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Observations from today’s readings and today’s S-WOD, Sunday, 5 July 2026:
Psalm 131:1-3 — O Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.
The brief Psalm 131 stands as one of the clearest biblical portraits of spiritual maturity. Rather than measuring greatness by accomplishments, influence, or knowledge, David describes greatness as humble dependence upon the Lord. Having experienced both extraordinary victories and painful failures, Israel’s king had learned that true peace is found not in understanding every mystery or controlling every circumstance, but in trusting the sovereign goodness of God. His humility is not false modesty, intellectual laziness, or complacency but the settled confidence of one who has stopped striving to occupy God’s place. Pride continually reaches beyond the boundaries God has established, seeking control and self-sustainment. Humility, however, gladly submits to God’s wisdom, acknowledging that the Lord alone knows the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).
David’s confession reaches far deeper than outward humility. He is describing the surrender of the very impulse that has defined fallen humanity since the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve were not simply tempted to eat forbidden fruit; they were tempted to become their own judges of reality. The serpent convinced them that they could determine good and evil for themselves, that they could better secure their own happiness than the God who created and loved them. At its heart, sin is the rejection of God’s wisdom in favor of our own. It assumes that we know what is best, that we can rightly interpret our circumstances, and that we are better guardians of our lives than our Creator. Every sin traces back to this same prideful independence.
David now stands on the opposite side of that rebellion. “My heart is not lifted up… I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.” He is not rejecting wisdom or thoughtful engagement with life. Rather, he is renouncing the arrogant belief that finite human beings can comprehend, control, or direct life apart from complete dependence upon God. We naturally crave certainty because we believe certainty gives us control, and we crave control because we believe control gives us security. Yet every day reminds us how little we truly understand. Relationships remain complex despite our best intentions. World events unfold beyond our influence. Political systems promise solutions yet repeatedly disappoint. Even our wisest decisions often produce unintended consequences because our knowledge is partial, our motives are mixed, and our vision is limited. The more knowledge humanity accumulates, the more we discover how little we actually know. The more we strive to master every circumstance, the more our inability to control life becomes painfully obvious.
The Lord has never asked His people to carry the weight of omniscience or sovereignty. Those belong to Him alone. Through Isaiah He declares, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways… as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways” (Isaiah 55:8-9). This is not a rebuke meant to discourage us but an invitation to rest. If God alone possesses perfect wisdom, complete knowledge, and absolute authority over every detail of history, then there is profound freedom in surrendering our lives to His loving rule. Faith is not the absence of thinking; it is the humble recognition that our understanding will always remain joyfully subordinate to His infinite wisdom.
The picture of the weaned child beautifully illustrates this transformed heart. An infant seeks its mother primarily for what she provides, but a weaned child has learned to rest in the security of her presence. Likewise, mature faith no longer depends upon understanding every circumstance before it trusts God. It rests in the character of the Father Himself. Jesus perfectly embodied this childlike dependence throughout His earthly ministry, entrusting Himself completely to the Father’s will even when that path led to the cross (John 5:19, 30; Luke 22:42). He now invites His followers to abide in Him with that same confident trust (John 15:4-11). Union with Christ does not answer every question about life, but it gives believers something infinitely greater—the presence of the One who rules over every question we cannot answer.
This is why our generation, despite possessing unprecedented access to information, often lives with unprecedented anxiety. We have mistaken information for wisdom and control for peace. We are overwhelmed by the illusion that if we could simply know more, predict more, or influence more, we could secure the life we desire. Instead, the pursuit of control often produces fear, defensiveness, division, and exhaustion. We become increasingly anxious because we continually discover how little is actually within our control. The gospel calls us to lay down that impossible burden. Christ alone is the Wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 1:24, 30), the One through whom all things were created, in whom all things hold together, and by whom all history is being brought to its appointed end (Colossians 1:16-17). Peace is not found in mastering life’s complexities but in trusting the One who already governs them perfectly.
