Our Lord's Solemn Enquiry
A Sermon
(No. 3507)
Published on Thursday, April 13th, 1916.
Delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At [15]the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington.
On Lord's-day Evening, April 7th, 1872.
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? That is to say, My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me?"–Matthew 27:46.
IF any one of us, lovers of the Lord Jesus Christ had been anywhere
near the cross when he uttered those words, I am sure our hearts would
have burst with anguish, and one thing is certain–we should have heard
the tones of that dying cry as long as ever we lived. There is no doubt
that at certain times they would come to us again, ringing shrill and
clear through the thick darkness. We should remember just how they were
uttered, and the emphasis where it was placed, and I have no doubt we
should turn that text over, and over, and over in our minds. But there
is one thing, I think, we should never have done if we had heard
it–therefore, I am not going to do it–we should never preach from it.
It would have been too painful a recollection for us ever to have used
it as a text. No; we should have said, "It is enough to hear it." Fully
understand it, who can? And to expound it, since some measure of
understanding might be necessary to the exposition–that surely were a
futile attempt. We should have laid that by; we should have put those
words away as too sacred, too solemn, except for silent reflection and
quiet, reverent adoration. I felt when I read these words again, as I
have often read them, that they seemed to say to me, "You cannot preach
from us," and, on the other hand, felt as Moses did when he put off his
shoe from off his foot in the presence of the burning bush, because the
place whereon he stood was holy ground. Beloved, there is another
reason why we should not venture to preach from this text, namely, that
it is probably an expression out of the lowest depths of our Saviour's
sufferings. With him into the seas of grief we can descend some part of
the way; but when he comes where all God's waves and billows go over
him, we cannot go there. We may, indeed, drink of his cup, and be
baptized with his baptism, but never to the full extent; and,
therefore, where our fellowship with Christ cannot conduct us to the
full, though it may in a measure–we shall not venture; not beyond
where our fellowship with him would lead us aright, lest we blunder by
speculation, and "darken counsel by words without knowledge." Moreover,
it comes forcibly upon my mind that though every word here is emphatic,
we should be pretty sure to put the emphasis somewhere or other too
little. I do not suppose we should be likely to put it anywhere too
much. It has been well said that every word in this memorable cry
deserves to have an emphasis laid upon it. If you read it, "My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me? I marvel not that my disciples should,
but why hast thou gone, my Father, God? Why couldst thou leave me?"
there is a wondrous meaning there. Then take it thus, "My God, my God,
why hast thou forsaken me? I know why thou hast smitten me; I can
understand why thou dost chasten me; but why hast thou forsaken me?
Wilt thou allow me no ray of love from the brightness of thine eyes–no
sense of thy presence whatsoever?" This was the wormwood and the gall
of all the Saviour's bitter cup. Then God forsook him in his direst
need. Or if you take it thus, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken
me?" there comes another meaning. "Me, thy well beloved, thine eternal
well beloved, shine innocent, thy harmless, thine afflicted Son–why
hast thou forsaken me? "Then, indeed, it is a marvel of marvels not
that God should forsake his saints, or appear to do so, or that he
should forsake sinners utterly, but that he should forsake his only
Son. Then, again, we might with great propriety throw the whole force
of the verse upon the particle of interrogation, "Why." "My God, my
God, why, ah! why hast thou forsaken me? What is thy reason? What thy
motive? What compels thee to this, thou Lord of love? The sun is
eclipsed, but why is the Son of thy love eclipsed? Thou hast taken away
the lives of men for sin, but why takest thou away thy love, which is
my life, from me who hath no sin? Why and wherefore actest thou thus?"
Now, as I have said, every word requires more emphasis than I can throw
into it, and some part of the text would be quite sure to be left and
not dealt with as it should be; therefore, we will not think of
preaching upon it, but instead thereof we will sit down and commune
with it.
