Part IX :: Return to the United States
Sometimes there are things I look back on, and I can’t help but feel like an idiot when I put it all into perspective. I write about one of those occasions here. Upon our return to the United States, we did not hesitate to return to the Countryside Church. Of course, we had our “reasons” or “excuses.” My reasoning for going back to see family was that everyone was getting older and that we would regret not taking every chance to be with them. While there may be some truth in that, mixing family with a religion that is based on being perfect and fearing the end of the world is not something that brings any sort of lasting happiness or good memories to one’s life.
If there was ever a time to realize the damage that the messages preached by
Countryside were causing, now was when I saw it. One thing I knew and believed
strongly in was that “you can discern something by its fruits.” All I had to do was look at
the people and their lives as they continued to step foot into this church.
The two individuals that I looked at the most were Stephen and Freddy. The
reason for this was simple. I lived with Freddy, and I saw Stephen almost every day.
Living with Freddy during this period was a type of hell. No need to sugarcoat it. I would never wish it on my worst enemy. Freddy never liked me much due to my place as his son-in-law, but now there was something far more sinister eating at him. His religion was taking him back to a place of hatred and darkness. There was once a time when Freddy got some kind of enjoyment out of life, but that time had passed. Now he walked through the house like an angry drill sergeant, seeking out anything wrong in his eyes. He carried with him a deep anger at the fact that he was getting older. The hope of a paradise beyond the grave was crushed by a church that preached that we had to reach perfection before we died, or we would not win Heaven.
During the remainder of Freddy’s life, he would have to be content with idea that the Jesuits were trying to kill him. Population control measures were everywhere now. Everything the government did was looked at with scrutiny. Freddy’s inbox was full of letters from various pastors and end-times peddlers with information about the coming Sunday law and how the government was ushering it in quickly. Ellen White’s statements about the need to be perfect and how it was not worth praying for those who disregarded her rules were always on the tip of the pastor’s tongue. “Is it possible to be perfect?” one sermon asked. The answer was “yes!” Not only was it possible, but it was required. The effects of Christ’s death were for nothing, it seemed. Yet the words were not of Christ but of White. How God would not forgive certain transgressions. How it was futile to ask people to pray for those who ate unhealthy foods. “But how can the Lord work in their behalf when they are unwilling to do His will, when they refuse to
heed His instruction on health reform?” (CD 400.4). During a phone call to the in-laws, Albert laughed, letting Freddy and Darla in on the fact that he had a potato chip addiction and put potato chips on everything he ate. Of course, this was not mentioned in the hallowed halls of Countryside Fellowship.
Albert’s inability to turn away from potato chips provided another study in
cognitive dissonance. If a person truly believed that they had to be perfect to gain
Heaven, why would one put potato chips on everything they ate? I looked at the barrage of health seminars that took place in Countryside’s dining room and sanctuary hall, yet what was the point? It was similar to Ellen White’s insistence that it was not worth praying for those who ate meat or obeyed her health message. If God had sent an angel to tell her that eating meat was wrong, why did she eat meat for years? If vinegar and spicy foods were forbidden, and if she was told face to face by a higher being that they were not fit for food in the eyes of God, why did she continue to eat them? The cognitive dissonance spoke louder than any sermon ever could.
*Note: I strongly believe that Ellen White will have a lot to answer for when she arrives in front of the Lord on the great Judgment Day. While I am not her eternal judge, the more controversial statements that have been hidden or obscured by the SDA church and her estate make the fruit of her “ministry” speak for themselves. While, at this point, I still was a devout follower of Mrs. White, I was troubled by the things that were being said, and the absolute insistence on perfection for salvation. The idea that God would not hear our prayers or that He would not forgive those who asked was perplexing and troubling. It was more in line with Albert’s idea that God was not a God of love, but a slave driver. Later, I would snap out of my stupor, and come to the final conclusion that she was indeed a false prophet. Yet, let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet.
What we imagined as a time of enjoyable visits and connecting with those who
we had been apart from for almost two years was a time filled with hearsay about the evils of the Jesuits and the mainstream Seventh-day Adventist church. It was now a time when Freddy would perch himself in front of the internet, spellbound by the information he was uncovering. He placed himself as a judge on everyone and everything that was against Albert’s sermons. In years past, he blasted his father for the way he had been judgmental and abusive, but with old age, Freddy had now become a mirror image of his old man!
