Jon Acuff's Blog, page 115

Cloves, Hookahs, and Other Non-Cigarettes

(It's guest post Friday! Here's one from Joe Bunting.  He writes and teaches people to write over at The Write Practice. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here's how!) 

Cloves, Hookahs, and Other Non-Cigarettes. – By Joe Bunting

I was still in high school the first time I saw someone smoking a clove. I thought he was a heathen. My conclusion: cloves must be like cigarettes for pot smokers.

I had to go to a Christian college to see how wrong I was. The Christians who smoked cigarettes at my SoCal Christian college were outcasts, pariahs. They might as well have been Democrats (some of them were Democrats). Our campus was tobacco free. To smoke their sticks of sin they had to go hide in the "smoker's bush" where they wouldn't be caught by security, but we all knew their shameful secret. They came back reeking of guilt.

Cloves, however, were another matter. Cloves, compared to soul- and body-destroying cigarettes, smelled like a warm summer breeze through a flower garden. They weren't "real" cigarettes. The box even denied it—they were cigarillos. We would go down to the beach beside a resort for the disgustingly wealthy and smoke them while watching the waves break. It was what the cool Christians did.

Later, Dr. New Testament told our class that he smoked hookah. What the heck is hookah, we asked. "It's a water pipe with a very weak tobacco," he informed us. We stared in shock.

Why don't you tell us what it really is, Dr. New Testament? It's a BONG! You're telling us you smoke a hippie peace-pipe bong, Dr. Christian-Professor-Sir?

Despite our initial horror, all we wanted was for Dr. New Testament to invite us over to smoke with him. What could be better? You're doing something that looks really terrible, like smoking a bong, BUT in reality it's totally okay because it's not even real tobacco. Besides, you're doing it with your New Testament professor. It looks like sinning, but you get a pat on the back and a gold star instead of eternal damnation.

We didn't get invited to his house to smoke his hookah. Instead, we found a Persian restaurant called Zaytoon's and smoked it until we felt dizzy and sophisticated. We were guiltless. We didn't reek of foul-smelling smoke. We smelled like Cherry Sunrise and Vanilla Grapefruit and Coca-Cola Clove and other rejected Starburst flavors. It was wonderful.

Who cares that, despite my professor's proclamation, hookahs contain the same amount of tobacco as a cigarette, and maybe even more because of how you smoke it? So what if cloves are 70% tobacco, and because of the throat-numbing qualities of the cloves, some people think you inhale more lung-killing smoke than in a normal cigarette? It didn't matter because you didn't smell like cigarettes. That's the difference between transcendent holiness and unredeemable spiritual delinquency. I'm pretty sure it's in one of Paul's letters.

Through my college and post-college years, I experimented with cigars, pipes, and menthol cigarettes. (They're not real cigarettes, right? They smell like mint.) But whenever someone offers me a real cigarette?

"Ewwwwww. Gross, no. I don't smoke those things. Are you even a Christian?"

Question:

Have you ever experienced the Christian clove phenomenon?

For more great stuff from Joe Bunting, check out his blog, The Write Practice.

 

The question.

Two videos in one day? Outrageous!

Same video on SCL and jonacuff.com? Unbelievable!

A question from an elderly woman that shook me to the core and a quick explanation of the Quitter Conference all in one video? Exactly.

SCLQ – The Pre-Sermon Video

Last November, I had the opportunity to speak at Canyon Ridge Christian Church in Las Vegas. I'd never spoken in Vegas before and had only visited the airport while making connections to other cities. Everything I knew about Vegas I learned watching CSI and Ocean's 11.

Therefore, my expectations were that I would probably have to solve a showgirl murder and possibly pull off an amazing casino heist in a tailored grey suit.

Neither happened. But what Canyon Ridge did pull off what might be the funniest pre-sermon video I've ever seen. It's hard not to watch this video and realize how far my star has really climbed amongst the masses. Given the responses, I'm surprised I was able to walk through the Vegas airport without being accosted by fans. Check it out for yourself, and you'll see what I'm talking about.

Question:

Does your church do any sort of "Pre-Sermon Videos?"

 

The beautiful reason God might not be talking to you right now.

Do you ever feel like God is ignoring you?

Like he's screening your calls and hitting decline when he sees your name pop up on his iPhone?

