U.S. strikes Iran again and Wall Street buckles: Dow sheds 577 as oil nears $80

Friend, I was the eighth son of Jesse, smelling of sheep, and no one thought to fetch me from the field until the prophet Samuel refused to sit down without me, for the LORD sees not as man sees, but looks on the heart. When the oil ran warm down my hair I felt less like a king than like a lamp newly lit, not yet knowing what house it would be set in. And mark this: the crown came only years later, through caves and spears and long grief, so the anointing was not a throne but a promise I had to grow into. If some calling rests on you, do not despair the long stretch between the oil and the crown; that waiting is where a king's heart is kneaded, as my friend the Baker would say. Selah.