THE DAYS OF RADICAL HOSPITALITYI've been asked to compile the most powerful experiences that I have had at the Sacred Space, a daunting task. Where do I begin?Can it be found in the tears of a distraught young missionary or in the murder-bent street prophet seeking the way of escape? The strung out addict's need of lemonade and Kleenex, a hand held, sharing hopes and dreams for a future and a hope? Watching Dave's transformation and then having him slip through the fingers of this life? Giving my lunch to a diabetic paranoid schizophrenic to prevent coma? Michael...Michael. I thought you were going to take my life that day...and then God stopped you with the Gospel, His words of love to you. I watched the demon leave your eyes, at least for a moment.Where do I begin?I miss the days of radical hospitality. I am not called to the antiseptic. Once you've tasted the blood of the Cross, there's no going back. I was bred for war.Oh poor my cambodian people ,I did not sell our KHMER LAND to youn,but I have to close my eyes ,sorry,sorry ,sorry dear CAMBODIA.Sarika of Battambang.Fr
Go and enjoy Peking duck.A6.
Best Comment of sarika on King father.May He live a long life,more suffer...Chao Tauch.Paris.France
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