"I am unable to perform at the level I desire and at the level you deserve" - Jack Russell

“Where do they go?” the young woman asked as she stared at the coal-black eyes of a dead horse lying in a stable. That “threshold question,” uttered by actress Claire Danes as she portrayed Temple Grandin in the 2010 biopic film, still haunts me. When the spirit of life leaves the living, we have a visceral sense things couldn’t merely have halted or evaporated. They must continue—somehow, somewhere. There’s more telling in the tale, more story in a distant setting. And we long to know where. In the same scenario, most of us would say the horse “lost its life.” But the question Danes’s character posed in the film is better. Where do they go? Christians, of course, have clear biblical responses to that question, at least when it applies to people (we’ll let horses be for now). There’s still evocative mystery, of course, enough to make God smile and man sigh—the gathering of persons passed (Gen. 25:8, 17; 35:29; 49:29), rooms in a heavenly house (John 14:2), rivers running through a God-saturated city (Rev. 22:1–2). The Bible has a poetic way of telling us where we go after death if we believe in the God of grace. But our lips are strangely still when we ask a similar question about what happens on this side of death’s door. What happens for those of us caught up in grief in the land of the living? Where are we going? Put differently, where do our losses lead us? Temple Grandin asked where a dead horse went after the light of life had left it. So why don’t we ask where a live human is headed while the heart still beats and the blood still runs? Where is our soul being led tomorrow by the losses we face today? Cavernous Cancer I didn’t ask these questions when I was young. But when cancer begins drawing away those you love, it loosens your tongue. First it was my father when I was 18, after a 12-year battle with a brain tumor. Then my grandmother two years later. A childhood friend not long after that, from spinal cancer. He was 31. I could keep going, but you have your own list, don’t you? It’s a solemn list, with names written in water. And the ripples keep coming. But cancer, thank God, never has the last word. Early in my grief, I stumbled across a line from Kahlil Gibran (1883–1931), a Syriac Christian Maronite whose mystical writings became popular in the 1960s. In his book The Prophet, Gibran wrote, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” Sorrow is cavernous to joy; grief makes way for gladness. And maybe cancer is the rough metal gouge that scrapes out the softer wood from our pith, removing whatever isn’t worthy of making it through the fire of faith (Zech. 13:9). After the gouge has gone, we’ve become deepened, with more space to prize the passions and beauties we were blind to before, be it in the places still around us or the ghosts of those we’ve lost. But having a deeper cavern in your soul, like having an empty stomach, means echoing calls for satisfaction ring louder and longer. So we start searching for something to fill the new void. The world offers us a plethora of options to numb the sharp pangs of loss—ranging from the physical to the material, the psychological to the relational. We chase after dopamine hits and oxytocin boosts from sex—the flights of feeling. We buy fine leather and woven cotton—adornments for our fading frames. We drown our tastebuds with sugar and spice and everything nice—delightful distractions to daze the soul. We chase what we can touch and feel and taste. Or we find passing satisfaction in secret ruminations inside our head, burying our hearts in memories like children under the autumn leaves. Maybe we cling to other people, hoping we might lean on them for some sense of stability, resting ourselves on a relational rock. But all these things only quiet the echoes, don’t they? They don’t snuff out all the sound waves. They can’t. What we really want after being carved out by our losses isn’t something to fill the hollow shape inside us; it’s someone to invite us in. But the way we enter might surprise us. A Way In In his essay “The Weight of Glory,” C. S. Lewis answers both the questions I’ve posed so far: Where do they go? And where do our losses lead us? See, when we lose someone precious, we know we’ve lost someone beautiful. It’s not just a beauty of aesthetics; it’s a beauty of presence. It’s the glory of being fully there with us. That’s what I longed for after my father died. I wanted his presence back with me so I could share mine with him. Lewis points out that this happens with all the beautiful things we encounter in life, not just the beautiful people we’ve lost: We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. . . . At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in. What Lewis says of the beauties around us applies uniquely to the people who have gone before us—the losses that linger in grief. Later in the essay, he speaks of the glory of Christ hidden within those who believe in him. We feel the absence of that glory, don’t we? We long for its presence. It’s the glory of personal presence we want most. When it’s gone, we feel it. We want to get back, to get inside what we’ve lost relationally. We spend so much time thinking about satisfaction instead of presence. But it’s presence that pricks us in grief. And it’s presence that pulls us