Yesterday at church we had a guest speaker, Dr. Daniel Akin, who delivered a very challenging message on fulfilling the Great Commission. In his message Dr. Akin relayed the following conversation which happens over and over in the life of a Christian college administrator:

Freshman Orientation at a Christian College

Parents (to administrator): Now, I'm expecting you to keep watch over our son. Keep him away from the Big Three [Drugs, Alcohol, Sex], get him in a discipleship group, and make sure he gets plugged into a church.

Administrator: I'll do my best.

Phone Call from Student to Parents, Two Months Later

Student: Mom, Dad, I've decided to switch majors.

Mom and Dad: You have? What to?

Student: I've decided to not get a Business degree anymore. I'm now going to major in Christian Studies. My plan is to do full-time missions-work.

Parents: [stunned silence]

Five Minutes After Aforementioned Phone Call

Christian College Administrator, answering the phone: Hello?

Parents: We asked you to keep our son away from the Big Three, get him into a discipleship group, and get him plugged into a church. We didn't ask you to make him a fanatic!

Homestead Heritage is an agrarian Christian community a few miles north of Waco built around a fusion of Anabaptist tradition and Pentecostal theology. In 2005 Christian historian and theologian, Roger Olson, characterized the group as “a bold experiment” in intentional Christian community, and, as with any countercultural stream, the group has had its share of proponents and detractors.

For six years I’ve worked among these people for eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. My family and I have visited their craft village several times, dined in some of their homes, welcomed them into our home, and taken part in many of their special activities. We have friends in their community, we have friends who have almost joined their fellowship, and we have friends who have once been a part of their community, but, for whatever reason, decided to part ways. I believe we’ve seen them from just about every angle possible, without actually being part of their congregation.

With that said, this post isn’t about theology (though it will, at times, wax theological), and it’s not about what I disagree with them about, but rather it’s about what I’ve learned through them, and how I believe that my family and I have benefited in so many ways from the good, positive things that have been modeled through their day-to-day lives.

I’d like to also add that it’s not my intent to turn this into a forum for ex-members to discuss problems and disagreements with Homestead Heritage doctrine, practice, or theology. Therefore, please be aware that I will be moderating the comments (assuming this post actually generates comments).

Now, on to the point of my post: What I’ve learned from Homestead Heritage. The list is long and varied (I won’t list everything here), and, in reality, my wife and I have had many similar convictions to Homestead Heritage before we were ever acquainted with them (e.g. homeschooling, complementarianism, et cetera). This list is in no particular order:

Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?

That’s the question that Paul asked John the Baptist's Ephesian disciples in Acts 19:2, and, as one of the Thinklings’ patron saints, John Piper, has said, “Now that is a remarkable question for contemporary American evangelicals who have been taught by and large that the way you know you have received the Holy Spirit is that you are a believer” (see Piper’s sermon, What Does It Mean To Receive The Holy Spirit?). Homestead Heritage has helped me appreciate the fact that the baptism (or filling) of the Holy Spirit is, as Piper also said, “experiential, not just inferential.” When a Christian is filled with the Holy Spirit, he (and others) ought to know it. It’s not merely an inferential, theological position, but a manifested reality.

Like most branches of the Pentecostal tree, Homestead Heritage emphasizes “the Holy Ghost,” and unlike many thinkers from my childhood Baptist heritage (which I’m indebted to), they see the baptism in the Holy Spirit as a distinct, essential component of Christian discipleship that’s manifested in an experiential manner. To once again quote the incomparable Piper:

We scratch our heads and say, "I don't get it, Paul. If you assume we believed, why don't you assume we received the Holy Spirit? We've been taught that all who believe receive the Holy Spirit. We've been taught to just believe that the Spirit is there whether there are any effects or not. But you talk as if there is a way to know we've received the Holy Spirit different from believing. You talk as if we could point to an experience of the Spirit apart from believing in order to answer your question."

And that is in fact the way Paul talks. When he asks, "Did you receive the Spirit when you believed," he expects that a person who has "received the Holy Spirit" knows it, not just because it's an inference from his faith in Christ, but because it is an experience with effects that we can point to.

As Piper infers, it’s important to ask yourself the question Paul asked the Ephesians, and Homestead Heritage has, in many ways, helped me realize that.

