The God of the Mangosteen

Mangosteen are called the queen’s fruit here in Thailand. They are small and round and purple, with four round green leaves circling a green stem on top. A thick fibrous shell encases soft, slimy white wedges of pure juicy sweetness. They are rich and delicious and in season now.

Last week I spent learning from Dr. Nick, the only American missionary doctor in Thailand. That man is the golden standard of missionary doctors; he’s labored for the Lord in many different countries for nearly 20 years. To practice medicine in Thailand, he had to take his boards in Thai! I’ve tried my best to soak up all the knowledge I can from him. My brain feels like a super-saturated sponge!

The Thais are special people, for sure. They are very kind and friendly, valuing humility and community. To convey acknowledgment, the head is bowed, with the hands held in a praying position pressed close to the nose. This is accompanied by a “Sa wa dee kah!” The city of Bangkok never sleeps. Since many families have just one small room to live in, everyone seems to be out on the streets at night. They eat in little spurts throughout the day, buying food from the plethora of food vendors selling fried things, roasting meat, fruits, or other concoctions. I haven’t seen many overweight Thais, yet, however.

Bangkok is an assault on the senses. The air is heavy with pollution billowing out of roaring cargo trucks and buses. Smells of roasting meat, frying dough, roaming dogs, and city trash fill my nostrils. As soon as I step outside, I become a self-sufficient sweat factory, and feel like I need to go back in and take yet another shower.

The curly-cue Thai script graces each store front and street sign. Most Thais, unfortunately don’t know English, despite the fact they’ve studied it every single year in school. Bright colored taxis zip through the always jam-packed roads. Motorcycles dart in between cars, and each time I cross the road, I narrowly miss becoming roadkill.

The king’s face looks down from each place of business, and some kind of shrine to Buddha or the spirits quietly whispers of the souls that need to hear the Good News.

As if it’s not hot enough outside, Thais love to fill their mouths with burning infernos of chili peppers. When ordering food at the cafeteria, I always question, “Spicy?” to which they answer, “No.” After the first bite, I notice the little red chilies.

Yesterday I went on a mobile clinic to a prison in the former capital, Ayutthaya. Our team of twenty, including six dentists, one eye doctor, and one physician, pulled hundreds of teeth, gave out dozens of glasses, and dispensed lots of meds. Since I can’t speak to them myself, I wanted to touch them, and requested to take blood pressures and pulses. Praise God, I had a wonderful Thai lady who knew English sitting next to me, who helped me pray with dozens of the men who came through.

One-third of the world has no contact with Christians. Did we peck away at that one-third a little yesterday? I’d never spoken the name of Jesus to someone who’d never heard it before. The magnitude of this privilege sends shivers down my spine.

"But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light." 1 Peter 2:9

Beneath the mangosteen's thick fibrous exterior, lies a succulent treasure. Beneath their reserved, respectful exterior lies hearts that are in desperate need of God's healing power.