Death defeated...

Before I write anything, I want to assure readers that this article ends on a positive and faith filled note.                                                                                                         A few months ago while I was on the phone with my wife, she asked me to share something. Sometimes, sharing is really difficult for me. It is almost like an invisible vice that I just about do not have the strength to untighten. It is not that I do not want to share. I had not seen my wife in 5 months although I had talked her almost every day. So I searched my mind for anything. There are sometimes when I think of things, but decide not to share either because I myself have not formed a solid opinion or a conclusion on it myself, or I am concerned that showing a side of me I have never shared would be depressing to her. In this case, death would be true of both of those things. But I want to be able to share and as such making an effort is a good place to start. In many cases it is a good thing because I inevitably learn something about myself in sharing that is interesting, answers questions or at the very least, or the very most, helps me communicate with my wife better. I love my wife and am sometimes frustrated that I am not able at time to share with her more deeply than I do. But I do have hope in regards to this predicament.

When I was younger and lived in South Texas, there was a swimming pool that had a high dive.  I had learned to dive off the short dive, but I never had the courage to dive off the high dive. My adventuresome older brother did it, but I never could. But I did work up the courage several times to jump, rather than to dive off of it though. Some people may think about public speaking that way I did about jumping off of that high dive. I don’t mind public speaking as long as I can make a story out of it. Then I feel quite comfortable. Telling my wife that I thought a lot about death…more than what was good for me was like working up the courage to jump off the high dive. I don’t think about death as in suicide. I have not been tempted or seriously thought about suicide myself. I think people who do either have no hope, are in a lot of pain, or have some mental issue. But I do think a lot about death which may come as a surprise to a lot of folks. I know that for me, death is nothing to be afraid of as long as a I do not do something terrible and then get hit by a train the next minute. I have the assurance that if I die, I have a Savoir who will look after me even in death. So every morning, I try, and it is not always easy, but I try to meet and communicate with Him each day in prayer and Bible study. It is not that this will save me, but it is forming a vital connection that will not be destroyed even in death.

I have never shared this with anyone, and the idea that I would dwell so much on death was a surprise to my wife. Then after some time when I had explained myself, it made some sense to her. I am usually able to communicate much more accurately and with greater lucidity if I am writing rather than talking.  There were some aspects and unmentioned details of my conversation with her that I did not mention and this writing is for her as much as it is for my need to express myself.  So a good question is why someone would dwell on death so much? Almost any other topic is bound to be better, more cheerful and not so depressing. But, this story about death, does have a happy conclusion despite some of the things I will mention shortly. When I was a younger person I used to ask God that He would help me to make people laugh and that He would grant me a talent in this area. And in some respects God did answer my prayer. I tried to remember and tell clean jokes when the opportunity presented itself. I would read what Solomon said in Proverbs about crying being better than laughter, and the idea was depressing. Was Solomon crazy? No, I think he was really depressed. I am happily married to one person, but if I had 700 wives, and 300 concubines, I might be depressed too. I would feel sorry for all those women, because undoubtedly and deservedly so, their desire not to share a man they loved with anyone else was a right they were denied and something that every woman and every man deserves.  

When I was about 10, my maternal grandparents died about a year apart from cancer. At 10 years old, I did not really understand death. In some ways I do not understand it now even though I know from the Bible that death is like sleep. You don’t know anything until you wake up, or until God resurrects you, and the Bible is clear that God will resurrect everybody at some point in time. I could not fathom the idea that grandpa and grandma were just gone.  In my young mind, it was easier to believe that they must be living somewhere on the earth were we could not find them. I guess this was a fantasy that made it easier to bear the loss even though I would remind myself that that as the Bible said, they really were gone. Death was such a mystery. Yes…the Bible is clear about death. It is a sleep. And even with decisive and clear facts in front you that someone is dead, why they died and where they are as far as sleeping until the resurrection, this does not take away the morbid mystery of death. You never really recover from the death of a loved one. You move on, and there is a certain place in your heart…a hallowed golden hall where their picture is lovingly put up. And also an ache that you cannot escape. An ache not erased, but made easier to bear by those who are alive. Those who you can still hug and kiss.

Those upon whom you can still bestow affection in a way you cannot do for the loved one who has departed, ticket in hand on death’s silent train.  But there is another aspect also. I heard my aunt and my mother comment that they were thankful that their parents died with all of their faculties and that they would be remembered that way.  