This surrender does not produce passivity or indifference toward the brokenness of the world. Quite the opposite. Those who abide in Christ often labor more diligently than anyone else because they have been set free from serving themselves. No longer driven by fear, pride, or the need to control outcomes, they are free to love as Christ loved. They confront injustice because they love the oppressed. They serve the suffering because they love their Savior. They proclaim the gospel because they long to see captives set free. Their battle is no longer against people but against the sin, deception, and brokenness that enslave them (Ephesians 6:12). Secure in the Father’s sovereign love, they can pour themselves out for others without fear, knowing that the final outcome rests not in their hands but in His.
Psalm 131 therefore calls believers back to the heart of the Kingdom of God. The gospel is not merely the promise of heaven after death but the invitation to live under the gracious rule and reign of King Jesus today. As we surrender our pride, trust His wisdom above our own, and abide in His love, we begin to experience the life He promised — one increasingly marked by love, joy, peace, contentment, gratitude, and fruitful obedience regardless of our circumstances. The answer to humanity’s deepest problem has never been greater human understanding or greater human control. It is the Lord Himself. In Christ, we discover that there is no safer place than under the Shepherd’s care, no wiser path than obedience to His Word, and no greater freedom than joyful dependence upon the One who is Himself the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6).
Every believer should ask: Is my heart characterized by humble dependence or subtle pride? Am I demanding that God explain everything before I trust Him? Or, do I rely on my own knowledge and understanding to interpret the world around me and control it? Or have I learned to rest in His perfect wisdom? Do I seek God’s presence more than His gifts, finding my deepest peace in simply belonging to Him?
Isaiah 63:1-6 — Who is this who comes from Edom, in crimsoned garments from Bozrah, he who is splendid in his apparel, marching in the greatness of his strength? “It is I, speaking in righteousness, mighty to save.” Why is your apparel red, and your garments like his who treads in the winepress? “I have trodden the winepress alone, and from the peoples no one was with me; I trod them in my anger and trampled them in my wrath; their lifeblood spattered on my garments, and stained all my apparel. For the day of vengeance was in my heart, and my year of redemption had come. I looked, but there was no one to help; I was appalled, but there was no one to uphold; so my own arm brought me salvation, and my wrath upheld me. I trampled down the peoples in my anger; I made them drunk in my wrath, and I poured out their lifeblood on the earth.”
Isaiah opens with one of the most majestic and sobering visions of the Messiah in all of Scripture. The prophet sees a mighty Warrior returning from battle, His garments stained crimson as though He has been treading grapes in a winepress. When Isaiah asks who this glorious figure is, the answer comes with divine authority: “It is I, speaking in righteousness, mighty to save.” The One who comes in judgment is the very One who alone possesses the power to save. Isaiah reminds us that God’s justice and His salvation are never in conflict. Both flow from His perfect holiness and His unwavering commitment to redeem His people and glorify His name.
Edom and its capital, Bozrah, represent more than geographical locations. Throughout the Old Testament, Edom became a symbol of humanity’s proud rebellion against God and persistent opposition to His covenant people (Obadiah 10-15; Malachi 1:2-4). Isaiah therefore uses Edom as a picture of every kingdom, power, and individual that exalts itself against the Lord. The Warrior’s victory announces the certainty that every enemy of God’s kingdom will ultimately fall before His sovereign rule. History is not moving toward chaos or uncertainty but toward the complete triumph of King Jesus.
The blood upon the Warrior’s garments often startles readers because it contrasts sharply with Isaiah’s earlier portrait of the suffering Servant. Yet these are not two different Messiahs but the same Christ viewed from the perspective of His two advents. At His first coming, Jesus came in humility, allowing His own blood to be shed for the salvation of sinners (Isaiah 53:5-6). At His second coming, He will return as the righteous Judge whose enemies bear the consequences of their persistent rebellion. Revelation intentionally echoes this passage, portraying Christ returning in glory to tread “the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty” (Revelation 19:11-16). The Lamb who was slain is also the Lion of the tribe of Judah. Those who refuse His mercy today will one day stand before His justice.