with losses. In grief, we’re pulled not to a vague sense of peace or euphoria but to people. That’s why the greatest news of Scripture isn’t merely that we receive every spiritual blessing in Christ (Eph. 1:3), that we’ll one day have our earthly absences filled up, that our soul caverns will stop echoing. Rather, the greatest news the Bible has to offer is that there’s a divine Insider, one from the inner life of God himself, who has come for people on the outside, people who want to get in, people who grieve because they keep seeing others go in where they cannot go. From the eternally hallowed company of the Father and the Spirit, the Son became incarnate; he went outside so we could go inside. It’s not that we would become divine or be taken up into God, like a drop of water in the ocean, but that we would finally be with the God we love and the people we’ve lost. Being an insider means enjoying the full presence of others. And the most beautiful person this world has ever seen or will ever see, the hearth and home of holy presence and pulsing glory, has invited us in to do just that. Because of him, and through him alone, “we shall get in.” We long to inhabit the beauty we see, and we long for the personal presence of those we have lost. In Jesus Christ, we get both. Entrance of Giving But I said the way of entrance might surprise us. That’s because when we lose someone, we assume the remedy comes through gaining. The poetic power of God’s Word reveals, however, that the remedy comes not through getting but through giving: “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). Even in our losses. Even in our cavernous soul with all its clanging echoes. We attempt to take to fill the absence cancer leaves in our lives, but Jesus says giving is the better blessing. In grief, we’re pulled not to a vague sense of peace or euphoria but to people. Isn’t that the glorious beauty of the cross? We think loss is the most terrifying thing, that losing shreds us to pieces we must then patch back together. But on the cross, Jesus loses his life for our gain (Phil. 2:8). And he calls us to a life of cross-carrying (Matt. 16:24), a life of losing. Why? Because in that losing is the gaining. Resurrection life comes after the seed of death is sown (John 12:24). Without the loss, there’s no gain. Without the seed, there’s no sowing. And without the sowing, there’s no growing. We fear darkness and death, but in God’s grace they serve as our threshold questions, opening into the light of God’s ever-pulsing promises. Resurrection life begins where losses lead. The seed that falls to the ground doesn’t lie fallow; it brings a harvest. New life lies beneath the loss—eternal life (v. 25). But this isn’t just in the life to come; it’s right now. While the blinding door of hope ahead of us houses the not yet, today houses the already. What does that look like? Like what life always looks like: giving. The life God first breathed into humanity was a gift (Gen. 2:7). The new life he breathes into us by his life-giving Spirit is also a gift (1 Cor. 15:45). All life is a gift (4:7) and leads to more giving. So resurrection life today means we give ourselves to others because of Christ and by his Spirit. God’s giving of himself for us on the cross leads to our grace-empowered giving of ourselves to others. It’s giving, through that new resurrection life, that opens us. Opening ourselves up to give our time and attention, our listening ears, our gratitude, our prayers, our hard-won sympathy from losing beloved people in Christ—these are what drive us deeper through the threshold of the crucified and risen Christ. These are what lead us further in. Further Up and Further In I don’t know where these words will find you. But they’ll likely find you amid losses. Where are those losses leading you? Through Christ, the Insider come for outsiders, our losses can lead us in, tilting our chins up so we stare at the promise of his presence and the presence of those who have hidden their own weighted glory inside him. Until we arrive there, we move closer by opening our palms, using the losses to give ourselves to others, just as the Lord of the lost gave himself for us. Lewis writes in the final book of The Chronicles of Narnia, “Further up and further in!” Such was the call of the characters as they sprinted and climbed their way deeper into Aslan’s country. That’s the answer, in a sense, to our visceral questions when we lose someone in Christ. Where did she go? Further up and further in. Where are your losses leading you right now? Further up and further in. The poetic power of God’s Word reveals that the remedy comes not through getting but through giving. You and I are invited in by the holy Insider. Amid our losses, giving ourselves to others reminds us that the ultimate beauty we seek—being fully present with the God of weighted glory who knows and loves us most—comes through letting go, not through holding on. God gave his Son to get us. That loss led to our gain. In his image, we give ourselves in our losses, and that giving doesn’t just bring us further up and further in. How we meet and respond to our losses can become a path for others to enter in as well. Our losses are leading us to the grand Insider. It’s in his beautiful, personal, self-giving presence that all his people will be found. He is our way in. He is where our losses lead.

