The biblical narrative frequently grapples with the profound tension between human degradation and divine exaltation. Throughout the scriptural canon, the human condition is portrayed as oscillating between periods of intense suffering—being cast down by enemies, circumstances, or spiritual adversaries—and the promise of divine restoration. Within this overarching theological framework, two specific passages emerge as critical anchors for understanding the mechanics of spiritual descent and the nature of divine surplus: Job 22:29 and John 10:10. Spanning the divide between the Old and New Testaments, these texts offer complementary, yet fundamentally distinct, paradigms regarding theodicy, spiritual warfare, and the character of God's redemptive work.
In the Old Testament, Job 22:29 captures a complex moment of theological discourse amidst unprecedented suffering. Spoken by Eliphaz the Temanite, the verse declares a principle of divine rescue for the humble, yet it is delivered as a stinging, baseless accusation against a righteous sufferer. Eliphaz operates under a rigid system of retributive justice, weaponizing orthodox truths to explain Job's state of being "cast down." In the New Testament, John 10:10 operates within the Johannine Good Shepherd discourse. Here, the incarnate Christ explicitly contrasts the destructive agenda of the "thief"—who comes exclusively to steal, kill, and destroy—with His own life-giving mission to provide life in its ultimate, overflowing abundance.
An exhaustive analysis of the interplay between these two texts reveals profound second- and third-order implications for biblical theology. While Job wrestles with the ancient Near Eastern paradigm of moral cause-and-effect, hoping for a physical and social "lifting up" from his degraded state, the Gospel of John redefines this elevation as an eschatological and spiritual surplus (perissos) that transcends material circumstances and circumstantial suffering. Furthermore, both texts address the devastating role of false mediators. The misguided comforter in Job and the self-serving religious leaders in John act not as conduits of grace, but as agents of descent. By examining the lexical nuances, historical contexts, and theological trajectories of Job 22:29 and John 10:10, a cohesive biblical theology emerges that contrasts the forces of cosmic and religious destruction with the sovereign provision of abundant life.
To understand the weight, irony, and ambiguity of Job 22:29, it is absolutely necessary to situate the verse within the architectural structure of the Book of Job. The verse occurs during the third and final cycle of speeches between Job and his counselors, specifically representing the concluding argument of Eliphaz the Temanite. By this juncture in the narrative, the dialogue has entirely deteriorated. What began in chapter 2 as silent sympathy has devolved into bitter, relentless accusations of hidden wickedness.
Eliphaz, operating under the uncompromising dogma of ancient retributive justice, concludes that Job's catastrophic suffering must be the direct result of proportionate, albeit concealed, sin. Because Eliphaz's theological paradigm cannot fathom a universe where a sovereign, just God permits the righteous to suffer gratuitously, he is forced to fabricate specific charges against Job to make reality fit his theology. In Job 22:6-9, Eliphaz accuses Job of egregious social sins: taking pledges from brothers without cause, stripping the naked of their clothing, withholding water from the weary, and crushing the strength of orphans. None of this is true, as Job later adamantly defends in his oath of innocence (Job 31), yet Eliphaz accepts it as fact simply because Job is suffering.
It is upon this precarious foundation of false accusation that Eliphaz builds his theological exhortation. He questions whether man can be of any profit to God, asserting God's absolute self-sufficiency and transcendence, before urging Job to acquaint himself with God and be at peace (Job 22:1-3, 21). The climax of this exhortation is a call for repentance, culminating in the promises of verses 28 through 30, which assert that if Job humbles himself, he will once again decree a thing and have it established, and God will lift him up.
The Hebrew text of Job 22:29 is notoriously difficult to translate, leading to a stark divergence in meaning among major English Bible versions. The interpretive difficulty centers heavily on the relationship between the Hebrew verb hashpilu (meaning to make low, to abase, or to bring down) and the noun gewah (which can mean lifting up, exaltation, or pride).