Now, you may be thinking that I have something out against poor ol’ Freddy. It’s hard to not be bitter about this time in my life. Freddy was a BEAR to live with. There’s no doubt about that. And even as I type these words, much of the past is unresolved. Freddy still, to this day, believes in the message of pastor Albert. Yet, I understand that Freddy would have been far better off without Albert’s prodding, without the fear of the Jesuits, and without the anger brought about by a prophetess that insisted on perfection. In a very literal sense, Freddy had adopted a religion that was the religious equivalent of his own abusive father. Instead of his father constantly barraging him with messages about how he could never hope to live up to the high standard, Freddy now chose a religion that said the exact same thing. I remind myself that Freddy was once a child, abused and alone. A scared child, believing all he was told. The church had replaced his overbearing father. I don’t think Freddy will ever see it, nor will he ever
want to admit it. As Albert continues to beat Freddy over the head with extreme
ideas and archaic useless rules for life, Freddy continues to internalize the idea that he is doomed to eternal damnation. As Albert continues to rake in tithes and
offerings, filling his coffers, his members believe that they are a part of something
special. They are a part of a family, a unique club of people who have hope in Jesus coming back for them if they can just reach that level of self-loathing perfection that they are all desperately aiming for!
“There are people, now walking the earth, that are perfect,” Albert would tell them. Perfect people. Perfect in whose eyes? Yours? Ellen White’s? What makes a person perfect? They follow all of Ellen’s health rules. They don’t do anything to waste or taint the Sabbath day. They never, ever think an impure thought. They would never desire to swim on the Sabbath day, nor would they eat a potato chip. They are perfect. Little did Albert realize that the quote from Christ about "be ye therefore perfect" had to do with love and not with how one eats or if one listens to worldly music on the Sabbath.
Yet, for Albert, love was a topic that was completely off-limits at Countryside. In years past, Freddy had been busy, working outdoors and on his collection of
rusty old cars, but as he got older and more involved with the church and its
accompanying conspiracies, various fears of the world engulfed his mind. Pastor
Albert’s sermons had grown much more militant. Like a dog that returns to its vomit, we returned to Countryside Sabbath Fellowship.
I don’t desire to make anyone sound bad or unsavory, nor do I want it to look like I am attacking those who were going to this church, and that’s not the intent of this book. When I began to write my previous book, Disrupting Adventism, the goal was to let other people be aware of what is happening in extremist offshoots. I do strongly believe that when there is abuse present, one must make others aware of that abuse. I have since learned that the way abuse is dealt with is by bringing it into the light. I can honestly say that this church was engaged in abuse. My goal with this book remains the same as when I first began the work. People need to be warned of these so-called independent offshoot ministries as well as some of the ideas that have taken hold within the SDA church, as these ideas and beliefs are deeply damaging.
I also want to say that I am going to stop using the word church here, and start calling Countryside an offshoot or cult. An offshoot is something that begins as a part of something, or near something, and then splits or grows away and apart from it. In this case, Countryside had some of the parts of Adventism, such as the general beliefs and use of Ellen White, but had become so far removed by lashing out against the General Conference. In essence, the CountrysideOffshoot had made itself an offshoot by its own antagonistic message right from the very start. I also use the term cult because, looking at the B.I.T.E. Model of Authoritarian Control, Countryside (and many aspects of Adventism in general) check off almost every box.
The Bite Model and Countryside
Behavior Control:
•Dictates where, how, and with whom the member lives and associates or isolates;
•Control types of clothing and hairstyles;
•Regulate diet – food and drink, hunger and/or fasting;
•Restrict leisure, entertainment, vacation time;
•Major time spent with group indoctrination and rituals and/or self indoctrination
including the Internet;
•Discourage individualism, encourage group-think; Impose rigid rules and regulations.
Information Control:
a. Deliberately withhold information,
b. Distort information to make it more acceptable
c. Systematically lie to the cult member;
•Minimize or discourage access to non-cult sources of information, including: a. Internet, TV, radio, books, articles, newspapers, magazines, media, b. Critical information, c.
•Former members,
d. Keep members busy so they don’t have time to think and investigate;
•Encourage spying on other members;
•Extensive use of cult-generated information and propaganda, including: a. Newsletters, magazines, journals, audiotapes, videotapes, YouTube, movies and other media, b.
