a savior broke through unreasonable despairity and began to speak to my mom, lovingly and with authority urging her to go back to my dad. So she did.

I am crying now as I write. Because of the amazing love and grace and victorious strength of a Son, the Son, my family is whole. Because of the power of the holy spirit to change lives my parents are deeply in love and have even recently celebrated twenty five years of marriage. My dad's facebook profile reads "She has been the love of my life for 25 years." And what's even more amazing is how God's redemption did not stop there. Overall my parents lived apart for about nine months. Nine months taken from their relationship. But after getting back together an unplanned and joyous thing occurred. My mom became pregnant. Nine months apart and God restored it with a nine month miracle, a baby boy, my brother Luke. Luke was even born during one of the earlier Repossess nights (a citywide worship night) as me and my siblings praised our creator.

What has come out of the hardship of my parents separation is far greater than the distress ever was. Now, I have another brother and my parents are closer than ever. What's more, the changing power of Christ became real, became personal to me and all my siblings. My dad's faithfulness in praying, my mom's decision to listen to God, and their combined trust in Christ revealed but a glimpse to our family at what it means to rely on the awesome power of our God. My sister has taken full advantage of that awesome power. She has gone through some very difficult times in high school, but I am overjoyed to say that she is now an amazing example of what it means to be completely on fire for Jesus. She is a righteous woman. I wonder if she would have ever gained the confidence to turn to God in complete trust had it not been for my parents giving us such a context to the redemptive power of Christ. Thank you mom and dad for displaying to me the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Blogging.

2010-02-12T17:04:00.000-08:00

A lot of my thought life is spent dreaming. Too much of it I think. I imagine myself composing that perfect song, with lyrics that are just vague enough to resonate with everyone and just bold enough to bring glory to Christ and turn the hearts of men towards their creator. I dream of writing free lance in my "spare time" for prestigious magazines and newspapers. And yet, almost daily I sit down to write... and nothing. I have no world changing ideas, no profound lyrics, nor even the ability to properly articulate in writing the few lame ideas I do have. And it is for precisely these reasons that I am an amateur. And it is a truth I'm slowly learning, and slowly overcoming.

I've heard it worded before that the difference between a professional and a novice is that a novice will wait for inspiration to strike, while a professional is noticeably worn down from the immense time they have spent hashing out even the most obscure and seemingly insufficient ideas. It is easy for me to read incredible quotes from some of my favorite authors and think to myself, "what simple genius" as if these authors sat down one day and wrote one sentence that perfectly explained what they hoped to convey. In reality, the quotes we hear daily are the culmination of hours upon days, upon months and even years of time. "Brilliant" quotes have never originated as a quote. No one writes a book or a speech with only a sentence. These quotes are actually but a small part of something much bigger. They are the part of some person's simple idea that has been re-articulated over and over and over in desperate hope that something they write or say is comprehensible. No one who has ever written something that has held great impact ever sat down one day and said, "today I'll write something brilliant." Even those who have a knack for writing the profound do so not by explaining things better, but by explaining things less. It is the simply and slight ambiguity of great authors that allows a writing to resound with the multitudes.

And so it is with these things in mind that I've changed the title of my blog. Nonillion is an unnecessarily large number with too many zeros. It isn't a practical number at all. I'm never going to have to subtract $3.75 for a cup of coffee and a nonillion in order to recount my last bank statement. And yet for whatever reason, I like the number. Maybe because it's fun to say. Maybe because I enjoy the irony that a useless number would start with the prefix 'non'. Maybe because numbers have always held special interest to me. For whatever the reason, the number nonillion is something I've thought about (specifically in the kitchen one day while chatting with Drew). I don't expect it to be something that many people have pondered or even care about, but it is something that has found its way into my thoughts. And in such a manner will this blog be. I'll force myself to write about the silly and weird things I conjure up from the depths of my consciousness if only because I like to write. I don't expect anything I write about to be brilliant or life changing or something that the world needs to hear, but maybe, one of these days, I'll hash-out an idea just enough or share a life experience that someone somewhere could find common ground with. And maybe every once in a while God will use my weak writings to reveal just a bit of his glory. That's my only hope. To write and to glorify God. That's why I'm going to blog.