| Translation Lineage | Rendering of Job 22:29 | Interpretive Focus of gewah |
| King James Version (KJV) |
"When men are cast down, then thou shalt say, There is lifting up; and he shall save the humble person." |
Positive exclamation. Job will possess the faith or spiritual authority to declare intercessory "lifting up" for others. |
| English Standard Version (ESV) |
"For when they are humbled you say, 'It is because of pride'; but he saves the lowly." |
Negative accusation. Eliphaz accuses Job of arrogantly attributing the fall of others to their pride. |
| New American Standard Bible (NASB) |
"When you are cast down, you will speak with confidence, And the humble person He will save." |
Internal resilience. A repentant Job will have internal confidence despite being temporarily cast down. |
| New International Version (NIV) |
"When people are brought low and you say, 'Lift them up!' then he will save the downcast." |
Intercessory prayer. Similar to the KJV, envisioning Job as an advocate for the suffering. |
The classical interpretation, heavily favored by early commentators and the KJV, views the phrase "There is lifting up" as a positive exclamation. Commentators such as Albert Barnes suggest that this phrase implies that in times of trial and calamity, which prostrate others, a repentant Job would find support and be enabled to say "Up!" or "Sursum!" in a powerful prayer of intercession. In this reading, Eliphaz promises Job that if he repents, he will not only be restored but will possess such spiritual authority that his prayers will lift up others who are cast down. John Gill and Matthew Poole echo this, suggesting that Job would have the power to pray for the restoration of others who have humbled themselves.
Conversely, modern translations such as the ESV render the verse as a direct, pejorative indictment of Job's arrogance. Ellicott notes this "bad sense," suggesting Eliphaz means: "When men are cast down, then thou shalt say, It was pride that caused their fall". In this translation, gewah is interpreted as "pride." Eliphaz is essentially accusing Job of looking at the downfall of others and haughtily attributing it to their arrogance, while hypocritically failing to recognize his own.
Regardless of the translation chosen for the first half of the verse, the concluding clause remains universally consistent across manuscript traditions: God "saves the lowly," literally translated from the Hebrew as "him that is lowly of eyes". This physical description of dejected, downcast eyes points to a posture of modesty, humility, or the physical and emotional exhaustion caused by immense trouble and suffering. It establishes a fundamental biblical truth regarding God's disposition toward humanity.
The profound irony of Job 22:29 lies in its theological accuracy juxtaposed against its situational falsehood. Eliphaz articulates a standard, unshakeable biblical truth: God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. This principle of divine reversal—exalting the humble and abasing the proud—is a pervasive Old Testament motif later codified in Proverbs 3:34, Psalm 138:6, and echoed vehemently in the New Testament by Jesus (Matthew 23:12), James (James 4:6), and Peter (1 Peter 5:5). From a purely dogmatic standpoint, Eliphaz's theology of divine sovereignty and moral order is orthodox.
However, the Book of Job serves as a devastating critique of applying general theological truths as universal diagnostic tools for individual suffering. Eliphaz commits grave theological and pastoral malpractice. He assumes that because God casts down the proud, Job's cast-down state is undeniable, empirical proof of his pride and hidden sin. Eliphaz weaponizes an orthodox view of divine justice, turning the beautiful promise of "lifting up" into a conditional trap. He implies that Job is currently an enemy of God who requires a "sincere conversion" to reclaim his prosperity.
The deeper insight here is the danger of a closed theological system. Eliphaz has no category for the suffering of the righteous, nor does he possess the cosmic perspective of the heavenly throne room (Job 1-2), where Job's suffering is revealed not as punitive discipline, but as a test of genuine piety against the accusations of the Satan. Thus, the "lifting up" Eliphaz offers is contingent upon a false confession. It is a fabricated salvation mechanism that ultimately earns the severe wrath of God, who later rebukes Eliphaz and his companions, declaring, "You have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has" (Job 42:7).
To fully grasp the sweeping implications of John 10:10, it must be read as a direct continuation of the narrative established in John 9. Modern chapter divisions often obscure the fact that Jesus' Good Shepherd discourse is not an isolated theological lecture, but a pointed response to the Pharisees' abusive treatment of the man born blind.
In John 9, after Jesus miraculously heals a man blind from birth, the religious elite conduct a hostile, fear-mongering interrogation. When the formerly blind man demonstrates rudimentary but genuine faith, refusing to condemn his healer, the Pharisees excommunicate him, physically and socially casting him out of the synagogue. Jesus immediately seeks out the outcast, reveals Himself as the Son of Man, and receives his worship (John 9:35-38).
