MOTION Issue #4

issue 4

august 2007 4stories of faith. risk. dependence.

serve Dayt H e C H u r C H W i t H O u t Wa L Ls

a n eW sigHtD i s C O v e r i n g a fa i t H t H at H e a Ls

a man an D a baCkpaCkg O D O n t H e s t r e e t s O f s k i D r O W

a D rOp i n tH e WeLLm a k i n g a D i f f e r e n C e i n n e W O r L e a n s

O n t H e m Ov e

2 MOTION 3rockHARBOR

Around the Erre household, the month of August means two things. First, i t ’s the return of footbal l . Pre-season NFL games begin to appear, the col lege season is r ight around the corner, and the days of watching such non-sport ing events as bowling, golf , baseball , and tennis are soon to be over. I love footbal l . Even the word brings joy to my heart.

The other thing that August represents is a new beginning. I know that sounds strange, but my wife has been a teacher for 10 years and I have been in school for at least that long, so the beginning of the school year feels “new” to some degree. We put away our summer pursuits and buckle down around the house unti l the hol idays. We refocus on important things.

We do the same thing around our church (and yes, we have a rockHARBOR FOOTBALL team, but that is fodder for another column). August is our beginning of the school year, too, as i t represents a new start ing l ine for our church and our ministr ies.

We usually mark this t ime by doing something we cal l “vision weekend.” We take time during our weekend services to remind ourselves of what God has called us to—as a church and as individuals—for this next season in the life of our community.

We are currently in the middle of a three-year vision that involves becoming a church that “gives i tself away.” Fundamental to our understanding of the Scriptures and of the work of Jesus now in the world is the convict ion that the church no longer exists for i tself , but instead is to be spent up pouring out God’s love to the world around it .

I read a quote a year ago that makes this point perfectly:

“The Church is the only inst i tution which, without i r responsibi l i ty, can expend al l i ts resources on great and lavish outbursts of compassion. i t is ordained to give i tself away, yet without loss. The Church, above al l earthly symbols, bears the responsibi l i ty of declar ing in the outpouring of resources, the utter dependabil i ty of God. To preserve i ts l i fe is to lose i t .” (Robert Lupton, Theirs is the Kingdom)

We believe this is what the community of saints cal led the church is to be and do. This is the reason for The GO campaign, for Serve Day, for the money we raise and the people we send. This isn’t some cool idea we cooked up to give us something to do… but rather i t is the passion of God towards the world.

This is the kind of church God wants rockHARBOR to be. These are the kinds of people he wants us to become.

This t ime of year, as we are gearing up for school and study, for shorter days and longer nights, for footbal l and for other

(secondary, in my opinion) fal l pursuits—i t is important to remind ourselves why al l of this matters.

Mike

God is on the move this summer. thousands

are GettinG out of their chairs and darinG to

Go places they’ve never been. it’s a dauntinG

idea but it’s excitinG, too. and if you’re like me,

you expect biG thinGs…biG chanGe. i Want to be

chanGed. i Want the people in our church to be

chanGed. i Want those served to be chanGed.

But God is showing me this summer isn’t about that. It’s not about my wants or my intentions...however noble they may be.

With my expectations on hold, I began to wonder what God has for each of us partaking in this challenge to GO. The answer came almost exactly as I should have expected. “I desire for you and ROCKHARBOR to become more like me.” I began to reflect on how Jesus lived his life. I thought about how He loved the unloved. He healed the sick. He spoke truth when it wasn’t popular. He sacrificed for those he loved...He was a true revolutionary.

What does it look like for us to be revolutionaries? It might be different than how I envision it, but I hear God saying something like, “Go, but slow down so that you learn to love your neighbor. It doesn’t matter how much you do…what matters is how much you

love…whether you’re in your own neighborhood, or the streets of Watts, or the barrios in the Dominican Republic.”

If you talk to anyone who’s returned from a GO trip, I can guarantee their experience was not about the programs they put on. The point wasn’t the house they gutted in New Orleans or the one they built in Mexico. It wasn’t about the wall they painted on Serve Day or the knee they bandaged in Uganda. It was about the conversations they had, the stories they heard, and the people they served alongside. It was about the relationships they built and the people they loved without predisposition or agenda. Our temptation is to do, but I believe God is more concerned with the type of people He wants us to be. They may not remember what we do, but they’ll remember who we are...and who we point to.

