Trauma as Exile: Helping Sufferers Find Home in Christ

The following is an uncorrected transcript generated by a transcription service. Before quoting in print, please check the corresponding audio for accuracy. 

Darby Strickland
But yeah, just a little preamble before, because I’m speaking probably to trauma survivors. I’m not going to give grotesque details in this talk, but I am going to reference the rape of Tamar in scripture, and then that’ll be it. So I just want to start off with just a story. A few years ago, I sat with a woman who has survived something quite frightening in her life, and she was safe now. Thankfully, she was in a very supportive church. Life on the outside looked quite normal again, actually. But one Sunday morning, something small happened in our church foyer. A door slammed behind her. She startled, and her hands and her whole body began shaking. She said, “Later, I knew I was safe, but I just panicked. And then she said something I have never forgotten. She says, “It feels like everyone else is living in the same world, but I somehow have been pushed into a different one. And that sentence actually stayed with me, because scripture has a word for that experience, right? Exile, and some of you already know this feeling. Your life kept moving, but you did not fully return to it. And when we begin to see trauma through the lens of exile, something remarkable happens. We realize the story of scripture is actually not distant from suffering like this, it is filled with it, and more importantly, it is a story of a God who enters exile with His people. Now, our time together, in the short time I have, is not about turning you into trauma experts, it’s about helping you become wiser and more tender to the people around you who are hurting. Trauma sufferers are already in our churches, whether we see them or not. The question is not whether people will suffer deeply. The question is when they do, will they find refuge in Christ and His people? Now, for many Christians, trauma feels mysterious. I would say even technical, right? Something that belongs in counseling offices or maybe to brain science, rather than in the ordinary life of the church. And when suffering begins to sound technical, something subtle happens, right? The church kind of steps back, and sufferers feel more alone. Now, others resist the word trauma altogether. They worry it’s a fad, or perhaps an overreaction, and this can sound like judgment, right? If you trusted God more, you wouldn’t feel this way. Fear and distress are ultimately faith problems. Some assume that more faith should mean fewer symptoms of anguish, but scripture shows us something we desperately need to remember faith often persists alongside distress, and this is where the category of exile, I think, helps us. It serves us well, because exile teaches us that something we might otherwise miss. You can belong to God and still be disoriented, you can trust Him and still tremble, you can be faithful and still feel like you are living in a land you did not choose, and if we collapse all suffering into a measure of our faith, we will misread scripture for the very people it most tenderly speaks to. So I want to trace a simple pattern with you through scripture, that trauma pushes us into exile, that Jesus meets us there, and that God rebuilds what has been broken stone by stone, right? Dislocation, incarnation, and rebuilding. Now we use the word trauma to describe what happens when suffering overwhelms a person, right? The capacity to cope or disrupts their sense of safety, their meaning, their connection to others, even their experience of the Lord. And scripture gives us lots of words for this too: anguish, distress, affliction, fear, terror, groaning, reproach, and restlessness. Trauma literally shifts the ground beneath someone’s feet. It raises questions like, Who am I now? Is anyone or anywhere safe? Can I rely on anyone? Where was God? Why do both painful and beautiful memories now hurt? Life continues, but the world no longer feels the same, and that’s why trauma often feels like exile. It’s the experience of living in a world that no longer feels like home. In Second Samuel 13, we meet Tamar, right? She’s the daughter of King David. She moves throughout the palace clothed in robes, and the one that marks her dignity and her belonging, but Amen, her half-brother, plots against her. He pretends to be ill, and he asked Tamar to come and prepare food for him.