It is precisely in this context of religious abuse, legalism, and exclusion that Jesus begins his discourse on the sheepfold. He draws a sharp, undeniable contrast between Himself—the true Shepherd who enters by the gate and gathers the marginalized sheep—and the Pharisees, whom He explicitly identifies as thieves, robbers, and hired hands who exploit, scatter, and abandon the flock for their own preservation and glory.
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10). The Greek vocabulary utilized by the Gospel writer in the first half of this verse reveals a terrifying progression of malice and devastation.
| Greek Term | Transliteration | Contextual Meaning in John 10 | Progression of Malicious Intent |
| κλέπτω | klepto / kleptes | To steal; a thief who operates by stealth, deception, and cunning. |
The initial infiltration. The stealthy removal of truth, resources, or relationship. |
| θύω | thyo | To kill, slay, or sacrifice. |
The destruction of physical or spiritual life, often carrying a ritualistic or slaughterhouse connotation. |
| ἀπόλλυμι | apollumi | To destroy utterly, ruin, or cause to perish. |
The final, total devastation of the victim's existence, purpose, and eternal destiny. |
Historically, the interpretation of the "thief" has undergone significant and revealing shifts. In contemporary homiletics and popular evangelicalism, it is overwhelmingly common to identify the thief exclusively as Satan. Countless sermons utilize John 10:10 as a foundational text for spiritual warfare, equating the devil with the thief who ruins lives. However, a careful examination of the historical-grammatical context and patristic exegesis reveals a different primary referent.
The early church fathers, including Augustine, Chrysostom, Clement of Alexandria, and Theodore of Mopsuestia, universally understood the thief to represent the failed human leaders of Israel, specifically the Pharisees, false teachers, and revolutionary leaders of Jesus' day. For centuries, the exegetical consensus maintained that Jesus was directly indicting the religious elite who had just cast out the blind man. It was not until the mid-1800s, due to a misinterpretation of Thomas Aquinas's Catena Aurea (which itself abbreviated an 11th-century commentary by Theophylact), that the view of the thief as Satan began to seep into Sunday School curricula and eventually mainstream commentaries.
The patristic interpretation aligns perfectly with Jesus' use of Old Testament prophetic imagery. John 10 is a direct theological descendant of Ezekiel 34, wherein Yahweh fiercely indicts the "shepherds of Israel" for feeding themselves rather than the flock, failing to strengthen the weak, heal the sick, or bind up the injured, thereby allowing the sheep to become food for wild beasts. Furthermore, Old Testament prophets frequently utilized the metaphors of thieves and bandits to describe corrupt national leaders (Isaiah 1:23, Jeremiah 2:26). The Pharisees, by placing manmade legalistic requirements on the people for salvation and excommunicating genuine seekers, acted as thieves "robbing" the people of the true means of grace.
Nevertheless, a robust biblical theology does not entirely divorce these false human shepherds from the demonic realm. In John 8:44, Jesus explicitly links the murderous and deceptive actions of the Pharisees to their spiritual progenitor: "You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth". Therefore, while the immediate, contextual referent of the "thief" in John 10:10 is the corrupt religious establishment, these human agents serve as the earthly manifestation of a cosmic adversary. Satan remains the ultimate archetype of the thief who engineers systems of religion and power to steal, kill, and destroy humanity.
In stark contrast to the escalating destruction of the thief, the second half of John 10:10 establishes the magnificent purpose of the incarnation: "I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly". The Greek word for "abundantly" is perissos, a term pregnant with theological meaning. It carries a mathematical connotation denoting a surplus, something that goes far beyond what is necessary, an overflowing, superfluous quantity.
The theological implications of perissos are profound, dismantling the misconception that the life Christ offers is merely a prolongation of biological existence or a guarantee of earthly prosperity. Modern prosperity theology (often referred to as the health-and-wealth gospel or Word of Faith movement) frequently co-opts John 10:10 to promise lavish homes, perfect health, and unending financial success. This framework essentially measures abundance by the metrics of the thief's world.