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might ...

That’s what the Preacher of Ecclesiastes said, and working (or laboring) with all one’s might is a noble and valuable character trait for any Christian. As another founder of our feast, C.S. Lewis, said in Mere Christianity, “God is no fonder of intellectual slackers than He is of any other slacker.” Lewis’ point, I think, speaks to the idea that a strong work ethic is essential to Christian growth and discipleship, and I’m sure Lewis’ New Man (as described in the same book) would be someone who works for the joy of labor, as a means of communion with the Vinedresser (John 15:1), and not merely as a means to an end.

In other words, Homestead Heritage has taught me that work is a joy -- and, with that in mind, I believe work can be seen as something very similar to a sacrament. God is proactive, He’s creative, and His Gospel advances through the Kingdom of Darkness. God works, and so should we. What's more, we should work with joy. Our culture sees work as a way to get what it wants, and not as a way, as the 17th century monastery kitchen worker, Brother Lawrence, said, to “practice God’s presence.” (Brother Lawrence was continually in the presence of our Lord while doing his job -- washing dishes -- so much so that he said he saw no distinction between that time of work and fixed hours of prayer.)

For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily (Colossians 2:9).

When the great -- though not uncontroversial! -- 20th century theologian Karl Barth visited America in 1962, he was asked to sum up his theology (which had been expressed in his voluminous Church Dogmatics), he responded, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” Homestead Heritage has reaffirmed a simple truth that I believe I have known since I was a child: that JESUS does love me, and that it’s alright -- necessary, even -- to worship Him in all His fullness. While I tend to doubt that Homestead Heritage’s theologians favor the often-misapprehended Barth, I think they’d agree wholeheartedly with his conclusion.

And Yahweh God planted a garden eastward in Eden, and there He put the man whom He had formed (Genesis 2:8).

A little over a year ago my wife and I bought a small 2-acre farm north of Waco. Since then we’ve tilled the ground, raised animals, slaughtered animals, worked the land, and have witnessed the ancient rhythms of life that humanity has been an intricate part of since Yahweh placed Adam in Eden. Out on a farm you feel seasons, you witness the principle of sowing and reaping first-hand, and you find a place of tranquility, being at one with God and His creation. It’s a beautiful life, and we wouldn’t trade it for the world. If we hadn’t met Homestead Heritage, we would have likely never pursued such an existence.

While I could think of many more examples, I won’t belabor the point: I have learned so much from an imperfect community of people who are, in many ways, strangers to me. My wife and I have, to some extent, walked among them, but we are not part of them. By no means do we believe that the fellowship is a panacea, but God has been faithful to allow us to learn from them, and to be all the better for it. We’re thankful. I’m thankful.

From the message in church today. This isn't an exact quote, though I was taking notes as fast as I could. The message was from Acts 4-5

We are programming ourselves to death, so much so that we miss the point of the Gospel. The early church was out of step with the world system. Because of this, the early church had influence, inviting notice and persecution.

We're not turning the world upside down. We're letting the world turn us inside out.

On a related note, read this post by our favorite Author-Pastor-Blogger, and check out the very interesting conversation in the comments thread as well.

I have a soft spot in my heart for the church. No, that's not right . . . actually, I'm in a teenage muddle, head over heels, oim gettin' married in the mornin', singing in the rain for the church. I don't know why, because I know that often times I can be a real jerk and a dark, negative light for the Lord and there are even times other people in the church are that way too, and it can get discouraging. I think it comes from a crisis of faith I had early in my Christian walk when the Lord showed me that my problem wasn't Him, and - here was the shocker - it wasn't them either. It was me, because I had taken my eyes off Him and put it on "them" and had become a hateful, graceless, Pharisaical hypocrite, judging my brothers and sisters who Christ Himself had died for.

While I'm certainly not where I need to be yet in my love for the brothers, I have learned over time that the grace of Jesus extends to not just me, but to all His followers. And while we, the church, certainly need to get our behonkuses kicked by the truth more often than not, and we, the church, fall off that poor, patient, long-suffering donkey to the right and the left more often than we stay balanced in the saddle, and even that I and others can be free to lovingly correct the church (and be lovingly corrected in return) . . . at the end of the Day we're all family.