You keep throwing out the same question to him and you're getting nothing.

No nudge from the Holy Spirit. No wise counsel in the form of friends. No handwriting on the wall.

I have and I'm in the middle of one of those moments right now.

I feel a great self-imposed sense of urgency to figure out what I'm supposed to do next. Maybe it's because I turned 36 a few weeks ago. I feel like everyone has a clear plan for their lives but me. (Whenever you feel this way, you always run into people who say things like, "I've got the next 20 years of my life mapped out. What do you mean you don't have a 20-year mission statement?")

I told my wife a few days ago, "I'm 36 now, which means I'm exactly 40 years from the average life expectancy of U.S. males. And we only have 10 years until L.E. graduates from high school and is out of the house. I need to figure out a 40/10 plan for my life."

That might sound a little ridiculous. But at some point, all of us come to a place where we feel a little lost. You get a divorce and the person who was a big part of your identity for 8 years is no longer even part of your house, and you suddenly have to figure out who you are all over again. You lose your job and are unemployed way longer than you anticipated and restlessness sets in, followed by sadness and eventually apathy and hopelessness. You're staring graduation in the face as the New Year comes and don't know what to do next. You bump into a bruise from childhood that you had hoped time would heal by now, but it hasn't. If anything, it's shaped your adult life in ways you're only now beginning to fathom.

In moments like that, we turn to God. And we ask questions. We call out. We cry out. We plead.

And sometimes in response, we hear … nothing.

God is silent.

He does not answer.

No response comes.

And our first thought when that happens, is this:

"God is mad at me. He does not care about my hurt. He is distant. He sees me as a failure. He is not answering me because he is disappointed in me. If he really loved me, he'd talk to me. He'd answer my questions and my prayers. A loving God could not possibly go silent at a time like this."

I am not immune to that thinking. Those are not words I'm writing about you, those are words I am writing about "we."

But I saw something recently that had always escaped me. I'd looked at it 1,000 times and missed it. It was right there all along. A lesson about silence, a lesson about love, a powerful secret hidden in my favorite story.

I've written about the parable of the prodigal son too many times to count. After I finish my next book, I hope to write a book about that story. But until I do, this will be the space I share a few ideas.

You know the story of the prodigal son. A young son asks his father for his inheritance, leaves the farm, spends all the money and falls on hard times. In a pigpen, he comes to his senses and returns home expecting to work as a servant on the farm. Instead, the father sprints to him when he sees him on the road and throws him a lavish party.

It's an amazing story, but do you know what the father, who represents God, says to the prodigal son in those verses in Luke 15?

Absolutely nothing.

The father does not say one word to the prodigal son.

We read the story like he does, but he doesn't. Check the verses, it's true. In Luke 15:12 when the son asks for the inheritance, it just says, "So he (the father) divided his property between them (the two brothers.)" The father doesn't speak to the prodigal son.

But what about when he comes home? Doesn't he run to the son and say in Luke 15:22-24, "Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."

He does say those things, but not to the son.

Verse 22 says, "But the father said to his servants…"

He wasn't speaking to the prodigal son. He was talking to the servants.

What does that mean for you and me?

Well, here's what I want you to consider the next time it feels like God is not talking to you.

Instead of thinking that God's silence means he is mad and disappointed with you, what if he might be quiet because he's too busy planning a party for you?

What if, even as you come home dirty and fallen, God is not ignoring you? What if he's embracing you on the road back home, and he's not talking to you because he's so focused on planning a party for you?

Can you imagine a God like that?

I can.

And when God goes quiet, that is the hope and the truth I am going to cling to.

The friend who goes on a mission trip and then tells you that you've got such a "Western approach to faith."

Are we friends?

I feel like we are. Some of you have read SCL for close to four years. I've met a bunch of you. I've been to your church or hung out at conferences with you. You've mailed me Cadbury Creme eggs to this address: Jon Acuff 1749 Mallory Lane, Brentwood, TN 37027.

We're friends.

Except for about six of you. We are sworn enemies. If we saw each other at a square dance, we would most definitely stop square dancing and try to sweep each other's legs like the karate kid. You know who you are. Don't let me catch you out square dancing.

So when you read the title of this post and think, "Nope, I don't have a friend who has done that," I need to let you know you're wrong. Because I was almost that friend.