“Most laws of any consequence arise from a moral vision and reflect the moral judgment of the lawmaker,” according to Texas Supreme Court justice Jimmy Blacklock. In the end, “law cannot be separated from moral judgment.” He penned these words in his June 2024 concurrence in a case that upheld a state ban on certain medical treatments for children experiencing gender dysphoria. A member of an evangelical church in Austin, Blacklock explained that the debate at the heart of the case was moral, not primarily legal or even factual. The case was ultimately a conflict between “competing visions of the human person,” a “disagreement [that] is one of philosophy, morality, and even religion.” His opinion exposes one of the most contentious—and often misunderstood—issues of our day, namely the role of religiously based morality in crafting civil law. In The Crisis of Civil Law: What the Bible Teaches About Law and What It Means Today, Australian law professor Benjamin B. Saunders seeks to “recover the historic understanding of the Christian tradition regarding the law” to help Christians to think about civil law and the moral judgments the law reflects (3). For those who have not thought much about the relationship between Scripture and the civil law, this book serves as a clear and concise introduction. It’s also a helpful entry point for understanding the “Christian Nationalism” discussion that has recently gained steam. Saunders argues “the most significant principle of the Christian view of the law is that humans are subject to the moral law, given by God,” which “consists of the unchanging and universally applicable obligations owed by all people as a rule of conduct by virtue of their creation in God’s image” (9–10). This moral law is codified in the Ten Commandments but can be known by humans apart from Scripture. At the same time, there’s room for creativity and wisdom in how the civil law reflects the moral law (11). Universal Moral Principles At the heart of the debate over the civil law is our understanding of the nature of God’s universal moral law. Many Christians, especially in the Reformed tradition, believe that the Ten Commandments summarize God’s moral law. Even without access to the Ten Commandments—even prior to the giving of the Ten Commandments—humans can and do know the substance of the moral law. Cain knew he’d done wrong when he murdered his brother Abel (Gen. 4). Dinah’s brothers knew the rape of their sister was an evil to be avenged (Gen. 34). Children innately know they shouldn’t hit their siblings. Roman Catholics and many Protestants refer to these moral principles knowable apart from Scripture as natural law. Though natural law is more controversial among Protestants, Christians of all types understand human conscience and creation’s moral order as a source for discerning morality (23–24). Even Immanuel Kant argued that moral law could be understood by reasoning from categorical imperatives—maxims everyone should obey without exception. Whatever the terminology, the concept is largely the same: humankind across time and culture, even without access to Scripture, knows certain things are wrong. The Ten Commandments provide a summary of God’s moral law. However, as Saunders explains, the commandments’ substance isn’t limited to their words (51). For example, the Ten Commandments don’t specifically forbid either rape or financial fraud. But the immorality of both is obvious from the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments provide a summary of God’s moral law. As the Westminster Longer Catechism explains, the sixth commandment (murder) prohibits even nonlethal physical harm, the seventh commandment (adultery) forbids all sexual unchastity, the eighth commandment (stealing) requires financial fair dealing, and the ninth commandment (bearing false witness) demands truth telling in all contexts. From these principles, it’s obvious that rape, financial fraud, and a host of other offenses violate God’s moral law even if not specified in the text of the Ten Commandments. Wisdom in Application It’s more difficult to determine to what extent God’s moral law should be embedded in civil laws enforced by coercive government force. Saunders says, “The historic Christian view is that the civil law must be based on the universal principles of the moral law” (109). But he also rightly observes that “not all sins should be crimes” (97). We need wisdom to translate the moral law into civil laws appropriate for a particular cultural context (130–31). Even among Christians who agree on the nature and extent of the moral law, there is significant debate about its application. For example, some Christians argue the whole moral law should be incorporated into civil law. In contrast, Saunders argues against legally enforcing the first four commandments because “governments have no moral right to require a person to do something against his or her conscience” (168). Here, he seems to overstate his case and miss the point of those who’d use government to enforce the whole moral law in society. We need wisdom to translate the moral law into civil laws appropriate for a particular cultural context. A common argument for enforcing all ten commandments through civil law is that