That's why this post over at Confessions of a Bad Christian resonated so well with me tonight. The context of the post is the recent announcement by Anne Rice that she's done with Christianity.

But all I could see in my faith crisis were the hypocrites. The wounders. The gossipers. If I could have met Jesus at Starbucks I would have asked Him how he could love these jerks. I imagined it might go something like this. I am pretty sure that Jesus would order an extra shot Americano but I can’t prove that from the text.

Jesus: So I have noticed that you are struggling a bit. We don’t talk much anymore.
Me: Yeah. Your followers are making me crazy.
Jesus: Sometimes they make my heart ache too. For example, right now one of my children is missing all of the grace I want him to experience. He is missing the joy and freedom that I purchased for him. He is angry and proud and blind to his own sin. But I suffered the Cross for him. And I love him very much.
Me: (smirking) I bet he goes to my church.
Jesus: As a matter of fact he does. It’s you.

That was my epiphany. I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed Jesus. Following Christ is better than following His followers. But the truth is that I need that community as well. Trust me, I don’t need all of them. But there is a sweet spot in the chaos that is called the room of grace. In that room are people who are tired of the self-efforting path to righteousness. There are people who look at your mess and are not repulsed. In fact they grab a towel and clean up the worst of it and promise to walk with you through the rest. They love you more instead of less as you share your junk. And you find yourself being drawn more to Christ and being effused with energy by their loving acceptance. That place does exist. I pray that Anne Rice finds it. I pray that you will find it too. Finding that room of grace saved me from quitting. I am so grateful that I found it.

If you get a chance, check out the video below. It provides a glimpse into the life and ministry of 21-year-old Katie Davis, who left her family, friends, and comfort two years ago to go to Uganda and work with orphans. She is a mom to 14 little girls who she has adopted.

There's much more to this story - her blog is here. I haven't read much of it, but my wife spent a large portion of yesterday reading most of the entries (while crying).

Which is not to say you should always feel comfortable there. But comforted, sure. :-)

Here's my friend Ray Ortlund's take:

It’s one of my basic convictions: Church should feel good. I know, I know — not with shallow, frothy, glib entertainment. But the alternative to that foolishness is not “This is for your own good”-screaming negativity.

Real, solid church should feel good. Why? For starters, at church we preachers get to “bring good news of happiness” (Isaiah 52:7) to sinners, and freely because of Jesus. That really feels good.

"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God." - Isaiah 40:1

The following is from Spurgeon's Morning and Evening devotional for July 7th. In reading it I was reminded how much our pastors need prayer.

Please pray for the pastors in the Thinklings (Jared and Phil) and for your own pastor this morning.

“Brethren, pray for us.”
1 Thessalonians 5:25

This one morning in the year we reserved to refresh the reader’s memory upon the subject of prayer for ministers, and we do most earnestly implore every Christian household to grant the fervent request of the text first uttered by an apostle and now repeated by us. Brethren, our work is solemnly momentous, involving weal or woe to thousands; we treat with souls for God on eternal business, and our word is either a savour of life unto life, or of death unto death. A very heavy responsibility rests upon us, and it will be no small mercy if at the last we be found clear of the blood of all men. As officers in Christ’s army, we are the especial mark of the enmity of men and devils; they watch for our halting, and labour to take us by the heels. Our sacred calling involves us in temptations from which you are exempt, above all it too often draws us away from our personal enjoyment of truth into a ministerial and official consideration of it. We meet with many knotty cases, and our wits are at a non plus; we observe very sad backslidings, and our hearts are wounded; we see millions perishing, and our spirits sink. We wish to profit you by our preaching; we desire to be blest to your children; we long to be useful both to saints and sinners; therefore, dear friends, intercede for us with our God. Miserable men are we if we miss the aid of your prayers, but happy are we if we live in your supplications. You do not look to us but to our Master for spiritual blessings, and yet how many times has He given those blessings through His ministers; ask then, again and again, that we may be the earthen vessels into which the Lord may put the treasure of the gospel. We, the whole company of missionaries, ministers, city missionaries, and students, do in the name of Jesus beseech you

“Brethren, pray for us .”

