I Am Seen: Uriel’s Story

1,680 words, 9 minutes read time.

I am Uriel. I have been many things in my life — a servant of the queen, her treasurer, a man entrusted with her wealth, her correspondence, her secrets. Respected, feared, admired. Yet in the quiet of my heart, I have often felt… unseen. Not just overlooked by men, but unseen by God.

For years, I had believed that my position, my intelligence, my loyalty, and my ability to navigate the intrigues of court life could define me. That I could earn respect, perhaps even God’s favor, through accomplishment. But the truth I carried in my heart told a different story. I was a eunuch, a man marked by society as incomplete, and no title, no honor, no treasure could hide the ache of exclusion.

That day, I rode south on the desert road from Jerusalem to Gaza. My chariot rattled over stones that seemed to mock the rhythm of my heartbeat, the sun pressing down with a relentless weight. In my hands was a scroll — Isaiah 53 — the words of the suffering servant, pierced for our transgressions, led like a lamb to the slaughter. I had read these words many times before, but today they burned differently.

As I read, I reflected on Isaiah 56:3-5 — the promise to eunuchs and the marginalized. I felt a warmth in my chest as if God were speaking directly to me: “Some are born that way, some are made that way, some choose devotion for the kingdom of heaven. God sees you. You are not lesser. You are not overlooked.”

Could it really be true? Could a man like me — excluded from family, from the society I served, defined by usefulness rather than worth — truly belong? Could I be accepted by God?

I thought of the queen’s court. Every day, I managed treasures, counseled ministers, carried the queen’s correspondence. I was trusted with her wealth, her secrets, her reputation. Men came to me for advice, for judgment, for strategy. Yet I walked among them as a man seen only for what he could do, not who he was. Every glance reminded me: I was different — useful, yes, but incomplete.

I reflected on my own pride. I had relied on titles and intellect, on influence and cunning, to craft my identity. I had learned to hide my loneliness behind a mask of competence. But in the heat of the desert and the stillness of my soul, I realized that all of it was hollow. Who truly saw me? Who truly knew me?

Then he appeared. Philip. Walking steadily toward me, eyes focused, yet gentle. Later I learned he had been sent by an angel of the Lord — divinely orchestrated, guided to this road at exactly this moment. My breath caught. There was authority in him, yes, but also a kindness I had rarely encountered. Something in his presence radiated God’s intent.

Philip spoke simply: “Do you understand what you are reading?”

I hesitated, pride rising as it always did. I knew the scriptures. I could recite them, interpret them, debate them with scholars. But he did not speak to test my knowledge. His question invited honesty. I spoke of Isaiah 53, of the suffering servant who bore our pain, pierced for our transgressions. I confessed my confusion, my longing, my sense of unworthiness. “How can a man like me,” I asked, “find a place in God’s kingdom? I am a eunuch. I have no sons, no family legacy. I am… incomplete.”

Philip nodded, his expression steady, patient. “The Spirit opens hearts to see what is true,” he said. “God looks at the heart, not at status or appearance. He sees you, Uriel. He calls you.”

I felt again the echo of Jesus’ words about eunuchs — self-denial, surrender, devotion beyond societal expectations. This was the path God offered: not pride, not titles, not the approval of men, but humility and obedience. My walls began to crumble. The pride that had insulated me for years, the fear of exposure, the ache of exclusion — all were being unmasked in the light of God’s acceptance.

I thought back to my days in the palace: the careful calculations, the whispered secrets, the constant weighing of trust and betrayal. I had been a man of influence, yes, but never a man free. Always performing, always measured. Always hiding the parts of myself that the world deemed “incomplete.” I realized then that God’s kingdom did not measure me by what society demanded, but by what He saw — a heart capable of faith, a soul capable of surrender.

I looked down at the water in the desert ravine, a narrow pool glimmering under the sun. My chest tightened. “See,” I said to Philip, pointing, “here is water! What prevents me from being baptized?”

We left the chariot together. I stepped into the cool water, the desert air contrasting sharply against the stream’s embrace. As I lowered myself beneath the surface, I felt more than water surrounding me — I felt the weight of years of shame and fear, pride and secrecy, lifting. When I rose again, I gasped, tasting freedom for the first time in my life.