My next experience with death was much more painful than anything I have experienced in life. I have been unable to grieve any further about this for several years. One is reason could be that the wound, although not forgotten, has healed. Another is perhaps because time has worked arm in arm with God.  It has been 12 years since the event and more than likely I have shed no tears over it because that God has healed the hurt I felt. I am inclined to think the last reason is the one that counts. So, in 2003, the inconceivable happened. I actually went to a foreign country to live and work. I was in love with the idea, in love with the country (South Korea) and flying sky high. Life could not be better except that I missed my family, and this contributed to wearing me down in the next 2 ½ years.  I had lived in South Korea for about a year, when she came into my life. Ju Jong Ran (주정란). Truth be told, she sort of scared me when I first met her.  She was a vivacious, good looking person who spoke English well. What I did not know at first was that she had to go to the jungshin pyeongwha (정신평와) or mind hospital infrequently. The reason she scared me was because of the looks she would give me, whether they were on purpose or not. I became even more concerned when she asked me privately if I had ever had marital relations with anyone which at that point was pretty far down on the totem pole of importance. At times when my friend was not around, the Pastor’s wife would get this very concerned look in her eyes, and she would very kindly tell me, (not about my friend) “Brent, you need to be careful. Some people may try to tempt you.”  Fortunately, God saw to it that this never occurred. I did not have a degree, or any skills to speak of, and I knew that if I were to have a family, or support one someday, I would need to do what birds do who build nests before they have eggs. What was more, I believed, and believe in saving myself for the person I would, or could eventually marry.

I made it a point to avoid going near Jong Ran’s home which was not far from where I lived in the church where I taught English. She was a new Adventist, and uninformed about a lot of things I had known all my life. I saw her in church, and at the local church run restaurant where she began to spend time helping and being befriended by the women who cooked delicious food there. I ate lunch there every day and so I saw her every day. Then she joined my English class. She took the name Crystal since at that time I had told her about a girl in the states I really liked. I taught 3 mornings a week to mothers who wanted to improve their English for the sake of their children, and since Jong Ran and I began to spend so much time together, I started calling her Noona (누나) which means older sister in Korean. She was the age I am now (39) when I met her, and I would not have known that if she had not told me. I would have guessed that she was in her early 30’s. When I started calling her Noona, a little of the wind went out of her sails, but she was still as friendly and as kind as ever. Before long I spent more time with her than anyone else whether that was at the restaurant or the mountains, movies, class or church. And she did change a lot.

Typical of someone who grew up in Alaska, I was an avid movie watcher, and at first we would go to the movies a lot. Gradually she wanted to go to the mountains more and more, and I did not object.  Sometimes I would bring my KJV Bible and we would discuss its message and its challenging lingo. I remember her saying to me after I had known her for about 6 months “Brent, it is better to go to the mountains than the movies.” Korean people for the most part love hiking and spending time in the mountains, and it is a very big deal there. Gradually she began witnessing to younger people in and outside of the church. There were times I sent too much money to pay off my bills and I would eat a lot more rice than I liked. I don’t know how she knew, but she did, and she would take me out to a pizza restaurant which was and is my favorite food. We went to a lot of other restaurants besides playing ping pong with the young pastor at the church who was our friend. She treated me just like a little brother. She bought a suit for me, and a coat. She liked buying gag gifts too. She gave me a bar of chocolate one time and I when I tried to eat it, I realized that it was a mirror that looked just like a chocolate bar. I still have those things, and have tried to extend the life of these garments she bought.

But, over time, I saw for myself the progressive effects of her mental illness. She confided in me the fact that she could not have children, and this nearly broke her heart. Her husband was a workaholic if I ever saw one, and I realized why she spent so much time around me. I still have some notes the we wrote while in church. She would often translate for me so I could understand what the Pastor’s sermon was about.

I shared openly and freely with her and she did the same. One evening, she told me it was her birthday, and we are eating kim-bab in a rice roll restaurant. After a minute, I excused myself and said I would be right back. I went out of the restaurant to a Paris Baguette bakery store which you can find all over the place in Korea. I bought a small birthday cake and brought it back to the restaurant for her. She said with great surprise that she could not bear to eat it, and that she wanted to take it back to her home for her step children whom she loved and her husband to see. I guess they had forgotten her birthday.