You must know that the words of our text are not only the language of
Christ, but they are the language of David. You who are acquainted with
the Psalms know that the 22nd Psalm begins with just these words, so
that David said what Jesus said; and I gather from this that many a
child of God has had to say precisely what the Lord Jesus, the
first-born of the family, uttered upon the cross. Now as God's children
are brought into the same circumstances as Christ, and Christ is
considered the exemplar, my object to-night will be simply this–not to
expound the words, but to say to believers who come into a similar
plight, Do as Jesus did. If you come into his condition, lift up your
hearts to God, that you may act as he did in that condition. So we
shall make the Saviour now not a study for our learning, but an example
for reproduction. The first out of these points in which, I think, we
should imitate him is this:–
I. UNDER DESERTION OF SOUL, THE LORD JESUS STILL TURNS TO GOD.
At that time when he uttered these words, God had left him to his
enemies. No angel appeared to interpose and destroy the power of Roman
or Jew. He seemed utterly given up. The people might mock at him, and
they might put him to what pain they pleased j at the same time a sense
of God's love to him as man was taken from him. The comfortable
presence of God, which had all his life long sustained him, began to
withdraw from him in the garden, and appeared to be quite gone when he
was just in the article of death upon the cross; and meanwhile the
waves of God's wrath on account of sin began to break over his spirit,
and he was in the condition of a soul deserted by God. Now sometimes
believers come into the same condition, not to the same extent, but in
a measure. Yesterday they were full of joy, for the love of God was
shed abroad in their hearts, but to-day that sense of love is gone;
they droop; they feel heavy. Now the temptation will be at such times
for them to sit down and look into their own hearts; and if they do,
they will grow more wretched every moment, until they will come well
nigh to despair; for there is no comfort to be found within, when there
is no light from above. Our signs and tokens within are like sundials.
We can tell what is o'clock by the sundial when the sun shines, but if
it does not what is the use of the sundial? And so marks of evidence
may help us when God's love is shed abroad in the soul, but when that
is done, marks of evidence stand us in very little stead. Now observe
our Lord. He is deserted of God, but instead of looking in, and saying,
"My soul, why art thou this? Why art thou that? Why art thou cast down?
Why dost thou mourn?" he looks straight away from that dried-up well
that is within, to those eternal waters that never can be stayed, and
which are always full of refreshment. He cries, "My God." He knows
which way to look, and I say to every Christian here, it is a
temptation of the devil, when you are desponding, and when you are not
enjoying your religion as you did, to begin peering and searching about
in the dunghill of your own corruptions, and stirring over all that you
are feeling, and all you ought to feel, and all you do not feel, and
all that. Instead of that look from within, look above, look to your
God again, for the light will come there.
And you will notice that our Lord did not at this time look to any of
his friends. In the beginning of his sufferings he appeared to seek
oonsolation from his disciples, but he found them sleeping for sorrow;
therefore, on this occasion he did not look to them in any measure. He
had lost the light or God's countenance, but he does not look down in
the darkness and say, "John, dear faithful John, art thou there? Hast
thou not a word for him whose bosom was a pillow for thy head? Mother
Mary, art thou there? Canst thou not say one soft word to thy dying son
to let him know there is still a heart that does not forget him?" No,
beloved; our Lord did not look to the creature. Man as he was, and we
must regard him as such in uttering this cry, yet he does not look to
friend or brother, helper or human arm. But though God be angry, as it
were, yet he crieth, "My God." Oh! it is the only cry that befits a
believer's lips. Even if God seems to forsake thee, keep on crying to
him. Do not begin to look in a pet and a jealous humour to creatures,
but still look to thy God. Depend upon it, he will come to thee sooner
or later. He cannot fail thee. He must help thee. Like a child if its
mother strike it, still if it be in pain it cries for its mother; it
knows her love; it knows its deep need of her, and that she alone can
supply its need. Oh! beloved, do the same. Is there one in this house
who has lately lost his comforts, and Satan has said, "Don't pray"?
Beloved, pray more than ever you did. If the devil says, "Why, God is
angry; what is the use of praying to him?" he might have said the same
to Christ–"Why dost thou pray to one who forsaketh thee?" But Christ
did pray "My God" still, though he says, "Why dost thou forsake me?"