•Misquoting statements or using them out of context from non-cult sources
Thought Control:
•Require members to internalize the group’s doctrine as truth:
a. Adopting the group’s ‘map of reality’ as reality,
b. Instill black and white thinking,
c. Decide between good vs. evil,
d. Organize people into us vs. them (insiders vs. outsiders);
•Use of loaded language and clichés which constrict knowledge, stop critical thoughts and reduce complexities into platitudinous buzz words;
•Encourage only ‘good and proper’ thoughts;
•Rejection of rational analysis, critical thinking, constructive criticism;
•Forbid critical questions about leader, doctrine, or policy allowed;
•Labeling alternative belief systems as illegitimate, evil, or not useful; Instill new “map of
reality”
Emotional Control:
•Manipulate and narrow the range of feelings – some emotions and/or needs are
deemed as evil, wrong or selfish;
•Make the person feel that problems are always their own fault, never the leader’s or the group’s fault;
•Promote feelings of guilt or unworthiness;
•Instill Fear; Extremes of emotional highs and lows – love bombing and praise one moment and then declaring you are horrible sinner;
•Phobia indoctrination: inculcating irrational fears about leaving the group or questioning the leader’s authority
a. No happiness or fulfillment possible outside of the group,
b. Terrible consequences if you leave: hell, demon possession, incurable diseases, accidents, suicide, insanity, 10,000 reincarnations, etc.;
•Shunning of those who leave; fear of being rejected by friends and family;
•Never a legitimate reason to leave; those who leave are weak, undisciplined,
unspiritual, worldly, brainwashed by family or counselor, or seduced by money, sex, or rock and roll.
“Some have called us an offshoot,” Albert proclaimed. “But we are truly the
remnant church. It is the General Conference that is the offshoot!”
I immediately noticed that the sermons had grown far more militant than before
we had gone to Egypt. Stephen now served as a deacon and recorded the sermons. They would be uploaded on YouTube and burned to DVDs that would be passed out to anyone who missed church or otherwise wanted a copy. He wore a scowl as he listened intently to how the Jesuits were busy destroying the world. Stephen that was so happy in the church was no more.
Bill Hughes made his appearance far more often now. A chunk of the money given for offerings was spent on flying Hughes out to Eastern Washington so he could preach about the poison of the Jesuits. The congregants loved it and assembled en masse each time Bill Hughes stepped onto Countryside’s property.
“We have this hope that burns within our hearts. Hope in the coming of the Lord” had always been this organization’s battle cry, and as the pianist pounded it out, we sang in unison. Pastor Albert stood up front, fumbling with his tie, as he prepared another sermon. His hands clenched his Bible as he stood erect, bellowing out “we believe the time is here, when the nations far and near, shall awake and shout and sing, Hallelujah, Christ is King!” The room seemed to shake at the power that the congregation sang this song.
We sat glued to our seats, as the congregation waited in rapt anticipation of the upcoming sermon. Pastor Albert shifting eyes peered out at his congregation. The numbers had slightly grown. It was autumn now, and soon the holiday season would come. The sermon would be about the Investigative Judgment. About how the General Conference refuses to preach the Three Angel’s message. How present truth is not something that the Deer Park church preaches. How FEMA camps and mass graves were found behind an old Wal-Mart in Nevada.
New visitors were always given a little gift for coming out and spending their day amongst the fiery little end-times group. Since we had been gone for so long, we would also get something special. Pastor Albert announced that a gift would be handed out and proceeded to hand something to a couple of his aged deacons. One of the deacons stumbled towards us, working to hold himself up. His legs buckled like he had little business walking. Soon he reached us and smiled. He handed both my wife and me a little yellow book. I could not help but glare at it. I had seen this book in my research of the esteemed Bill Hughes. This was his newest work: “Three Angels Over Africa.” I could not help but mumble, perhaps with a bit of irritation in my voice, “one is fine, we can share.”