Darby Strickland
She comes in kindness, and when she is alone with him, he learns. Turns her in and grabs her, and she pleads with him, “No, my brother, do not violate me, for such a thing has never been done in Israel, or not been. Excuse me, the NIV tells us, but he refused to listen to her, and since he was stronger than she, he raped her. Now the story is stark, right, almost unbearably honest, but what happens afterwards is what I want us to notice. Amen commands, “Put this woman out of my presence and bolt the door after her. Tamar tears the robes that marked her dignity. She puts ashes on her head and she goes away crying aloud. Then her brother Absalom finds her, and instead of naming evil, he says, “Has Amon, your brother, been with you? Hold your peace, my sister. Do not take this thing to heart. Her brother, who should have tended to her wounds, deepens the harm. He minimizes what happens. He never even names the act as a violation. He tells her not to be upset. It was her brother, a detail that makes the violation worse, right? Her voice is silenced, her grief is minimized, her future collapses. And then scripture gives us one devastating line. So Tamar lived a desolate woman in her brother Absalom’s house. She lived but desolate. Trauma dislocates. Tamar remains near the palace, but she is no longer at home. She is alive, but her whole world has been rearranged, her relationships are fragmented, her voice has gone unheard, and this helps us see that trauma does not just live in the moment of horror, it lives in the aftermath, and if you keep reading Second Samuel, see that Tamar story does not remain a private tragedy. David does not act decisively. Absalom nurses his rage. Amon is murdered, and the whole kingdom begins to fracture. And scripture quietly helps us see something really important. When trauma is ignored, it rarely stays contained. Personal dev is devastation and communal unraveling often intertwine, and we see this today when abuse is minimized, when victims are silenced, when communities protect perpetrators instead of the wounded. The damage spreads, right, and this is why healing cannot be merely individual. The people of God, we must become a place where wounds are named, justice is pursued, and safety is rebuilt. Tamar’s story actually quietly foreshadows something larger in Israel’s history, generations after Tamar, Jerusalem herself will be called desolate. The prophets describe her as a widow, like a woman stripped bare, a city exposed, lamentations opened. How lonely sits the city that was full of people, once full, now emptied, once safe, now exposed, and the people were carried away in exile to Babylon. And we read in Psalm 137 by the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. They allow themselves to remember, they make room for grief. They are sitting, and they are weeping. And when their captors demand songs of worship, they say, How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? Now that is not unbelief, that is disorientation. The songs that they once sang freely, now feel stuck in their throats. They have not lost God, but they have lost home. This is exile, displacement, loss of what once felt secure, living in a place they did not choose, longing for what feels lost. And Psalm 137 reveals something else, remembering can hurt. When we remembered Zion, we wept. Zion was not supposed to be the place of trauma, it was home, beauty, worship, belonging, and safety, the place where God once sang freely, or God’s people once sang freely, and yet remembering it brought them pain. Trauma sufferers often experience the same kind of sorrow. Sometimes it’s not only the bad memories that hurt, good memories hurt too. Remember. Remembering what life used to feel like, who you were before suffering rearranged everything. Remembering relationships that once felt safe, when worship felt easier. Remembering a joy that now feels elusive. Even goodness can ache when it feels unreachable, and this can feel deeply confusing. Why does remembering something so beautiful now make me cry? Why does gratitude hurt? You miss parts of yourself that you cannot seem to get back, because trauma changes a person’s relationship to memory and to themselves.

Darby Strickland
Now, the exiles did not only grieve Babylon, right, they grieved Zion, and the contrast is intensified in this ache, and this is one of the reasons why healing from trauma is often more complicated than simply moving on. Sufferers are not only trying to forget pain, they are mourning beauty, safety, innocence, the life that they thought they would have, and scripture is tender enough to make room for that kind of grief. Psalm 137 does not rebuke their tears, nor does it rush them to sing; it simply records their weeping, and scripture recognizes that this dislocation lingers, and if you have walked with someone who has suffered deeply, you may have already noticed this, but scripture never tells the story of exile without telling us about the God who meets his people there mercifully into this long story of desolation, Jesus comes right, the greater Son of David steps into the devastation of David’s line, where Tamar’s robes were torn in shame, Jesus’s garments were divided at the cross, where Tamar cried out in desolation, Jesus cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? And in that cry, Jesus takes upon his lips the anguish of all who feel abandoned. He is not absent from our deepest sorrows. He has come all the way into them, bearing our griefs, carrying our dislocation, so that no suffering believer ever suffers alone, and that is our hope. Because when trauma rearranges a life, when someone feels displaced inside their own story, they are not in a territory that Christ has not walked. He entered exile to be with us in ours, and if exile disorients people, then a church must learn how to sit with disoriented people. We must be careful not to correct before we have cared. We must not rush tears, because tears make us uncomfortable. We must not hide behind true theology in a way that keeps us from entering true sorrow, instead we practice what scripture repeatedly models for us, the ministry of presence. Our presence reflects the God who did not remain distant. He entered our world, and when someone sits across from you with trembling hands, a sorrow-filled memories, or questioning the Lord’s care, you might be tempted to solve their suffering, but your first calling is to stay. Stay long enough for them to borrow your steadiness, long enough for their story to unfold, stay long enough for them to learn that this relationship is steadying. Sometimes the most Christ-like thing we do is quiet. We sit, we listen, and we do not leave. And when we do that, something profound is happening, because we are embodying the nearness of Christ, because the gospel does not only give us truths to explain suffering, it gives us a Savior who entered it. Now I remember sitting with a woman who finally was brave enough to begin sharing her story, and as she spoke, the grief came in waves, her body trembled, and at one point she looked at me and said, I don’t know if I will ever be the same, and I felt that helper’s temptation to reassure her quickly. You will heal, right? God will restore this. You will not always feel this way. Those things may be true, but in that moment she did not need a prediction about her future, she needed someone to stay with her in the present. So I said that sounds incredibly heavy, and she began to cry. And then I noticed something I see all the time, when people cry, they often try to stop themselves, they. Apologize, they wipe their tears away quickly. They even use their tissue, I think, to stuff their tissues back in their eyeballs, right. And we can subtly reinforce this discomfort, but I would just say to you, there are few things more painful than crying alone. We fear that tears disrupt healing, but they are often the beginning of it, and in that moment she did not mean me to make her tears stop. She needed someone who was willing to stay with her in them. Her story did not resolve that day, but she was no longer alone, and that is where the ministry of presence begins, not with solutions or explanations, but with a willingness to remain faithful helpers and friends. We have to learn something counterintuitive.

