28.1.15 | Walking Shoes

Wednesday morning at precisely 11 am, I pulled out of my hotel parking lot with my new host family, and headed to my new host home. Again, God answered each of my specific prayer requests; this time it was that I would first of receive an offer to stay with a family, but also that it would be less than 200€ a month, and that among other things there would be wifi. I realize that these requests are very specific, and I know certain people with whom this kind of prayer would not sit well. But it is my philosophy (although it’s not really mine, it’s God’s), that it’s okay to ask Him for whatever you want. In fact, that’s actually what He wants  us to do…

Philippians 4:6-7, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

I have always taken the side of assuming that the word “every” there actually means “every”. I have learned though a couple of dangers can arise from this passage. The first danger comes in how we respond when He says “no” or “not yet” to our requests. What do we do then? If we react like a child in a grocery store when their mother refuses to buy them the candy they asked for, then we are missing the point. I find it a much more fitting response, given His unchanging character, to thank Him for the “no” or “not yet”, because clearly He (if we truly believe Him to be Love) has our best interest at heart. To act in any other way would be no different than a soldier getting angry with the sniper who is covering him, because the soldier wanted to raid the building and the sniper wouldn’t let him. Even though 5 minutes before the soldier arrived, the sniper saw a suspicious man carry a bomb into the building and come back without it.  Clearly, the sniper knows that there is danger awaiting anyone who enters that building.

The second danger comes when we take out the “with thanksgiving” part. When we only go to our Heavenly Father to ask for things, we are missing so much of who He is. It’s not that He doesn’t want to give us good gifts unless we thank Him for things (if that was true, how would you explain the cross?...). He delights in giving us good gifts, just like any parent. But not only is it an exercise that, if done consistently, helps us to move toward valuing Him more than what He does for us; but also, as Lewis puts it (and as Piper explains it in the clip below), thanksgiving – which is a form of praise and worship – completes the process of enjoyment. Please watch this (10:57-16:47): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EoUkZC9ok-w

Anyways…I had practice with the local team at 5:30 again, but because of my change in location, I had to get used to the bus system again. On the way there it was relatively smooth! And even on the first leg of my trip back everything was fine. I took the tram to the stop across the street from the bus stop I needed to go to. Not a problem. But that’s where things got interesting. As I stepped off the tram, I saw my bus pulling away, and felt no need to chase it down. Maybe I should’ve (although put in the same situation again, I probably still wouldn’t have chased it. If you know me this comes as no surprise to you I’m sure), because it was the last bus of the night. Other buses were still running, but of course mine, flashed in big black capital letters on the interactive schedule, clearly said “SERVICE TERMINÉE”. I’m sure you can figure out what that means. So I walked down the street to McDonalds, stuffed my face, and used the wifi to get the walking directions back to my host home. What would have been a 14 minute ride, was a 1 hour and 38 minute walk. It was about 10 by now. Let’s just say my calves were really sore Thursday morning.

I walked up the hill to my host home just before midnight, just as “Southern Comfort Zone” finished playing in my headphones (although I still have yet to see the Eiffel Tower lit up on a Paris night…). Oh and I may or may not have tried to get into the wrong house again, but it totally wasn’t my fault because the mail box in between the houses had their number on it so I had to guess, and also the key they gave me fit into the keyhole of both houses. But, I noticed my wifi didn’t work as well in front of the first house as it did in front of the second, so I eventually figured it out.

27.1.15 | On My Mind

"I grow increasingly bewildered at the thought that my Heavenly Father took as much care in creating one such as myself, who has yet to accomplish anything of recorded significance, as He did in creating the likes of Moses and Saul of Tarsus, Luther, and Lewis. He does not love me any less or any more, and had none of the greatest minds or characters in our history ever walked the earth, His sacrifice would have been the same. Furthermore, were I to spend the rest of my life in complete disregard for His Word and what He has made plain to me through the likes of such persons, His pursuit of me would literally never cease until my final breath.