“You can both have your own,” Stephen interjected. As if we each needed a separate copy of the little book. Later that day, I would lie on the bed and flip through the book. I was curious enough to know what it was about. Perhaps that’s how Bill Hughes snags so many people. They are curious. They open their mailbox and one of his little demon books is staring at them. They grab it and start flipping through it, thinking that it’s harmless. Before they know it, they are hooked. They are actually believing the words. Or they hate it, but someone else ends up with it. Out of a thousand people, I wonder how many who get his books actually believe the words therein. It must be enough to make sending these books to be worth it. Bill Hughes, after all, is no poor man. He has done well in his life. Like many of the Adventists at the top of the ladder, he commands a considerable empire and lives a comfortable life. It is the kind of life that is far removed from the kind that Ellen White suggests her often impoverished devotees be content with.
As I moved through the book, I could not help but notice a theme quickly
emerged. I was disgusted by how it was story after story of uplifting Bill Hughes’
benevolent work in Africa while tearing apart other churches, the Seventh-day Adventist church, and everyone else who did not agree with his special brand of conspiracy. Like his other books, this book discussed the Jesuit conspiracy and how the Jesuits were behind the ills of the world. My wife said, upon reading it, that it “made her sick.”
I used to think that missionary stories were supposed to be uplifting and uplift Christ. This particular book was a blatant advertisement for Bill Hughes, with chapter after chapter singing his praises. One day, after the in-laws departed their countryside paradise, I lit a fire out back and threw the thing in it. My eyes lit up with a feeling of enduring happiness as fire wrapped around that small yellow book. It felt good to burn that thing. People in the church have told me that we need to stay away from certain kinds of music or food, but let me tell you,
nothing is as dark in my heart as the hateful madness that spews forth from the lips of those who preach the name of a risen Christ to lift themselves up to glory while using conspiracy and lies to hold their audience captive. Bill Hughes was instrumental in the slow demise of my in-laws. That book needed to die.
The church and the message seemed different now. It was far more serious. Issues such as chemtrails and government death camps were pretty much standard fare for most sermons, especially when Pastor Albert wrapped his hands around the corners of the pulpit. On the screen, we would see images of mass graves, poisoned food, chemtrails, and mass genocide. His own wife commented how she wished he did not spend so much time on YouTube, and from his materials, it was obvious that he was drawing his material from various conspiracy theorists such as Alex Jones.
“Sandy Hook is a hoax. It was the US government that did it.” This phrase was repeated by the in-laws.
“Where did you hear that?” my wife asked, shocked.
It was obvious. On the DVD player stood a stack of DVDs all with titles like “The Great Conspiracy,” “US Deceived,” “Beware of Fake Gospel & Fake Jesus” “The Source of Your Drinking Water,” “Al Qaeda, ISIS, CIA, and Papacy!”* and many more. There were well over a hundred, more than could easily be watched except for a person with an excess of idle time on their hands. Every once in a while, the in-laws would slide one in, to send some kind of message to us, to see if we were on the same page religiously. I acted like I was, but at this point, was very disturbed by what I was seeing. The conspiracy was far worse now, and I could see it reflected on the face of my father-in-law, who seemed tired, angry, and growing more ill. The weight of anger that now was beginning to consume him had changed him from who he had been years before. Granted, he had always been a very difficult and argumentative man to deal with, but now he was totally and completely consumed with conspiracy. His choice of a church, one with Albert at the helm, had brought the conspiracy front and center.
*Note: A search of Pastor Bill Hughes on YouTube will bring up a variety of these titles and many more for you to enjoy. His website and ministry, Truth Triumphant (or as I like to say, Lies Repugnant), is full of work that rivals Alex Jones (and much that is taken straight from Jones). The only difference is that Alex Jones's day of reckoning has
come, whereas the more obscure and less relevant Bill Hughes has flown under the radar for the time being.
Freddy had always been the type to believe in topics of conspiracy. I found that, in this part of the country, conspiracy theories flowed like butter on Thanksgiving day. From the beginning of our marriage, I would hear about things like chemtrails. Yet, it was only in passing and maybe came about once every year or two. Now there was someone constantly calling on the phone to talk about it. It’s no secret that Freddy enjoyed those calls. Rubbing elbows with a pastor put him in a different class. While Freddy lived in a state of deep poverty all his life, relegated as an outcast far out in the country, he now was sought after by a powerful pastor. There is no doubt that things that like can do something to a person’s psyche. When you grow up a poor, destitute person living on disability and then begin to feel that you are needed by someone of wealth and prestige, while at the same time you are becoming less relevant due to old age, the siren call is just too much to ignore. Albert had Freddy firmly in his clutches, and there
was no sign of him letting go.