A few weeks ago, I shared a Serious Wednesday idea about something I learned during my trip to Vietnam. But as I was writing the post and thinking about the trip, I started to catch myself thinking things like, "Oh, these Western Christians. These American Christians are so silly sometimes."

There is one big problem with that line of thinking.

I was in Vietnam for a grand total of 7 days.

Have you ever had the friend who goes on a one-week mission trip to Africa and comes home as an expert on the country? They were gone for like an hour and a half and suddenly are using a Sudanese accent when they speak and complaining because Des Moines, Iowa doesn't have a good Ethiopian restaurant. Ridiculous. And this was me last week. I was going to tweet:

"Vietnamese coffee makes Starbucks taste like hot, brown water."

Is it true? Without a doubt. Am I all the sudden better than Starbucks because I had 7 days of coffee in Vietnam? Not really.

My ability to become internationally pretentious is unbelievable. I would medal in that if it were a sport.

But it's tempting, isn't it? To go on a mission trip, experience faith in a different culture and come home and tell all your friends about "faith in the states." By the way, don't refer to the U.S. as "The States" unless you grew up outside of the country. I caught myself saying this to a friend the other day, "It's good to be back in the states." Oh stop. Why didn't I just say, "It's good to be home." Or "It's good to be back in Nashville." Or just "It's good to be back." I probably said, "It's good to be back in The States" because I wanted him and anyone else who was listening to think I was traveling internationally so often that I didn't even have time to say "The United States." I had to shorten it for speed to "The States."

And even if you did go out of the country and want to talk about the differences between how you saw faith lived out, don't lead off with shame. Nothing kills a post-mission trip conversation like saying, "You know who really loves Jesus? Jamaicans. You know who doesn't? You Westerners, who I am apparently not one of having lived in Cleveland, Ohio for 27 years but recently spent 72 hours in Jamaica."

I promise I'll try not to write pretentious posts that make me look like an expert on world missions after seven days. And you? Well, you should keep an eye out for the friend who goes on a mission trip and then tells you that you've got such a Western approach to faith. Feel free to add them to my "leg sweep list." Just don't ever go square dancing with them. I feel like I've been pretty clear about that point.

Question:

Has a friend ever gone on a mission trip and acted like this?

Wearing the same clothes you wore to church on Sunday to work on Monday.

Don't judge me.

Let me explain first. Let me tell you why, if you saw me on Sunday at church, you might realize I'm wearing the same exact clothes to work on Monday.

1. I'm not talking about the same underwear or socks.

2. I don't go to a charismatic church, so I don't get sweaty during service by dancing or rigorous clapping.

3. I hate picking out clothes and am horrible at "matching things." Sometimes I'll come home after work and my wife will say, "Is that what you wore all day?"

4. I take my church clothes off as soon as I get home from church. (And immediately change into work out clothes, but you probably assumed that already given my American Gladiator-like torso.)

5. I'd wore a uniform if it was socially acceptable. Not like Superman, with the tights and all, but same pair of jeans, same black t-shirt, every day if I could.

And I'm not saying this will work for everyone. Here are a few exceptions you need to consider if you're going to wear your church clothes to work:

1. Do you wear a big Sunday hat? One of those old-school hats that is so large it has its own weather system? Probably can't wear that to work.

2. Does your job require you to wear overalls without a shirt underneath? I'm talking specifically to every guy on every new reality show (e.g. Moonshiners, Swamp People, The Call of the Wildman, etc.) If so, don't wear that to church.

3. Are you in the choir and have to wear a robe on Sunday? Don't wear that to work on Monday. Unless you work at Hogwarts.

4. Do you volunteer in the kids' Sunday School department? You're going to be covered with glue and glitter by the end of the day. Don't wear those clothes to work. Unfortunately, the first thing some folks will think when they see glitter all over you is not, "I bet that guy teaches Sunday School." They'll think you went to a dance establishment.

There, does that make you feel better at all?

Again, not talking same underwear. I'm talking same jeans, same sweater, same shoes, same beret. What? People aren't wearing berets to church where you live? Oh man, you're missing out. "Bible Berets" are huge in Nashville right now.

Question:

Stand proud, have you ever worn the same clothes to work on Monday that you wore to church on Sunday?