There’s a great quote from Mother Teresa that sums it all up. “We cannot do great things, only small things with great love. It is not how much you do but how much love you put into doing it.”

As we dare to Go, I am assured that God is on the move…both in what we do and who we become.

HEATHER MOTICHKO, rockHARBOR STAFF

on the move


What happens When a church loses access to its buildinG on a sunday? can church be cancelled? or is church biGGer than a buildinG?

years aGo, serve day beGan from this circumstance. it Was a day to demonstrate the poWer of God’s love in tanGible Ways in costa mesa. noW, it’s an annual event Where more than 40 churches join their communities across southern california.

God continues to shoW that not only does church exist outside of buildinGs… it thrives.


Wednesday beGan like any other day durinG our time in the

dominican republic. We read some scripture, prepared for a

morninG of buildinG, and looked forWard to as many home visits

as time Would alloW. in our planninG, We didn’t pencil a time to

Witness a miracle. our mistake.

Our team of 30 arrived the Saturday before in the small village of Margara on the southern coast of the Dominican Republic. South of Santo Domingo, Margara is home to some 5,000 people. I saw the residents living under circumstances that I had previously only heard of. They had no running water. No electricity. But what struck me the most, they had no hope.

We partnered with Food for the Hungry to build a playground for the village kids. The goal is to eventually build a school that will provide for the educational needs of the thousand kids living there. For now, we focused on digging, lifting, and moving. Each morning, half our team would head to the build site and half would take to the streets, visiting homes and getting to know as many of the residents as possible. Community leaders joined the teams doing home

visits, acting as translators and bringing insight to the barrio. At lunch, the teams would switch roles.

On Wednesday morning, I set out with our team of seven to do some home visits. This was what I looked forward to most each day. Building the playground was great, knowing these kids would have something tangible to grasp from our time there. But building relationships...that felt more permanent.

One of our community leaders directed us to a house where “the blind woman lived.” He suggested we pray for her. I was surprised at the idea because this community leader was not a Christian. Regardless, we jumped at the opportunity. We walked through a courtyard leading to the home of Lupe and Leona, sisters both in their 80s. Leona greeted us at the front door with hugs and kisses and praised God we had come to see them.

We sat down with Leona and listened to her story. Two years ago, her sister suffered a stroke that both paralyzed the right side of her body and stole her vision in one fell swoop. She hadn’t been out of bed since. Leona broke down as she explained Lupe did not know Jesus. She rejected any God who would allow her to suffer like this.

“My biggest fear,” she said through the tears, “is that I won’t spend eternity with my sister.”

Moises, one of the translators, began to pray over Leona. A few minutes later, he stopped and asked each member of our team to pray simultaneously and out loud for Lupe. I grabbed Leona’s hand as some began to pray in Spanish. Some prayed in English. Some prayed in Spanglish. All I can say is that God received what sounded jumbled and incoherent to us as a beautifully harmonic intercession on Lupe’s behalf. Within moments, the tiny room was slammed wall to wall with God’s presence. Leona’s hand shook so violently I could barely keep hold of it. We prayed for Lupe for about 30 minutes. We never saw her once.

It took our team some time to gather ourselves as we attempted to process what just happened. I found it interesting that each person prayed mostly for Lupe’s salvation, not her physical healing. One of the team members, a 15-year-old, said, “Wow, I’ve never felt the presence of the Holy Spirit like that before.” None of us had.

We wiped away our tears and headed for lunch. I was moving a little slower than usual. I wasn’t sure how to come out of a moment like that. Turns out I didn’t have to. It was less than two hours before Leona stopped us on our way to lunch. She couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Moises turned to us. “She’s saying her sister is out of bed!” We took off running.

When we walked into the courtyard, we saw Lupe in a chair outside her home. Not only was she out of bed for the first time in two years, but she walked outside under her own strength. She greeted us with both arms raised, shouting in English, “Amen! Amen! Amen!” She repeatedly thanked God, lifting her right arm and declaring her healing. Together with Leona, she cried and praised God. The hair on my arm shot straight out.

Moises talked with Lupe, then shouted, “She just told me she can see us!” He waved a finger in front of her and watched as her eyes followed its path. She kept shouting, “I can see! I can see!” Her eyes danced from one person to the next. She said the name, “Jesus” over and over.

