THE LINK October - November 2026

0102030507Family News040809 Eschatology Bridging the City For Geoff Feedback Don't bet on it A Peter Monologue - God Is Not Finished with Us Yet Crossword CONTENT PAGE0102060810071217 Cover photo: Solar eclipse over Prince Charles Bridge: Dan Sands: Crickhowell06 Father Forgive09

Calendar for October Thursday 1st Sunday 4th Tuesday 6th Wednesday 7th Thursday 8th Sunday 11th Tuesday 13th Wednesday 14th Thursday 15th Sunday 18th Tuesday 20th Wednesday 21st Thursday 22nd Sunday 25th Tuesday 27th Wednesday 28th Thursday 29th * All Sunday services led by Sam King except where stated.11.00am 10.30am 10.00am 7.30pm 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am 10.00am 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am 11.45am 10.00am 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am 10.00am 7.30pm 11.00am Zoom Coffee Morning Worship with Communion Renew Cafe Deacons’ Meeting Time@Tyndale First Wednesday Community Meal Zoom Coffee Morning Worship Renew Cafe Time@Tyndale Discussing the Film ‘Wilding’ Zoom Coffee Morning Worship Church Meeting Renew Cafe Time@Tyndale Communion Zoom Coffee * Morning Worship with Sam Hackett Renew Cafe Time@Tyndale Fiona Meldrum : Citizens UK Zoom Coffee

BRIDGING THE CITY On Sunday 13 September, St Marks Baptist Church crossed the city to worship with Tyndale Baptist. It was our home fixture, but more than a joint service; it was an opportunity to discover something of what God is doing beyond our own familiar part of Bristol. Easton and Redland are different communities. St Marks is an inner-city, multicultural church, while Tyndale has its own history, traditions and predominantly white congregation. The differences are real, and there is no need to pretend otherwise. But as we gathered together under the theme “Bridging the City”, we were reminded that difference does not have to mean distance. The service, followed by lunch gave us space to worship, listen and learn from one another. There was music, prayer, Scripture and testimony, but perhaps most importantly there was the simple experience of being together. We discovered that we could sing together, pray together and listen to one another, even when our experiences of church and of the city are very different. We all see Bristol from where we stand. Our neighbourhoods, our communities and our experiences shape what we notice. But none of us sees the whole city, and none of us sees the whole picture of what God is doing. That is true of our churches too. There are things St Marks sees that Tyndale may not see, and things Tyndale sees that St Marks may not see. We have different gifts, different experiences and different stories to share. Rather than seeing those differences as something to overcome, we can receive them as gifts. At the heart of our gathering was the conviction that Jesus is our common ground. We do not need to become the same in order to belong to one another. Christ calls us to something deeper: to listen, to learn, to serve and to discover together what it means to be his people in this city. As everyone left after lunch, I was conscious that “Bridging the City” was not simply a theme for one Sunday. It is an invitation. What might happen if we continue to cross the boundaries that separate us? What might we learn from Christians whose experience is different from our own? And what might God build between our two churches, and beyond us, for the sake of Bristol? With God’s help we have the opportunity to model what community might look like in a troubled and divided world. We may not see the whole picture. But together, perhaps, we can see a little more. And perhaps that is where the bridge begins. Blessings Sam 01

FAMILY NEWS It is always good to share news of the fellowship. If you have any news, I would be happy to receive it for the next edition.ThisThis summer, on June 19th,summer, on June 19th, Ian and Judy Holyer celebratedIan and Judy Holyer celebrated their golden wedding anniversary.their golden wedding anniversary. Many congratulations both.Many congratulations both. This summer, on June 19th, Ian and Judy Holyer celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. Many congratulations both. OurOur treasurer was involved in a shootouttreasurer was involved in a shootout at the climax of Mystery at Mariner's Restat the climax of Mystery at Mariner's Rest at Patchway Community Centre in June.at Patchway Community Centre in June. Congratulations to Julian on providingCongratulations to Julian on providing another entertaining performance.another entertaining performance. Our treasurer was involved in a shootout at the climax of Mystery at Mariner's Rest at Patchway Community Centre in June. Congratulations to Julian on providing another entertaining performance. 02