However, the biblical definition of this abundance is fundamentally spiritual, relational, and eternal. Jesus defines eternal life not by its physical duration or material comfort, but by the intimate knowledge of God: "And this is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent" (John 17:3). Therefore, the "abundant life" is characterized by spiritual stamina, unshakeable peace, overflowing joy, and deep contentment that remains miraculously intact even when earthly circumstances severely deteriorate. It is the surplus of grace that sustains a believer through the very trials that the thief utilizes in an attempt to destroy them.
When Job 22:29 and John 10:10 are brought into direct dialogue, a striking and devastating parallel emerges between the antagonists of both narratives. Both texts expose the catastrophic impact of false spiritual mediation.
Eliphaz and the Pharisees occupy remarkably similar structural and psychological roles within their respective texts. Both claim to possess authoritative, unassailable knowledge of God's will. Both operate within a rigid theological framework that demands strict behavioral compliance in exchange for divine favor. Most tragically, both ultimately inflict deep spiritual and emotional harm upon the vulnerable individuals they claim to guide or evaluate.
The Pharisees, blinded by their obsessive adherence to Sabbath traditions, look at a miraculous healing—the restoration of sight to a man born in darkness—and see only a legal violation. Because the man's experience of God's grace does not fit their theological paradigm, they cast him out. Similarly, Eliphaz, blinded by his rigid adherence to retributive justice, looks at a suffering man and sees only hidden wickedness. He mentally and verbally casts Job down, accusing him of heinous moral failures without a single shred of empirical evidence.
Herein lies a critical third-order theological insight: Legalistic religious systems inherently function as agents of the "thief." When theology is divorced from compassion and grace, it becomes a mechanism for stealing joy, killing hope, and destroying faith. Eliphaz’s counsel, despite containing nuggets of orthodox truth regarding the "lifting up" of the humble, is weaponized to crush Job's spirit and alienate him from God. The Pharisees' authority, meant to shepherd Israel toward Yahweh, is weaponized to lock the gates of the kingdom and prevent the sheep from finding pasture.
Both the Book of Job and the Gospel of John suggest that the greatest threat to the sheep is often not the outright pagan or the overtly wicked, but the religious insider who misrepresents the heart of God. The "thief" does not merely break in from the outside; he often stands behind the pulpit or sits among the counselors, offering a counterfeit vision of God that robs the soul of its vitality.
The interplay of these texts forces a deep engagement with theodicy—the vindication of divine goodness and providence in view of the existence of evil. Both Job and John pull back the veil on the spiritual realm to reveal a cosmic adversary, though the understanding of this adversary evolves significantly from the Old to the New Testament.
In the prologue of Job (chapters 1 and 2), the adversary is introduced as ha-satan (the Satan, or the Accuser), a prosecuting attorney figure within the divine council. The Satan challenges the sincerity of Job's faith, arguing that Job only serves God for the hedge of protection and material blessings God provides (Job 1:9-11). God grants the Satan permission to strike Job's possessions, family, and health, but limits his power over Job's life. In the Book of Job, the Satan is the direct mechanism of being "cast down," using Sabean raiders, fire from heaven, Chaldean marauders, a great wind, and painful boils to dismantle Job's existence.
Yet, Job is unaware of this cosmic wager. He wrestles directly with God, assuming God is the author of his pain. Job’s suffering serves a cosmic purpose, vindicating God's worthiness to be loved irrespective of the blessings He provides. The book ends with a magnificent mystery. God speaks from the whirlwind (Job 38-41), displaying His transcendent majesty, but He never explicitly answers Job's "why". Job is comforted not by a philosophical explanation of the mechanics of evil, but by a breathtaking revelation of the sovereign presence of God.
John 10 introduces a radical clarity to the problem of evil that is only foreshadowed in Job. Jesus explicitly identifies the source of the destruction: the thief. While Job lived in a shadowy awareness of his adversary, Jesus drags the cosmic conflict into the brilliant light. The destruction of life, the stealing of joy, and the killing of the innocent are not the mysterious, inscrutable will of the Father; they are the active rebellion of the thief, carried out through his earthly agents.
However, Jesus does not stop at merely identifying the enemy; He announces a definitive counter-offensive. Theodicy in the Gospel of John is not resolved by a philosophical argument from a whirlwind, but by the physical incarnation of God stepping directly into the sheepfold to combat the wolf. The answer to the suffering of being "cast down" is the Good Shepherd who says, "I lay down my life for the sheep" (John 10:15).