Some excerpts from anexcellent post on the Spyglass entitled "On liking Jesus and building the church":

A church sign I passed today has up what I would guess is the title of this coming Sunday’s sermon: “They Like Jesus but Not the Church.” Of course, I know that isn’t original, but comes from Dan Kimball’s book of the same title, but it got me thinking. Taken purely as a cultural observation, that would seem to be hard to argue—there are indeed a great many people who like Jesus but don’t like his church at all, and there are certainly churches out there that make it easy to understand why. No question, the American church needs to do a better job in a number of ways at living out the gospel and representing Jesus to the world, starting with actually being committed to living out the gospel and representing Jesus to the world, instead of all the other junk we so often get on about instead.

But stop a minute. If we were truly a Christ-centered gospel-driven Spirit-actuated community of committed believers who hungered and thirsted for righteousness, would that mean that “they,” whoever “they” are, would like the church and we would all feel nicely validated? The thing about Kimball’s title, which our neighboring church pastor borrowed for his sermon, is that most people don’t seem to take it or offer it as merely an observation, but rather as a criticism—that if we just did this church thing right, whatever “right” is supposed to look like, that “they” would like us. The underlying assumption here is, I think, that it’s perfectly reasonable that the world around us should like Jesus, and that if we were just more like Jesus, the world would like us too, our churches would grow, and we would be more “successful.”

It’s a widespread assumption, in part because it’s a very comfortable one for an American church that, by and large, still hasn’t realized that Christendom is dead, has been given its eulogy, and is now feeling the thumps of the gravediggers’ shovels; but there are voices that demur. Above all, there is this one:

“Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets. . . . Woe to you, when all people speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets.”

—Luke 6:22-23, 26 (ESV)
. . .

If our goal is to get people to like Jesus and like us, we’ve gotten both halves of it wrong. That is not the rock on which he said he would build his church, but the shifting sand against which he warned. We can’t judge what we’re doing based on results, because we can’t assume that the results we want are the ones Jesus wants to produce in us. All we can do is proclaim the gospel of grace and seek to live by grace in a manner according to the holiness of God—and if the world looks at that and tells us we’re crazy, and that maybe they don’t like Jesus either, well, results aren’t our business, they’re God’s. Ours is to be faithful and let him take care of the rest.

Amen times infinity. Read the whole thing.

"My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world.” - John 18:36

In a reference to this passage, our pastor made the following statements:

"Jesus did not come to bring political reformation. He was not interested in making things better in the political realm. He came to save people from eternal death."

"We're more interested in watching Hardball and Hannity than spreading His message. We're more ready to declare 'I'm a Republican' or 'I'm a Democrat' rather than proclaiming Christ."

[here he mentioned that he was quoting someone else] "If Jesus were to come today a lot of Christians would want to make him President of the United States. That would be a step down for the Son of God."

I found this very refreshing. As you can probably tell if you've been reading this blog for very long, I generally vote Republican. Our pastor is not an edgy 20-something guy. He's forty and he hunts, and we're in a very red part of a very red state.

Here's another one, from the end of the message: "Church was never meant to be a building where we all come and hide."

Good and challenging stuff.

A fantastic quote, from Piper:

The first great incentive to use your gift is that thereby you are caught up into the great redemptive work of the Spirit in this age. You have your gift from the Spirit; you use it in the power of the Spirit; and therefore, the fruit you produce is the life of the Spirit. You are not left to yourself and your own sufficiency. The first thrilling incentive to find your gift and use it is that in using it you find yourself borne along by the Spirit. You feel great that you are at the center of God's will; you know his wind is at your back; you know his angel is running before you; you finally know what you are made for, and you exult in the grace of God to include you as a minister of the new covenant.

I love that - "caught up into the great redemptive work of the Spirit in this age."

It's been asked in this space before: do you know what your spiritual gifts are? Are you currently using them?

I'd love to know - answer in the comments.

One thing I've learned as I've tried to pastor two different churches into actively pursuing and including people on the periphery of the community is that many times -- if not most times -- the people on the periphery are there because they want to be.

This continues to surprise me, but over time, less and less so.