A couple of our team members walked over to her and asked if she wanted to know Jesus. Through the interpreter, she responded, “Yes, I want Jesus.” We prayed with her again as her story of redemption came full circle.

I thought back to the Scripture we studied that morning. It was a story of some friends who brought their paralytic buddy before Jesus. When they got to the house where Jesus was at, they couldn’t maneuver through the crowd to get to Him. So they brought their friend to the roof and

lowered him on his mat right in front of where Jesus stood. The Scripture says that when Jesus saw their faith, he forgave the paralytic’s sins and healed him.

As the team finished praying with Lupe, I couldn’t take my eyes off Leona. I thought of all the times in the past two years she must have prayed for Lupe. I thought about that morning as she so adamantly wept about wanting to spend eternity with Lupe. And I can’t help but wonder...was it Leona’s faith that healed her?

Jeff Wallace visited the Dominican Republic as part of GO Global. For more information on The GO Campaign, visit www.rockharbor.org.

I grabbed Leona’s hand as some began to pray in Spanish. Some prayed in English. Some prayed in Spanglish. Within moments, the tiny room was slammed wall to wall with God’s presence.

a neW siGht

“

”


it Was still fairly early in my trip With WoW jam When a team

member spoke over me. her name Was cara said on thursday, i

Would meet someone siGnificant in skid roW. she suGGested i

start prayinG noW for the conversation.

It threw me off, to be honest. But I knew I needed to pray. If this was God, I asked, then give me a vision. A picture instantly began to form in my head. I could see a man’s face. His eyes were hidden by a hat but I could make him out from the nose down. I could see his goatee. And his mouth. I told Cara of the image. She quickly broke in. “That’s the man you are going to meet when we get to Skid Row.”

Our team of nine from rockHARBOR partnered with WOW JAM on the Los Angeles leg of their tour. Their heart is to go to the places most often overlooked. For us, that meant Van Nuys, Long Beach, South Central, and Skid Row. The strategy is simple. Gather volunteers, churches and organizations to throw a community party. Offer free haircuts, groceries, bike repairs, and family portraits to anyone who shows up. Then share God’s love.

The first three days lived up to its billing. In Long Beach, they told us to expect small crowds. They had never been there before. As we pulled up, hundreds of people were camped out, awaiting our arrival. When we asked if anyone wanted to know Jesus, the response was overwhelming. One of the guys running things had to make a plea from the microphone. “If you’re a Christian,” he said, “grab the closest 20 hands raised next to you and pray with them.” God was clearly on the move.

It wasn’t until the fourth day that we finally went to Skid Row. Even as the day started, I didn’t expect to find this guy Cara mentioned. I went about the day much like I did in the previous cities. But then I saw him. He was sitting on the curb wearing a wide-brim straw hat that shielded his eyes. He held an army backpack. He almost looked out of place, like he belonged in Newport Beach, not urban Los Angeles. I knew I had to go talk to him, but

how do you approach that? “Excuse me, God told me you and I are going to have a significant conversation.” Not so much.

I stalled for 20 minutes. A few times, he would look up at me and his eyes would grab hold of mine. Like he was almost daring me to come over. Then he’d put his head back down so that I could only see his nose and mouth. The same face I

remember from the vision. Without question.

I finally walked over and sat down next to him. His name was Terry.

A few years before, Terry lived in Texas and enjoyed a fine living through a landscaping business he built from the ground up. The company was growing and the future looked promising. That is, until his CPA embezzled a large sum of money from the company. He couldn’t recover. After repeated failures to rebuild what was lost, he decided to sever any ties to the life he once held so tightly. Terry moved to California. Within weeks, he found himself on the streets. He’s been on Skid Row ever since.

That’s when it hit me—that could be me. Before any of it happened, Terry’s life looked a lot like mine. He was comfortable, had a prospering business, and surrounded himself with good people. And then the bottom fell out. Spending time with Terry made me realize it could literally happen to anyone. Terry spoke candidly of his new life. “The streets... Living here breaks you down. It takes all of your hope.”

Terry shared about his coming to Jesus the year before. He was so impassioned about that moment. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Not much has changed about Terry’s circumstances. But he has hope now. He clings to it. That and his backpack.