#1 of 2011: Running into famous Christians. (AKA, the "Michael W. Smith Incident.")

If you follow me on Twitter @jonacuff, and really should because it's a pretty delightful experience, you know that last Friday, Christian recording legend Michael W. Smith was on my flight to Denver. I was literally "going west young man" with Michael W. Smith.

He lives probably 6 minutes from me in Franklin, but I've never actually met him. I like to pretend I'm cool and not impressed by famous people, but I got really nervous when I saw him.

Because we were both on Southwest, I had a chance to sit in the row next to him. I actually asked an elderly woman on the aisle to stand up so that I could sit in the middle of the row across from him. She struggled to her feet, at which point I wussed out, told her to sit back down and took a seat two rows behind Michael W. Smith.

I had a copy of the Stuff Christians Like book in my bag and started to debate whether I should give it to him. I told the mom next to me what was going on and she started plotting too. Here are a few things that went through my head:

1. Is he asleep? I can't tell if he's asleep. His seat is reclined. Am I about to be the guy who wakes someone up on the plane?

2. Oh no, he's wearing sunglasses. Even if I walk to the front of the plane, for a fake bathroom run just to do reconnaissance, I won't be able to tell if he's awake.

3. The lady next to me just offered that her 10-year-old could walk by him, bump him, and wake him up for me. Would it be weird if I took her up on that offer? That's probably weird.

4. What if I hand him Stuff Christians Like, and he thinks it's a mockery of Christianity, not a celebration of it? Do I have to craft the perfect sentence to explain the entire heart of the book and then deliver that sentence crouched in the aisle of an airplane at 30,000 feet?

5. I need to make sure to mention that "Zondervan" published the book. They also publish the Bible, he'll definitely have heard of them and will be less likely to refuse the book.

6. Should I hand it to the lady in front of me and ask her to pass it up to him? Is that crazy?

7. The lady next to me's son is crying because he's afraid of flying. Should I send the crying kid to deliver the book? Nobody would refuse a book from a crying kid.

8. Am I the worst person on the planet for thinking about having a crying kid deliver my book? Definitely.

9. If this experience becomes a blog post, should I edit out that last part so that people think I'm a better person than I really am? Nope.

10. The lady next to me just offered to go up to him and say, "Are you Michael W. Smith? What are the chances! I just met the author Jon Acuff two rows behind you. He wrote a great book." Would that work?

11. How great is this lady next to me?

12. Speaking of great, how great is it that Michael W. Smith is flying Southwest? Legit.

13. What if I hand him the book, and he leg sweeps me or punches me right in the breadbox. If he's seated and I'm standing, would he have access to the breadbox?

14. Did the idea about "Always singing friends are friends forever on the last night of camp" make it into the Stuff Christians Like book? (Flip, flip, flip.) Nope.

15. What if I just started singing that instead? Would other people on the plane join in? Would that be awkward, or would I "find my place in this world?"

16. It would be better if I had a synthesizer with me. I wish I had a travel synthesizer with me. I bet I can get one in Sky Mall.

17. Why did I think of the breadbox? Isn't that an old timey, vaudeville term for gut? Why is that word in my head?

18. Would it be better to give the book to the lady next to me? She asked where she could buy it. Should I give it to her? Celebrities are just people too. This lady is every bit as special as Michael W. Smith in God's eyes.

19. Did I just Jesus Juke myself?

So what did I do?

After the stewardess took his drink order, I sprang from my seat like a slightly awkward panther.

I said something like "I just wanted to thank you for using the gifts God gave you so faithfully and so consistently. I wrote a book with Zondervan. It's a satire of all the funny things we do within the context of Christianity and faith. I'd love to give you a copy. Thanks!"

And then I retreated to my seat. 3 feet away. He was super kind, incredibly gracious and the whole thing took about 14 seconds.

Here is what I thought next:

1. The lady next to me just said that he's reading the book. Is he?

2. In a few minutes he's going to start laughing so loud that the pilot is probably going to need to make an announcement asking him to quiet down.

3. We'll probably become best friends by the end of this flight.

4. I wonder if he owns horses? I bet he owns horses. Man, it's going to be so fun to ride horses with Michael W. Smith when we're best friends.