A Few Lines of Words.

2010-01-20T23:54:00.000-08:00

I have been plucked.
Like a strand of hair freed from a rotting corpse
So have I been seized.
Captured by the glory of my savior.
Captured by His love.

I am free.
I gleefully declare my servanthood.
He wondrously calls me son.
Although I am a criminal in His court
He looks upon my face and says, "Righteous."

How marvelously undeserved!?
I am a sinking ship.
I am a drifter prone to perambulate back to the shackles from which I came.
And yet he has snatched me from this world.

When I fell into licentiousness He received nothing.
And so for nothing he seizes me back.
He makes no deals with His enemies.
They will surely be defeated.

And on that day, when the skies tremble, when mountains kneel
And every tongue confesses that He is Lord, on that day I will be found in Him.
I am not a citizen of this world.
I am strained between the coming age and the current so that while here I might declare His salvation.

But soon I will be caught up in glory.
Soon the pain of this world will disappear and He will be my sole and complete joy.

Ten Thousand...

2009-11-04T02:48:00.000-08:00

It's been a couple weeks now since updating my blog, which is something that saddens me because quite honestly I love writing. Life gets busy though and I plan on making some time next Monday (my Sabbath) to write. For now though I'd love to share with anyone who happens to be checking this out some beautiful song lyrics. It's the song "Ten Thousand" by John Mark McMillan (the guy who also wrote How He Loves).

Ten thousand glimmering like coals in our chest
Ball bearings drawn to the magnetic breath
Of ten thousand weeping with wings on their tears
Amidst ten thousand voices for ten thousand years
For ten thousand graves yawning unlocked and unlatched
Now ten thousand holes with rocks on their backs
Ten thousand tombs gaping wide singing the praise
Of ten thousand bodies unlaced and unlaid

As the ten thousand highways unfold their doors
For the ten thousand standing on Nineveh's shores
Where the blood of a husband silences wars
For the girl who rises to meet him
And she sings

World, I have overcome you
World, I have overcome you
World, I have overcome
By my song and the blood of a son

Ten thousand rivers
Run red like my veins
Where the bones of men hum
Like a rattling cage
For sinew to cling to
And wind to remain
In ten thousand lungs
For ten thousand days
Breathing like a choir
Of holes in the ground
Where the cynical have lain
Where the cynical go down
Save the gravity of time
Lets go of her drowned
Like ten thousand sparrows
Unlocked and unwound

As the ten thousand highways unfold their doors
For the ten thousand standing on Nineveh's shores
Where the blood of a husband silences wars
For the girl who rises to meet him
And she sings

World, I have overcome you
World, I have overcome you
World, I have overcome
By my song and the blood of a son

The lyrics are a bit obscure yes, but it is their obscurity and truth that I find so incredibly beautiful. I love the line in the prechorus, "Where the blood of a husband silences wars for the girl who rises to meet him." What a great picture of Christ as the husband and the church His bride. And it is that line that suddenly allows the chorus to be so very relevant. Her singing that she has overcome the world is actually the entire body of Christ rejoicing in their redemption and salvation that was so costly bought by the son of God. It is a song of freedom from the chains of sin and death for anyone who is in Christ and it is a song of pure desire for our Lord. Wonderful.

Christian Complacency

2009-10-15T15:42:00.000-07:00

*Note: this was written with the men of this generation on my heart

I strongly believe that the Bible calls us to be peaceful. We know that it is often appropriate to “turn the other cheek”. I highly doubt that beating someone up because they called you a name is a loving act. Nor do I think that arguing for the sake of being right displays the gospel at all. Some of Christianity’s darkest moments have been when people have not understood this. The crusades, the KKK, and the Conquistadors are but a few examples of the tragedies that have occurred when “Christians” have forgotten the most important aspect of the gospel… LOVE. I think it is right for us to be able to endure much for Christ’s sake. We should be daily willing to pick up our cross that the world might know our savior.