We had a close connection after I likewise confided in her (early on) that the same disappointment that brought on her depression in regards to a lack of children was my reality also. Because of this, we were very close and I can say that my love for her was so great that I was able to forgive her for committing suicide.  I still love her very much and though she is gone; I have been able to make peace with what happened.  Gradually, her decline deepened, and the vivacious person gradually disappeared. After a while I learned that her step daughter had run away, and this broke her heart. I missed my own family very much and a lot of comforts of western society. One day in the restaurant, she told me that she was afraid of death. “How could she be afraid of death,” I thought to myself. She is not sick. Well, she was actually quite sick, and never having met someone like that, I missed a lot of the clues which are plain to me now that she struggled with severe mental illness and depression. I did not understand at first that she was fighting against the urge to commit suicide and against depression which at that point was something I did not understand at all. After a year and a half, I still loved Korea, but I was weary of the intense schedule I had in working for an English institute and working every day except Saturday. I needed a rest but could not get one.

There was another complicating factor. All my life until I was in my early 20’s, I did not understand what normal guys went through in their early teens.  I had an idea or course, but I did not understand it from an experiential point of view. To a lesser extent in college, and to a greater extent when I arrived in Korea, I began taking medication that allowed me to experience what most guys experience when they go through puberty, only I was 24 at this point. All of a sudden I had to stop my eyes from going to places they should not go to. All of a sudden I felt lust, and before too long I noticed that I needed to start shaving. I did not notice that I broke no bones during this time either. My days of singing 1^st tenor were long over. After a year and a half, I began to fear for my integrity. In a city of 1.5 million people, I felt constantly bombarded by temptation and I was making more money that I ever had in my life.  I wanted my integrity more than anything else at that point, so I stopped taking some medication round about October. What I did not realize was how intense and consuming the withdrawals could be or that not taking the medication would interfere with the production of neurotransmitters and various enzymes. But I thought it was a want at this time and I did not realize that it was a need. From that time, I began to make some irrational choices.

Jong Ran was sympathetic but I did not know what was happening to me. I did not realize how much our friendship meant to her. It was one of those times where I made a choice without consulting the Lord. I wanted to go back home. Jong Ran did not want me to leave, and prayed that the Lord would keep me in the city I was living in at the time. I was upset at the Institute where I worked.  Leaving for a few weeks to visit family for a few weeks in the states was a big deal to me. The institute had said that if I worked for them that my family could come and visit me, but that they could not spare me. Because of this, I decided to leave that place. And even my love for Jong Ran could not keep me from this. This was round about November. As I mentioned, I was not thinking rationally at this time.

  I wanted to stay after a while, but I had arranged for a friend to take up residence at the place I worked, and when I mentioned to the Pastor that I wanted to stay, he arranged for one of his friends in the countryside to employ me, and I ended up moving to the country to work for another school. I introduced my friend to Jong Ran and hoped that he would be as good of a friend with her as I had been.  I think he was a good friend and did his best. Jong Ran’s depression deepened after I went to another town, and I tried to call her now and then, but not being around, I could not know that her condition was getting worse. The last time I saw her was at a camp called Immanuel in the countryside where she had gone for treatment. This was about January. She hated winter and it was a depressing time for her. When she saw me, she got the smile that she used to have when I first met her, but it did not last. I spent time with her and we talked and I was happy to be near her again, although I could tell that her depression was severe. As the vehicle drove out of the camp, I looked back and saw her walking along the road talking to a Pastor’s wife and I kept her in sight for as long as I could. Then, somewhere around the 10^th of February, she went on an errand to supposedly buy some sort of liquid that was used to kill weeds and she disappeared.

They found her two days later and she was gone. She had drunk the poison and of course it had killed her. I found out on Feb 14^th. For some years after that, Valentine’s day seemed a mockery to me, except when someone from Union College who I did not know very well sent me a valentine’s day card. But, my beautiful friend was gone…stolen by death. At first, I was in denial. I had always held to the thought that the fear of death would keep someone from committing suicide. I was quite naïve. During the year before her death, I had what was almost an impression to buy a digital camera. I did buy one, but the day I showed it and asked to take a picture with her, she asked to do it later when she would look better for the camera. But it did not happen, and to this day, I have no picture of her.