I asked Terry if we could pray together. When we finished, Terry had all this excitement. He asked me if I could pray with him again, only this time, if I could pray louder.

Something like two hundred people made decisions for Jesus that day. At the end, everyone still there formed a circle and began singing the old worship tune, “Awesome God.” Hundreds of people in unison...in the middle of Skid Row…reclaiming the streets for Jesus. I looked around for Terry. He was gathering his things. When I walked up to him, he simply said, “I have to go find my place to sleep tonight.” And he walked away.

Kit Rae spent a week with the WOW JAM team as part of The Go Campaign. For more information on The GO Campaign, visit www.rockharbor.org.

After repeated failures to rebuild what was lost, he decided to sever any ties to the life he once held so tightly. Terry moved to California. Within weeks, he found himself on the streets. He’s been on Skid Row ever since.

a man and a backpack


a drop in the well

This wasn’t just a place devastated by the hurricane and searched by strangers. It was the home where Shane and Chasity once lived. The same neighborhood as their family and friends, all born and raised there. They thought they would live there forever.

Before long, the assault began to feel spiritual in nature. So we gathered the team and prayed. We prayed for protection. We prayed for efficiency, unity, and productivity. And we prayed for encouragement for what seemed an impossible task.

While I drove aimlessly around, the team finished at the first house and traveled to the next. In the blazing sun they mowed and whacked and turned soil. They filled wheelbarrows and dumped the dead vegetation by the curb, time after time. They were amazing. Tireless. A perfect picture of God’s sustenance and protection.

On the front of all the homes in the area, I noticed a spray-painted X on the front door of the houses. Each was left from the search teams that came in after the storm. The X indicates the search date, initials of the search team, number of bodies found, and the number of pets. On this particular house there was something else—it bore the names of a family. “Shane and Chasity,” in small letters. This wasn’t just a place devastated by the hurricane and searched by strangers. It was the home where Shane and Chasity once lived. The same neighborhood as their family and friends, all born and raised there. They thought they would live there forever.

Chasity came and went while the team worked, eventually telling us we had done more than enough. She wanted to sell this house that bore the painful memories of trying to wait out the storm before realizing it was worse than they feared. She told us about getting into their boat when the water was so high they knew evacuation was no longer an option. She was eight months pregnant, and she and Shane loaded up their two daughters, two dogs, and themselves. They drifted slowly down the pitch-dark streets, listening to the cries of their neighbors through broken windows and rooftops. They were helpless to rescue any of them. There wasn’t room left on their boat. She tried to protect her daughters from seeing any of it by keeping their heads down, lying in the bottom of the boat. In the midst of complete devastation and fear, she instinctively protected her children. We asked her how she got those images out of her head. She replied, “You don’t.”

Before we left, we asked Chasity if we could pray for her and her family. She said yes, but I could sense her feeling a bit uncomfortable. We prayed for her anyway…for miracles and for healing from the pain of remembering. That she would find the members of her family she hadn’t seen or heard from since Katrina. That she would find peace. When we finished, we invited her to church. The church that housed our team for the week was preparing for their first service on their new campus. It was right down the street from Chasity’s former home.

The next day we found ourselves working at Celebration’s new campus, getting it ready for Sunday. There was more mowing and clean-up going on, along with a free lunch and food distribution for anyone that needed it. Lots of storytelling and prayer. Southern-style karaoke with Christian lyrics put to 60’s and 70’s tunes being sung by an older couple. The antithesis of Orange County.

Coincidentally, Shane and Chasity’s car broke down a couple of blocks from the church, and she spotted the sea of orange T-shirts she recognized from the day before. She sprinted down the street and greeted each of us with a smile and hug. She told us she cried for two hours after we left. She planned to come to church the next week and she asked for an orange T-shirt like ours.

I thought about my discouragement from before; the doubt that our little team could be anything more a drop in this enormous well. But meeting Chasity changed that. If we only made a difference in one life, one family, it was enough. I pray I never forget that. I pray I never stop praying for Chasity and for the hundreds of thousands just like her. Maybe she’s the image I’m not intended to get out of my head.

