Love the Sinning Sinner.

“Ahh love the sinner, Ahh just hate the sin.” Say it with a deep drawl. Ahh= I.

“I love Jesus yes I do, I love Jesus but I will participate in any h-o-m-o-sexual behavior I want to and no one can tell me any different.”

The second quote, directly from a preacher, here in Durham, in a mega church where given the demographics of the church, he was a preachin to the choir, I’d swear I was the only gay person there at the time. Oh, wait, I was there through both Sunday morning services because I was on greeter/usher duty, and so then the only “gay” person at both services, yeah right, you should have seen my small group. At first I wasn’t sure that I’d heard right, kind of like when you get hit suddenly and by surprise, so I went to the good pastor’s blog-cast once home and yep, there it was. I NEVER went back and will NEVER go back. I can’t change his mind. It’s a pity too; he is so gifted, yet, so, maybe damaged, perhaps, and if not, then I’m left asking, why did he do that?

Here’s one for the record book; you know what Jesus said about homosexuals...NIL, NADA, NOTHING. What Gospel will we find Jesus saying, “I [God] love the sinner but I [God] hate the sin?” He didn’t and like the Christmas nativity scene that we yearly see set up in parks, on church front lawns...you cannot find it in the Bible. This swipe by the preacher, now at TWO locations, simple I think, someone’s got to be the whipping dog. It is unacceptable to use race, that’s been done, religion, well that’s still being done, sex, ok; they can teach Sunday school but can’t preach or handicap. It is A OK and easy to use sexual minority. Bullying at its best, the law offers “them” no protection. I’m not saying he advocated beating anyone down with fists...words do nicely thank you and can be as, if not more brutal.

As for the first little wonder, some ascribe its origin to Gandhi. Who knows and who really cares; it has been co-opted by those who use words to abuse. The how and why it was originally said are of little consequence. Are we charged in the Bible and in the Gospels to pick and chose the aspects of our brothers and sisters that we are to love? NO! In fact the Messiah sent to Earth, in human form, was delivered to us to put an end to the codification of our relationship with our sovereign God.

Is it any wonder that LGBT and others bristle at the love the sinner statement? Break it down, what does it say? The person making the statement...I am so magnanimous that I can lower myself just a touch to love you in spite of your vile sin, oh yeah, and aren’t I so much like Jesus by doing so, didn’t He kiss a Leper? Or, my sin is so insignificant that I can put it aside just a little bit and find it within myself to love you in spite of how wicked, disgusting and horrible your sins are. Or, I can overlook your wickedness and be a big person and still love you. Do you see how that might push the fur the wrong way?

Try this one on for size. I will love you, the sinner and hate your sin; so why don’t you, just not sin, you know, in “that” way. Oh, ok, I see, so I should spend my whole long life alone, marginalized so that you don’t have to “deal” with who or what I am. I can come to your parties where you’ll quiz me about my “wife” and “children” and I’ll nicely smile and say there are none. Or, I’ll be trying to conduct business with you, and you’ll ask, “Do you have a family?”

My answer, “Why yes I do.”

But you’ll push when I don’t volunteer more and say, “Wife? Children?”

And when I say “No.”

You’ll smile knowingly, having finally cut the truth from me, yet indicting me with that smile because you know my manners are too strong to simply come out to you there, at the negotiation table, because it might make YOU feel UNCOMFORTABLE. How loving and how kind is that behavior?

The commission is to love humanity, all of humanity. What is humanity at its core? Broken. We are all broken and that is what makes us wonderful, beautiful and special. Look at it this way, if we were perfect, if there was nothing to work on then, why do it? Christ came to highlight our broken-ness and to give us something to work to, perfection and a meaningful relationship with God and all of God’s children. So, when from the pulpit, or stage managed stage, as it were, a preacher verbally punches, and it just wasn’t gays, it was adulterers and others too, then he is denying love to aspects of society.