When she confided her fear of death to me, I told her she should make a poster of all the things she was thankful for and I made a note to make her a poster myself, but I did not get around to it.  I did not understand her pain. I had never really met anyone who knew someone who had committed suicide. It was like something in a story that was not supposed to happen, and if it did, it happened to some unfortunate person in a book, not in real life. Well of course I was not in denial long.  During the 1^st and 2^nd week of February before she died, I felt impressed to call Jong Ran, which I tried to do but did not do often enough, and I never got an answer.  I did not know grief could be so encompassing and debilitating. My memory of the time is very ambiguous and hazy.  But I remember some things.  Many times I asked, “Why Noona? Why why why!?” But she could not answer. Several times asked God, “Why? Why?!” I was not blaming Him.

A few days after Noona committed suicide, her step daughter who had been the light of her life before she had run away, came home with a new born son not knowing what had happened, and I was told that this poor girl never stopped weeping. I had gone to eat with her and Noona before she had run away so we were friends. I spent weeks afterwards by myself greiving and mechanically getting through each day. I did not really recover from that. I loved her so much, and yet to this day, I am not able to blame her, but I still have a deep love for her, even though she committed suicide. During this time, I ordered a book online. It was written by Terri L. Fivash and was called “Joseph.” To this day it is one of the best books I have ever read. It is a 400 plus page book, but I read it 3 times in a row over the course of a month. I revelled in reading it since as long as I read it, I could ignore my own reality. Death was real now…in all its ugliness and cruelty. About this time my withdrawals from the medications I was taking probably became more severe although I would not become cognizant of physiological effects of quitting the medication cold turkey until ten years later. All I thought about was leaving Korea and going home and I was quite burned out of teaching in an institute by this time. When I returned to Korea in 2011 with my new bride, I was quite uneasy because of how I had left Korea 5 years earlier.

Now some might be rightfully saying, how could anything good come out of something so awful? Well, this could be the ultimate situation for God to work in, and He did. I did not really recover from my Noona’s death for a couple of years, and I did not take medication until I returned to Korea in 2011, so my choices were not always the best for the next few years after her passing. It was after her passing, that I had an endless fascination with death. I would never even think about suicide myself. While I had been able to forgive Jong Ran, I could never put my family through something like that, and besides I had and have so much to live for that the idea is and was preposterous. Also, I did not have mental issues like Jong Ran had. I suspect that she had been through some sort of abuse earlier in life, but of course I did not know for sure. But the mystery death even with what I knew that Bible said about it lingered for years. I could not understand death. I am an experienced based person. I need to experience things to understand them and having said that there are certain things that no one should experience.  And since I would never give suicide a second or first thought, death was a topic of intrigue and mystery to me. For a while, I loved rain, and I hated sunshine. Rain seemed sympathetic while the sunshine seemed a mockery. And I found comfort in listening to sad Russian ballads and sad songs. Of course, I kept all of this to myself.

But God did heal me. And as hard as it sounds, He brought something out a situation He did not create. I realized so acutely in ways I could never have conceived before that the devil, was the enemy of mankind. My hatred for him mushroomed, but what could I do with all of that vehement hatred? It is no doubt that evil angels had a hand in my friend’s demise, and I had not been helpful enough to prevent it. My hatred for the enemy of souls increased and consumed me. What right had he to murder! What right had he to kill? What right had he to make people miserable! And me? A weak human? What could I do for revenge? After sometime I realized that my priorities were skewed.

Over time I realized that there were wiser and more constructive approaches. I liked writing, and by the grace of God I would create a book…a story that would by the grace of God, steal the enemy of Soul’s victims away from him. And if I said that I had not felt his anger at me for what I have produced by the grace of God, I would be lying. By the grace of God, I have created over the course of 15 years a book and an audiobook which I hope will steal as many victims from the devil as possible. Through a series events God has orchestrated, which includes two dreams with plot material in them, I have produced an audiobook known as SoulCastles. And it is my hope that it steals as many victims as possible, but my motive is the salvation of souls. It is no longer for revenge.  And I hope that what I have written will save souls. Her death was the primary motivation behind this work.