Donna Wells spent a week at the New Orleans outpost as part of The GO Campaign. For more information on The GO Campaign, visit www.rockharbor.org.

it Was the day i hit the Wall. i Was exhausted both physically

and emotionally. it’s hard not to Get discouraGed When

you drive around the streets of neW orleans’ st. bernard

parish and see house after house, street after street, of

Gutted structures that used to be someone’s home. hoW

in the World could We make a difference in the midst of

katrina’s devastation? one team of 40 people versus 275,000

homes needinG Work.

We were on ‘yard duty’ that day. The city now charges people $100 per day if their weeds are too high in their uninhabitable homes. Many are no longer houses but merely foundations. It was difficult to imagine myself finding motivation to mow the weeds surrounding a slab of cement that used to house my family’s birthday and holiday gatherings.

It was 92 degrees that day, with 90 percent humidity. There was no shade. The team worked diligently but the danger of heat exhaustion and dehydration was great. And to top it all off, we forgot our lunch. We had to run an errand that took over two hours and ended up being a complete waste of time. We got lost. It was terrible.


550 kids from orange County took ‘the road

less traveled’ at this year’s vaCation BiBle

sChool. during the five day road triP, they

Crafted, they Played, they sang. they also

gave… $8,000 dollars to Be exaCt. eaCh day,

the travelers had an oPPortunity to give

to a Coin drive…either their own money or

suPPort they raised.

all of the money helPs make a vBs PossiBle

in Cluj, romania. the idea is to rePliCate

every asPeCt of the Program—from Craft

suPPlies to CurriCulum—to give to the

romanian kids. and that’s where the kids

stePPed into the oPPortunity to give

themselves away. …out of their aBundanCe

and to a world in need.

“I walked out of roCkHARBOR’s front doors with my two neighbors and my heart so happy that it was going to float away. I raced AnaLisa and Sophia to my family’s big van, and as soon as our seat belts were buckled, our mouths just went up and down, in and out, until we agreed on everything. We hopped out of the car and ran across the street to their house. Then grabbing my backpack I got at VBS, we all hurried down the street. We held it out, taking turns using our mouths to tell each person about how roCkHARBOR’s VBS was collecting money to do a VBS just like ours in Romania.

I dumped all the change and bills onto the carpet, and we began sorting it out into different sorts of change, and then into dollars. I took the small notepad on the ground and began to add it all up… 124 dollars and 89 cents. My concentrated frown turned upside down, “All that money just from going door to door?” I playfully asked my friends. We all smiled.

I put the bulging Ziploc bag full of change into my VBS backpack and started walking into the doors of roCkHARBOR when I realized my backpack had broken from the strain of the coins! Gravity! I ran into the Centre to quickly put my change into the green bucket before anything else broke (my back!).

Later, I sat in my group and waited for the announcement to be made…”And the winner for today is… THE GREEN TEAM!!!!” I screamed with joy for Romania (and for joy of the Green Team winning!).”

Farrah Fox, age 10

a team from roCkHARBOR is Currently in

romania modeling the road triP vBs to hoPe

ChurCh. next summer, other ChurChes in

Cluj will run the vBs for their own kids.

they, too, rePliCate all asPeCts of the

vBs—even the Coin drive.

on the oPPosite Page are Photos from

Cluj’s first BaPtist ChurCh where they

just finished the round uP CurriCulum

modeled to them last summer. in one of

the Poorest PlaCes in the world, 250 kids

raised $200 for Children in southern

romania. one girl gave $20. it was her iCe

Cream Budget for the entire summer.

rounding up a road trip


This year marked my first Serve Day experience. “A Day in the Park” is something that happens every Saturday where a couple of people meet in a Costa Mesa park and invite everyone in the neighborhood to join them for a meal and games for the kids. It was started by a couple of people who simply want to live in community… and love their neighbor just because they’re their neighbor.

I admit I dove into the project with an agenda. I wanted to encounter life change. I have heard countless accounts of what God is doing through The GO Campaign. And now I wanted to see it for myself… God’s love on display and transformation in action.

When I first showed up, I helped with the preparation stages of the day. And I met Rod. It’s funny looking back because I probably wouldn’t have taken notice of him had it not been for the woman he was talking to. She looked so intently at him as he spoke, literally hanging on his every word. And she said nothing more than the occasional, “oh wow,” or “that’s incredible.”

I joined the conversation just as Rod said, “Yep… four months it took me to walk to Oregon. Started in April and finished by September so I would miss the winter.”