25 years ago I worked in Staff Development for North Bristol Trust. Part of my role was to run a programme to help integrate overseas nurses into the NHS. In June I was contacted by one of the Filipino nurses to invite me to Southmead hospital for their Filippo Independence Day celebrations. Little did I realise that they had a presentation for me, to thank me for all I did for them then. I was touched, it was an honour to help them all those years ago. Sam King 03

04

It's 20 years since we had a major refurbishment of the sanctuary here at Tyndale. Many Tyndale members were involved in the project which took many months to complete. My husband, Geoffrey Molyneux, played an important role in the design, including the new platform, choice of colour schemes, and the mural. The latter was a collaboration with his friend and fellow artist Michael Long. Despite failing health, Geoff lived to see the whole project completed in August 2006. However he died suddenly on 21st September, just 3 days before the special Thanksgiving Service for the completion of the project. During the previous year, knowing that his time was limited, Geoff had been writing a 'memoir' of his early life, covering the years before we met. He began it with the words 'When do you first notice that you are alive?' Michael Docker, our previous minister, wrote the following poem entitled 'For Geoff ' using that line, which was read at Geoff's Thanksgiving Service. In Sept 2016, on the 10th anniversary of his death, we held an exhibition of some of Geoff's art in the sanctuary, brilliantly hung and lit by Bruce & Emily. Here are some images from that week. Rachel Molyneux 05

FOR GEOFF When do you first notice that you are alive? Is it when you discover that you breathe and feel warmth, That the trees are green, and life's scenes stretch Out before you like a canvass waiting to be painted? Or is it when, first, you love - fee! love, find love, give love To another; make love, and have love poured out on you Without let from a lover, a parent, a child, a friend - real As a clay form taking on its own life in your hands? When do you first notice that you are alive? Is it when, first, you discover life is fragile, Fractured, full of frailty: it's vital pathways Narrowed and stiffened, like old oils lost under dust - Or is it when you have much to hold, and Hold it close - an actor savouring each line; a teacher Consumed by an idea - an artist relishing a canvass? When do you first notice that you are alive? Is it when you sense over a far horizon - Like the sun rising and setting - life coming, going - like colours on canvass running after water? Or is it when you have much to lose and Can't let go: a smile, and gentle ways, a sharp wit That won't wound; a face turned bravely to life and death? When do you first notice that you are alive? Is it, like nursing, when you touch and hope and heal. Like drawing, as a sketched curve describes a life, Like cycling, when you crest a hill and feel a heart beat? Or is it, like now, when all that's lost and all that's held, Like a coast or country scene, a mural of a cross and water, Colours blue or warm, surround and shine for you - And the faces of friends and the music of their tears, The voices raised and the notes ringing in your ears, The eyes that see and the words that calm your fears - Show the One whose grace alone will keep the years - When do you first notice that you are alive? Michael Docker 06

DON'T BET ON IT My attitude to gambling is based on three incidents. The first was when I was about 10. I was in town with a friend on a Saturday morning. My friend suggested going to the morning kids matinee in the Odeon cinema nearby. I said we couldn't, because it had closed down. My friend said it hadn't, I said it had, he said it hadn't, I said it had. That's how arguments go when you are 10. My friend said he bet me a tanner that it hadn't closed down. I accepted and, of course, I won. But I was surprised how guilty I felt about it afterwards, because I knew I would win. Another incident came when I first learnt about probability at school. I was curious about how bookies worked out what odds to offer. I imagined being a bookie setting odds for a horse race. To make things simple, I pretended that I knew in advance how much money would be placed on each horse, and that I would be allowed to make some fixed percentage of profit. I found I could work out the odds so that I would make exactly that fixed profit, no matter which horse won. If it was the favourite, I would pay out small amounts to a lot of people. If it was an outsider, I would pay out large amounts to a small number of people. But I would always pay out the same total. In real life, bookies have to adjust odds continually while the money is coming in and deal with other complications. Nevertheless, on the whole, a bookie rakes in a fixed and steady profit, no matter what. The same goes for almost all forms of gambling. And as a punter, no matter how clever you think you are, you will, on average, over time, lose that same percentage of the money you spend on gambling. Later, there were several occasions when I was in an arcade with time to fill. I played on the penny falls. I was careful. I only ever played with copper coins, not silver, and stopped when I ran out of ready change. I noticed that I always felt disappointed at the end, when the change inevitably ran out. Once, I had a heavy win. Well, a double handful of copper coins is quite heavy. I stood for a while, enjoying the win and thinking. I knew that if I carried on as normal, all of my winnings would go back in the machine, and I would feel even more despondent than usual afterwards. I decided that the only way I could make the pleasure of the win last was by pocketing the winnings and never playing penny falls again in my life. And that I would do well to avoid all forms of gambling while I was at it, for similar reasons. So that's what I did. So my attitude now is that gambling is fine IF you don't encourage others to gamble and IF you are in control and IF you are immune from addiction and IF you can afford it and IF you can cope with the disappointments and IF you are prepared to lose steadily over time and IF the pleasure you get from it is worth the amount you lose. The problem is that those IFs are rather big. Ian Holyer 07