From the phone to the church, the conspiracy dripped like sweet honey from a fat bee’s prize hive. Soon we would be dipping into that honey by preaching a sermon of our own at the front of this strange church. We had been invited to talk about our time in Egypt, and we nodded in agreement like two bimbos in a blonde joke. We figured that we might as well share what we did, so we could get a little of that extra holy spirit juice in our veins. The truth was, it would feel good to talk about it and feel like we did something. After all, most of the returning missionaries were probably preaching sermons about their triumphs in the land of Tut.
I didn’t really know what to say, but we decided to just talk about what had
happened. When it came to missionary work, I never really felt good advertising it, especially if there were no shiny crown stars to gloat over. Yet, we came up with something. It was enough to get us to invite some of the family members to partake in the glorified slide show. As we all gathered at the church and prepared to speak, we could not help but notice that something was playing on the screen up front when people walked in. I was horrified when I realized that it was a silent presentation on chemtrails and how they were poisoning the air in an effort to kill the elderly. I guess that they just had to get some of the classic messages in somewhere since it was unlikely we would preach it on this fine Sabbath day.
Such messages did no favors for Freddy and Darla, who hoped beyond all hope that their children would one day reintegrate within the church. For many who were not neck deep in it, it only worked to scare them further away. It seemed strange for a church to not spend time uplifting Jesus, but rather stoking the flames of fear.
After the chemtrail introduction, we made our way to the stage to speak about our time in Egypt. Our talk was longer than it needed to be, and far longer than Albert could bear. Towards the middle of it, when we looked down, he was sawing logs.
We were given a $150 check for our time (which we never cashed) and thanked for the sermon. Many of the members seemed to enjoy our talk and told of their missionary dreams. While we mentioned how discouraging it had been at times, we tried to spin it in a positive light. Yet, without the mention of FEMA camps or GMOs, it was largely unrelatable to the sleepy pastor and his pack of board members and elites.
We had also mentioned how we aimed to “show God’s love,” and maybe that was a no-no. Throughout our time at Countryside, Albert was adamant about how preaching the love of God was a complete waste of time. “Sermons by other pastors lull
congregations to sleep with topics about the love of God.”
“People are sleeping because these phony pastors fill heads with messages about God’s love.”
“Some would rather hear about God’s love than present truth.”
“Deer Park preaches the Love of God. They don’t talk about present truth.”
Albert made it clear: You would not hear about God’s love at this church. No wonder Freddy enjoyed it. I never heard about how his father would say “I love you.” At Countryside, the idea of working hard for salvation and staying one step ahead of the Jesuits was a far better message. Pages and pages of Ellen White's strategies for the end of the world displayed during sermons strongly attested to that.
I kept hearing the term, “present truth.” I wondered what present truth was. It seemed like a buzzword for conspiracy theories. Some churches have sermons that uplift Jesus, proclaim the miracles that come from following Jesus or talk about real ways to improve one’s walk with God (without the guilt). To Albert and his ilk, present truth was anything that could be found while watching an Alex Jones YouTube video. “Bill Hughes is present truth,” I was told. Anything that makes you scared and fret for your salvation without any kind of hope for salvation is present truth. “Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy; do not fear what they fear and do not dread it.” Isaiah 8:12.
“We have this hope that burns within our hearts!” The battle song blasted. Pastor Albert, at the front, grinned as he gripped his remote tightly. Looking at his pack of congregants, he likely felt confident in commanding a growing religious empire. It was time for another sermon to fill the minds of his aging congregation. Freddy sat in the back, his Bible next to him, ready to take that slow poison in.
“They are lulling you to sleep with smooth words!” he shouted. “We are to be ready for the time of trouble! These other churches talk about the love of God. Empty sermons! We are approaching the time of trouble like none other!”*
*Note: Ellen White states with fervor that God can’t love disobedient children—and that those who question her should have never been born. Albert proclaims that the love of God is not a subject fit for church. Yet, I say, and the Bible says that God is love. God loves every one of his creations. I will never follow anyone who says otherwise. If only Freddy or Stephen would have understood that fact. If only the women (except Ellen White, of course) were not instructed to keep silent. If only Darla would have spoken up at the beginning and said, “NO FREDDY!! No more conspiracy! No more getting caught up in this nonsense. THIS ENDS NOW!” If she had just taken the wheel of life and asserted some form of control, this would have likely never went this far. Wives, don’t blindly follow your husband’s religion. TAKE CHARGE! These actions can literally change the course of your entire life!