The Messiah came to pull us, humanity, out of the Old Testament and into a better place. God recognized that we were focused on “rules” and not God and that was no place for God’s people to be. God knows that people can’t live a meaningful life, a life of joy, a life of love by trying endlessly to remember and abide laws and rules. God knows the simplest of rules, to love, which in turn is to accept others where they are is the easiest and most fundamental rule to live by. Those who are religious and practice religiosity must live by codification, it is their snug harbor, and it is their security blanket because it excuses a lack of critical thinking, a lack of ownership and frankly a victim mentality. It is with an eye to that; that I am not bitter or angry, sad maybe for the preacher who bashes, for my client who questioned and for all others of a fundamental bend. Sad that they will never really know us because they won’t accept us for what we are and where we are. They cannot love our sin which is our brokenness just as their sin is their brokenness which leads me to this; does God stop loving us because of our sin and brokenness?

Nope; it is as easy as this, Paul in Ephesians 2:8-9, For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9not by works, so that no one can boast. I’ll love the sinner and hate the sin, is, in a word, a boast. We are ALL saved by God’s grace, love, through faith, and that’s it, end of story and really, it is enough.

Tea Party or Not Tea Party That is the question

To say that folks get all twisted about taxes is an understatement. I don't like paying taxes but my mantra is don't get twisted about much, life is way too short. So there is this movement afoot called Tea Party, interesting yet albeit rather old concept. Nothing like everything old is new again right?

Well this demographic of mostly white, mostly middle aged...that is 45 years old and up is in a twist over taxes and spending. Ok, I get that. Anyone who reads my other blog or monthly newsletter knows that I am all for simple, sound and frugal living, but I also hope that people realize that I am a realist and that leaving a huge underclass in any society is recipe for civil war or international strife, vis a vis the middle east but I digress.

Here's how...

Take away tax spending and here's how the Tea Partiers might be affected...

Was wine served at their gathering? Are any of the California vintners who grow grapes subsidized to grow or not grow crops? If yes, take it away.
Did the Tea Partiers fly to Nashville to their convention? If yes tax dollars support this nation's airlines, airport infrastructure and even built the entire system. Take it away.
Did any of the Tea Partiers drive to Nashville to their convention using the United States Interstate Highway system. Take it away, tax dollars again; state roads are subsidized too so take them away too.
Are any of the Tea Partiers farmers, utility company workers, highway construction workers, bankers, health care workers, real estate agents, teachers, police, fireman, military, postal workers, transportation workers and on and on and on. Take it away, tax dollars in some way either directly or indirectly touch each one of those industries.
Did any of them get a college eduction using guaranteed student loans? Gone.
Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security for themselves or aged parents, take it away.

I think my point is made. It is easy to get twisted when you don't delve deeper and really look at the whole picture. These very angry people have benefited in incalculable ways by the very thing that they fight against. Yet as they eat their inexpensive food, in a well lighted, well heated, well accessed hotel in Nashville TN they fail to realize that they live high on the hog with creature comforts that all of us helped pay for.

I for one rather enjoy these comforts so, I won't get twisted over this one.

What do I do?

What do I do?

A dear friend referred a neighbor to me who wants to sell her home. Oh happy day, right? Stop! Not always. In almost seventeen years of selling real estate I've learned to measure my enthusiasm to any given situation. So, we'll call her Sally, wants to sell her home and according to my friend, Sally doesn't really have both oars in the water. Truth be known, Sally doesn't even own her oars anymore, they are both out of the boat and floating down the river and Sally is just, well, kind of floating on her own.

Before I could get to Sally, she showed up at my office, unannounced and crabby, maybe not crabby, abrupt, although Sally admitted to me later, that she's not crabby, she's just been in a bad mood for twenty years. Sally was abrupt with my secretary/receptionist. Mind you now, my receptionist is one of the kindest most gentle people going, she is perfect, PERFECT for the job that she does; handling forty five real estate agents and their various personality limps and the plethora of general public curve balls that fly on a daily basis. So when I received a call that Sally was looking for me and that my receptionist felt that I needed warning, I thought ut oh.

When Sally arrived I was away from the office. I know, go figure and REALTOR who doesn't just sit behind a desk; one that goes out, visits folks, measures homes and shows homes. Sally was told that I wasn't in the office and so she left her telephone number.

I called that evening and the out going voice mail greeting was that of a man. Alrighty then. I left my message, trying to sound just as matter of fact as I could be.

I did not get a call back and so the next day, I left another message for Sally and this time I apologized if I had indeed been telephoning the wrong number.