Perhaps Satan tells you not to read the Bible again. It has not
comforted you of late; the promises have not come to your soul. Dear
brother, read and read more; read double as much as ever you did. Do
not think that, because there is no light coming to you, the wisest way
is to get away from the light. No; stay where the light is. And perhaps
he even says to you, "Don't attend the house of God again; don't go to
the communion table. Why, surely you won't wish to commune with God
when he hides his face from you." I say the words of wisdom, for I
speak according to the example of Christ; come still to your God in
private and in public worship, and come still, dear brother, to the
table of fellowship with Jesus, saying, "Though he slay me, vet will I
trust in him, for I have nowhere else to trust; and though he hide his
face from me, vet will I cry after him, and my cry shall not be "My
friends," but "My God"; and my eye shall not look to my soul, my
friends, or my feelings, but I will look to my God. and even to him
alone. That is the first lesson, not an easy one to learn, mark
you–easier to hear than you will find it to practice. but "the Spirit
helpeth our infirmities." The second lesson is this–observe that:–
II. THOUGH UNDER A SENSE OF DESERTION, OUR MASTER DOES NOT RELAX HIS
HOLD OF HIS GOD.
Observe it, "My God"–it is one hand he grips him with; "My God"–it is
the other hand he grasps him with. Both united in the cry, "My God." He
believes that God is still his God. He uses the possessive particle
twice, "My God, my God."
Now it is easy to believe that God is ours when he smiles upon us, and
when we have the sweet fellowship of his love in our hearts; but the
point for faith to attend to, is to hold to God when he gives the hard
words, when his providence frowns upon thee, and when even his Spirit
seems to be withdrawn from thee. Oh! let go every thing, but let not go
thy God. If the ship be tossed and ready to sink, and the tempest rages
exceedingly, cast out the ingots, let the gold go, throw out the wheat,
as Paul's companions did. Let even necessaries go, but oh! still hold
to thy God; give not up thy God; say still, notwithstanding all, "In
the teeth of all my feelings, doubts, and suspicions, I hold him yet;
he is my God; I will not let him go."
You know that in the text our Lord calls God in the original his
"strong one"–"Eli, Eli"–"my strong one, my mighty one." So let the
Christian, when God turns away the brightness of his presence, still
believe that all his strength lies in God, and that, moreover, God's
power is on his side. Though it seemed to crush him, yet faith says,
"It is a power that will not crush me. If he smite me, what will I do?
I will lay hold upon his arm, and he will put strength in me. I will
deal with God as Jacob did with the angel. If he wrestle with me, I
will borrow strength from him, and I will wrestle still with him until
I get the blessing from him." Beloved, we must neither let go God, nor
let go our sense of his power to save us. We must hold to our
possession of him, and hold to the belief that he is worth possessing,
that he is God allsufficient, and that he is our God still.
Now I would like to put this personally to any tried child of God here.
Are you going to let go your God because you have lost his smile? Then
I ask you, Did you base your faith upon his smile? for if you did, you
mistook the true ground of faith. The ground of a believer's confidence
is not God's smile, but God's promise. It is not his temporary sunshine
of his love, but his deep eternal love itself, as it reveals itself in
the covenant and in the promises. Now the present smile of God may go,
but God's promise does not go; and if you believe upon God's promise,
that is just as true when God frowns as when he smiles. If you are
resting upon the covenant, that covenant is as true in the dark as in
the light. It stands as good when your soul is without a single gleam
of oonsolation as when your heart is flooded with sacred bliss. Oh!
Come then to this. The promise is as good as ever. Christ is the same
as ever; his blood is as great a plea as ever; and the oath of God is
as immutable as ever. We must get away from all building upon our
apprehensions of God's love. It is the love itself we must build
on–not on our enjoyment of his presence, but on his faithfulness and
on his truth. Therefore, be not cast down, but still call him, "My
God."
Moreover, I may put it to you, if, because God frowns, you give him up,
what else do you mean to do? Why, is not it better to trust in an angry
God than not to trust in God at all? Suppose thou leavest off the walk
of faith, what wilt thou do? The carnal man never knew what faith was,
and, therefore, gets on pretty fairly in his own blind, dead way; but
you have been quickened and made alive, enlightened, and if you give up
your faith, what is to become of you? Oh! hold to him then.
"For if shine eye oi faith be dim,
Still hold on Jesus, sink or swim;
Still at his footstool bow the knee
And Israel's God thy strength shall be."
Don't give him up.