The Lord’s declaration that He “trod the winepress alone” highlights the uniqueness of His work. Just as no one could assist Christ in accomplishing redemption on the cross, no one shares His authority to execute perfect judgment. Salvation belongs entirely to Him because only the sinless Son could satisfy the Father’s justice. Likewise, final judgment belongs entirely to Him because only the perfectly righteous Judge can administer justice without error or partiality (John 5:22-27). This truth humbles every believer while providing profound assurance. Our hope rests not in human strength or political power but in the victorious reign of Christ, who alone is mighty to save and perfectly able to judge.
Isaiah also reveals that “the day of vengeance” and “the year of redemption” occur together. These themes have already appeared in Isaiah 61, where Jesus stopped reading before “the day of vengeance” when He announced His ministry in Nazareth (Luke 4:18-21). His first coming inaugurated the year of the Lord’s favor. His second coming will complete God’s redemptive plan through the final defeat of evil. The delay of judgment demonstrates God’s patience, giving sinners opportunity to repent (2 Peter 3:9), but His patience should never be mistaken for indifference. The same Savior who now extends mercy will one day establish perfect justice throughout His creation.
Every believer should ask: Do I worship Christ as both my Savior and my sovereign King? Does the certainty of His coming judgment deepen my gratitude for the cross and increase my urgency to proclaim the gospel? Am I resting confidently in the truth that the final victory over evil belongs to Christ alone, freeing me to live faithfully without fear or bitterness?
Isaiah 63:7-9 — I will recount the steadfast love of the LORD, the praises of the LORD, according to all that the LORD has granted us, and the great goodness to the house of Israel that he has granted them according to his compassion, according to the abundance of his steadfast love. For he said, “Surely they are my people, children who will not deal falsely.” And he became their Savior. In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.
Having witnessed the Messiah as the victorious Warrior and righteous Judge, Isaiah now turns from God’s justice to His covenant love. These verses beautifully balance the opening vision of judgment by reminding us that the God who judges evil is also the God whose steadfast love never fails. Isaiah intentionally begins by resolving to “recount the steadfast love of the LORD.” When God’s people are surrounded by suffering, discipline, or uncertainty, they are called to remember His past faithfulness. Throughout Scripture, remembering God’s works strengthens present faith because His character never changes. The God who redeemed His people in the past remains the same God who will fulfill every promise in the future (Lamentations 3:21-23; Hebrews 13:8).
Isaiah piles one expression upon another — steadfast love, goodness, compassion, and abundant lovingkindness — to emphasize that God’s relationship with His people has always been rooted in grace rather than human merit. Israel repeatedly failed to keep the covenant, yet the Lord continued to pursue, preserve, and restore them because His love flows from His own faithful character. This covenant love reaches its fullest expression in Jesus Christ. Paul declares that “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The cross forever demonstrates that our salvation rests not upon our worthiness but upon God’s immeasurable mercy.
The statement, “He became their Savior,” reminds us that redemption has always been God’s work alone. From the Exodus to the return from exile, the Lord continually delivered His people when they were powerless to save themselves. These historical acts of salvation point forward to the greater redemption accomplished by Christ. Humanity’s deepest bondage was never slavery to Egypt or captivity in Babylon but slavery to sin and death. Jesus came as the greater Deliverer, accomplishing the eternal salvation that every Old Testament rescue anticipated (Matthew 1:21; Hebrews 7:25).
Perhaps the most astonishing statement in this passage is, “In all their affliction he was afflicted.” These words reveal the heart of God toward His suffering people. He is not a distant observer unmoved by their pain but the compassionate Redeemer who enters into their affliction. Throughout Israel’s history, God identified Himself so closely with His covenant people that their suffering grieved His heart. This truth reaches its fullest expression in the incarnation. In Jesus Christ, God literally entered our suffering world, taking upon Himself our griefs and carrying our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4). The One who sympathizes with our weaknesses became like us in every respect except sin so that He might become our merciful and faithful High Priest (Hebrews 4:15-16).
Isaiah attributes Israel’s deliverance to “the angel of his presence.” Throughout the Old Testament, this mysterious figure often appears as the visible manifestation of God’s own presence among His people (Exodus 23:20-23; 33:14-15). Many have understood these appearances to foreshadow the eternal Son before His incarnation. Whether viewed as a theophany or as God’s unique covenant messenger, the emphasis remains the same: God Himself was present with His people. This promise reaches its glorious fulfillment in Christ, whose very name, Immanuel, means “God with us” (Matthew 1:23). Through His indwelling Spirit, believers now enjoy the continual presence of the Lord, who has promised never to leave nor forsake His people (Hebrews 13:5).