Philip smiled. We sat for a while on the bank, the scroll still in my hands. He asked quietly about my life, my fears, my doubts. I spoke of the isolation I had felt as a eunuch in a society that prizes legacy and masculinity, of the times I wondered if God could ever use someone like me. He listened. And I understood, in a way I never had before, that God’s acceptance is not earned through achievement or conformity, but received through honesty, humility, and surrender.

I mounted my chariot once more, the scroll of Isaiah 53 still in my hands, but now a new understanding in my heart. I was not merely a treasurer, not merely a eunuch, not merely a man defined by society. I was seen. Fully. By God. And in that sight, I was made whole.

As I rode down the road, I thought of men I knew — proud, successful, burdened by secrecy or shame, afraid to be seen as they truly are. I thought of the armor we wear, the masks we craft, the chains of pride we carry. I wanted to tell them: true strength is not measured by titles, wealth, or control. True strength is courage, humility, and surrender. To be seen by God is freedom beyond any earthly measure.

I am Uriel. I am seen. I am known. And I will never be the same.

Author’s Note – Inclusion and God’s Promise

There are times in life when we feel invisible — when the world notices what we do but never who we truly are. Perhaps you’ve carried the weight of pride, fear, or isolation, wondering if anyone really sees you.

We don’t know the name of the eunuch that day on the desert road, but God does. History preserves his title, his position, his nationality — but not the man’s name. Yet in God’s eyes, he is known. He has a new name, one that is written on a memorial, within the walls of God’s temple. He new name is etched in eternity. Isaiah 56:4–8 promises:

To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,
who choose what pleases me and hold fast to my covenant—
to them I will give within my temple and its walls a memorial and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that will endure forever.

And foreigners who bind themselves to the Lord to minister to him,
to love the name of the Lord, and to be his servants,
all who keep the Sabbath without desecrating it
and who hold fast to my covenant—these I will bring to my holy mountain and give them joy in my house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house will be called a house of prayer for all nations.”

Notice that Isaiah specifically promises that “their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be accepted…for all nations.” God intended the temple to be a place where those excluded by society — eunuchs, foreigners, outsiders — could encounter Him fully.

Yet centuries later, Jesus braided a whip and overturned the tables of the money changers in the temple. Why? Because the vendors were in the Court of the Gentiles, the only place where non-Jews could approach God. They had turned God’s house — God’s house of prayer for all nations — into a marketplace that excluded and exploited outsiders.

This act reveals God’s heart: He calls the marginalized to worship freely, and He opposes systems that keep them out. The eunuch’s story on the desert road echoes this truth: even if society excludes or overlooks you, God sees you, welcomes you, and your devotion is honored in His eternal house.

May this promise speak to anyone who has ever felt unseen or excluded. You are seen. You are known. And your name is written on the walls of God’s eternal temple.

Call to Action

If this story struck a chord, don’t just scroll on. Join the brotherhood—men learning to build, not borrow, their strength. Subscribe for more stories like this, drop a comment about where you’re growing, or reach out and tell me what you’re working toward. Let’s grow together.

D. Bryan King

Sources

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

#Acts8Story #authenticFaith #baptismStory #BibleStoryForMen #BibleTeaching #biblicalCharacterStudy #biblicalDevotion #biblicalInspiration #biblicalMeditation #BiblicalReflection #biblicalShortStory #ChristianDevotion #ChristianEncouragement #ChristianEncouragementForMen #ChristianInspiration #ChristianNarrative #ChristianShortStory #ChristianStorytelling #ChristianStorytellingForMen #ChristianTestimony #divineCalling #EthiopianEunuch #eunuchAndGod #eunuchCourage #eunuchFaith #eunuchIdentity #eunuchInBible #eunuchObedience #eunuchReflection #eunuchSalvation #faithAndHumility #faithAndSurrender #faithInGod #faithJourney #faithLesson #GodKnowsYourName #GodSeesYou #GodSAcceptance #GodSEternalPromise #GodSHouse #GodSPromise #inclusionInGodSKingdom #inclusionInScripture #Isaiah56 #lifeTransformation #marginalizedInBible #menAndFaith #newBeginnings #PhilipAndTheEunuch #prayerForAllNations #scriptureStory #spiritualAwakening #SpiritualGrowth #spiritualMetaphor #surrenderToGod #trustGodStory #UrielStory