Through this lens, the New Testament redefines spiritual warfare. Believers are no longer passive participants in a cosmic wager. Because Christ has triumphed over the thief through His death and resurrection, believers are seated with Christ in heavenly places, possessing spiritual authority over the demonic forces that seek to cast them down (Ephesians 1:20-21). The "lifting up" is inextricably linked to the victory of Christ over the thief.
Both texts offer a highly nuanced theology of spiritual and circumstantial degradation. Job 22:29 acknowledges the brutal reality that "men are cast down" (hashpilu). In the context of the Book of Job, this degradation is utterly total. Job is cast down economically (the loss of all wealth), relationally (the sudden death of his ten children and the alienation of his wife), physically (the torment of loathsome sores), and socially (the loss of his esteemed reputation among the elders at the city gate).
This Old Testament depiction of being comprehensively cast down aligns seamlessly with the New Testament actions of the thief in John 10:10. The thief’s agenda to "steal, kill, and destroy" encompasses the totality of human ruin. Whether through direct demonic oppression, the insidious spread of false teaching, the fracturing of human relationships, or the devastating effects of disease and natural disasters in a fallen world, the trajectory of the thief's work is always downward—toward isolation, despair, death, and separation from God. The thief seeks to snatch away the seed of the Word before it can take root (Matthew 13:19) and attempts to pluck the sheep from the Shepherd's hand.
However, the biblical texts diverge significantly in how they address the cause of this descent. Eliphaz, bound by his retributive theology, attributes the casting down strictly to the pride and inherent sin of the victim. In his view, to be cast down is to be guilty. Jesus, in John 10, completely removes the blame from the sheep. The sheep are victimized by the thief and abandoned by the hired hand, but their degradation is not attributed to their own inherent flaw; rather, it highlights their fundamental vulnerability and their desperate need for a Good Shepherd.
If the forces of darkness, false religion, and a fallen world cast down, the definitive, sovereign action of God is to lift up. The theological concept of "lifting up" (gewah) found in Job 22:29 finds its ultimate, eschatological fulfillment in the "abundant life" (perissos) of John 10:10.
| Conceptual Paradigm | Job 22:29 (Old Testament Framework) | John 10:10 (New Testament Fulfillment) |
| Agent of Rescue |
God, mediated conditionally through human intercession, repentance, and behavioral correction. |
Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd who unilaterally lays down His life for the sheep. |
| Condition for Rescue |
Humility ("lowly of eyes"), often interpreted by counselors as a requirement for confession of hidden sins. |
Hearing the Shepherd's voice, recognizing Him, and receiving the free gift of grace. |
| Nature of Restoration |
A return to baseline or a doubling of previous earthly prosperity (as vividly seen in Job 42). |
An overflowing spiritual surplus (perissos) that transcends earthly circumstances and persists eternally. |
The Old Testament hope for restoration, as envisioned by Eliphaz and ultimately experienced by Job, is largely tethered to the material and the temporal. At the conclusion of the book, Job is vindicated, his fortunes are restored twofold, and he is given new children (Job 42:10-17). While this beautifully demonstrates God's sovereignty, mercy, and restorative power, it remains an earthly restitution subject to the eventual decay of mortality.
The incarnation of the Word shifts this paradigm completely. Jesus does not merely promise to reverse the fortunes of those who are cast down; He promises to infuse them with a quality of life that the thief cannot touch, steal, or destroy. The abundant life of John 10:10 is an indestructible reality. Even if the thief succeeds in stealing physical health or causing biological death, the eternal surplus of the soul remains entirely secure. As Christ explicitly states in the next chapter, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live" (John 11:25).
This reveals a profound and beautiful mechanism of exaltation. The "lifting up" is no longer dependent on a precise calibration of personal righteousness, as Eliphaz demanded. Instead, it is secured entirely by the Shepherd who willingly allows Himself to be cast down. The ultimate "casting down" occurs at Golgotha, where the Shepherd absorbs the full destructive force of the thief, enduring the cross. As John's Gospel repeatedly notes, this crucifixion is paradoxically Christ's "lifting up" (John 3:14, 8:28, 12:32). By being cast down and lifted up on the cross, the Shepherd guarantees that the sheep are elevated to eternal safety, receiving a surplus of life generated by His sacrificial death.