I believe that this is love. A blatant, and conscious disinterest in the merit of the object - and an irreversible decision to pursue with said acceptance at any cost. And yet this does not allow for apathy with regards to the sin, but rather an understanding that as much as boys will be boys, sinners will sin. The sin must be purged, of this there is no doubt, but such a purge is absolutely impossible without the use of the eternal antidote of sin: love. And this love cannot originate from us, but only from the Father of Lights.

'He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)'

For when a loving father endeavors to teach his child to walk, does he react with anger when the child falls? And even when that child has grown, and learned to walk, were he to fall again would that father not immediately rush to the child's aid? Then why is it that we, who know how to give good gifts to our children, are so concerned with looking at our Heavenly Father through a completely different paradigm? It is true that if the child has grown to become a young man, and were again to fall, the father might leave him to deal with the pain, and rise again on his own. But is this not also motivated by love?

When we seek to understand God, we must remember above all else that although He is incompatible with sin, He does not remain puffed up and glued to His throne with His finger pointed at everyone save the Peters and Billy Grahams. On the contrary, we see that He left His throne, and lived among us, and battled fiercely with all of the same temptations as us. It is because of this that He can judge. The time for judgment will surely come, and we will not be ignorant of its arrival. But until then, He stands over our fallen bodies, beaming with joy, wiping our tears, and rejoicing over us with a comforting song, with not his finger pointed in disgust, but His hand outstretched in love. Whether we take it (and this applies to all of our vices, at all stages of our walk with Him), that of course is our own choice."

Theodore Wilson III

‪#‎YHWHsStrength‬ ‪#‎LOVE‬

Dimanche (25.1.15) Welcome Home

I woke up yesterday at around 8 for the service at 10am at my new church. After finally getting out of the bed and getting ready, I headed downstairs for breakfast (I’m not kidding I eat about half a loaf of bread every morning. But don’t tell my parents because they’d tell me that that’s not healthy…) and was on the sidewalk (get it? Because I was walking? Not on the road, but on the sidewalk…) by 9:30, Happy to have a peaceful and uneventful 35 minutes ahead of me, just me and my music.

I turned onto the Church’s street at 10 on the dot, but I had spent an extra 5 minutes at breakfast because I was betting on the fact that starting at 10 didn’t really mean starting at 10. I was right. A family crossed the street ahead of me, and I saw that they were headed towards the church as well. As they walked up the stairs, they were greeted by a genuine, gray-haired man who seemed excited to see them. And the oddest thing happened – “Goodmorning” he said to them in perfect English! Or at least that’s what I thought I had heard. But if that were true, then that would mean that either he was a regular attendee and could care less about the whole French thing because everyone knew he couldn’t speak French, or that the family in front of me was American, or both.

The service started just before 10:10, and we began with worship. The experience was very similar to the one I had in the Dominican Republic this summer – there’s just something surreal about hearing people worship the same God you do, in a different part of the world, and in a different language. The best part is when it’s a song you know, and they just translated it and did some rearranging of the words to make it fit their language. 

Worshipping the same God. Crazy...

That symbol on the back wall is what it's ALL about!!

During one of the songs, I looked back to see if my mystery man was still next to the door. When I saw that he was, I went back to him – I had to know.

“Did I hear you speaking English?”

“Yes you did! I’m an American.”

“Really? I am too!”

“Are you Theodore?”

“I am! Wait, how did you know my name?”

“Oh, the pastor e-mailed me and told me you were coming to the service today!”

“Wow….I’m so glad I met you, can I talk to you after the service?”

“You sure can!”

WHAT A BREATH OF FRESH AIR. I love France so far, and the French are wonderful, accepting people. I can already see that. But I cannot tell you how good that felt. To hear your native tongue after going a week without it and thinking you still had just under 3 months left to go – it was literal music to my ears. I guess it just felt like being back home again, even if just for a few moments. If you know me, you know that I’m not an extrovert. I would rather stay at home and watch Smallville than go out to some social event where I would have to meet people and engage in small talk (I’m so serious. I love Smallville and I HATE small talk. It just takes so much energy…), but I wanted to go up to this guy and hear his life story!