The closing picture of God lifting His people up and carrying them “all the days of old” echoes the tender care of a shepherd carrying his lambs (Isaiah 40:11) and a father carrying his child through the wilderness (Deuteronomy 1:31). Salvation is not merely God’s act of rescuing His people from danger but His ongoing work of sustaining, protecting, and preserving them throughout life’s journey. Jesus identifies Himself as the Good Shepherd who knows His sheep, lays down His life for them, and keeps them securely in His hand forever (John 10:11, 27-30). Every believer can rest in the assurance that the Savior who redeemed us also faithfully carries us until we safely reach our eternal home.
Every believer should ask: Am I intentionally remembering God’s steadfast love when present circumstances tempt me to doubt His goodness? Do I believe that Christ truly enters into my suffering with compassion, or do I imagine Him to be distant from my struggles? Am I resting in the Shepherd’s faithful care each day, trusting that the One who redeemed me will also carry me safely to the end?
Isaiah 63:10-14 — But they rebelled and grieved his Holy Spirit; therefore he turned to be their enemy, and himself fought against them. Then he remembered the days of old, of Moses and his people. Where is he who brought them up out of the sea with the shepherds of his flock? Where is he who put in the midst of them his Holy Spirit, who caused his glorious arm to go at the right hand of Moses, who divided the waters before them to make for himself an everlasting name, who led them through the depths? Like a horse in the desert, they did not stumble. Like livestock that go down into the valley, the Spirit of the LORD gave them rest. So you led your people, to make for yourself a glorious name.
Isaiah now explains why God’s people experienced His discipline despite His steadfast love. The tragedy was not that God had abandoned His covenant, but that His people had continually rebelled against the very God who loved, redeemed, and carried them. The progression is sobering. The God who had become their Savior, entered into their affliction, and faithfully led them through the wilderness was met with persistent unbelief and disobedience. Sin is never merely the breaking of rules; it is the rejection of a loving relationship with the God who has graciously given Himself to His people.
Remarkably, Isaiah says they “grieved his Holy Spirit.” This is one of the clearest Old Testament references to the personhood of the Holy Spirit. An impersonal force cannot be grieved. The Holy Spirit loves, leads, teaches, and dwells among God’s people, making rebellion deeply personal rather than merely legal. Israel’s sin was not simply disobedience against divine commands but resistance to the gracious presence of God Himself. The New Testament echoes this truth when Paul exhorts believers, “Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption” (Ephesians 4:30). Although believers are eternally secure in Christ, ongoing sin disrupts our fellowship with God, hinders the Spirit’s sanctifying work, and robs us of the joy and peace that accompany obedient communion with Him.
Because God is perfectly holy, His covenant love never nullifies His justice. Isaiah says that the Lord “turned to be their enemy” and fought against them. This language does not describe God abandoning His covenant promises but faithfully administering covenant discipline. Like a loving father who disciplines his children for their good (Hebrews 12:5-11), the Lord opposed His people’s rebellion in order to restore them to Himself. Divine discipline is therefore an expression of covenant love, not its absence. God’s greatest judgment would have been to leave His people comfortably enslaved to their sin. Instead, His loving discipline exposed the emptiness of their rebellion and called them back to Himself.
The people’s response is equally instructive. In the midst of discipline, they remembered God’s mighty works during the Exodus. Their questions — “Where is he who brought them up out of the sea?” — were not expressions of unbelief but appeals to God’s unchanging character. They looked back in order to strengthen their hope for the future. Throughout Scripture, God’s past acts of redemption become the foundation for present faith. Israel remembered the Exodus; the Church remembers the cross and the empty tomb. Every generation of believers gains confidence by recalling what God has already accomplished in His faithfulness.
