In the March issue of Adventist Frontiers, I wrote about the legends of how Chaiya Town was renamed Surat Thani: The City of Good People. It is well deserved. A recent personal experience exemplifies their good nature. 

I had just finished my morning devotions. Thinking to give Shannon a little more quiet time for hers, I told our children, Selah and Aria, to come with me to Koh Lampu exercise park, located on an island in the middle of the Tapi River, over half a mile from our hotel. It was a long walk for small children, yes, but Selah was excited because there was a big indoor slide and Aria, well, she’s excited about everything at her age. 

When we arrived, many people were already exercising, mostly running or walking along the nicely paved path.

One runner in particular caught my eye. He was thin, a bit taller than the rest and probably five to 10 years my senior. Although sweaty, he did not appear to be tired and ran with a strong, steady bounce. We locked eyes but were too far apart to exchange greetings. He continued running, and the children and I walked on in search of the slide.
 
Unfortunately, the building housing the slide was not yet open, so we continued walking, looking for something fun and active for them to do. I then noticed the runner again. As he ran by us, I greeted him, saying, “You’re a good runner!” He just smiled.
 
Next to the running path, the children discovered some outdoor exercise equipment they thought would be fun to play on. As I began using the squatting machine, the stuff in my pockets was making it uncomfortable to bend my knees very deeply. So I decided to put my phone, wallet and truck key on the ground next to the machine.
 
After a while, Selah ran over to me with a distressed look on her face. “Daddy, I need to go to the bathroom . . . NOW!” Scooping her up in one arm and clutching Selah’s hand with the other, we desperately searched for a public restroom. To our relief, we found one only a few hundred yards away. 

When Selah came out, I looked at my watch. Time for breakfast.

“Come on, children. Let’s go get something to eat,” I said as I guided them toward the park exit. Once more, the runner rounded the bend. I smiled and nodded my encouragement as he passed. 

Selah was running low on energy and patience as we plodded out of the park and past a food stand. Then I thought, Maybe buying a little snack for the girls to munch on would help them finish this walk cheerfully. As I retraced my steps toward the food stand, I reached into my pocket to grab my wallet. My heart stopped! My wallet was not there. I quickly patted my other pocket where my phone and truck key should have been. Nothing! In a flash, I remembered exactly where I had laid them, next to the squatting machine, a place plainly visible to anyone with sight. 

Panicked, I imagined the disaster of losing my money, credit and bank cards, driver’s license and truck keys, and my phone and all its data. I wanted to race as fast as I could the third of a mile back to where I had carelessly left my wallet nearly 20 minutes before. But I could not—not with Selah and Aria.

“Selah, come here!” I said. “We have GOT TO PRAY, RIGHT NOW!” And we did. “Oh, God, please be merciful and help us get all that stuff back. Please, Jesus! Thank you. Amen.”
 
With Aria in my arms and Selah firmly clutching my hand, we started walking as quickly as possible, pausing for vehicles as we passed over a narrow bridge. Every second brought more anxiety.

I soon spotted the runner. When he saw me and the girls, he smiled and raised his hands high over his head. They were full of stuff. Though I could not see the items clearly, my heart felt a rush of hope and relief spring up. I knew he was holding my stuff. 
 
I raised my hands high to my forehead in the most respectful and appreciative traditional Thai posture that I could and, when he was close enough, embraced him, saying, “Thank you s-o-o-o much!” 
 
“I’m wet!” he said as he pulled back a little. Honestly, I did not care how wet or smelly he might have been. Such was my relief and gratitude as he handed over my wallet belongings. I immediately began to open my wallet to dig out some cash to give him as a reward. But he quickly crossed his forearms in an X and started walking backward, saying, “No, no, no!”

 “What’s your name?” I asked. 
“Mana!” 

“Do you run here often?” I asked, hoping to reconnect with him soon.

“Yes,” he answered with a nod.

“So I will probably see you again,” I called out a little louder as he turned and ran back over the bridge and onto the island to finish his run.
 
Selah, Aria and I walked the rest of the way back to our hotel with gratitude and hearts full of praise to God that we had found, in the City of Good People, a genuinely kind and honest man. It seemed providential that, of all the many people exercising on the island that day, he was the first person with whom I took an interest and kept interacting that morning; providential that he was the one to find my lost valuables and run out of his way to return them to me with no desire for a reward.

This incredible encounter was just one of many I have had with the good people of Surat Thani. I am beginning to love them like I do so many of my friends here in Khon Kaen. How God must love and long for these people to know and accept Him as Savior and Lord. I imagine Jesus smiling and nodding, saying as he did to Paul, “Don’t worry, but speak. I am with you . . . and I have many people in this city” (cf. Acts 18:10).

Please pray that I can reconnect with Mana and somehow get him connected with Jesus. And as for the house that we will rent. . . praise God, prayer answered!

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