On day three, Sally called me back. She was indeed interested in selling and would like me to meet with her at her home. We agreed that the next day at three thirty in the afternoon would work well for both of us.

At the appointed hour the next day I arrived at Sally's home. Sally's home is a long traditional North Carolina brick ranch. Typically these homes are three bedrooms, two baths, living room, dining room and family room and Sally's home was just that. The yard, overgrown. The front porch blocked off with yellow caution tape, the driveway covered in pine straw. No worries, all homes in a wet North Carolina January look a little tatty and worn. I parked my car half way up the drive and headed around back with my clip board in hand. Obviously the yellow tape was doing its job in warning me away from the front door. We'd have to deal with that if we're going to sell this place I thought to myself.

The carport of Sally's home is integrated with the house and is a rear entry carport. A very clever design element, the house isn't broken up at the front by a hole for cars. Sally's carport however was filled with stuff, piles of paper, trash, old tables, chairs, lamps and cardboard boxes; all of it just strewn about. The shrubs along the drive to the carport, covered in laundry and at least five, ninety gallon City of Durham trash and yard waste cans laying about. The back door into the house from the carport, propped open with a Dos Equies beer bottle. Immediately I am nervous.

I call out for Sally being proper and using her last name with an obligatory Ms. preceding the name. No answer. I yelp out again and finally get a response.

"Who is it?" comes from somewhere inside.

"Ms. (Last name), it's Michael Sullivan, we're supposed to meet at 3:30, I holler from the carport."

A long pause and I'm going no closer. I'm thinking "Silence of the Lambs," I'm thinking "Kiss the Girls," I'm thinking she might just be packing heat, these days I assume that everyone has a gun and on their own property or not will use it.

"Well what time is it, I thought you were supposed to come at 3:30, you're early." Mind you I still haven't seen the person with whom I'm speaking.

So with patience running a bit thin and nerves a bit jumpy, I answer,
"Ms.(Last name) it is 3:30 and I'm here to talk to you about selling your home."

Finally she appears in the propped open door. Sally is all of five feet tall and is dressed kind of like Pippi Longstocking. On her head is a huge, floppy straw hat with a bright sunflower tacked to the bowl, the sunflower is the size of my head. Sally is wearing about six shirts, I can see a green one, a purple one and a white one the rest is just bulk. On her lower portion, nylon sweats and on her feet, what were once white socks. I'm shocked, I try not to jump, but her appearance startles me.

I'm asked in and Sally informs me that she'll show me the worst part of the house first. The kitchen is a disaster area. It is worse than any crack house that I've ever been in, the cabinets are all wide open and appear as if they have vomited their contents out onto the floor. The wall oven is wide open and the door is being used as a shelf for cleaning supplies. Side note, the cleaning supplies haven't been touched in a long, long time. The floor, what I can see of it is filthy and the same color as the bottom of Sally's socks. The dishwasher is running but the front panel has fallen off and is propped on the counter. Sally is eating what appears to be bird seed out of an old Daisy Sour Cream container. Thankfully she offers me none.

The laundry room is behind me and Sally shows this to me next. This room is so full of stuff piled on the floor that we can't even get into it. There is an old wooden, accordion style drying rack against one wall and draped on it are some two hundred extension cords. The drying rack had the look and feel of the birds nest stadium used for the Beijing Olympics. I marveled that the drying rack really looked like a work of art. I was left wondering why Sally's clothes were drying on a bush in the yard and her extension cords were draped on the rack. I marveled at the amount of time it must have taken her to position all of the cords just so.

The rest of the house was filled with junk mail, garbage, old electronics, old furniture, bags of clothes, food storage containers and assorted stuff. Everything was moldy, everything was worn and there was no place to sit, thankfully. Through out Sally's home was evidence of vermin infestation. Much of the rubbish laying about had been chewed as rats and mice will chew and there were droppings here and there. I imagine that there were squirrels and chipmunks too given the fact that many of the windows were open and the house was ice box cold. I wondered where she slept. None of the beds had been slept in because the three that I saw were piled full of stuff that hadn't been moved in a long, long time.