doing so only requires governing conduct (by, for example, criminalizing blasphemy), not mandating belief. The stated intent of those who hold this view is to curb extreme conduct that would undermine social cohesion. Additionally, we have to remember that conscience isn’t absolute. There are examples of conduct so extreme that the government can and should regulate it, notwithstanding the law’s infringement on sincerely held belief. A better argument for not enforcing the first four commandments by law is that elected officials aren’t competent to make the doctrinal determinations needed to enforce them. If you think doctrinal orthodoxy is hard to maintain among like-minded believers, imagine the difficulty of maintaining orthodoxy if that obligation is assigned to a body politic composed of disparate religious commitments. Graciously Navigating Disagreement Substantial disagreements can exist about the translation of the moral law to a society’s civil laws, even among those who hold the same core creedal commitments, the same view of the inerrancy of Scripture, and the same understanding of the moral law’s applicability in society. For example, Saunders argues rightly that the moral law prohibits the killing of unborn children. The “fundamental role of civil government is to protect the innocent.” Thus it’s “clear” that the “Christian view” is that “civil governments should criminalize abortion except when necessary to save the life of another” (141). At the same time, Saunders argues that faithful Christians may disagree over who (doctor vs. mother) should be viewed as the criminal wrongdoer or whether abortion should be treated as the equivalent of murder (142–43). The way we navigate disagreements on issues of this sort matters. And even when Christians agree about how the moral law should be translated into civil law, they may disagree about the proper political tactics to bring our shared policy objectives into law. It’s dangerous to confuse a preferred policy approach, much less a tactic for achieving that policy, with the moral law itself. It can lead to accusations of biblical infidelity despite significant agreement, which creates unnecessary division between Christians. I say this as someone with strong views on the way we should criminally prosecute abortion. Saunders’s argument is a healthy reminder that, in a fallen world, I may misjudge such application and tactical matters. Or my faithful brothers and sisters may misjudge, though they share my moral commitments. We all now see through a glass darkly. And so we should engage one another with charity on issues of application and tactics, rather than eyeing each other with suspicion. On that last day, before the only just Judge, we’ll all need much mercy for our errors. As we seek to live faithfully in these confused times, The Crisis of Civil Law can help Christians do so with grace toward other believers.

While Scripture calls Christian leaders to be gentle, kind shepherds, there continue to be cases of pastors who dominate their flocks with a heavy hand. How should we understand this issue of “spiritual abuse”? How big of a problem is it? In this breakout session at TGC23, Mike Kruger explores the definition of spiritual abuse, how it’s often misunderstood, and what steps churches can take to address it.

'Too Painful To Tell': Trump Walks Through Brush With Death, Embraces Unity In Emotional RNC Finaler

As the final night of the Republican National Conference began, with a crowd overwhelmed with excitement, optimism, and successful polling, it seemed to become harder for the media to find any criticism. Yet as petty criticisms pervaded the networks, MSNBC turned to the never-Trumper Sarah Longwell, publisher of The Bulwark, in order to find any legitimate scruples with the successful party. As MSNBC host Chris Hayes introduced Longwell, he questioned the nature of the Republican confidence: But there is a confidence, a supreme confidence they are exuding that they have this in the bag. They don't have to worry about swing state voters. That this is their - - this is just plucking an apple off the tree.     However instead of responding explaining the clear influence the last month of politics has had, between Biden’s downfall, and Trump’s assassination attempt, patriotism and political unification, Longwell gave a pitiful answer, suggesting they "lost the plot" and "lost the time frame" of who was president when (click expand): They believe that they can beat Joe Biden in states that are not even part of the swing state calculus. Places like Virginia. Places like Minnesota. I think they will find themselves in a different position if it is anybody else, other than Joe Biden, because suddenly there is someone who could prosecute the case. I think it is - - I think Joe Biden has become the center of the story and one of the things that has happened with voters and obviously I do focus groups and talk with voters all the time. It’s not that they’ve forgotten exactly. It’s that, that was a very intense time period and because of the pace of the news media and everything else they’ve like lost the plot, lost the time frame on when everything happened. Which is why for so many issues today, it is about being capable of