I don't think I can keep up this pace for the next three months.
I'm not talking about the pool parties, the soccer games, the singing or the cavorting in the blazing Thai sun.
No, I'm talking about the eating. I've been on the ground for a total of three days, and I've eaten a greater variety of dishes than most people eat in a year: grilled pork, stewed pork, pork blood cakes, pork curry, pork liver, chicken, fish, venison, boar, beef, lamb and a palate-busting array of soups, curries, omelets and fry-ups, veggies you've never even heard of. And rice. Always rice.
I'm thankful that our leadership here has never fallen prey to a grumpy, sullen parody of the gospel wherein ashen saints trudge morosely through a desert of self-abnegation. Instead, they've embraced an exuberant version of the Kingdom, one full of singing, laughter and feasting — one where everyone is both host and guest. Each meal is a prophecy, a tantalizing glimpse of the world to come.
I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my meals with my wife and kids and with people who are real servants of God, true heroes of the faith.