As I walked through I didn't touch a thing, funny how a one hundred and ninety pound man can manage that feat in a house that's akin to what you'd see on the television show Hoarders. In the bedroom hall the pull down steps for the attic were pulled down and Sally asked if I wanted to go up.

My pat response, "I don't think that I need to see the attic or crawlspace right now."

Sally's bathtubs were both full of water which she used for her day to day water use. Plastic containers lined the edges of the tubs, the vanities and the floors in both bathrooms, Her reasoning was that the water smelled funny coming out of the tap and there were leaks under the house so she routinely had the water turned off and on. There was no heat, the sound of the heat pump bothered her and the air dried out her eyes. So she said.

With our tour done, Sally invited me to sit down, outside on a retaining wall to discuss her plans. I asked where she'd go, no idea. I asked about income, none, what we'd get out of the house would have to last the rest of her life. I guess she's in her late sixties. How did she come to own this home? It had been her parents. She did want to go back to work, she taught synchronized swimming. Truly a growth industry I thought.

Sally told me she wanted a small place in the country, perhaps Alamance County. Just a small simple place in a bamboo grove, where she could wriggle her toes in the dirt and plant some "ta' maters." Again, her words.

I told Sally that we couldn't sell her home until we figured out where she could go. In my mind this is a recipe for homelessness. Sally also told me that she'd had some strangers in to look at the house to purchase it. This scared me more, I asked her not to sign anything and NOT to let STRANGERS into her home. She did promise to follow my advice. Good grief, the terrible could happen.

Essentially here is a woman who has family and that family can't deal with her. Her words and theirs. Social services was contacted by my friend and per their evaluation, nothing needs to be done with Sally. So, what do we do? What do I do?

How does the wealthiest society in the world deal with someone who is on the margins both financially and in terms of mental health? It is unacceptable to me that we forget these people. I've searched the Internet for some sort of co-housing situation but Sally really can't blend with the types of communities that I've found. She doesn't have the tools to emotionally or psychologically fit it. Finally, I so do not agree with Social Services evaluation that Sally is fine and nothing needs to be done with her. Truth be told, they don't know what do do either.

Homosexual, Homosexuality, Gay, Behavior, Choices

So, my pastor a man who I admire and respect went down the homosexuality path today…kind of. Benji was talking about a man who he’d ministered to, the context was grace, acceptance and love but, Benji did say homosexual lifestyle. Here is where I pause, my alert senses go into overdrive and I become hyper, HYPER sensitive. He stated that the man chose not to live that lifestyle, got saved and died the next day. I am very down with that, but…

Being homosexual is. It “is” like being any other sexual. Heterosexual people don’t just decide one day that they will be attracted to the opposite sex. They simply are, I imagine. Having never been heterosexual I am making an assumption. So, if heterosexual people simply “are;” then why do we not afford the same respect and benefit to homosexual, bisexual and gender confused people? I use gender confused because I don’t know of another term to use.

Here is where I’d wished that pastor took it one step further today. Being homosexual “is.” Choosing a lifestyle is a decision. People, gay and straight alike choose to drink to excess in bars, they choose to use drugs, they choose to be promiscuous and they choose to live lives that are less than holy and honorable. Those choices have nothing whatever to do with what people are at heart. Seeking to prove otherwise we might condemn all who are not born Jewish. After all for a very long time salvation was afforded in man kind’s eyes as being reserved only for the chosen people, the Jews.

Wrap all of this up in, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind; and love your neighbor as you love yourself. In praying on this passage from Matthew, I see no room to not love someone for what they are. I see no room not to love someone for what they do or how they behave. The Gospel give no leniency on this greatest of commandments. Do I think that my pastor was saying otherwise, no, no I don’t.

I did comment to pastor on my connection card in hopes that he will engage me in this conversation. I think that it is important and it should be interesting. I’ll keep you posted.

You are the salt of the Earth and the light of the world

Matthew 5:13-16
Salt and Light
"You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.
"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

I just love the beatitudes and the lessons in them. Today I went to a new church for me and the lesson was taught on these verses and it was so inspiring and relevant and timely. The pastor essentially said that followers of Christ live in bubbles. It is inside those bubbles that we cast judgment on the folk of the world who are not saved or church goers. The pastor also pointed out that empirically the only difference between church going believers and those not; is that goers own more Bibles. Goers are just as likely to lie, cheat, steal, harm and act in deceitful ways. Goers do tend to give more to faith based charity too but that’s about it.