I am beginning to wonder if the lonely soul on the margins just waiting to be invited is somewhat of a myth. I know those longing for inclusion are out there, and suspecting they may be in the minority isn't grounds to stop actively loving through pursuit and inclusion as many as possible, but I think churches may unfairly take a lot of hits, from outside and inside. A lot of people simply don't want to be involved, and no matter how many times you invite them, they're going to keep resisting.

It's easy to take potshots at churches for not "reaching out." The truth is that a whole lot of churches are. But many they're reaching are pretty content right where they're at.

Via Abraham Piper I learned about Tea Party Jesus [language warning] this morning.

A sample:



The site purports to put words from Christians in the mouth of Christ, but I am not sure if these are all truly words from Christians or words merely from conservative politicians and pundits.

Abraham writes:

Could what you say be reprinted in a speech bubble on Jesus art without seeming ironic?

UPDATE: Since posting this, Tea Party Jesus has added at the top of the front page of their site a new "cartoon" with heavy profanity. It's a quote from some conservative politician, sure, but this is your warning that the language is graphic. And it's placed in a dialogue bubble coming out of an image of Jesus. This image was not there when I posted. Stealing the idea from Abraham, I have changed the TPJ link to an archived page with "tamer" examples. Sorry for any offense caused.

This is funny, but as I watched it I reflected on how I wouldn't have understood this video a dozen years ago. Boy, do I get it now.

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.

[H/T The Prodigal Thinkling]

"What do you see in Christ’s right hand? Seven stars; yet how insignificant they appear when you get a sight of his face! They are stars, and there are seven of them; but who can see seven stars, or, for the matter of that, seventy thousand stars, when the sun shineth in his strength? How sweet it is, when the Lord himself is so present in a congregation that the preacher, whoever he may be, is altogether forgotten! I pray you, dear friends, when you go to a place of worship, always try to see the Lord’s face rather than the stars in his hand; look at the sun, and you will forget the stars.”

- Charles Spurgeon, quoted in Guzik's commentary on Revelation 1

This is such a great reminder to me, as both a teacher and as a learner.

And to all of us, in our often rock-star church culture.

Now, back to prepping for Revelation 1 . . .

Specifically, North Boston. A friend of ours who was very active in our homegroup has moved back home to Boston. She's looking for a church that is Biblically sound and that does small groups.

If you know of any, please leave a comment. Thanks!

Make. It. Stop.

[H/T Jared's facebook]

Dear Pastor,

I'm not jealous of you or your church. Yes, I am one of the many little churches in your shadow, but that doesn't bother me. There are many good reasons that your church has grown to the size that it is. I'm glad that you are reaching people. I'm glad that so many people are worshiping there and that people are coming to know Jesus because of your ministry. There are many things you do right and that you do well, and I know there's a lot I could learn from you.

But there's one thing you may not know. You may not even be aware. Your people are coming to me for pastoral care. No, they are not leaving your church. They still attend your church; they are still members at your church; they still give their time, talents, money and loyalty to your church. (Some have even left my church for yours previously because of your superior ministries and programs.)

But they come to me when they need a pastor. When they need a wedding, they call me, or more often they just drop by and ask in person.

When they need a funeral, they call me.

When they need a special service like a baby dedication, or a baptism, or even a quinceañera, they call me.

When their marriage is in crisis, when their children rebel, when they are depressed or just don't know where else to turn, they come see me.

There are two major reasons for this. (I know because I ask, "Why not go to your own pastor and your own church?")

1- Because I am available. They can just drop in and see me. And if I happen to not be available that particular day, they'll be able to see me within a day or two. I know that you may be available too, but at the very least, you are perceived as being unavailable. In most cases, they assume you are too busy and come see me first. Other times, they don't know you, so seeing me is no different than seeing you, since neither one of us knows them personally. Again, the difference, is that I'm available. I also know that you have many pastors on staff that could be available to them. But for whatever reason, your people don't go to them. (I think because the average layperson doesn't see them as "real pastors", though you and I know this is a misconception.) They come to me.

2- Your sanctuary is too big or too modern. They love your church. They attend your church every week and love the services and they love your preaching and they love the music and they love all the programs your church has to offer. But when they need a place for a funeral or a wedding, or a quinceañera, the 100 or less people they are going to have attend would be dwarfed in your sanctuary. They need a small church atmosphere for their service. And yes, rightly or wrongly, they want it to feel like a "church" for those services that are important milestones in their lives.