driving a narrative and raising the salience of certain issues. You need somebody who can explain that four years ago people were trapped in their homes. Tons of people were out of work and that when Joe Biden came in, this thing happens sometimes where people think Donald Trump is the one who passed the infrastructure bill and Joe Biden was president during the pandemic. You have to be able to articulate to them and remind them of what is happening and you have to do it in real time, relentlessly all the time, because otherwise voters just kind of especially because that time was a black hole for people sand so it creates a weird space in their brain and that’s why you need to prosecute this case. Hayes emphasized this point even more in his questioning of Longwell (click expand): HAYES: Sara, when did certain things happen? I think it is such an important one. I genuinely think that’s a huge part of it. What year was that again? When was Biden - when was Trump? Like I genuinely think to your point about prosecuting that case, is this - - is what I try to do on my show is just like here is the calendar. This is - -look at it. Zoom in, July. Joe Biden, not president. That is so key to the next four months of this campaign, whoever is the democratic nominee. LONGWELL: Yeah and look, I'm going to say something that’s going to sound crazy, but voters don't think about January 6 that often. They don't. They also if you ask them, you know how they feel things are going in the country, they often don't bring up abortion. You have to raise the salience of these issues for people because when you remind swing voters about January 6 or even when Trump gets in their face. George is so right  about the fact that Donald Trump not being front and center in the conversation, the fact that the media is kind of fighting the last battle. They don't carry his rallies. He’s been able to be in court rooms. They cut off his mic during debates. You know, everything is built to keep Donald Trump - - He is not on Twitter the way he used to be, he’s just over there on Truth Social which nobody reads. And that is creating for people a sense of distance with Trump that allows them to not remember what he was like before and feel slightly better about him than they have, but I agree that it’s hubristic. Because the second this race turns and is about Donald Trump, it becomes a much bigger and more difficult prospect because voters still don't like Donald Trump. “Lost the plot,” states Longwell, not a surprising answer from a never-Trumper, and that is exactly why MSNBC had her on. No longer can the media dissect Biden’s failing campaign, and the Democratic ticket which seems to be questioned by more of its own politicians everyday. If they do it would surely mean a definite failure in November. Instead they look towards any and every alternative, highlighting an undeniable bias, and further damaging true journalism. The transcript is below, click “expand” to read: MSNBC Republican National Convention 7/18/2024 8:24:21 PM EST   CHRIS HAYES: We are also joined by Sarah Longwell, publisher of the Bulwark and host of the Focus Group Podcast. And Sarah, I want to ask you this. Alex and I were talking in the editorial meeting today about the triumphalism, is a word that Mckay used. And I think it’s born of, I mean  - - first of all them pulling off this amazing sort of retconning of that year. Like are you better off, it’s like well yeah of course we’re better off, but there is a confidence, a supreme confidence they are exuding that they have this in the bag. They don't have to worry about swing state voters. That this is their - - this is just plucking an apple off the tree. ..SARAH LONGWELL: yeah well, I think they have been planning for a while to run against Joe Biden and they believe Joe Biden is somebody they can beat in a landslide. You know, Tim Alberta had this great piece in the Atlantic where he was hanging out with Crhis Lasovito and Suzy Wiles and they believe that they can beat Joe Biden in states that are not even part of the swing state calculus. Places like Virginia. Places like Minnesota. I think they will find themselves in a different position if it is anybody else, other than Joe Biden, because suddenly there is someone who could prosecute the case. I think it is - - I think Joe Biden has become the center of the story and one of the things that has happened with voters and obviously I do focus groups and talk with voters all the time. It’s not that they’ve forgotten exactly. It’s that, that was a very intense time period and because of the pace of the news media and everything else they’ve like lost the plot, lost the time frame on when everything happened. Which is why for so many issues today, it is about being capable of driving a narrative and raising the salience of certain issues. You need somebody who can explain that four years ago people were trapped in their homes. Tons of people were out of work and that when Joe Biden came in, this thing happens sometimes where people think Donald Trump is the one who passed the infrastructure bill and Joe Biden was president during the pandemic. You have to be able to articulate to them and remind them of what is happening and you have to do it in real time, relentlessly all the time, because otherwise voters just kind of especially because that time was a black hole for people sand so it creates a weird space in their brain and that’s why you need to prosecute this case.  (...)   08:27:55 PM EST CHRIS HAYES: That point, there too, about literally, Sara, when did certain things happen? I think it is such an important one. I genuinely think that’s a huge part of it. What year was that again? When was Biden - when was Trump? Like I genuinely think to your point about prosecuting that case, is this - - is what I try to do on my show is just like here is the calendar. This is - -look at it. Zoom in, July. Joe Biden, not president. That is so key to the next four months of this campaign, whoever is the democratic nominee. LONGWELL: Yeah and look, I'm going to say something that’s going to sound crazy, but voters don't think about January 6 that often. They don't. They also if you ask them, you know how they feel things are going in the country, they often don't bring up abortion. You have to raise the salience of these issues for people because when you remind swing voters about January 6 or even when Trump gets in their face. George is so right  about the fact that Donald Trump not being front and center in the conversation, the fact that the media is kind of fighting the last battle. They don't carry his rallies. He’s been able to be in court rooms. They cut off his mic during debates. You know, everything is built to keep Donald Trump - - He is not on Twitter the way he used to be, he’s just over there on Truth Social which nobody reads. And that is creating for people a sense of distance with Trump that allows them to not remember what he was like before and feel slightly better about him than they have, but I agree that it’s hubristic. Because the second this race turns and is about Donald Trump, it becomes a much bigger and more difficult prospect because voters still don't like Donald Trump.

After an emotional recounting of the attempt on his life, the GOP nominee rambled for 92 minutes.

WATCH: Trump Speaks in Detail About Assassination Attempt, Calls for National Unity

The multi-colored marble floor of a Roman luxury villa in the Submerged Archaeological Park of Baiae on the northwest shore of the Gulf of Naples is being restored underwater. The marble mosaic covered the floor of the villa’s reception room and curved front entrance porch (protiro), an area of about 2,700 square feet. The floor was crafted in the opus sectile style, a technique that uses varied colors, shapes and sizes of marble to puzzle together patterns and figures. It was more a complex approach than mosaic floors which were made with small, even square tiles, and much more expensive. The prized marbles often had to be imported and the skill involved in designing and laying the shaped pieces into a repeating pattern or figural scene required the finest craftsmen to accomplish. Baiae was a fashionable seaside resort town for the wealthy that flourished from the late Roman Republic through the end of the Roman Empire (ca. 100 B.C. – 500 A.D.). It had a reputation for hedonism, as described by 1st century Stoic philosopher Seneca the Younger in his epistle On Baiae and Morals: [T]here are places also, which the wise man or he who is on the way toward wisdom will avoid as foreign to good morals. Therefore, if he is contemplating withdrawal from the world, he will not select Canopus (although Canopus does not keep any man from living simply), nor Baiae either; for both places have begun to be resorts of vice. At Canopus luxury pampers itself to the utmost degree; at Baiae it is even more lax, as if the place itself demanded a certain amount of license. You can’t buy that kind of bad publicity. Baiae’s popularity persisted even as imperial power shifted away from Rome and the rich continued to build lavishly appointed villas on the sea. In the end it was the seismic activity endemic to the area, specifically the phenomenon of bradyseism, the rising and lowering of land caused by underground volcanic activity. Baiae appears to have sunk under the sea in two phases, the first more gradual between the 3rd and 5th centuries, the second more calamitous event in the 6th century. By the 8th century, the lower ancient city was fully submerged. The recently-discovered opus sectile floor adorned one of the villas built at the very end of the Roman Empire shortly before Baiae was submerged. At this time the trade in high-end materials was no longer reliable making fresh supplies of large amounts of colored marbles hard to secure. The homeowner had to turn to recycled materials, ironically, to show off his wealth in floor form. Thousands of marble pieces in hundreds of different shapes were arranged in large adjacent squares inset with smaller squares, inset with circles, inset with a center square. Smaller polygonal pieces in different colors at the corners of the largest adjacent squares form pinwheels. This pattern had to be recreated by marine archaeologists from the marble pieces. They puzzled it out based on the cut and color of the marbles found loose on the seabed. The restoration has so far recreated three of the square sections. There is much more to left to do.