Interestingly enough when we believers go into the world we tend to try awkward attempts at getting the world into our churches. We tend not to befriend first but ask and invite first which tends to put the none church attendee off. In fact often it makes them run away very quickly. So in very broad terms I began to think about the church that I’m a member of and the difficulties there now.

The church where I am a member is in crisis. Attendance is falling, people come but they don’t stay. I’m a prime example. There are individuals who are members of my church who I love and cherish but the larger church didn’t invite me in or engage me. They asked my spiritual inventory and then ignored it. They tried to plug me into areas where I have no passion, like hospitality and the board of trustees; where I still sit; but not for long. My passions revolve around singing, acting, visual arts, writing, teaching and preaching. All of those passions were ignored and dismissed. It was made very clear that my round peg wasn’t going to be put into my round hole and so I lost interest.

So, roughly a year after becoming a member of my church, I’m looking for a new one. A church closer to home, one where my round peg will be placed in my round hole and my faith passions can be explored. I know soon enough that I’m going to write a letter of resignation to my church. I think in it I will have to be open, honest and forthright with them and tell them exactly why I no longer feel lead to attend or be a member of their congregation. I approach this action with trepidation and when examining the action feel my light flicker. My church was very much a part of my recovery from years of self destructive behavior.

I love the members and the pastor of the church where I’m a member. They helped me discover that I am worthy and loved and most importantly I am capable of chaste love. They helped me discover that the living God not only lives in me but in all people and that all people are worthy of redemption and grace There I discovered that in order to get new folks into church you have to be their friend first, they have to see the light in you and taste the salt. The salt is Christ and living a life lead by his example, service and sacrifice. To pounce on guests the minute that they come through the door doesn’t work. Conversely it is also a failing to invite folks into membership, give them a spiritual inventory and then ignore it.

My prayer is that my church finds its way. I do think it will be a most difficult and arduous path for them. That church is so caught up in declining attendance and membership that they seem panicked. It’s sad really, the pastor is a most gifted preacher but the messages that she deliver seem to get skewed by frantic attempts to raise money and encourage people into the church.

My church's light does seem to be hidden beneath baskets or bowls, so many there tend to guard their turf with an uncommon zeal. I knew early on that I was aware that something was amiss; I’d sit in my pew and feel completely disconnected from the service and members. I fought for a while but now I’m certain that I’ve moved on. I moved on to rediscover my salt and my light hoping that it won’t flicker out, I trust that God will lead me to the right place and all will be well.

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.
—Romans 12:12
Rejoice in hope that good things will come especially when dealing with a time of tribulation. I do believe that these times are turbulent ones. There is a deep uncertainty regarding the economy. We as a nation are trapped by our own designs in a protracted war where there doesn’t seem at the moment to be an escape let alone an easy one and we are indeed a people hooked on easy answers. Our standing in the world is faltering after a very short time as a “super power.” We are lacking in moral fiber and faith for had we taken the time to think, pray and ponder, we wouldn’t be trapped in Iraq at the moment. We wouldn’t be swimming in a mess of our own making.

Conversely, we wouldn’t be in the economic mess that we’re in had we not gone into Iraq. Hubris and ego have taken us down a slippery slope and it will take emotional fortitude and patience of uncommon strength to rescue us. The problem as I see it is that we, Americans, don’t have patience when faced with tribulation and we are ill suited to be constant in anything let alone prayer and faith. In our cultural cannibalism we epitomize a society of distracted adolescent children who are so hopped up on the stimuli of the moment that we can’t be patient because we’ve never learned it. In slower times our parents and grandparents had the benefit of slow and deliberate reflection and that often taught them the value of patience. They were not the kind of people to go in four hundred different directions with a myopic lack of focus. They tackled one task at a time and did it well.

They allowed God standing in the quiet corners of their minds to come forth with the answers. Now mind you it didn’t always happen quickly or easily or even always with the desired outcomes. We could point to the inauspicious end to World War two over two completely destroyed civilian centers of Japan. I’m not here to judge their actions, simply to reflect upon them and the dangers of rushing where no one has yet to rush or act. They thought that their actions were right and proper. Perhaps if Truman had been in office longer, and had reflected a bit, the end would have been different. Who’s to say?