Pastor, will you please let me offer some suggestions:

1- Be available. I know you are busy. I also know that if you spent all your time doing counseling, weddings and funerals, you wouldn't be able to do all that God has called you to do. Therefore, you need to publish the times you are available. Let people know when they can see you. Say it from the pulpit. Make them feel like you care about them as individuals and then follow through, as much as you are able. (And if you aren't available for such things at all, it's not because your church is too big, it's because you're too big for your church. Grandpa would have said, "You're too big for your britches.")

2- Have a good pastoral staff. Make sure there is a pastor, an actual ordained minister, assigned to every member of the church. (One per every 100 members ought to do it.) That pastor should know who his people are, and they should know who he is. He should contact them regularly, so that when the crisis time comes and they need him, there is already a relationship. This pastor should be available for weddings, funerals, hospital visits and pastoral counseling. In short, he should actually do for them what an actual pastor does.

3- Build a chapel. You have a large building. Probably you have multiple buildings on a campus. On your next building project, include a small chapel that seats 150-200 people. Make it look like a chapel. Let people book it like crazy. Make its use available to your people.

Now, here's where I have to make sure I'm not being too fleshly in my letter to you: I'm tired of pastoring your people for you. Don't get me wrong. I love your people. I love pastoring them. And the pastor in me loves the opportunity. But you are not doing your job and I think its hurting your people. They need to be able to count on you and your church, or what are you doing? If you really have a pastor's heart, and I believe you do, I thought that you would want to know that a lot of your sheep are having to go elsewhere to have their needs met. One of my mentors in ministry, a very wise pastor who did nothing but pastor small, hurting churches that needed him for 40 years, said this, "If you are not there when they need you, they don't need you."

I want you to know that I try the best that I can. I try to redirect them back to you. Sometimes I'll even downright refuse to help them, because I'm not their pastor. But most of the time, I do that wedding or that funeral. Most of the time I do the crisis counseling when someone's spouse cheats, or when someone is in the hospital. I do it because even if they aren't my sheep, they are Jesus' sheep and they asked. I do it because I hope that you would do the same for my sheep if I were somehow unable.

But it's a widespread problem. I have someone come to me for help from your church at least once a month, and I have someone come to me from one of the other megachurches other than yours once a week. I know you are busy, but so am I. You would help me be more effective as a pastor to the sheep God has called me to, if you would be more effective as a pastor to the sheep God has called you to.

I'd send you this note personally via snailmail or email, but I'm pretty sure it would never make it past one of your staff members to your desk. I'll try anyway...

Here's my final request, from one pastor to another. Please pastor the people God has given you. And if you can't or won't, please send some of your sheep to my church. I'd love to have them.

If you're heading to the Together 4 the Gospel 2010 Conference in Louisville, KY next month, I hope you will make room in your schedule to join the Band of Bloggers for their annual symposium and luncheon.

The panelists this year are Jon McIntosh, Justin Taylor, Trevin Wax, and myself, speaking on the subject of Internet Idolatry & Gospel Fidelity. A mere $25 gets you lunch, quality speaking, Q&A and discussion with the panel, and a stack of books. Quite a deal, I'd say. :-)

Details:

“Internet Idolatry and Gospel Fidelity”
2010 Band of Bloggers Fellowship
Tuesday, April 13, 2010 :: 11:00am
The Galt House, Downtown Louisville, KY
(in conjunction with Together for the Gospel)

Check out the Band of Bloggers website for more info and to register. Satisfaction guaranteed.*

(* This guarantee of satisfaction is not guaranteed.)

I don't know why, but I received an advertisement in the mail from a megachurch about 200 miles away. They're apparently celebrating the "grand opening" of a new facility.

According to the mailer, here's what you'll find at their church:

- Real direction for people on a real journey
- Non-judgmental atmosphere
- Environments that are relevant, enjoyable, and meaningful
- Small groups to develop meaningful friendships

Two upcoming sermon titles are "Realizing My Dreams" and "Lowering My Stress."

Um, ok.