The Power of Silence: Hearing God’s Voice in Stillness

1,210 words, 6 minutes read time.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

I used to think silence was weakness. When I was younger, I filled every empty moment with noise—music, podcasts, conversations, podcasts stacked on podcasts, even the mental noise of constant planning and strategizing. Quiet made me uncomfortable, maybe even exposed. But over the years, I’ve learned something I didn’t expect: silence isn’t the absence of strength; it’s where strength is formed.

You know what finally forced me to take silence seriously? I hit a season where life was louder than I could handle. Work was demanding, family expectations were overwhelming, and my mind was running like a man trying to outrun a storm. I’d open my Bible and read words but never absorb them. I’d pray but never slow down long enough to listen. I’d go to church but walk out the same man I walked in as—tired, wired, and spiritually deaf.

One morning, I sat on the edge of my bed and muttered, “God, why don’t You ever speak to me?”
And in that moment, almost like a gentle whisper, I sensed this truth:
“I’ve been speaking. You just haven’t been still enough to hear Me.”

That was the day Psalm 46:10 hit me like a brick. “Be still, and know that I am God.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an invitation—and a command. God wasn’t asking me to figure out everything. He was asking me to stop, be silent, and let Him be God.

When God Meets Men in the Quiet

Silence is woven all throughout Scripture. And it’s always where God does some of His best work.

Think of Elijah. In 1 Kings 19, God wasn’t in the wind, or the earthquake, or the fire. He was in the “gentle whisper” (v. 12). Elijah didn’t hear Him until the noise around him—and inside him—finally settled.

Or Hannah in 1 Samuel 1, praying with such quiet desperation that the priest thought she was drunk. Her silent prayer was the one God answered, and it changed the course of Israel’s history.

Even Jesus Himself—the Son of God—regularly withdrew to “lonely places” (Luke 5:16) to pray. If Jesus needed silence, then brother, you and I definitely need it.

The truth is, the Bible never treats silence like a luxury. It’s a discipline. A lifeline. A place of encounter.

Why Silence Is So Hard for Men

If you’re anything like me, silence might not come naturally. Maybe your life is loud because your responsibilities are loud. When you’re working hard, leading your family, trying to stay faithful, trying to keep your head above water, it’s easy to run on adrenaline instead of anointing.

Silence threatens our sense of control. In stillness, we face our own hearts—our fears, our frustrations, our unresolved places, the prayers we’ve been avoiding. And honestly? Sometimes it feels easier to stay busy.

But busy men become burnt-out men. And burnt-out men become spiritually numb. Silence isn’t God’s way of slowing you down to weaken you—it’s His way of slowing you down to strengthen you.

Mark 6:31 (NIV) says, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” Jesus wasn’t just trying to give His disciples a break. He was teaching them a rhythm. A pattern. A lifestyle of stepping away from noise to hear the Father.

What Silence Opens Up in Us

When I started making room for silence, it wasn’t peaceful at first. It was awkward. My thoughts ran wild. My emotions bubbled up. I wanted to grab my phone, turn something on, distract myself—anything to avoid the discomfort.

But something changed over time.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, silence started doing deeper work in me.

I began to hear God’s voice not as a dramatic boom, but as a steady whisper. A nudging. A reminder. A conviction. A comfort.

I started to notice patterns in my own thinking—places where fear spoke louder than faith, where shame had shaped my decisions, where I didn’t trust God as much as I claimed.

Silence taught me dependence. It taught me honesty. It taught me how to sit before God without performing.

Stillness isn’t passive. It’s courageous. It takes guts to get quiet before God and let Him speak to places we’ve neglected. But that’s where transformation starts.

