I had a job interview this evening for a ministry position next year. One of the people asked me what is the best thing about being a Christian. And the worst.

For me, it’s hope.

Hope is the best thing—in the strong, Christian, sense, of being assured of what lies ahead—because I know that what is around me is not the sum total of existence, and my future is in the hands of one who is infinitely greater and more in control than I am, who loves me.

And it’s the worst, in that a bunch of people that I know and love dearly don’t have that hope.

If you ever find yourself on King St, Newtown, parched, the furthest you’ll have to walk for a beer is 250 metres.^[1] If you happen to be in this particular dead zone — the corner of St John and King — go with gravity and walk downhill towards the Union. The uphill option, the Sandringham, is decidedly seedy.

The news is better elsewhere. The average trip to a watering hole is only 170 metres.^[2] That’s 13 pubs over a stretch of just over 2 km.

Of course, if you’re after coffee, or Thai food, the average walk is about 3 metres.

[2] Including said dry section, and not including walking off to visit pubs not on King St.↩