God also used people to heal me. When I returned from Korea in August of 2006, I went to school at Union College. I had thought by this time that I was over the worst effects of my friend’s death. But I was still very much affected by it. Kind of like people who are anxious to get over sickness as soon as possible, I was anxious to get over the intense grief I had known in the months following Feb 14. God led me to Union college where I met a fellow named Jonathan who always seemed to be at the peak of good health and fitness unlike myself at that time. We were taking the same health class and started to play tennis. Then we started hanging out together. I was still really hurt and not always making the best choices and this was reflected in my miserable grades and sometime unclean home. But Jonathan did a lot of the same things Jong Ran had done for me. He took me out to eat, and we did watch quite a few movies together and we played a lot of games too. He introduced me to his friends, and I became part of that circle. His friends became my friends, and I think I began to experience healing. They were so nice to me. They would celebrate my birthday with a party, they would loan me their cars, they would take me out to eat and they would include me in their activities. I was somewhat erratic at this time, but they were still inclusive and they overlooked my eccentricities. To this day I consider them to be among my closest friends.

Jonathan reminded me of Jong Ran in how kind he was and how he went to great lengths to include me in whatever fun things his group of friends did. Another person that God used was my future wife Kathy Curtis. She made me so many cards and poems and wrote so many letters to me. She helped me to make better decisions than I might have made otherwise and she went to so much effort to help me in school, in work and in life. She is funny, smart, helpful and lovely. Then there was Handel, who is a great friend and is probably unaware of how much healing he has helped to bring me. In the first year after my friend’s suicide, I think I laughed very little, but Handel has helped me to laugh a lot, and in times when I was stretched financially, he would always help out in little creative ways. I never told him I was stretched, but he always seemed to know.

After Union College I went to Ouachita Hills which is a Bible college in Arkansas. It was a better fit for me than Union College although I missed Jonathan and his circle of friends. I had been in contact with some of the teachers there for years and I had a vague understanding of what went on there before I actually went there. About two years before I went to Ouachita Hills, I remember reading about how a student there had been killed in a car accident. I did not imagine that this student who I never met would have an impact on me. When I went to Ouachita hills, I could say that I had healed a lot and that the withdrawals from the medications I had not been taking for several years and that they did not affect me as much. I also made a lot of good friends at Ouachita Hills who also helped me to heal. I went there in 2009. But when I heard that a student named Luke had been the student who had been killed in 2007, I was intrigued. The interesting thing was that his younger brother became my roommate, and he was a very good roommate too. I did not talk about it much because I did not want to bring painful memories to my roommate or his other brothers. I have three brothers I love fiercely and I could only imagine what they had gone through. But I envied Luke. Since my friend’s death in Feb 2006, I was so intrigued by death although I never talked about it until a few days ago with my wife on the phone. At first, I envied the fact that Luke’s waking thought would be the resurrection of life, and that he had experienced something I never could.  But as time went on, I began to envy him for another more positive reason.

The year before, I had sold a video game system and had bought a laptop from the proceeds. It was one of my better decisions and I had prayed that God would give me a buyer which He did. I took the laptop to Ouachita Hills. One of the teachers, Eugene Prewitt happened to have Luke’s laptop but no power cord. It had not worked since a few months before Luke had died. My laptop was almost identical to Luke’s and the power cord I had worked on his computer. So Eugene lent me that computer and I perused what was on Luke’s computer. I was really impressed with what I saw on there. The kind of good spiritual music was inspiring.

The sermons were uplifting and a blessing. The pictures he had, the media and pretty much everything was a testament of someone who was in the right place spiritually…I place I could not harmonize with at that time. As I looked at Luke’s laptop, I began to envy his character which was observable by what he had put before his eyes. I realized that Luke must have been very close to the Lord in a way I was not and I began to envy that too. I noticed that his brothers also had sterling characters. But a part of me wished that it could have been me with that good character in that crash. But that did not last long because I realized that such thinking was vanity and the best I could do was prayerfully emulate such a character. As such, I thought it a good idea to spend more time around his brothers and friends. His younger brother Noah my roommate. And as I spent more time around the people at Ouachita hills, I would ask myself. Am I really changing or am I still the same? But, to my surprise some people said I had changed. I did not think a lot about death at Ouachita Hills after a few months there and the teachers and students were an inspiration to me.

