The wedding feast was
ready.
This was the big one.
No expense was too big and no detail too small to be fussed over. It was a once
in an eternal lifetime wedding feast of the bridegroom to his church.
He had a flawless
track record and had put himself in harm’s way to the point of death for her. The
bride looked great today in flawless white, but it had not always been so. To
be frank, she had once been a common prostitute hiring herself out to any with
trinkets. But then, as he said, he came for such people.
Back to the feast. The
tables were groaning with the best food and drink of all creation. Every taste
and cuisine was represented. A small army of minor angels had been assigned to care
for the Greeks, Turks, Arabs, Mexicans, French, Italians, Africans, Russians,
Indian (north and south) and the rest. (It was universally agreed to leave
British, American and Australian cuisine off the list as thy were better eaten
in another place.) The Asian table was especially resplendent in a myriad of Chinese
dishes, along with Vietnamese, Laotian, Japanese, Cambodian, Myanmese,
Indonesian; Peranakan and Singaporean.
Singaporean! That
table poised a particular challenge given the reputation of those from the
little red dot. The Lord assigned senior seraphim to oversee its stocking and himself
received daily updates on the nasi lamak, mee goreng, laksa, chicken rice and
more.
And now the feast was
ready to begin. The combined new creation choir sang a magnificent grace and
then the Lord raised his hand to say: “let the wedding feast of the lamb begin.”
Silence!
A
slipper-clad Singapore aunty shuffled into view. Her upraised nose and peering eyes
suggested suspicion. All held their breath as she tasted first this then that.
(She and her kind were renown for finding fault with any meal.) At last she
paused, smiled, faced the throne and said, ‘this is the best!”.
And so the new
creation rejoiced. Singapore was satisfied.
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