This being said, I think that too often nowadays, Christians live in complete complacency. Most evil things are but a twisted form of truth and goodness. This includes violence. This means that violence in itself is not evil—simply the way the world presents violence is. But over and over and over the Bible calls to violently stand up. Stand up for the widows, for the orphans, for the poor, for the hurting, for displaced, for those on the sidelines, for those in need. For the defenseless and shamed. For the gospel. It is for these things and these people that we are called to be violent for. And maybe ‘violent’ is not the best word. In Matthew 11:12 when Christ says “From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force” the word for violence here is not how we normally think of violence. The root of the word in Greek is bios meaning literally “strength of life”. Christ isn’t calling for a crusade, but for a people who in their utmost strength of life, in complete and godly passion, would live without fear and timidity and would boldly pursue Christ and the advancement of His good news.

Realize that there is such thing as a righteous anger. Men, do you not know that you are called to be a warrior? Do you not know that focused passion and a warrior’s heart, with the audacity to act, is one of the most attractive things to a woman? So be angry in righteousness. Do not explode because your roommate has once again left dirty dishes in the sink. But be angry that there are people who daily go without food! Do not become flustered because someone has said something to offend you, but instead, use your voice to cry out for those that have none! When you can’t afford something you want, do not be upset, but rather, be upset that thousands live daily without even a pair of shoes! When you feel tired and are on edge, do your best to love and get angry not. But be furious that for years and years the people of Uganda have been forced to sacrifice sleep as every night they run from the terrors of Joseph Kony! Stand up against injustice! Be bold for the name of Christ! Protect your sisters! These are the things that please God. As it says in Isaiah 1:12-17 “When you appear before me, who has required of you this trampling of my courts? Bring no more vain offerings; incense is an abomination to me… Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hates; they have become a burden to me; I am weary of bearing them… learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.” We may not bring burnt offerings and incense to the Lord anymore, but we do live lives that repeatedly go through the motions, thinking only of ourselves. If we want to satisfy that hunger in our spirits that so desires to be a warrior, we must stop going through the motions.

Salvation is by grace alone. It can never ever be earned. We must never think that we are ever worthy or that we must do something in order to obtain it. But once we have received this beautiful gift of salvation, which is the realization of the glory of God, how can we draw closer to God’s heart? How can we be warriors for Christ, zealous men of righteousness? It is simple. As Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

Socially Aware

2009-10-06T17:37:00.000-07:00

Any of you who know me know that I both enjoy new clothes and I enjoy helping the nations. As such, I've decided to post a couple of websites that I highly recommend.

Jedidiah Clothing
Overlooked
Tom's Shoes
Yellow Bird Project
Invisible Children

Okay so Invisible Children has nothing to do with clothing but it does have a lot to do with my heart. In fact, it inspires me to tell you of a sweet story...

Two weekends ago I had the tremendous opportunity to venture back over to the west side with my very good friends Kyle Niehenke and Kerri Spangenberg. We left around midnight of Saturday night/Sunday morning. It was both awesome and ridiculous. Why you ask? For Repossess. A movement in Olympia and surrounding areas that is constantly growing. It is about bringing the local churches together in worship of our creator. In attendance this time were over 3000 youth and young adults. God had even opened a huge door in that the very event itself was held on the capitol grounds. During this Repossess worship was about more than just the music. It was about realizing Christ's love for the nations and being active in it. It was a march to raise awareness and support for the cause of Invisible Children. For those of you who don't know much about Invisible Children take a second and view the link above.

One of the most amazing parts of the night was when, after the march, two young men who had been rescued from where Joseph Kony's has been terrorizing came up on stage and spoke. These two guys have spent the majority of their lives running in fear and yet when they spoke, it was not a story of remorse, it was a story of hope. With every heartbreaking tale they told, tales of gunfire surrounding them, of watching their friends murdered, and even a story of when a lion chased them, they would tell us of how, despite terrible things, God was there, protecting them, redeeming them and their hearts. It was one of the most moving things I've ever heard.