ESCHATOLOGY Eschatology is a difficult word representing the study of those processes concerned with the end of human history. Its study is not made any easier by passages like Matthew 24 and Luke 21 foretelling events both political and ecological which herald these end times. From the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem by Roman soldiers in AD 70 through to say the Russian Revolution in 1917 and even later, Christian commentators have often mistakenly seen such events as fulfilling the predictions of scripture. However they do represent a theology of history, set between a proper beginning with the creation story and the end with the final, establishment of God’s kingdom. What interests me is how these predictions have changed in our own day. After the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, the great fear has been of destruction undertaken by some malign power deploying all the terrifying might of nuclear weaponry: somebody doing something wholly evil. As yet happily this has proved an unfulfilled fear. But today the perspective has changed, with new concern about the devastating effects of our failure to care for God’s good creation. At the centre of this wonderful provision, God placed human kind with the God-given charge to ‘till the soil and take care of it’ [Genesis 2 v 15], a mandate which we have only partially fulfilled. The consequences of this is a natural world at risk, so that the new fear is not of somebody doing something but nobody doing what needs to be done. And that nobody includes all of us. How prepared are we to modify our life-style to protect the planet for the sake of our children and our children’s children, or are we prepared to leave them a heritage of a seriously denuded natural world of contaminated rivers, polluted atmosphere, species depletion, global warming with consequent pressures leading to apparently uncontrollable migration of peoples, and island nations at risk of life-threatening inundation. But such critical challenges are easily deflected. On the other side of the Atlantic, Donald Trump argues ‘We must reject the perennial prophets of doom and their predictions of the apocalypse. I don’t believe it. The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make US manufacturing non-competitive’. And nearer at home Sir Tony Blair has written, ‘in developed countries, voters feel they’re being asked to make financial sacrifices and changes in lifestyle when they know that their impact on global emissions is minimal. Whatever the historical responsibility of the developed world for climate change, those with even a cursory knowledge of the facts understand that in the future the major sources of pollution will come principally from the developing world’. 08

Neither comment, encouraging us and our neighbours not to take any action, remotely relates to our creation responsibilities. Would it be unjustified to detect in such speeches the voice of the false prophets who are predicted as playing an important part in end-time history, for false prophets may be wearing politicians’ clothing. By contrast our environmental responsibilities were perhaps best expressed by that notable Hindu, Mahatma Gandhi, in his pithy instruction -“Live simply so that others may simply live,” - an injunction well used by Christian Aid in some of its promotion materials, One may well see some of the most remarkable aspects of contemporary history foretold in Matthew 24 and Luke 21, with their references to wars and rumours of wars, and crises in the natural world, about all of which false prophets will have too much to say, with what Christian leaders say too little heeded. This means that we need to be careful how we read our newspapers and heed the messages forthcoming from our television screens, whilst living out what scripture has to say about our creation responsibilities.The instruction to the faithful is not to engage in excited activity, but to be always prepared, and await the return of Christ in prayerful devotion and anticipation, for the actual timetable of the end times is known only to God. John Briggs FATHER FORGIVE Look at the cruel wired crosses Hung from the grey bombed sky Torn from heaven to save us While we slowly go wandering by. The cafe is just round the corner Where the Eucharist used to be, And the fierce blazing timbers and faces Now a smile, now a memory. A communion is now in progress On the sparse and reverent ground, It is quiet, it is deeply holy, And angels in white stand around. A reflection on visiting Coventry Cathedral written as Ruth attended communion in the restored building in 2018. 09