Isaiah emphasizes the indispensable ministry of the Holy Spirit throughout Israel’s history. It was the Spirit who dwelt among God’s people, empowered Moses, guided them through the sea, led them safely through the wilderness, and ultimately gave them rest. The same Spirit who worked under the old covenant now permanently indwells every believer through the finished work of Christ (Romans 8:9-11). The Christian life is not sustained by human determination but by the continual presence and power of the Holy Spirit, who conforms believers to the image of Christ and leads them into joyful obedience.
The chapter closes this section with one of Isaiah’s recurring themes: God acts “to make for himself a glorious name.” From the Exodus to the cross, from Pentecost to Christ’s return, the ultimate purpose of redemption has always been the glory of God. The Lord delivers, disciplines, restores, and sustains His people so that the greatness of His character might be displayed before the nations. As believers grow in Christlikeness through the work of the Spirit, their transformed lives become living testimonies to the grace, holiness, and faithfulness of the God who has redeemed them.
Every believer should ask: Am I sensitive to the conviction and leading of the Holy Spirit, or have I become comfortable resisting His work in my life? Do I recognize God’s loving discipline as an expression of His fatherly care rather than His rejection? When trials come, do I strengthen my faith by remembering God’s past faithfulness and resting in the Spirit’s continuing presence?
Isaiah 63:15-19 — Look down from heaven and see, from your holy and beautiful habitation. Where are your zeal and your might? The stirring of your inner parts and your compassion are held back from me. For you are our Father, though Abraham does not know us, and Israel does not acknowledge us; you, O LORD, are our Father, our Redeemer from of old is your name. O LORD, why do you make us wander from your ways and harden our heart, so that we fear you not? Return for the sake of your servants, the tribes of your heritage. Your holy people held possession for a little while; our adversaries have trampled down your sanctuary. We have become like those over whom you have never ruled, like those who are not called by your name.
Isaiah concludes the chapter with one of the most heartfelt prayers in the Old Testament. Having remembered both God’s steadfast love and Israel’s repeated rebellion, the prophet cries out for the Lord to act once again. His prayer is not rooted in Israel’s worthiness but in God’s covenant character. He appeals to the Lord’s compassion, zeal, power, fatherly love, and redeeming grace. This is the pattern of biblical prayer. Faith does not ignore painful circumstances or pretend that suffering is insignificant. Rather, it honestly brings every burden before God while anchoring every request in who God has revealed Himself to be. When believers cannot understand what God is doing, they can always trust who God is.
Isaiah’s repeated declaration, “You are our Father,” is especially significant. Throughout the Old Testament, God is occasionally revealed as the Father of His covenant people, but through Jesus Christ this relationship reaches its fullest expression. Because believers are united to the Son, they are adopted into the very family of God and cry, “Abba! Father!” through the Holy Spirit (Romans 8:15-17; Galatians 4:4-7). Isaiah recognizes that even the greatest patriarchs cannot ultimately save or sustain God’s people. “Abraham does not know us, and Israel does not acknowledge us.” Their hope rests not in their ancestry but in the living God Himself. Likewise, Christians do not trust in family heritage, religious tradition, or personal achievements, but in the Father who has redeemed them through His Son.
The difficult words, “Why do you make us wander from your ways and harden our heart?” should not be understood as blaming God for Israel’s sin. Throughout Isaiah, the prophet has consistently declared that the people willingly rejected God’s Word and repeatedly hardened their own hearts (Isaiah 6:9-10; 30:9-11). Here Isaiah acknowledges the sobering reality that persistent rebellion eventually results in God judicially giving people over to the hardness they have chosen (Romans 1:24-28). Divine hardening is God’s righteous judgment upon continual unbelief, yet even here the prophet’s response is not despair but repentance. He cries for God to return, recognizing that restoration can come only through God’s sovereign mercy. Every believer should be humbled by the seriousness of sin while finding hope in the Lord’s readiness to forgive all who truly repent.
Isaiah’s plea for the Lord to “return” anticipates the greater coming of Christ. Israel longed for God to visit His people once again, and in the fullness of time the eternal Son became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). Yet the prayer also points beyond Christ’s first coming to His promised return, when He will restore all things, judge evil, and establish His everlasting kingdom. The Church now lives in the same hopeful expectation, praying with the saints of every generation, “Your kingdom come” (Matthew 6:10) and “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20). Every longing for justice, restoration, and the renewal of creation finds its ultimate answer in the return of the King.