The night followed with some of the most amazing worship as lead by some of my very good friends and I left Olympia with this in mind... God is a BIG God and from Olympia, to Uganda, He is up to BIG things.

First Post - An Introduction

2009-10-05T20:27:00.001-07:00

Hello my friends! So, if you took the time to read the last post then you are both awesome and you already have an understanding that it was not the first real post. In fact, you can pretend it doesn’t exist at all. Seriously, just forget about it. This is the post that you want to read. I can promise you that this will be my best post so far. Of course, considering we’ve already forgotten the last post that really makes this the first and only post. Thus, saying that this is the best post so far isn’t really saying much. Anyway…

Welcome! My name is Samuel Thornton. I usually go by Sam. Or stud. Many people call me stud. Okay, no one calls me stud. Really though, you are welcome to call me Sam. Most people do. However, if for some reason you want to call me Samuel you may be my guest. Most people that call me Samuel are people whose company I very very much enjoy. Samuel is a good name. Better than Sam. Samuel has the “el” in it, meaning God. As in “El Shaddai”. This isn’t to brag about my name, but rather about my parent’s ability to choose my name. Samuel means, “asked of God”. My mom and dad asked God for me. That’s pretty powerful. My parents are amazing. Seriously. But I digress.

I am nineteen years old. A fact I often forget. I was born in Eureka, CA but moved to the evergreen state when I was six. When we first moved to Washington we lived in a two story, two-bedroom house near Olympia. It was fantastic. I remember one of my first winters living there. I had never experienced snow outside of a mountain before. So I walked outside and prayed for snow. I woke up the next morning to a winter wonderland. It wasn’t so wonderful for everyone else though. In fact, it resulted in an ice storm that closed down roads, schools, businesses, and left us without power for two weeks. I highly doubt that all that was God answering the prayer of a six year old, but it was pretty cool nonetheless. I spent the rest of my regular school days living in and around the incredible city of Olympia. Chilling out, relaxing all cool. Sometimes shooting some b-ball outside of school. Pretty much the norm. I have four siblings too. Elizabeth, Steven, Rachel, and Luke. They are amazing and my best friends. God has huge plans for their lives.

At present I am attending Washington State University. I’m leasing a house right off of campus, which makes my permanent address a Pullman one (the blog url is my address). That’s weird to me. I’m studying communications with a public relation focus and a minor in philosophy. So far I very much enjoy it. After getting my bachelors I feel called to seminary. But that’s a future chapter in my life that is yet to be written. The chapter I’m currently writing I like to call WSU and Resonate. Resonate is the church I attend here. It is only two years old but God is moving in it and giving us tremendous opportunities and influence in Pullman. It is an incredible incredible place full of amazing people all of whom constantly stretch me and reveal the wonderful character of Christ to me daily. I am blessed with the opportunity to serve in multiple ways with this church. I play bass and sometimes piano with the worship team. It is an honor to worship the Lord with music. I also am on v-staff, which by traditional terms makes me a deacon. That’s fairly crazy I think. My role in v-staff is to lead a village, which is our churches version of a small group. It is my privilege to help shepherd people into a better understanding of who God is and how we can live out biblical principles. Every week I am amazed that people show up to village. It just proves that God is faithful and the Holy Spirit is a much better minister than myself.

So there’s just a little bit about me. Most of my posts will not be this long nor will they be just a story. It’s likely the future of posting will see my thoughts played out into words. Before that happened though I figured it’d be good to get to know each other. So viola. Now we do. Or at least, you know me a bit more.

This isn't the real first post...

2009-10-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

So I had a good, long, epic thought process to post in order to start off this blog. However, in an attempt at originality, I've just spent the whole of my day creating and designing this page. Silly I know, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Now I've got somewhere to be in fifteen minutes and my time for actual blogging has ran out.

Okay, when I say I have somewhere to be what I mean is that the student union building on campus is serving free food very soon here and I don't want to miss out on free food.

Anyways, come back soon and read the real first blog post. Count this one as the pre-post, if you will. The prequel to that which will surely take up more of my already "stretched thin" time. Gracias.

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