How to Create Stillness in a Loud Life

Let me be blunt: silence won’t magically appear in your day. You have to fight for it. You have to carve it out like a man carving a trail through the woods.

Here are practices that have changed me:

I started waking up fifteen minutes earlier—not to be productive, but to be present.

I sit with an open Bible and a journal and ask, “Lord, what do You want to say to me today?” Sometimes He speaks through a verse. Sometimes He brings a person to mind to pray for. Sometimes He simply quiets my anxious thoughts.

I take short silent walks, no phone, no agenda. Just breathing in God’s presence.

I end my day by asking one simple question: “Where did I see You today?” The answers—when I slow down long enough—always surprise me.

Silence isn’t the goal. Hearing Him is. But silence is the doorway.

The Strength You Find in Stillness

Men who learn to be still become men who know their God. Men who know their God become men who walk with courage, clarity, humility, and resilience.

I don’t know what noise is filling your life right now. Maybe it’s pressure. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s disappointment, temptation, or the ache of some unanswered prayer. Whatever it is, I know this: God speaks in silence. He moves in stillness. And He’s inviting you there.

Not to withdraw from the world—but to reenter it with a heart anchored in Him.

Be still, brother. He is God. And when you slow down long enough to listen, you’ll find He’s been speaking all along.

Closing Prayer

Father, teach me to be still. Quiet the noise in my heart and mind so I can hear Your voice. Give me the courage to sit with You in silence and let You shape me from the inside out. Speak, Lord—I’m listening. Amen.

Reflection / Journaling Questions

  • What is one thing God might be trying to say to me that I’ve been too busy to hear?
  • Where is noise—external or internal—drowning out God’s voice in my life?
  • What part of stillness feels hardest for me, and why?
  • When was the last time I clearly sensed God speaking to me?
  • How can I intentionally build silence into my daily rhythm this week?

Call to Action

If this devotional encouraged you, don’t just scroll on. Subscribe for more devotionals, share a comment about what God is teaching you, or reach out and tell me what you’re reflecting on today. Let’s grow in faith together.

D. Bryan King

Sources

Psalm 46:10 – NIV
1 Kings 19:11–12 – NIV
Luke 5:16 – NIV
Mark 6:31 – NIV
Renovaré – Solitude & Silence
Dallas Willard – Hearing God
Ruth Haley Barton – Solitude & Silence
John Mark Comer – Teachings
Desiring God – God’s Voice
Bible Project – “Shema: Listen”
Renovaré – Spiritual Formation
Christianity Today – Spiritual Formation

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

#beStillAndKnow #biblicalMeditation #BiblicalReflection #ChristianCalm #ChristianEncouragementForMen #ChristianMeditation #ChristianMindfulness #ChristianPeace #ChristianReflection #ChristianSilence #ChristianSpiritualGrowth #dailyDevotionalForMen #devotionForQuietTime #ElijahGentleWhisper #faithForMen #faithInChaos #faithTransformation #GodSpeaksInSilence #GodSGuidance #GodSPresence #GodSWhisper #hearingGodInStillness #hearingGodSVoice #HolySpiritGuidance #howToHearGod #innerQuiet #JesusSolitude #leadWithFaith #listeningForGod #listeningPrayer #menSeekingGod #menSDevotional #menSFaithJourney #morningDevotionForMen #overcomingBusyness #prayerLifeForMen #Psalm4610Devotional #quietTimeHabits #quietTimeWithGod #quietingTheHeart #restingInGod #scriptureMeditation #silenceBeforeGod #slowingDownSpiritually #solitudeAndSilence #soulRest #spiritualClarity #spiritualDisciplineForMen #spiritualFormation #spiritualIntimacy #spiritualRenewal #spiritualReset #spiritualSilence #spiritualStillness #spiritualStrength #spiritualWisdomForMen #stillnessWithGod #transformationInSilence

When Everything Shifts: Holding On to a Faithful God When Life Refuses to Stay Still

1,671 words, 9 minutes read time.