The service was wonderful. We had a guest speaker, and he talked about evangelism and how important it is. He said that “As Christians, evangelism isn’t a choice. It’s as much a part of our walk as prayer and worship and discipleship.” I felt that what he was saying was founded in Scripture, and I definitely grew from his message.

Once the service ended, the dad of the family who had walked in before me and was sitting in the row behind me stood up and introduced himself to me. They were Americans too! They’ve been living in this city for about a year now, and they originally moved here to work for Michelin. In fact, he told me, there are a lot of Americans in this city, and most of them work for Michelin – including the man I met earlier. Actually, most of them go to the other protestant church in the city, where they used to attend, but he told me it was pretty watered-down, so they came to this one in search of meat. Oh, and this church by the way this church was founded by Christians from Alabama. (WHAT?) Oh, and both the husband and wife of this family had close friends from Liberty. (ALSO, WHAT?) Clearly, either I live in a really small world, or I serve a really big God.

Earlier, at the end of the message, after they had gone through the announcements, the pastor got up (to my surprise) and introduced me to the congregation of about 80 people. He then told them that I was in search of somewhere to stay. While I was speaking with the American family, I had about four people come up and slip pieces of paper in my hand with their addresses and contact information, telling me I could come stay with them. This was an answer to a prayer I had been praying for months! I’ll go with option #2 – I serve a really big God.

Good to know that in some countries, businesses other than Chick-fil-A still close on Sundays! (Ignore the creepy dude staring at the window...)

Samedi (24.1.15) Gameday

I woke up yesterday morning to the cleaning lady knocking on my door. When I asked her what time it was, she said 12. 12! I didn’t want to do it, but I wound up staying up till 4 this time doing work. Usually, I get all my energy in the morning, but the past week at 4 in the morning I still legitimately feel like I’m back home where it’s 10 at night. Thankfully I have no early morning commitments!

Today was a special day for me, as it would be only my second time ever watching a European soccer game live. My first time was when I went to the Netherlands over a decade ago (that makes me sound/feel old, but also experienced) with my youth soccer team, and we got to watch PSV play, back when Ji-Sung Park was still there (he later went on to play for Manchester United. Zlatan Ibrahimovic was still at Ajax at this time as well). I had learned from my friend who gave me a ride a few days earlier that this was more of a rugby city than a soccer city. In fact, on Sunday, the local team would be playing a team from London, and all the tickets were already sold out. He was right. There was only one other fan who got on the bus with me to go to the stadium. I got there, and thankfully because I’m a student I was given a pretty big discount - €10 off!

1st half view

2nd half view (this scene was the cause of the 8 added minutes...) - like I said, the stadium was huge

The stadium was huge. And although it wasn't sold out, there were a decent amount of fans present. The slight lack of attendance could also be blamed on the weather; it was COLD, and snowing. The game started off slow, but by the last 5 minutes of regular time it was tied 2-2. There were 8 minutes of stoppage time, and in that time the home side went down 3-2 (and a lot of fans left – pet peeve of mine: the game is NEVER over), and then with 3 left tied it up at 3-3. Overall it was an exciting experience!

Vendredi (23.1.15) A Wonderful Honor

I woke up yesterday, ready to take on the day…at around 1pm. I had stayed up until a little past 3 the night before doing homework and preparing for the next day, and I was pretty tired. Plus I had to keep getting up – to eat the breakfast I paid for, to pay for a new room, to answer a few e-mails. Anyways, I had to talk myself into sleeping another hour or two because of those interruptions. It wasn’t hard.

Me at the French American School of Rhode Island where I first learned the language. A real blessing.

What made it easier was that I had nothing on my schedule until 6pm. So, I spent the time until 5 (my walk to the church takes about 40 minutes) doing more work. I also walked down the street to a McDonald’s I had discovered for a quick 30 minute break and lunch. To be honest, besides the food, it was on another level from the Golden Arches we know and love in the United States (by the way I love their food back home, so I was okay with that part not changing). It was spotless, and everywhere inside there were ordering machines like the ones at Sheetz and Wawa, in case you were not in the mood to wait in line. The only negative was the price. There was no dollar menu! (I know!!!) They had a small menu on the side of about 5 selections, but each of those were 2€ (which, in USD, is coming up on $3. Try to imagine a $3 menu.)