5. He's standing up and getting something out of the overhead compartment. Is he putting the book away 'cause he hated it? Or is he getting out some highlighters and a notebook so that he can really soak in the deep wisdom I've written? It's definitely one of those two options.

6. I should write this down right now because it's a great example of how crazy I am.

That's the internal dialogue I experienced in approximately 11 minutes. And I wrote this post on the plane right after I gave him the book. When I share these kind of thoughts with my wife, she often says, "It must be exhausting to be you," and it is.

But is that weird?

Have you ever bumped into a Christian celebrity?

If so, who?

If not, whom would you like to meet?

#2 for 2011: Believing the phrase "Just saying" is some magical get out of being a jerk card.

I'm not sure where this phrase started. Although I have three friends who all individually swear they were the ones who created the hybrid word "chillaxing," no one has claimed this phrase to the best of my knowledge.

Yet there it is, popping up like Canada Geese on golf courses. (Is there a more pretentious bird on the planet, by the way?) You can't go on Facebook without seeing it. You can't go on Twitter without it dancing across the screen. Friend after friend is using it. It's practically social media punctuation at this point.

Just saying.

If you've never experienced it before, where do you live so that I can move there and experience this "Just saying-less utopia" you've discovered? I bet it's in Colorado, seems like a lot of good stuff is in Colorado these days. But here's how it works if you've never seen it wielded at the hand of a Christian:

One part snark + One part bitterness + Just saying = Complete forgiveness for whatever you've just said.

But here's why I don't like it. Here's why I've thrown my social media weight in with the People Against Just Saying Coalition (PAJSC), a group I just invented. (It's pronounced "Paj" like "Cas" from the first part of cashmere. The S and the C are silent.)

Reasons I'm against "Just saying"

1. You're not fooling anyone.

Adding a smiley emoticon at the end of a bitter sentence doesn't remove the bitterness. Neither does "Just saying." You can't Mary Poppins your way out of this with a spoonful of sugar.

2. At no point in the Bible is the phrase referenced.

I'm almost positive when we're told to love our neighbors there's not a follow-up verse that says, "Unless you've got some barb you want to throw and are able to tie it all perfectly with a 'just saying.'"

3. It sounds like something the Pharisees would say.

Speaking of the Bible, can't you see the Pharisees saying this phrase nonstop? "Jesus, you healed someone on the Sabbath, which is against ancient law. Just saying."

4. It's cowardly.

I've used this phrase before, and the reason I did was because I was being a wuss. I had something I wanted to say but still wanted to hold on to my thin veneer of holiness, so I said something mean and then ended the thought with "just saying." Or, maybe you have something legitimate that needs to be said to someone in an email. Maybe it's a tough bit of love or critique that you're afraid to give them. Instead of coming right out and saying it, you couch it in sarcasm and try to soften it with "Just saying." Don't. Let's not be cowards.

My hope is that you'll join the PAJSC and turn in the phrase "Just saying" at the convenient drop-off locations we've set up across the country. Plus, membership comes with a really soft hoodie. The kind that feels like you've owned it for 14 years and used to wear it to Kanakuk Kamps when you were a kid. So that's something.

But if you don't, if you want to keep using the phrase "Just saying," go right ahead. That's between you and God and baby Jesus. Just saying.

Question:

Have you ever seen someone use the phrase "Just saying" online?

#3 for 2011: Calling your wife your "bride."

I'm going to lose readers on this one. Even as I start writing this post, I can hear metaphorical car doors slamming shut and tires peeling away from SCL into the vast blogosphere in search of better posts to read. But I have to make a confession, and I can't hold it back any more.

It weirds me out a little when a guy refers to his wife as his "bride."

Unless it's your wedding day, telling me, "I need to go see my bride," sounds a little strange to me. If it's your big day and you're about to go down the aisle, bride it up. Say bride all day long like it was your J.O.B. Go bride wild. I'll even get in on the action and say things like, "Your bride looks beautiful today." Or "It's going to be amazing for you to see your bride walk down the aisle!" I'm 100% down for calling your wife "bride" on the day you get married.

The day after your wedding? I'm not so sure. Here's why:

1. Ladies never do the equivalent.

I see guys on Twitter and Facebook talk about their brides all the time. A friend once said to me, "Please tell your bride thanks for sharing you with us this weekend when you came and spoke to our church." But I have never, ever seen a lady call her man her "groom" after the wedding. I've never heard a girl say, "I need to get home to my groom. I've been really missing my groom."