The Ache Every Man Knows When Life Changes Overnight

I don’t know about you, but change has rarely asked my permission before invading my life. It tends to show up unannounced—sometimes as a slow drift I barely notice, sometimes as a punch to the gut that leaves me standing there wondering what just happened. Jobs shift. Relationships stretch. Kids grow up. Parents age. Bodies break down in ways they didn’t use to. Friend circles change. Dreams you once carried with conviction evolve into quieter questions that keep you awake at night.

If you’ve lived long enough, you know the feeling. Life refuses to stay still.

And if you’re anything like me, change can feel like a thief. Not always a cruel one—but one that steals the illusion that I’m in control. One that forces me to see how fragile I really am. It exposes what I depend on and what I trust in. And nearly every time, it makes me ask the same question: Where is God in all this?

That’s why Isaiah 43:1–2 hits me so deeply, especially when change is shaking everything loose. The Lord says: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you…” (NIV).

I don’t know about you, but I need that honesty. God doesn’t pretend life won’t feel like deep waters. He doesn’t promise to keep us from the things that unsettle us. But He does promise not to abandon us in the middle of them.

And for men who carry responsibilities, burdens, and expectations—sometimes silently—that promise is oxygen.

When Change Reveals What We’re Leaning On

Isaiah wrote these words to a people who were facing the upheaval of exile, displacement, and uncertainty. They weren’t just dealing with change—they were dealing with loss, confusion, and fear about the future. Their identity, their routines, their sense of place in the world had all been violently rearranged.

I’ve felt that. Maybe you have too.

There are moments when you realize the life you thought you had is no longer the life right in front of you. When I’ve walked through seasons like that, something always gets exposed in me: the things I was depending on more than God. Stability. Routine. Financial predictability. Familiar roles. My own strength.

It’s not that those things are bad. It’s just that they can’t carry the weight I keep trying to put on them.

Isaiah’s audience had relied on the temple, the land, and their national identity. Those things had shaped them. But now they were being reminded of something deeper: God Himself was their anchor, not the structures around their lives.

And that’s the same reminder I need when life changes faster than I know how to adapt.

“Do Not Fear”—Not Because You’re Tough, But Because You’re Known

God tells Israel, “Do not fear,” but He doesn’t say it as a motivational speech or a locker-room rally cry. He roots it in identity: “I have summoned you by name; you are mine.”

Whenever I read that, it hits me in the places I don’t talk about publicly.

I need a God who doesn’t just tolerate me but actually knows me. A God who isn’t surprised by the things that surprise me. A God who can handle the parts of my story that I can’t control. You want to talk about something that strengthens a man? Being known—truly known—by a faithful God who isn’t going anywhere.

You may be walking through a season where your identity feels unstable. Maybe your job changed. Maybe a relationship shifted. Maybe you’re aging in ways that make you wonder if your best days are behind you. Maybe you’re transitioning into a new responsibility that scares you more than you admit.

But here’s the steady truth Isaiah reminds me of:
Circumstances change, but belonging doesn’t.
Life moves, but God’s claim on you does not.
Your story evolves, but His faithfulness doesn’t loosen its grip.

I don’t pump myself up with the words “Do not fear.” I anchor myself to the reason behind them.

The Waters and the Flames Are Not Imaginary

One thing I love about Isaiah is that he refuses to sugarcoat reality. God doesn’t say “If you pass through the waters,” but “When.” Change is assumed. Hardship is expected. Uncertainty is normal.

He also doesn’t call them puddles. They’re waters. Rivers. Flames. Things that feel overwhelming and dangerous.

I’ve had seasons like that—when the ground dropped out beneath me and the only prayer I could manage was, “God, please don’t let me drown in this.” Sometimes it was stress at work. Sometimes family stuff. Sometimes heartbreak. Sometimes just the accumulation of disappointments that were small individually but felt heavy together.

God doesn’t dismiss any of that. He meets His people inside it.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.”

Not after.
Not around.
Not on the other side.
With you—in it.

There have been days when I didn’t feel His presence. Days when I wondered if He was paying attention. Days when I doubted that promise. But every time I look back, I see the same pattern: God was doing His most important work in me not when life was stable, but when everything was shifting.

