Reflection: Present Duty
May 21, 2026

Susanna Wesley said, “The best preparation I know of for suffering is a regular and exact performance of present duty.” Well, Susanna, I’m trying to figure out my present duty but it’s tricky. I’m in a familiar yet new environment and I don’t even have a vehicle. The world is in a traffic jam and I want in. Actually, no. I’m European now. Can’t you tell by the way that I want to walk everywhere? Ask me for my opinion, ask me about my political stance. It’ll be so globally cultured. I can tell you all about it while we walk. But the Texas sun doesn’t care about any of that and it makes me cave in. Makes me realize I want a truck the size of the Schengen Zone and an AC that gives me frostbite.

I was once in Myanmar and there were donkeys pulling carts in front of Suzuki dealerships. It was a mixed açaí bowl of an old word and material expansion. I found a monk who spoke English. His name was Nanda. He befriended me and my friends, poured us cups of tea with enough sugar to bake a cake. “God, what in the world am I doing here?” I kept asking. He took us to hidden monasteries deep in the jungle. We helped him run a funeral ceremony. We taught English to the kids in his village. We drank from coconuts at a lookout on the top of a hill. One day, he leaned over and whispered to me, “Steve, I smoke cigarettes and listen to Jackie Chan music. This forbidden for monk.” I was shocked. First off, who knew Jackie Chan could sing? And more importantly, why was Nanda telling me these things? I raised my hands, raised me eyebrows, stayed quiet. I listened to him some more. Laughed. Sat in monastery. 

I am currently nowhere near Myanmar. I’m at a taqueria with my friends. We’re laughing together and laughing hard, and I’m working on my third bean and cheese. It’s been a while since we’ve been able to do this. Behind the laughter I’m holding out flowers. Flowers for the nurses and doctors who keep the hospital and its ICU up and running. Because while we’re all out here, we all have someone in there. Flowers for them and flowers for my parents who let me borrow the truck. Flowers for the friends I miss and for times passed. Flowers for times up ahead. “God, what in the world am I doing here?” I keep asking. I fill up the truck with gas. Laugh. Sit in the waiting room. Perform present duty.