McDonald's is so clean here!

For those who don't feel like waiting in line

5 came around relatively quickly, and it was time to go. I left just after 5:20, and by now I was actually starting to enjoy my long walks to and from my destinations. I arrived at the church at exactly 6pm, and found the pastor in his office, doing some work as he waited for me. I sat down on one of the couches in the small office facing him, and we began to speak. I understood that this was no small thing that he was doing for me; everything about what I am trying to do is out of the ordinary. And having only communicated to this point through the mail and e-mail, this was his first real opportunity to judge my character. So, I just tried to be respectful, and be myself. We spoke in more detail than before about my internship – what I’ll be doing, how he can help specifically, how long I’ll be staying etc. Then I asked him some questions about his background, how he came to know Christ, and how and why he became a pastor, after which he proceeded to ask me some questions about myself and Liberty. We spoke for about half an hour, and much to my surprise he was clearly able to understand me and I him (this was by far the longest one-on-one conversation I’d had in French in years). Actually, when I apologized for my level of proficiency in the language, he told me it was “very good” (I knew he wasn’t just saying it to make me feel good, because he hadn’t once asked for clarification, and neither had I. Honestly, I think I already knew I wasn’t bad, I just wouldn’t allow myself the privilege of believing it! Not yet anyways.) I really needed to hear that, especially from someone who is actually from France. I finally could feel confident and unapologetic when I spoke here – another answer to prayer (I know I’m not God’s gift to French, but I know now that I can carry on a normal conversation, understand and be understood. Is that not the basis of communication?).

After we spoke for a while, he gave me a tour around the building. It was small, but somehow they were able to fit 3 rooms, an office, a small kitchen, and a sanctuary in the small area provided. I love to read, so since we still had just under a half hour until the Youth Group started, I asked if I could look at some of the books (he had a couple pretty large bookcases completely packed with books).

Finally, 7 came around, and people started filing in. Everyone was so gracious, and thankfully I was not the only newcomer of the night! I met and spoke to almost everyone who came in and I could tell that they were real; that they took their faith seriously. But, then came the moment…the “Bises” (Sounds close to “bees”) – the classic kiss on both cheeks that the French are famous for. I don’t think I’ve done it to a man yet – still just a little too much for me (haha!), and at that time I thought that you only did it to people you know. But apparently, you do it to everyone! So a girl came in, walked towards me, and leaned forward. The first one went off okay, but in classic Sachem fashion, the next girl that came up didn’t. I actually missed her cheek. (How do you do that?) I was all air. I got the second cheek, but I basically explained to her that I was an American and I haven’t done that before, so please excuse the fact that I am me and I am clumsy and can’t kiss someone on the cheek. (Ridiculous. Still don’t know how I missed. Her. Cheek.) But it was actually okay, because a couple minutes later she came up to me in complete innocence and said “On fait pas les bises aux États-Unis?” | “You don’t that in America?” Clearly, I better pick this up fast.

We sat down in a circle of chairs at the front of the sanctuary, and we dove in. The passage of study this time was Jacques (James) 2:14-26. So, as I’m sure a lot of my friends at Liberty would be delighted to hear, we talked about losing one’s salvation. It was a wonderful discussion, and the pastor lead us through using the Socratic method of teaching – having us arrive at our conclusions through a series of questions. I understood what was being said, but I did make the mistake of trying to contribute when we broke into small groups. I had so much I wanted to say, but in trying to do so I found the limits of my current French language. Theology is hard to explain in English! Thankfully, the topic is confusing enough that I didn’t make things any worse.