I enjoy life, and I do not want to give the misimpression that I want death. I do not. But I know that in a sense, death in inevitable. The question is…which death. There are four kinds of death that I am aware of. One is the physical death everyone experiences. That is something I cannot understand because I feel that if I experience something then I truly understand it, and again, somethings should not be experienced just to understand whatever it is more fully. I have seen two beloved uncles and my precious grandmother pass away in the last ten years, and while sad, their deaths did not cause as much pain that my friends death caused. I loved my uncles and I wish I had known them better. I really loved my grandmother also.  They however, did not choose to end their lives, and from what I understand, I have the comfort and joy of seeing them again. God is all knowing and compassionate. More than likely He will take into account the fact that my friend had mental issues.

There are four kinds of death that I know of. One is the physical death. Another is spiritual death. Another is the second death mentioned in the Bible where the soul and the body die. And the forth, like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly is the death of the old man. “Which old man,” some might rightly be wondering. The death of the old man is unpleasant too.  It is against human nature.  It is not something we can do on our own. We need help. But who would ask for help in regards to dying? If it is the old nature dying, that is something by the grace of God I can experience. It means asking God to let our anger die, our bitterness die, or egotism, rage…despair…and sin loving selves to die. We cannot do it. There are things we can do to contribute…things that we can do to put in the place of old habits. So, I owned something that was not the best for me last week and I sold it. And I bought a Yamaha guitar from the proceeds. I have been trying to master tremolo which is a rather difficult method of finger picking on the guitar. Difficult to play but beautiful. I can still see Jong Ran when she said “Brent, it is better to go to the mountains that the movies.” The old nature needs to die. Am I selfish? That needs to die. Am I vain? That needs to die. Am I unkind? These are some traits that are embodied in the old man…that nature of sin. Do I love sin? Naturally I do. Unnaturally I hate it. But for the unnatural to become natural, death has to happen.  And that is what I want to experience. This kind of death is not morose or morbid…but the spark of life as a new creature in Christ is born. New desires, new impulses. A mind that does not understand selfishness or greed, or negative pride. It most cases it does not happen immediately…but God is powerful and change will happen when we ask Him. It may not be as fast as we would like, but it is possible in Christ.  

I have given perhaps a lot more details than some people are interested in knowing. I am still intrigued with death. But the aspect has been altered. I am thinking about the death of the old man and the mystery of physical death. Perhaps I am seeking the closure I never had in my friend’s death. All I know is that she is buried in a city called Naju (나주) and I still have no picture of her. Maybe it is better that way, maybe not. I still love her deeply and her picture is lovingly put up in my memories golden hall along with my uncles and grandparents. I have not greived over Jong Ran in so long and I am inclined to believe that this is because God has healed my pain. The other day I began to listen to a song call bright eyes on youtube. It is a very beautiful song which I have heard since I was a child, but I did not realize it was talking about death until a month ago. The tune and the words capture so much of the mystery and intrigue that has been in my mind when I have thought a lot about death. So when Kathy asked me to share, I thought about the tidal wave of thoughts that song has invoked about death.

Death is a morbid subject. But if Jesus is your friend, you don’t have to fear it. My older confided recently that not having a fear of death anymore is of because of the grace and mercy of Christ.  

The death of the old man is death…a great change…but better the death of the old man and sin in our lives than physical death. Better the death of sin in our lives than the death of a soul. It starts by asking Jesus for help. This world will end soon.

If we think that the wildfires, floods, unrest in various political and civil places in the world, earthquakes and hurricanes are such to cause concern, we have not seen anything yet! Now is the time to ask God to prepare us for what is coming. Now is the time to recognize that the hourglass of time has but a few grains of sand left.  Our salvation starts with meeting God every day and talking to him just as you would a neighbour, friend, parent or grandparent. Our souls are priceless. Death to self is not easy, but when it is done by faith by the grace of God, a better self awaits. At the moment, I am not finding an interest is contemplating death. Maybe this means the closure I have needed. Maybe it means, for the moment, that I am tired of writing. So, the last thing I will say is, let’s talk to God every day. He is always listening whether you are mad or sad or glad, and He is always there. While the devil only wants your demise, God only wants your salvation.  I am reminded of what the Bible says and a song too. “Death where is your victory, grave, where is your sting?” (1^st Corinthians 15:55) “Hell has been defeated, the grave could not hold the King!” This has been an article about death, but it is ending on a positive note because of our hope and faith in Christ!