Darby Strickland
Faithful care is not about solving suffering, often it is about staying present in the middle of it, but Darby people say to me, healing feels so slow. Yes, restoration is painfully slow. Healing is uneven. Grief ambushes. Faith feels thin. What then? We need a Savior who is not hurried, and the Lord has given us one. Jesus did not rush redemption, right? He spent 30 years in obscurity before three years of ministry, and when his ministry began, he moved at the pace of love. He stopped for interruptions, he lingered with the marginalized and the suffering. Even the resurrection is not an immediate triumph. There was a betrayal, a trial, the longest day, a burial. God allowed three days of silence. Now, if you or I were writing that story, we might shorten it, but God did not, because redemption in scripture is not frantic, it is faithful. And we think about what it was like for God’s people when they first returned from exile. Jerusalem had been destroyed for decades, the walls were broken, the gates were burned, and the rubble filled the streets. They had returned, but the brokenness had not yet been repaired, and that work did not happen in a moment, Nehemiah tells us the people rebuilt the wall section by section, family by family, shoulder to shoulder. Some carried stones, others cleared rubble, some stood guard while others worked. At one point, the workers say the strength of the laborers is failing, and there is too much rubble, and that sentence sits right in the middle of rebuilding, not at the beginning, not at the end. They are in this long middle, and the work feels overwhelming, and that is often what healing from trauma feels like. You may have left the place of greatest danger, but the rubble remains. The rebuilding is real, but it is slow. Slowness is often how God forms us. It is how He deepens trust. God is after more than the outcome. He is after our hearts, and Jesus himself moved at this pace, he did not rush suffering, he walked through it, and he is steady, and as helpers we need to go at the pace of Jesus too, because our urgency can wound tender people, scripture gives us a beautiful picture of the patient presence in the risen Christ. Right after the resurrection, two disciples are walking from Jerusalem on the road to Emmaus. They believe everything has collapsed. Jesus, their friend, has been crucified. Their hopes are shattered. Their future feels uncertain. And as they walk, the risen Christ joins them on the road, but he does something surprising. He doesn’t immediately reveal himself. He doesn’t interrupt their grief with good news, right? I’m alive. Instead, he asks them a question: What are you discussing as you walk along together? Luke tells us that they stop, their faces are downcast, and then they begin to speak. They tell him of their disappointment, their confusion, their grief, and Jesus listens. And only after hearing their sorrow does he begin opening the scriptures to them. And here is a detail I don’t want you to miss the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Was about seven miles, seven miles. The risen Christ could have ended their confusion in one sentence. Instead, he walked with them. The risen Christ gave them miles of his presence. Months before explanation, miles of listening, miles of letting their grief speak. He did not rush past their sorrow. He walked with them inside of it, and only then did he help them understand their story in light of his Christ enters exile. He walks with his people inside their grief before he explains their grief in light of his glory. So, what does healing look like in a life when it doesn’t happen quickly? Right, it starts with seeing when God’s people finally returned from exile. They did not return to a restored city, they returned to ruins. Return had happened, repair had not. And when Nehemiah first arrived, he actually does something striking. He did not immediately start rebuilding. He went out at night and walked the city quietly through the broken gates, along the collapsed walls, past piles of stone and burned wood. He let himself see the damage.