Out in the foyer, I combed through endless pamphlets that talked about the
various poisons of society, the dangers of false worship, and how vaccines were killing children. Behind me, I could hear all sorts of talk about various conspiracies. “They are spraying the chemtrails again,” a voice at one of the tables said. I shuddered. We often stayed late for the Bible study, as I felt that it was the only redeeming part of the day. At least it was taken straight out of the Bible (but peppered with White) The offshoot spent a lot of time talking about the “health message” or “being vegan,” and I later would come to realize that it was also due to the main idea of being saved by works. In fact, everything seemed to be about avoiding death and being saved by appeasing a works-obsessed god. However, working through the Ministry of Healing* was far more pleasurable than going back and dealing with Freddy’s angry tirades about whatever was bothering him in the world. He had become quite the bear at this point and I never knew when he would explode. At least this allowed us to be away from that madness.
*Note: Ministry of Healing is a book based on the combined work of various health reformers in the time that Ellen White lived. In typical White fashion, she took a lot of the beliefs of her day, some of which are not scientifically sound, and put them in a single book and slapped her name on it. It’s now considered the seminal tome of health within the church. The offshoots and cult-extremists lap it up like a thirsty farm hound.
Confusion was a key theme in this period of life. Many read this, myself included, and wonder how I could have stayed in it for so long. “Why did you keep going back?” some may ask. Little did I know that this was laying the foundation for my current religious beliefs. Yet, there was something I was seeking and hoping to find at this time. And I did not want to stir the pot by appearing to not believe in the commonalities that were shared with what I thought at the time was true. Although I write this now as a very agnostic Christian, I could not deny that many of the people at this organization were kind. They were, like many people in many churches, confused humans. I could see the humanity in their eyes when they spoke to me. I could see the love that was still there. I even questioned Albert, wondering if he truly and fully believed the things that he was
saying, or if he had some kind of dark motive. Even now I can’t say for sure. A part of me strongly believes he does this for wealth and fame. Perhaps the just end is that he is but a mind slave to his manufactured faith and a devout follower of Alex Jones. Maybe Countryside Sabbath Fellowship was just a way to fit the messages of Alex Jones into Adventism.
Confusion was compounded further by the members who seemed highly
intelligent. During the Bible studies, I would sit next to individuals who knew so much about the Bible. Some of them could quote the words and extract the history, connecting it with passages in other books, and weaving it together like a spider weaves its death trap. How could these same people believe in a government conspiracy to kill people or the idea that Jesuits were controlling a secret one-world government? Moreover, how could these saints believe that these topics were somehow a good choice for worshipping God?
I could not get past how there was such love at the potluck but such deep hate in the holy sanctuary. Hate for anything and everything different or even remotely similar boiled over in the words of Albert and many of those he invited to preach. Everyone and everything was a threat. It was Countryside versus the world. It was said to be “true Adventism” against the world. No wonder Freddy had found no joy in daily living. Everything was a mission, a walk towards death, to find out if one was “good enough” in the end. I wondered, did Freddy worry about the stars he had attained in his already long life?
With what little redeeming factor the Bible studies had, they were now taking place less often. Once a month the group would pile into their cars and make their way out into the big mean world to hand out literature. Spreading the message was seen as important, even in the insular church. How ironic that many of the people who were shopping at the Costco where the literature was being handed out would never be welcomed into the church. I wondered how shoppers took to receiving books like “The National Sunday Law” or Bill Hughes’ conspiracy rags. In my mind, I wondered how these books would attract Sabbath shoppers to Albert’s church. Was this just an exercise for the members to feel that they were more distant from the world that they were working to make themselves bigger outcasts in? Or was this a way to see that they were a holy people, with a knowledge that none other would accept? A way to prove that they were the modern-day Noahs, preaching to a wicked world that didn’t give a damn? Or maybe, just maybe, it was an outing to help Albert feel better about being less insular. In the judgment, maybe he could tell God that he did feed the hungry
books that they didn’t know they hungered for.
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