FEEDBACK I thought the Summer of The Link was absolutely fabulous. In particular, I know folk who will really relate to the identity crisis article. I also have a few little comments I would like to make about it. Firstly, I think Luke Dowlng is making some vital points. It should be possible for churches to incorporate different forms of worship under one roof. For example, my youngest granddaughter’s community church has asked her to play the drums in a worship band, but they also have very interesting- sounding discussion groups. My one quibble with the article is its title, which implies monochrome worship is a Baptist-only problem. I have friends and family in a range of denominations, so I know it's not. What is important is to address the issue, and learn from good practice. David Bell's excellent series on William Tyndale has filled in some information I didn't know, or had forgotten. However, I can't agree with Tyndale that it's a good idea for a country's secular head of state also to head its main religious body, as expressed in 'The Obedience of a Christen Man.' I can see this view would appeal to Henry the Eighth when he wanted a rationale to break with Rome, but what's to say any monarch would have sincere religious views compared with a professional believer? The Bath Theatre Royal includes 'A Man for All Seasons' and 'Murder in the Cathedral' in its programme, both show how someone's conscience can lead them to defy a monarch, even if it leads to their death. And, as Keith Clement's article reminds us, Dietrich Bonhoeffer is a good example of a more recent stance against a corrupt or tyrannical government. And at present many of us look with disfavour on Donald Trump's attempt to co-opt the religious right-wingers in America. Finally I would like to thank Nick for including my friend's prayer testimony. I do find individual accounts of how folk's faith helped them through difficult times very inspiring, as with Bruce's recent feature on his health issues. The personal isn't just the political, it's the theological too. Sue Weekes 10

Sarah Dodds, good friend and former member (and organist) of Tyndale, has kindly given me permission to share a prayer she wrote for Music Sunday (14th June): Dear Lord, we thank You for the gift of music; for all the ways it enriches our humanity, touches the deepest parts of our being and brings us closer to You. For pulse and rhythm, connecting us with the heartbeat of life, energising us and putting us in sync with each other; for melody, adding grace to the lines of our lives; for harmony – dissonance and consonance – revealing to us new dimensions in our experience; for timbre and texture, reflecting the infinite colours of life. Help us, Lord, to weave our part in the music of creation. Just as our instruments have to be tuned and repaired, tune us up to the tones of Your love. Just as musicians have to practise and rehearse, give us patience and diligence in following You and faith that we, too, can produce something of beauty. Just as we have to learn to listen to make music, help us to listen better to others. Just as we have to move past the wrong notes and mistakes in live performance, give us grace, humour, compassion and playfulness to dance on in life and be accepting of our failings. May our music-making proclaim Your glory. May our souls sing of Your love. And may our sounds serve to reveal the wonder of Your silence in the mystery of time. A big thank you to Sarah – and to all those in Tyndale and beyond – whose music making enriches our lives. Ruth Allen 11

A PETER MONOLOGUE: GOD IS NOT FINISHED WITH US YET EX 3:1–15;MATT 16:21–28 (Ruth has asked if Sam’s sermon of 30th August could be reprinted here. “Not all of it, it’s too long!” was the editor’s first thought. So this is a cut- down version and the responsibility for the cuts lies with me. NP) You know, there are some moments in your life that you remember very clearly. Not because they were your finest moments. Quite the opposite. Some moments stay with you because you wish you could go back and say something different, or do something different, like keep your mouth shut. I have a few of those. There is one conversation I remember really well. We were in Caesarea Philippi, a city devoted to pagan idol worship, where there was a massive cave dedicated to the Greek god Pan. And it was there that Jesus asked us what people were saying about him. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” We gave him all the answers we'd heard. John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, one of the prophets. And then…..Jesus looked us in the eye. “But who do you say that I am?” There was silence. I remember looking around at the others. Nobody wanted to speak first. So, I did. I said: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” I can still remember saying those words. And I meant them. Jesus was the Messiah, God's chosen one, the one we had been waiting for. And Jesus told me that I was blessed. He said that this had not been revealed to me by human beings, but by my Father in heaven.12