Darby Strickland
Scripture let says the rubble was so great that his animal could not pass through the city of God had been reduced to debris, but after seeing comes shared repair. Nehemiah gathers his people and says, “Come, let us rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. And they began, not with one person repairing everything, but each family repairing the section of the wall in front of them. Priest repaired one part, merchants another, families rebuilding the stretch that sat beside their home section by section, and stone by stone, and this is often how trauma healing takes shape, not in one dramatic moment, but through small steps of rebuilding, a conversation, a prayer, a moment of courage, a hand on one more stone, and this is important. Stone by stone healing is not meant to happen alone. Trauma isolates, exile scatters. Sufferers need more than instructions from a distance. They need people who know how to walk with them in the rubble, people who can see what has been broken without turning away, people who can help carry one stone at a time. So, if no one builds alone, then the question becomes, what kind of church makes this possible? And I say it’s a church with holy instincts. First, a rebuilding church does not rush exiles coming back is courage. Quiet faith is still faith. A bruised reed does not need pressure to stand taller. It needs gentleness, patience, room to breathe. We allow rebuilding to happen at a human pace. Second, a rebuilding church is willing to see the rubble. Nehemiah walked the broken walls at night. He looked carefully at the damage. He did not pretend the city was intact, and neither should we. When someone tells a painful story, we do not rush to explanation. We do not minimize what has been broken. We acknowledge the damage, because honesty is not the enemy of hope. It is a soil where hope grows. And third, a rebuilding church help carries what sufferers cannot yet carry alone. Trauma can make ordinary faith feel heavy, prayer may feel hard, worship may feel far away, hope may be too fragile to hold. So, when someone cannot pray, we pray beside them. When someone cannot sing, we do not demand a song from them, we remind them that the Lord sings over them, and this is part of what the church does, right. We help carry faith when faith feels thin. We hold out hope for others when hope feels faint. We sing over them, literally on a Sunday morning, right, until their voice can return, section by section, stone by stone, now something beautiful happens in Emmaus, and with Nehemiah on the road to Emmaus, hope begins to return as Jesus opens the scriptures, and after the wall is rebuilt in Nehemiah’s day, the people gather, and the scriptures are opened again. In both places, God restores his people by helping them understand their story in light of his trauma, feels like exile, healing looks like rebuilding from runes, and Christ meets his people in both places. So, imagine standing in Jerusalem. While the wall was being rebuilt, you would not see a finished city. You would see families in the rubble, covered in dust, lifting stones, standing guard. It would not look impressive, but it would be beautiful, because restoration was happening stone by, and that is what a healing church can look like, not flashy, not hurried, not afraid of the rubble. A steady church, a patient church, a truthful church is a rebuilding church, and in the middle of all that rubble and rebuilding stands Christ, not as one more worker on the wall, but as the cornerstone holding the whole house of mercy together. Every patient conversation, every quiet prayer, every hand placed on one more stone rests on him, so church do not despise the slow work. Do not rush the wounded past the rubble. Christ is building something holy there. Trauma dislocates, but Christ enters exile, and by his grace healing happens stone by stone, and sufferers, please hear me. If you still feel like you are in Babylon, you are not behind. If you are standing in the rubble, you are not forgotten. If rebuilding feels slow, you are not alone.

Darby Strickland
Christ is not ashamed to meet you in the rooms. He is gentle with what has been shattered. He gathers what has been scattered. He keeps company with his people in the long middle, and one day the God who records our weeping will bring home every exile, and until then he rebuilds quietly, faithfully, tenderly, stone by stone. Christ does some of his most beautiful rebuilding in places that still look like ruins. Thank you all.