A retired Navy officer, Rod said the vision started about this time last year. “I felt the Lord saying, ‘Take up your cross and follow me.’” And that’s what he did. Literally. He made a 14 foot tall by 8 foot wide cross, threw it in a cart, and grabbed a map of California’s historic Route 1.

His plan? “Didn’t have one,” he says. “The point was just to talk to as many people as possible and let God do the rest.”

I thought about his theology and The GO Campaign. I thought about the houses, schools, and playgrounds being built. I thought about the VBS in Romania and the camps in Los Angeles. And then I thought about the stories I’ve heard from those who have gone and come back. What strikes me is that these stories never focus on the tangible. Not once has someone focused on the houses or the VBS or the camps.

They talk about the people. They talk about the conversations. And they talk about the stories. From a miracle in the Dominican Republic, to a Ugandan witch doctor burning his charms, to an Orange County twenty something stopping to talk to the same homeless person on her block that she ignored on every other day… this is where God is constantly showing up.

Sometimes it’s the final step toward redemption and a heroic ending. Other times it’s something small and otherwise unnoticeable. But I’ve learned something in talking to Rod and the many returning this summer…

Big or small, God is on the move.

JEFF GIDEON, rockHARBOR STAFF

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creditseditorjeff gideon [email protected]

desiGnerin [email protected]

Writersdonna wellsjenna bartlosheena dewallfarrah fox

desiGners and photoGraphersmike musserralph woodwill masjohn klewerjeff wallacejohn norlingsara flynndaniel brudalacee kellerrichelle dantedavid yu

sponsor indian orphans

Her name is Jyothi. Last year, she came to the Harvest India rockHARBOR Hostel from the streets of the local red light district. Her mother is a prostitute there and is HIV positive.

Jyothi doesn’t talk or smile much but when she does, her face lights up. She attends daily sewing and embroidery classes but might soon return to the streets with her mother. It’s unclear if she wants to go or is being forced to.

Please pray for Jyothi. Pray for protection. Pray for freedom. And pray against any schemes to keep her in the red light area.

Jyothi is financially supported through The GO Campaign cause, ‘Sponsor Indian orphans and Bible college students’. For more information on the 12 causes, visit www.rockharbor.org.

a call to

pray

In April, God called rockHARBOR to a week of prayer. Brokenness was on display.

Confessions were made. And lives changed. When the week ended, the feeling was

clear. This must continue. Now, each Wednesday, rockHARBOR gathers to pray.

To listen. To seek God. In this posture of dependence, God is on the move...

I HAVE ALWAYS PRAYED WITH MY CHILDREN AT NIGHT... NEVER LIKE THIS BEFORE. • It’s difficult to see prayer as routine or stale when

we begin to realize the degree to which we are invited into God’s work. • IT IS REFRESHING TO TAKE A BREATH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK AND

PRAY WITH OTHERS. • It’s healing to me... praying, receiving prayer, and praying for others... it lightens my spirit. • HELPS ME REGAIN

PERSPECTIVE OF WHO GOD IS AND WHO I AM BEFORE HIM. • In dealing with my illness, it’s helped me take my focus off myself and onto

those around me. • I’VE HAD PRAYERS ANSWERED, BUT WHAT’S MOST NOTABLE IS THE CHANGE I SEE IN MY POSTURE TOWARD

LIFE. • Prayer was an amazing part of our trip to Uganda. Everyday we laid hands on people, asking God to heal them and praying with them. Our team

constantly prayed for each other. I know the team was ready to be on the front lines because of its involvement with the prayer gatherings. Learning how to pray

and love prayer was more valuable than almost anything else the team learned before we left. • RESTORED MARRIAGE, CHAINS OF ADDICTION COMPLETELY

BROKEN... • God has begun to tear down walls and restore what’s been taken by sin. He is literally restoring my soul.

• I HAVE DEFINITELY BEEN ABLE TO FIND A qUIET YET STRONG PEACE INSIDE. • I haven’t had a single pill of Xanax since being prayed

over. • I NOW GO INTO EACH WEEK WITH WEDNESDAY NIGHT AS A NON NEGOTIABLE.

345 fisCHer avenue i COsta mesa, Ca 92626 [email protected] i 714.384.0914

WWW.rOCkHarbOr.Org

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MOTION Issue #4

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