I thought I'd finally understood. After all those months of following Jesus, listening to him, watching him heal people, hearing him teach, seeing things, I could hardly believe. Finally, I understood who he was. Or so I thought. Because almost immediately, Jesus began telling us what was going to happen, and it wasn't what I expected. He said he had to go to Jerusalem. He would suffer, he would be rejected and killed, and on the third day he would be raised. I remember thinking: No. That cannot be right, that's not how this story is supposed to end. So I took him aside. I didn't want to embarrass him in front of the others. “God forbid it, Lord!” I said, “This must never happen to you.” I thought I was helping him. I thought I understood God's plan, but I didn't. Jesus looked me in the eye, and said: “Get behind me, Satan.” I have never forgotten those words. You might think that was the worst thing Jesus ever said to me, but strangely, I'm not sure it was. Because Jesus wasn't telling me that I was worthless, he was telling me that I had got something important terribly wrong. I had recognised him as Messiah, but I had decided what kind of Messiah he had to be. I wanted flames of glory. He spoke about a cross. I wanted victory. He spoke about suffering. I wanted God to act in the way I thought God ought to act. But Jesus was teaching me something I have spent the rest of my life learning: God's future is bigger than our imagination. Perhaps that is one of the hardest things about faith. Not believing in God, but allowing God to be God. Allowing God to surprise us - to work in ways we wouldn't have chosen. Allowing God to have a future that we cannot yet see. I wanted to save Jesus from the cross. I thought I was doing the right thing, but Jesus knew something I didn't. The cross wasn't the end….. I couldn't see that. I could only see death, I could only see defeat, I could only see everything I'd hoped would disappear. 13

But God could see beyond Friday. Beyond Saturday, God could see Sunday. And that's the thing about God, God can see beyond the place where we stop seeing. I had to learn that lesson over and over again. There was the night I denied him. I had said I would never do it. Never. Even if everyone else deserted Jesus, I wouldn't. I would stay. I would be faithful. I would die with him if necessary. And then a servant girl asked me in the darkness of the courtyard: “Aren't you also one of this man's disciples?” And I said: “I am not.” Just three words, “I am not.” Someone else asked. Again I denied him. Then someone else, and again, three times. And then the cock crowed, and I remembered what Jesus had said. And I knew I had failed. Not somebody else. Me. Peter. The one who had said: “Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And I had done just that - denied him. Do you know, I can still feel the shame. I remember going away and weeping. I thought that was the end of my story. How could Jesus possibly use me after that? How could I ever stand alongside the others again? How could I call myself his disciple? Perhaps you've had moments like that. Maybe not exactly like mine, but moments when you have looked at your own life and thought: I've blown it. I've missed my chance. I've made too many mistakes. God can't possibly use someone like me. I thought that. But God was not finished with me yet. And then, then came the cross. And for a while, I really did think everything was finished. Jesus was dead. The one I had followed, the one I had believed in, the one I had given up everything for, the one I had called Messiah. Dead. And I had failed him. There was no heroic ending. No glorious victory, just an empty feeling and the terrible knowledge that I had abandoned my friend when he needed me most. It was not just an emotional pain, it was physical. 14

But then came that morning. The women came back saying the tomb was empty. We didn't understand. We didn't know what to believe. And then we saw him. Jesus. Alive. I don't know how to explain what that does to a person. Because resurrection isn't simply about Jesus coming back. It changes everything you thought you knew about endings. The cross looked like the end. It wasn't. Death looked like the final word. It wasn't. My failure looked like the end of my discipleship. It wasn't. And that is when I began to understand something about God that I wish I'd understood earlier. God is not finished when we think the story is finished. I thought my failure had disqualified me, but I was wrong. And perhaps some of you know what it is like to look at your own life and think: My best days are behind me. Perhaps you have watched things change. Perhaps life hasn't turned out exactly as you imagined. Perhaps there are things you once did that you cannot do anymore. Perhaps there are people you miss. Perhaps there are opportunities that have gone. Perhaps you sometimes wonder whether there is still anything significant ahead. Jesus had to teach me that sometimes faith means saying: I don't understand. I don't know. I can't see where this is going, but even in all of that I trust you. That's so different from giving up and saying that nothing matters. It's actually a deeper kind of faith, because you're trusting God rather than your own ability to predict the future. Maybe that's something you need to hear as a church too. You don't have to know exactly what the future will look like. You don't have to recreate the past. You don't have to have every answer. You don't have to know which opportunities will work and which won't. You don't even have to know what God is doing. But you can ask: “What is the next faithful step?” The future doesn't have to look like the past to be faithful. God's faithfulness doesn't mean God always repeats what God has done before. Sometimes God's faithfulness means God does something new. Something unexpected. Something we couldn't have planned. Something we might not even recognise at first. New ways of serving. New ways of worshipping. We don't know. And that's okay. We don't have to know, we simply need to keep our eyes open. 15