2. It feels a little medieval.

Whenever I hear someone say, "My bride and I have a really full weekend planned," I instantly imagine, "Of course you do. Probably going to do some jousting, eat a giant turkey leg, maybe pull a sword from a stone. Big weekend planned. I'm not sure if you and your fair lady will have time for Bed Bath & Beyond this weekend."

3. It feels a smidge too fancy.

It would feel way too formal if I was ever at a dinner party and someone I worked with said, "Hey Jon, come here, I'd like you to meet my bride." My first thought would be, "Wait, am I at your wedding right now? She's wearing shorts and flip flops, but I must be at your wedding if I'm meeting your bride."

As I researched this idea, in my head mostly, I felt like there were two possible reasons to call your wife your bride. The first is that it's biblical. Isn't the church called "the bride of Christ?" It's not called the "wife of Christ." So using "bride" could be a throwback to the Bible. So maybe saying "bride" is like answering the question, "What Would Jesus Do?" He'd say bride. OK, I get that.

The other reason I could see you using this word is that your wife loves it. If my wife wanted me to call her my bride and that made her feel loved, the title of this post would be "People who don't call their wives their 'brides' are stupid." So maybe that's why you do it.

Me personally? I call my wife "Brown Sugar" like D'Angelo suggested. But I'm hip hop.

What's your take?

Do you call your wife your bride? Does your husband call you that?

What's your opinion?

#4 in 2011: "Wait, what???" Bible verses.

Sometimes, if I am reading the Bible too quickly, I have a Wile E. Coyote moment. Often when chasing the Road Runner, Wile E. would get so focused on what he was doing that he would run 15 feet off a cliff without realizing it. Then he would pause in mid air, look at the camera, then at his feet and plummet.

I feel that way sometimes while reading the Bible. I'll get in a rhythm and start making progress. I'll be cruising through Genesis and Exodus, moving along at a good clip, flying by the material, until out of nowhere I'll pause, mid thought and say, "Wait, what???"

I'll go back a few verses and realize that I breezed past something outrageous that at first glance I took as commonplace. Recognizing my error I'll push pause, reread the verse and then fall off a theological cliff much like Wile E.

That's exactly what happened to me last Monday. I was reading Exodus 4 when God gives Moses his marching orders. Here is what verse 21 – 23 says:

The Lord said to Moses, "When you return to Egypt, see that you perform before Pharaoh all the wonders I have given you the power to do. But I will harden his heart so that he will not let the people go. Then say to Pharaoh, 'This is what the Lord says: Israel is my firstborn son, and I told you, "Let my son go, so he may worship me." But you refused to let him go; so I will kill your firstborn son.'"

God is giving Moses instructions. Dire, serious instructions, but thus far I am as pastors love to say, "tracking with him." I get what is happening, having discussed the Passover story and the plight of the Israelites a lot growing up. So, at Wile E. Coyote speed I continue to the next verse:

"At a lodging place on the way, the Lord met Moses and was about to kill him."

Wait, what??? In one verse, God is telling Moses what to do, and in the next verse he's about to kill him. Not, "thinking about killing him," but "about to," as in "this is on like Donkey Kong."

I might be the only one who has had a "Wait, What???" Bible verse moment, but if you ever experience one, there are three things you should know:

 1. Slow your flow.

It's not a race. If you catch yourself running over cliffs regularly, chances are you're speed reading the Bible. Slow down Vin Diesel. No need to get fast and/or furious through Exodus.

 2. Version it out.

When I run off a cliff, I immediately check other versions of the Bible. NIV, ESV, KJV, ETC. My coworker recently told me he read that someone had "vanished right before their eyes." His version made it sound like Phillip had Scott Bakula'd right out of there. We checked multiple versions to figure out the text.

 3. Enjoy the pause.

You can read the Bible 1 million times and pick up 1 millions different things. That's the beauty of the word of God. He's going to highlight and call out new things each time you crack it open. Don't think a "Wait, What????" verse is a bad thing. It might be exactly what you need to read.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever read the Bible and had a "Wait, What???" moment?

What verse gives you pause?