Jonathan Holmes
Well, thank you so much, Darby. I hope that, as you guys heard, that you.. I don’t know. Here’s what I was taking away. When we think about trauma, when we think about abuse, right, it can feel like a technical word, and we can feel like, man, I am not close to that. I don’t know the experience. I even know how to talk about that, but Darby, what you’ve done is you’ve opened up scripture, and we begin to see how scripture helps us understand this, this fundamental human experience that so many people have been through. So, thank you for that, Darby. Talk to me about what are some of the ways you, you gave us quite a few, but I’d love to give you a chance to expound on it. What are some ways that churches, especially these places of healing that you reference, I think aspirationally, how can they be a better refuge for victims of trauma?

Darby Strickland
Yeah, I think it’s kind of understanding the mission. We at least think about my parenting, right? When I still see my children in pain, I want to stop the crying, I want to make it better, but understanding we cannot make it better, and understanding some of the wounds of trauma, and I think that’s why in the book I spent so much time talking about the distinct wounds, so when someone’s avoiding me, or they’re a little scared of me, or they’re having bodily anxiety, I can move towards them in those moments and not be afraid or even insulted, right? Yeah,

Jonathan Holmes
when you were talking, one of the lines that you shared that really resonated with me was coup to care before we offer correction, and I think a lot of times in the church, and I know I can be guilty of this too, for things that feel like very foreign experiences for us, we can reduce it down to something that needs corrected or solved, because it makes us feel useful, it makes us feel like we have something to offer in the moment, instead of silence, and so for all of us to sit to be silent to offer that care, I think is so important.

Darby Strickland
If we know that we can’t do anything ultimately other than pray and support, it takes pressure off of us, because we’re not thinking, what could I have to say? It actually allows us to hold that space with them in a more tender way,

Jonathan Holmes
and you mentioned this in your book. I think one of the best examples of this, of course, is in the book of Job. So his three friends come, their best work all gets done in what gets done in silence, and you know, later on in Job’s things, he says, “You guys are you guys are just empty wind bags. He’s like, “You guys were given a lot of talking, a lot. Counseling, right? Miserable comforters, yeah, they’re miserable comforters, and their best work gets done in those first seven days, where they just sit with them, and.. and I think you know, you and I are both counselors. There is a pressure sometimes to offer those words, but I think you and I probably have also experienced times where we just close our mouths and just allow the spirit to work in those moments. Yeah, and I

Darby Strickland
think part of it is actually because when you’ve gone through something traumatic, you need to tell your story a lot of times to make sense of it. So, I often think about, like, if you go to a baby shower, there’s always one woman retelling her traumatic birth story, right? She’s still trying to make sense of it, and so if you recognize your job is to sit with someone where they tell you the same thing 20 times, if you understand that something profound is actually happening, you will have patience for that, because one day that story will be coherent. They will have words, and they will be able to talk to the Lord about it. So, you are doing something huge by letting someone rehearse. Yeah,

Jonathan Holmes
and I think when you talk about trauma, trauma is so disorienting, and a lot of my work with pastors and ministry leaders, pastors want to be incredibly efficient and productive, and there’s something about trauma and abuse work which is so inefficient and so slow, and so because trauma is so disorienting, you know, a pastor hears a woman tell her story a couple of times, the story changes details and they get sidetracked, and they can, they can get, I think, harsh, they can get uncaring, because they get impatient with the suffering, they want to solve it, not sit with it. And I think you’ve given us some good reminders today of how we can slow that process down and really sit with them in exile. Darby, you know, I both do a lot of work with pastors, in particular, and I think pastors today, you know, they have, they have some difficulties and complexities associated with their job, and I think sometimes you hear a word like trauma, and there are definitely overuses of the word, for sure, and so a lot of pastors get scared of that, right, they don’t want to talk about trauma that feels liberal or woke or whatever, so we want to stay away from it, but trauma is real, right? We’ve just seen that in scripture. Darby, help us think out loud together. What are some ways that women, that helpers, can actually help their pastors care better and to do better in the midst of caring for victims of trauma?