Moreover, if faith give up her God because he frowns, what sort of a
faith was it? Canst thou not believe in a frowning God? What, hast thou
a friend who did the other day but give thee a rough word, and thou
saidst, "At one time I could die for that man," and because he gives
you one rough word, are you going to give him up? Is this thy kindness
to thy friends Is this thy confidence in thy God? But how Job played
the man! Did he turn against his God when he took away his comforts
from him? No; he said, "The Lord gave, and the Lord bath taken away,
and blessed be the name of the Lord." And do you not know how he put it
best of all when he said, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him
"? Yes, if thy faith be only a fair-weather faith, if thou canst only
walk with God when he sandals thee in silver, and smooths the path
beneath thy feet, what faith is this? Where didst thou get it from? But
the faith that can foot it with the Lord through Nebuchadnezzar's
furnace of fire, and that can go walking with him through the valley of
the shadow of death–this is the faith to be had and sought after, and
God grant it to us, for that was the faith that was in the heart of
Christ when forsaken of God. He yet says, "My God."
We have learnt two lessons. Now we have learnt them–(we have gone over
them, but have we learnt them?)–may we practice them, and turn to God
in ill times, and not relinquish our hold. The third lesson is this:–
III. ALTHOUGH OUR LORD UTTERED THIS DEEP AND BITTER CRY OF PAIN, YET
LEARN FROM HIS SILENCE.
He never uttered a single syllable of murmuring, or brought any
accusation against his God. "My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" There!
look at those words. Can you see any blots in them? I cannot. They are
crystallised sorrow. but there is no defilement of sin. It was just (I
was about to say) what an angel could have said, if he could have
suffered; it is what the Son of God did say, who was purer than angels,
when he was suffering. Listen to Job, and we must not condemn Job, for
we should not have been half so good as he, I daresay; but he does let
his spirit utter itself sometimes in bitterness. He curses the day of
his birth and so on; but the Lord Jesus does not do that. There is not
a syllable about "cursed be the day in which I was born in Bethlehem,
and in which I came amongst such a rebellious race as this"–nor not a
word, not a word. And even the best of men when in sorrow have at least
wished that things were not just so. David, when he had lost Absalom,
wished that he had died, instead of Absalom. But Christ does not appear
to want things altered. He does not say, "Lord, this is a mistake.
Would God I had died by the hands of Herod when he sought my life, or
had perished when they tried to throw me down the hill of Capernaum."
No; nothing of the kind. There is grief, but there is no complaining;
there is sorrow, but there is no rebellion. Now this is the point,
beloved, I want to bring to you. If you should suffer extremely, and it
should ever come to that terrible pinch that even God's love and the
enjoyment of it appears to be gone, put your finger to your lip and
keep it there. "I was dumb with silence; I opened not my mouth, because
thou didst it." Believe that he is a good God still. Know that
assuredly he is working for thy good, even now, and let not a syllable
escape thee by way of murmuring, or if it does, repent of it and recall
it. Thou hast a right to speak to God, but not to murmur against him,
and if thou wouldst be like thy Lord, thou wouldst say just this, "Why
hast thou forsaken me?" But thou wilt say no more, and there wilt thou
leave him, and if' there oome no answer to thy question thou wilt be
content to be without an answer.
Now again, I say, this is a lesson I can teach, but I do not know if I
can practice it, and I do not know that you can. Only, again, "the
Spirit helpeth our infirmities," and he will enable us when we come to
"lama sabachthani" to come so far, but not to go farther–to stop there
with our Lord. The fourth lesson which, I think, we should learn is
this:–
IV. OUR LORD, WHEN HE DOES CRY, CRIES WITH THE INQUIRING VOICE OF A
LOVING CHILD.
"My God, why, ah! why hast thou forsaken me?" He asks a question not in
curiosity, but in love. Loving, sorrowful complaints he brings. "Why,
my God? Why? Why?" Now this is a lesson to us, because we ought to
endeavour to find out why it is that God hides himself from us. No
Christian ought to be content to live without full assurance of faith.