The chapter ends with the painful recognition that God’s people appear no different from the nations because of their sin and the destruction of the sanctuary. Yet even this sorrow prepares the way for hope. Isaiah understands that the solution is not merely rebuilding a city or restoring a temple but renewing a relationship with God Himself. This longing reaches its fulfillment in the gospel. Through Christ, believers become the dwelling place of God’s Spirit (1 Corinthians 3:16), are reconciled to the Father, and await the day when God will dwell visibly with His redeemed people forever (Revelation 21:3). The deepest need of humanity has never been improved circumstances but restored fellowship with the living God.
Isaiah 63 forms a remarkable bridge between God’s justice and His mercy. The chapter begins with the victorious Messiah returning in judgment and ends with God’s people pleading for mercy and restoration. Between these two scenes stands the steadfast love of the Lord, who redeemed His people, carried them, disciplined them, and continually invited them to return. The gospel brings these themes together perfectly. At the cross, Jesus bore the judgment our sins deserved so that all who trust in Him might receive the mercy they could never earn. The Warrior of verses 1-6 is also the Redeemer who carried His people in verses 7-9 and the Father to whom Isaiah prays in verses 15-19. United to Christ, believers can face both the holiness of God and the brokenness of this world with unwavering confidence, knowing that the One who redeemed them will also complete His work when He returns in glory.
Every believer should ask: When I face suffering or spiritual dryness, do I run toward my heavenly Father or away from Him? Am I trusting in religious heritage, personal performance, or the finished work of Christ alone? Does my longing for Christ’s return shape the way I live, pray, and proclaim the gospel today?
Psalm 131 and Isaiah 63 beautifully complement one another by revealing two essential truths about the believer’s relationship with God. Psalm 131 calls us to humble trust, laying down our pride, our demand to understand everything, and our futile attempts to control life. Like a weaned child resting in the loving presence of its mother, we are invited to find peace not in mastering our circumstances but in abiding in the wisdom, love, and sovereignty of our heavenly Father. Isaiah 63 reminds us why such trust is possible. The God in whom we rest is both the mighty Warrior who will one day defeat every enemy of righteousness and the compassionate Redeemer who has carried His people throughout history, entered into their suffering, disciplined them in love, and ultimately bore their judgment through His Son. The One who is mighty enough to rule the nations is also tender enough to carry His children.
Together these passages call believers to abandon the illusion of self-sufficiency and live under the gracious rule of King Jesus. We do not have to understand every circumstance because our Father governs every circumstance perfectly. We do not have to carry the weight of securing the future because our Redeemer has already secured our eternal inheritance. We do not fight for peace through greater control but receive peace through greater surrender. As we abide in Christ, trusting His wisdom above our own and resting in His steadfast love, the Holy Spirit increasingly produces the fruit of His kingdom within us — love, joy, peace, patience, and steadfast hope. From that place of rest, we become faithful servants of Christ, proclaiming the gospel, loving our neighbors, standing for righteousness, and leaving the final outcome in the hands of the King who is both mighty to save and perfectly just to judge.
“Cross” Fit S-WOD (Spiritual Workout of the Day) – 5 July 2026: Whenever anxiety, frustration, or the desire to control a person or circumstance arises today, pause and consciously surrender it to the Lord in prayer. Then replace that anxious thought with one specific act of Christlike love toward someone God has placed in your path, demonstrating your trust that His sovereign purposes are better than your own.
Pray: “Father, forgive me for trusting my own understanding more than Your perfect wisdom. Thank You for being both my mighty Redeemer and my loving Shepherd. Teach me to rest in Your presence with the quiet confidence of a child who knows he is safe in his Father’s care. As I abide in Christ, fill me with Your Spirit so that Your love, joy, peace, and steadfast hope overflow into the lives of others. Keep my eyes fixed on the coming King, and make me faithful until the day I see Him face to face. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
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