Jesus once said: “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” I used to think that was about giving everything up. Now I think it is also about letting go of our need to control the story. Letting go of our insistence that we know what should happen next. Letting go of the idea that our value depends upon our usefulness. Letting go of our fear that change automatically means loss. Letting go of our conviction that God can only work through the things we understand. Because if I have learnt anything from my life with Jesus, it is this: God is always bigger than I thought. God's grace is bigger. God's forgiveness is bigger. God's purposes are bigger. God's future is bigger. And perhaps most astonishingly of all: God's willingness to use imperfect people is bigger than I ever imagined. So if you will allow an old fisherman to offer you some advice, let me say this. Don't write yourself off. Don't write this church off. Don't write your neighbour off. Don't write the future off. Don't assume that because something has changed, God has stopped working. Don't assume that because something has ended, nothing new can begin. Don't assume that because you cannot see a way forward, there isn't one. And don't assume that your failures have the final word. Perhaps you've thought: It's too late. I'm too old. I've failed too much. Things have changed too much. There's nothing more for me to do. Perhaps you've looked at the church and wondered what the future can possibly hold. Perhaps you've looked at the world and wondered where hope can possibly come from. So pay attention. Listen. Take the next step. You don't need the whole map. You don't need all the answers. You don't even need to know exactly where the road leads. Because the promise God gave Moses is still the promise we can trust: “I will be with you.” God's future is bigger than our imagination. He’s not finished with us yet. 16

0017

18

Calendar for november Sunday 1st Tuesday 3rd Wednesday 4th Thursday 5th Sunday 8th Tuesday 10th Wednesday 11th Thursday 12th Sunday 15th Tuesday 17th Wednesday 18th Thursday 19th Sunday 22nd Tuesday 24th Wednesday 25th Thursday 26th Sunday 29th * All Sunday services led by Sam King except where stated10.30am 10.00am 7.30pm 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am 10.00am 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am 11.45am 10.00am 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am 10.00am 7.30pm 11.00am 10.30am * Morning Worship including Communion with Rachel Haig Renew Cafe Deacons’ Meeting Time@Tyndale First Wednesday Community Meal Zoom Coffee Morning Worship: Remembrance Renew Cafe Time@Tyndale Ann Droid: Can a Robot Care? Zoom Coffee Morning Worship Church Meeting Renew Cafe Time@Tyndale Communion Zoom Coffee Morning Worship Renew Cafe Time@Tyndale Sam King: Advent Thoughts Zoom Coffee Morning Worship

TYNDALE BAPTIST CHURCH Whiteladies Road, Clifton, Bristol, BS8 2QG WHAT DO WE STAND FOR? Worship Message Community Service Exploration CONTACTS Revd Sam King (minister) Nick Parsons (church secretary) Debbie Pinfold (church secretary) Julian West (church treasurer) ROOM BOOKINGS For room bookings and enquiries please contact: Tina Parsons, bookings@tyndalebaptist.co.uk Please let Nick Parsons have your material for the December edition of The Link by Sunday 15th November. Contributions can be emailed to nickjdparsons@gmail.com Each copy of the Link costs £1 to produce please consider a donation towards the costs. Celebrating the presence of God Message Inviting people to discover Jesus Christ Community Providing mutual commitment and support Service Caring for people around and about us Exploration Making connections between faith and life 0117 973 7747 07860 860 465 revsamking@outlook.com info@tyndalebaptist.co.uk