Darby Strickland
Yeah, I think one thing is being a woman that can be present with the pastor, so if I had a trauma and I had to go speak to my pastor, I would be so blessed if another woman could come with me, right? Because then I have human touch, I have someone who can express empathy before and after, they can help me streamline my story in places when I’m not making sense translate for me, they can help the pastor understand later things he’s missed, right? So they can actually unburden the pastor by utilizing somebody else as a companion, right? And so sometimes pastors just need to be told really gently, ouch, like I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but you really minimized, or I didn’t think you were listening, or I don’t think you understand the level of anguish, right? They, they have to learn to write, they haven’t experienced these things, they don’t know, right. And so, having compassion on their lack of imagination is often really helpful. So, giving them an article to read, asking them to listen to a podcast that resonated with you. Yeah, I think all sorts of ways. Sometimes when you’re asking for help, you actually might have to be doing a little education, and if you’re really hurting, it’s better to have a companion do that for you. Yeah,

Jonathan Holmes
I totally agree. I think in some of the instances that I’ve seen, having that trusted friend and companion come along is a huge help for that individual to do a little bit of translation work to also maybe even be a little bit of a buffer because the trauma can be disorienting for a lot of women and so many women get nervous, they get scared, they don’t want to go to that meeting, and so just that ministry of presence, which you talked about, one of the things that you wrote in your book on trauma at Darby, you said we will rewound people if we fail to make room for trauma’s complexities. We must recognize it is not a sin to be an agony, and I think that’s incredibly important and helpful for pastors too. That there is a complexity with trauma, and a lot of times with pastors, and I was a pastor for 15 years. We want to reduce complexity to its lowest common denominator, because then it’s simple to explain, simple to understand. We can have five easy steps to address this, right? That’s how we like our sermons to be. But trauma can’t be reduced. There’s an incredible complexity to it, and when we move into that area of correction, not that correction is not ever needed, but when that is our first priority, we can do more harm. I think oftentimes for victims of trauma, and you know that line of, yeah, it’s not a sin to be in agony, it’s not a sin to be in distress, you’re you’re a sufferer, and I think that’s something that pastors need help better understanding, oftentimes. I was just going to add that

Darby Strickland
we know that it’s not a sin to be in anguish, because Jesus was, and He was sinless, right? And so I think some people need that anchor of that truth. Yeah, and scripture is just full in the Psalms of talking about how suffering, even emotional suffering, comes out in our bodies, right. And so again, our bodies carry the weight of what we are bearing, oftentimes like tears, sleeplessness, tummy aches, all those things are in scripture described about the weight. I think that just lifts the shame. Yeah,

Jonathan Holmes
Darby, I want Darby to talk a little bit about as we think about some practical resources. Again, we’ve talked a lot about education and things that you can take back to your churches, your organizations, various places that you’re working and serving people. Darby recently recorded a new on-demand teaching series on abuse, and a lot of the conversations there will also be helpful for trauma. But Darby, tell us a little bit about that course. What does it look like, and then I can share a little bit more about how people can get more information about

Darby Strickland
it. Yeah, yeah, it’s a seven hour training that you can show to your whole church. It’s on domestic abuse, so the first three hours could be like a church-wide training, because people often miss that type of suffering right in their midst, and the second three hours is for the leadership, and so it’s designed that it can be played on a Saturday morning and Sunday school classes over a few weeks, small groups, so it has a lot of it’s on demand. Yeah, but what I love about is it just lifts kind of the veil, sort of speak. It names things clearly in scripture, and it gives people like a basic compass, so that when they encounter somebody, something, or a marriage that looks confusing, they don’t do harm because they don’t know what they don’t know. Yeah, so I really appreciate that.

Jonathan Holmes
So, when you guys leave, there will be postcards on the back table. The course is called Becoming a Refuge. Becoming a Refuge, and friends cannot commend this to you enough. I was just on the phone the other day with a close pastor friend, and he said, “Hey, can Darby Strickland come to our church and do training on abuse? And he said, “I don’t know if she can come right now to your church, but I have something even better. We actually have a training course where you can bring Darby into your elders’ meetings, your women’s ministry meetings, small group meetings. We get so many requests at CCEF and Fieldstone for equipping in the areas of abuse and trauma that are biblically based and truly theologically oriented, and we’re limited human beings, we’re finite human beings, we can’t go to every place, and so that’s why I’m so excited about this on-demand teaching series becoming a refuge. I’ve watched it through myself, it’s really well done, the video segments that Darby does. There’s reading materials that are with every different cohort, so it’s on demand. You could watch all seven at the same time. You could space it out. It’s a really wonderful resource. There’s different pricing options depending on what size your church is or what size your leadership is. So make sure to pick up that postcard on your way out. Well, Darby, thank you so much for sharing with us. It’s really been a pleasure. So, thank you so much.