Similarly, at the start of World War two this country was completely unprepared to fight a war, let alone a war on two fronts against two completely maniacal and formidable foes. Our parents and grandparents rose to the challenge, they sacrificed and they eventually won. They too were coming out of a period of deep and Earth shattering uncertainty and a test of faith. The difference was the sacrifice, they were able to and we are not. We as a nation, for four generations now, prance and dance off to ill conceived, planned and executed wars where we indeed do not go to war. What we do is we send our army to a foreign land to fight battles. Like the passage from Romans says, be patient in tribulation, however to do so, thought and planning and sacrifice must take place. Let’s not miss the final line of the passage, be constant in prayer.

To be constant in prayer means to be still and know who God is. That stillness is the ah ha moment. The stillness must last long enough for the ah ha to take place and in our culture that doesn’t happen at least not all that often. Again, we as a people are stretched too thin and are lacking a focus and insight. We lack the ability to quietly and simply communicate with God and ask for Godly insightful revelation. Were we to do so, so many of our “problems” would not manifest into such. The solutions, I think are simple and take me back to the scripture. When faced with problems, I will rejoice in hope, that I will solve them, I will be patient in tribulation and I will be constant in my prayers. Those three courses of action will allow for deliberate and thoughtful action. Let’s all pray that our leaders and population will get it and soon.

More on anger and forgiveness

The blessings are in the waysides

When I contemplate my angry friend and myself when I was angry it becomes very clear that deep abiding friendships and relationships don’t develop in angry people. They really can’t because there are barriers in the way. All too clearly I remember that when I was institutionally angry my friendships were casual and cursory. I couldn’t let people in close because their proximity to the true me would have forced me to examine what I truly was. The thought of other people being that close to the true me, terrified me.

How absolutely sad for me because I lost countless years and countless friends along the way and I also stunted my personal development. I consider now the lost relationships and the damage that I caused in those relationships because I was dishonest, first with myself and then those trying to get close or involved. Naturally, once anyone started getting close to me, my pattern of behavior was to run as quickly as possible from them, sometimes this wasn’t a literal run but the defensive barriers definitely went up. My greatest fear was the thought of “them” seeing the true me or worst me seeing the true me.

With some age, wisdom and God’s grace, I’ve learned not to beat myself up with respect to these angry and elusive years. Some aspects of my behavior I do truly regret. I regret the countless weekend evenings of my sophomore year in college where I didn’t go out and forge close and abiding friendships. I chose rather to stay in alone and watch television or read. I regret some of the years after college where I stayed alone in Wilson and really had no social interaction for years on end. I regret the year after my relationship with Chris ended and I poured myself into a bottle believing that I was unworthy of love or even friendship.

Through these events and a spiritual evolution I have found a path to happiness, grace and peace. I reconnected with one of the closest true friends I’ve ever known and his presence has helped me out of my rut. I’ve discovered a church, pastor and friends who accept that I’m flawed, but love me in spite. I discovered a joyous God that knows every aspect of my DNA and loves me for the wondrously flawed human that I am. I have discovered that joy, peace, love and grace are not destinations but they are rather waysides on the journey through life. They are the gentle smiles in the grocery store, the singing in church on Sunday evening, meeting a friend for Thai food on a rainy Tuesday evening. They are the simple thanks that a coworker gives for doing a good job and watching basketball at NC State. The blessings are so, oh so plentiful but in this fast paced, high stress, twenty four hour news cycle angry society that we live in, most of us miss the blessings. We fall all over ourselves searching for the blessings when they are all around us and all that is required is that we be still.

So, my solution is simple. When I wake every morning I pray and I thank God for the fact that I’m awake and in a dry, warm, safe place. I thank God for the simple blessing that today I don’t hurt, that I have food and that through my actions and thoughts I can be a catalyst for good and positive change…I can live my life…as Christ with skin on. I fall short each and every day, but the greatest joy is that I can get up again and try, basking in God’s love and grace because again the blessing is in the attempt and working to the goal.