The Faithfulness You Don’t Notice Until Later

What I’ve learned about God’s faithfulness is that it often makes the most sense in hindsight. In real time, it feels foggy, confusing, and sometimes even frustrating. God rarely explains His timing. He doesn’t always show you why things changed. He doesn’t always give you the blueprint.

But He never leaves you.

I remember one particular season when everything around me seemed to collapse at once. Work uncertainty. Family pressures. Health concerns. Emotional exhaustion. It felt like all the rivers were overflowing at the same time. I prayed prayers that were more like groans. I wrestled with God’s silence. I questioned whether I had done something wrong.

Looking back, though, I can see what He was doing. He was shifting things I was never meant to hold onto. He was moving me away from false foundations I had mistaken for stability. He was teaching me to trust Him in ways I never had to when life was predictable.

That’s why God talks about fire in this passage. Fire is the thing that removes what can’t last and strengthens what can. Change can feel like that—hot, uncomfortable, and disorienting. But it also purifies. It clarifies. It reveals what has been true all along: God’s faithfulness endures, even when everything else gets stripped away.

What Does It Look Like for a Man to Trust God in Seasons of Change?

Trusting God in change doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It doesn’t mean hiding your fear or powering through like nothing bothers you. It doesn’t mean refusing to feel the weight of what’s shifting.

For me, trusting God has looked a lot more honest.

Sometimes it means telling God, “I don’t understand this, but I’m choosing to trust You anyway.”
Sometimes it means admitting, “I feel overwhelmed right now.”
Sometimes it means confessing, “I’m scared I’m not enough for what’s coming.”
Sometimes it means asking, “Show me where You are in this.”

And sometimes it means allowing godly people into your life instead of trying to carry everything alone.

Trust isn’t toughness. Trust is surrendering the illusion that you can manage everything by grit and determination alone. Trust is remembering that you are God’s—not just in the peaceful moments, but in the messy, changing, uncertain ones.

When Change Isn’t the Enemy

Here’s something I’ve learned the hard way:
Change is not the enemy.
Fear is.
Control is.
Isolation is.
Self-reliance is.

Change is often the doorway God uses to move you from one season into the next. It’s the tool He uses to grow you, refine you, strengthen you, and shape you into a man who actually depends on Him.

When the waters rise, God walks with you. When the fires rage, God protects what needs to remain. When you feel lost, God calls you by name. When you’re unsure, God invites you to trust Him again.

I don’t know what you’re facing right now. But if life is shifting under your feet, hear this with fresh ears:
God is not pacing nervously beside you.
He’s not confused by what happened.
He’s not surprised by the change.
He’s faithful—right in the thick of it.

And sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a deep breath and say, “Lord, I’m choosing to believe You’re in this—even if I can’t see it yet.”

A Prayer for When Everything Feels Like It’s Changing

God, You see the weight I’m carrying and the change I’m walking through. You know the fear I don’t say out loud. Thank You for being faithful even when I’m uncertain. Help me trust You in the waters and the fire. Remind me that I’m Yours. Strengthen my heart today. Amen.

Reflection Questions

  • Who could you talk to about the change you’re walking through instead of carrying it alone?
  • What recent change in your life has felt overwhelming, confusing, or disorienting?
  • Where have you noticed yourself depending more on stability than on God Himself?
  • What would it look like for you to trust God honestly—not perfectly—in this current season?

Call to Action

If this devotional encouraged you, don’t just scroll on. Subscribe for more devotionals, share a comment about what God is teaching you, or reach out and tell me what you’re reflecting on today. Let’s grow in faith together.

D. Bryan King

Sources

Isaiah 43:1–2 (NIV)
Desiring God – Christian Articles
The Gospel Coalition – Theology Resources
Blue Letter Bible – Lexicon & Commentary Tools
BibleProject – Biblical Themes
Ligonier Ministries – Teaching Resources
Crossway Articles
Christianity Today – Faith Articles
Renovaré – Spiritual Formation
Dwell Bible – Scripture Listening
NavPress – Christian Books
IVP – Bible Study Resources

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

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