A rigorous theological analysis must also address the existential friction between the promise of John 10:10 and the lived reality of the believer. If Christ has come to give abundant life, and if He has defeated the thief, why do the faithful still experience the "casting down" described in Job 22:29?
The error of modern interpretations, particularly within prosperity theology, is the assumption that the presence of the Good Shepherd guarantees the total absence of the thief. This fundamentally misreads the grammar of the text. Jesus states that the thief comes—in the present tense, denoting an ongoing action and reality—to steal, kill, and destroy. The Shepherd does not promise a pristine sheepfold immune to the attacks of wolves or the presence of thieves; rather, He promises that amidst the attacks, the sheep will never eternally perish and no one will snatch them out of His sovereign hand (John 10:28).
The abundant life is therefore a profoundly paradoxical reality. It is experienced concurrently with affliction, not in the absence of it. The Apostle Paul embodied this tension, writing of overflowing joy in the midst of severe suffering and affliction, demonstrating that true abundance is found in a right relationship with God, not in the accumulation of what the world values. Job himself anticipated this posture of faith when he maintained his trust while sitting in ashes, declaring, "Though he slay me, I will hope in him" (Job 13:15).
The surplus (perissos) provided by Christ is precisely what allows the believer to endure the thief's relentless attempts to cast them down. It is an internal resilience, a wellspring of the Holy Spirit, and a secure eschatological hope.
When the thief steals material possessions or financial stability, the abundant life provides a supernatural contentment rooted in the knowledge that God supplies all needs according to His riches in glory.
When the thief destroys bodily health, the abundant life provides peace and the promise of a future bodily resurrection.
When false comforters like Eliphaz attack one's theological standing or induce guilt, the voice of the Good Shepherd cuts through the noise of condemnation, assuring the sheep of their secure identity and belonging.
In this way, the abundant life does not always change the external circumstances of being cast down, but it radically transforms the internal experience of it, infusing the descent with the presence of the Divine Lifegiver.
The exegetical and thematic interplay between Job 22:29 and John 10:10 provides a remarkably comprehensive framework for understanding the biblical narrative of suffering, spiritual warfare, and redemption.
Job 22:29, situated in the mouth of a misguided, legalistic counselor, highlights the dangerous human tendency to misinterpret suffering and weaponize orthodox theology. Eliphaz rightly identifies the theological maxim that God lifts up the humble, but he severely misapplies this truth to further cast down a righteous sufferer. His conditional offer of "lifting up" exposes the bankruptcy of a rigid, retributive religious system that demands pristine performance and fabricated confessions for restoration.
John 10:10 stands as the breathtaking divine corrective and the ultimate fulfillment of the human longing for rescue. Jesus exposes the perpetrators of these rigid religious systems as "thieves" who, whether wittingly or unwittingly, operate under the dark, cosmic mandate to steal, kill, and destroy the flock. In place of their destructive legalism and self-preservation, Christ offers Himself. He completely bypasses the transactional theology of Eliphaz to provide an unconditional, superabundant life (perissos) to all who simply hear His voice and follow Him.
Ultimately, the theological trajectory from Job to John is a glorious movement from the hope of situational, earthly recovery to the ironclad assurance of eternal, spiritual surplus. The forces that cast down—be they cosmic adversaries like the Satan, false earthly shepherds, or the broken circumstances of a fallen world—are decisively countered and defeated by the Good Shepherd. By willingly laying down His own life and being lifted up on the cross, He transforms the concept of "lifting up" from a mere reversal of earthly misfortune into an indestructible, abundant reality that secures the human soul for all eternity. The thief may still prowl, but the surplus of the Shepherd's life ensures that those who are cast down will never be destroyed.
What do you think about "The Theology of Descent and Surplus: An Exegetical and Thematic Interplay of Job 22:29 and John 10:10"?
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Job 22:29 • John 10:10
The biblical story consistently portrays the profound human experience of being cast down by adversaries, challenging circumstances, or spiritual atta...
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