No believer ought to be satisfied to live a moment without knowing to a
certainty that Christ is his, and if he does not know it, and assurance
is gone, what ought he to do? Why, he should never be content until he
has gone to God with the question, "Why have I not this assurance? Why
have I not thy presence? Why is it that I cannot live once I did in the
light of thy countenance "And, beloved, the answer to this question in
our case will sometimes be, "I have forsaken thee, my child, because
thou hast forsaken me. Thou hast grown cold of heart by slow degrees;
grey hairs have come upon thee, and thou didst not know; and I have
made thee know it to make thee see thy backsliding, and sorrowfully
repent of it." Sometimes the answer will be, "My child, I have forsaken
thee because thou hast set up an idol in thy heart. Thou lovest thy
child too much, thy gold too much, thy trade too much; and I cannot
come into thy soul unless I am thy Lord, thy love, thy bridegroom, and
thy all." Oh! we shall be glad to know these answers, because the
moment we know them our heart will say:–
"The dearest idol I heve known,
Whate'er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from its throne,
And worship only thee."
Sometimes the Lord's answer will be, "My child, I have gone from thee
for a little to try thee, to see if thou lovest me." A true lover will
love on under frowns. It is only the superficial professor that wants
sweetmeats every day, and only loves his God for what he gets out of
him; but the genuine believer loves him when he smites him, when he
bruises him with the bruises of a cruel one. Why, then we will say, "O
God, if this is why thou dost forsake us, we will love thee still, and
prove to thee that thy grace has made our souls to hunger and thirst
for thee." Depend upon it, the best way to get away from trouble, or to
get great help under it, is to run close in to God. In one of Quarles's
poems he has the picture of a man striking another with a great nail.
Now the further off the other is, the heavier it strikes him. So the
man whom God is smiting runs close in, and he cannot be hurt at all. O
my God, my God, when away from thee affliction stuns me, but I will
close with thee, and then even my affliction I will take to be a cause
of glory, and glory in tribulations also, so that thy blast shall not
sorely wound my spirit.
Well, I leave this point with the very same remark I made before. To
cry to God with the enquiry of a child is the fourth lesson of the
text. Oh! learn it well. Do practice it when You are in trouble much.
If you are in such a condition at this time, practice it now, and in
the pew say, "Show me wherefore thou contendest with me. Search me and
try me, and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the
way everlasting." Now the fifth observation is one to be treasured
up:–
V. THAT OUR LORD, THOUGH HE WAS FORSAKEN OF GOD, STILL PURSUED HIS
FATHER'S WORK–the work he came to do. "My God, why hast thou forsaken
me?" But, mark you, he does not leave the cross; he does not unloose
the nails as he might have done with a will; he did not leap down
amidst the assembled mockers, and scorn them in return, and chase them
far away. but he kept on bleeding, suffering, even until he could say,
"It is finished," and he did not give up the ghost till it was
finished. Now, beloved, I find it, and I daresay you do, a very easy
and pleasant thing to go on serving God when I have got a full sense of
his love, and Christ shining in my face, when every text brings joy to
my heart, and when I see souls converted, and know that God is going
with the Word to bless it. That is very easy, but to keep on serving
God when you get nothing for it but blow–when there is no success, and
when your own heart is in deep darkness of spirit–I know the
temptation. Perhaps you are under it. Because you have not the joy you
once had, you say, "I must give up preaching; I must give up that
Sunday School. If I have not the light of God's countenance, how can I
do it? I must give it up." Beloved, you must do no such thing. Suppose
there were a loyal subject in a nation, and he had done something or
other which grieved the king, and the king on a certain day turned his
face from him, do you think that loyal subject would go away and
neglect his duty because the king frowned? No; methinks he would say to
himself, "I do not know why the king seemed to deal hardly with me. He
is a good king, and I know he is good, if he does not see any good in
me, and I will work for him more than ever. I will prove to him that my
loyalty does not depend upon his smiles. I am his loyal subject, and
will stand to him still." What would you say to your child if you had
to chasten him for doing wrong, if he were to go away and say, "I shall
not attend to the errand that father has sent me upon, and I shall do
no more in the house that father has commanded me to do, because father
has beaten me this morning"? Ah! what a disobedient child! If the
scourging had its fit effect upon him, he would say, "I will wrong thee
no more, father, lest thou smite me again." So let it be with us.
Besides, should not our gratitude compel us to go on working for God?
