 Because the last thing Jesus is, He's safe. You need to know about Jesus. He's not safe. He's not house trained. He's not trying to fit in. He's not one of us. He's not born again. And He's not a Christian. He's not. That's what I said this morning. We think He is, that's the sin of certainty. We think He's one of us, meaning He's all those things, but He's none of those things. He's Jesus. He's okay with that stuff, but that's not who He is. So if we make Him that, and then He pops up in another identity different to that, we say, that's not God. And Jesus suffered that all His life from people that decided how He should look like before He arrived. A messy room, I think. Transition's messy. Handing over what we're doing to the next generation. It's a mess. Let it be a mess. Let transition be messy when it needs to be messy for a season before we over-tidy it too soon. When we tidy a thing too soon, we deny it its evolution. We deny it its valid season of messiness, because we're obsessed with naming it and tidying it up and giving clarity and structure, and we do it too soon. And sometimes what was about to emerge a month later was the new thing that would replace the old thing, but we tidied it up too quick. And I think we need to have a messy room. You can sound confident and have anxiety at the same time. It's okay. It's messy. It's okay. You can look tough and cry. It's okay. It's messy. It's okay. You can be beautiful and feel ugly. It's messy. It's part of our humanity. It's light and it's shade. You can love people and be sick of people. It's all good. It's okay. Jesus got sick of people. That's why He often withdrew to solitary places. He self-isolated regularly. And if you're in the people game, it's a good thing to do.