Has not he saved us from hell? Then we may say, with the old heathen,
"Strike, so long as thou forgivest." Yes, if God forgives, he may
strike if he will. Suppose a judge should forgive a malefactor
condemned to die, but he should say to him, "Though you are not to be
executed as you deserve, yet, for all that, you must be put in prison
for some years," he would say, "Ah! my Lord, I will take this lesser
ohastisement, so long as my life is saved." And oh! if our God has
saved us from going down to the pit by putting his own Son to death on
our behalf, we will love him for that, if we never have anything more.
If, between here and heaven, we should have to say, like the elder
brother, "Thou never gayest me a kid that I might make merry with my
friends." we will love him still; and if he never does anything to us
between here and glory, but lay us on a sick bed, and torture us there,
yet still we will praise and bless him, for he has saved us from going
down to the pit; therefore, we will love him as long as we live. Oh! if
you think of God as you ought to do, you will not be at ups and downs
with him, but you will serve him with all your heart, and soul, and
might, whether you are enjoying the light of his countenance or not.
Now to close. Our Lord is an example for us in one other matter. He is
to us our type of what shall happen to us, for whereas he said, "Why
hast thou forsaken me?":–
VI. HE HAS RECEIVED A GLORIOUS ANSWER.
And so shall every man that, in the same spirit in the hour of
darkness, asks the same question. Our Lord died. No answer had he got
to the question, but the question went on ringing through earth, and
heaven, and hell. Three days he slept in the grave, and after a while
he went Into heaven, and my imagination, I think, may be allowed if I
say that as he entered there the echo of his words, "Why hast thou
forsaken me?" just died away, and then the Father gave him the
practical answer to the question; for there, all along the golden
streets, stood white-robed bands, all of them singing their redeemer's
praise, all of them chanting the name of Jehovah and the Lamb; and this
was a part of the answer to his question. God had forsaken Christ that
these chosen spirits might live through him; they were the reward for
the travail of his soul; they were the answer to his question; and ever
since then, between heaven and earth, there has been constant commerce.
Ii your eyes were opened that you could see, you would perceive in the
sky not falling stars, shooting downwards, but stars rising upward from
England, many every hour from America, from all countries where the
gospel is believed, and from heathen lands where the truth is preached
and God is owned, for you would see every now and then down on earth a
dying bed, but upwards through the skies, mounting among the stars,
another spirit shot upward to complete the constellations of the
glorified. And as these bright ones, all redeemed by his sufferings,
enter heaven, they bring to Christ fresh answers to that question, "Why
hast thou forsaken me?" And if stooping from his throne in glory the
Prince of life takes view of the sons of men who are lingering here,
even in this present assembly, he will see to-night a vast number of us
met together around this table, I hope the most, if not all, of us
redeemed by his blood and rejoicing in his salvation; and the Father
points down to-night to this Tabernacle, and to thousands of similar
scenes where believers cluster around the table of fellowship with
their Lord, and he seems to say to the Saviour, "There is my answer to
thy question, 'Why hast thou forsaken me?'"
Now, beloved, we shall have an answer to our question something like
that. When we get to heaven, perhaps not until then, God will tell us
why he forsook us. When I tossed upon my bed three months ago in weary
pain that robbed me of my night's rest, and my day's rest too, I asked
why it was I was there, but I have realized since the reason, for God
helped me afterwards so to preach that many souls were ingathered.
Often you will find that God deserts you that he may be with you after
a nobler sort–hides the light, that afterwards the light of seven suns
at once may break in upon your spirit, and there you shall learn that
it was for his glory that he left you, for his glory that he tried your
faith. Only mind you stand to that. Still cry to him, and still call
him God, and never complain, hut ask him why, and pursue his work still
under all difficulties; so being like Christ on earth, you shall be
like Christ above, as to the answer.
I cannot sit down without saying just this word. God will never forsake
his people for ever. But as many of you as are not his people, if you
have not believed in him, he will forsake you for ever, and for ever,
and for ever; and if you ask, "Why hast thou forsaken me? "you will
get, your answer in the echo of your words, "Thou hast forsaken me."
"How shall ye escape if ye neglect so great salvation?"! "Believe in
the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."
"But if your ears refuse
The language of his grace,
And hearts grow hard like stubborn Jews,
That unbelieving race;
The Lord in vengeance drest
Shall life his hand and swear,
'You that despised my promised rest
Shall have no portion there.'"
God grant it may never be so with you, for Christ's sake. Amen