After a solid time of prayer, we (to my surprise) ate dinner! This would be my first real French meal, as all I’d eaten to that point was McDonald’s, bread, pizza from that Italian restaurant, and close to the triple digits in Snickers from the vending machine in my hotel (now that I think about it, that wasn’t too bad of a diet…). Afterwards, because it was someone’s birthday, we had dessert! And of course, one of the desserts was Apple Pie. French. Apple. Pie. (Yes, I actually am spending the semester in heaven, since you asked.) I told someone it was my favorite, and against my will they literally forced me to eat like 4 pieces (I’m serious, although it’s not that I didn’t want more, it’s that I didn’t want to be rude. So I willingly let them force me to eat apple pie against my will…)

Throughout the night, I spent most of my time speaking with one of my new friends in particular. He was around 35 (it wasn’t really a youth group like they have in America, actually I was the youngest one there), and he was one of those people who you can tell has hidden His Word in their heart. It just oozed out of him. He also was very interested in Revelation and the end times, as am I. We spoke about the anti-christ, about the blood moon last fall, about Israel, about America and what she is becoming, about Hollande and Obama. But he continually said over and over again that it was a great honor for him to meet an American Christian. That he was quite fond of our country, and it has been a dream of his to meet someone from there who knew Christ. He had no idea.

He and my friend whose cheek I missed (I think they’re dating…) dropped me back off at my hotel at midnight (yes, it went from 7-midnight, and we were the first ones to leave). As I headed back up to my room, I was once again filled with gratitude for what the LORD has been doing so far. In truth, with everything I’ve experienced and everyone I’ve met, I can honestly say it that the honor and pleasure have been mine. 

Jeudi (22.1.15) The “Entering” Side of “Breaking and Entering”

I woke up yesterday morning to an e-mail from the Pastor – another answer to prayer. He told me that He could meet from 2-2:30, and then he had a meeting he had to go to. I had also gone on the website for the team I want to train with while here, and it said they had training at their stadium from 3-4, so my plan was to walk to the train station, which had the only bike rental with a “carte bancaire”, get a bike, bike to the Church by 2, meet with the pastor, bike to the stadium, go to the session, speak with the coach, bike back to the train station, walk back to the hotel. Once again, I was in for an adventure (I’m starting to see a theme here…)

I ate my breakfast, did some work, and dressed warm because it was snowing outside, and I would be spending most of the day outside. I got my maps ready, but I had to leave a little late because none of them saved for offline use. I took care of that (I thought), put my headphones on, and started walking. Unfortunately, I realized about 10 minutes into my journey that the directions were wrong, and I was lost. By now, it was about 1:20, and it was a 50 minute walk to the train station, with a 20 minute bike ride to the church. I was going to be late. I kept walking for a bit, and eventually saw a lot of buildings in the distance. Logically, I figured that that would be the center of the city, and that that’s where you would put a train station, so I started walking in that direction. A few minutes later, I was passing a paint store, when two men got out of their car and started walking in. By now, I was begging God to throw me a bone, but I had no idea how He would do it. Just then, their car started rolling down the hill! So one of them chased it down, drove it back up, made sure it would stay, and got out. I thought to myself ‘If there was anyone I could ask for directions who wouldn’t make fun of me, it would be the guy whose car just rolled down the hill.’ So I asked. He told me that I had quite a long way to go, and then He offered to drive me there! They went in a bought their supplies, and then he took me to the train station. He dropped me off at around 1:40 – right on time. Praise God!

I found the bike rental rack relatively quickly, and got to work on getting one. Again, there was a problem: apparently, “carte bancaire” or “bank card” does not mean a debit card, it means a credit card. So, unfortunately, my card was not accepted, and I could have no bike. (While I was getting rejected by the bike rental machine, I glanced absentmindedly to my right and saw a bus. The bus’ destination was the stadium! At least I knew how I would get to the training session!) By now, it was around 1:55, and I had no bike, and only 10€ on me. The walk to the church would take about 30 minutes, and a ride from a taxi would cost me about 20€. I needed to withdraw some money. I asked a taxi driver where the nearest bank was, he told me, and I headed in that direction. About 15 minutes later, I arrived, made my withdrawal, and headed back to the train station to take a taxi. I asked the driver to take me to the church, but since I had not planned on taking a taxi I did not have the address on me, and he was not familiar with the specific one I was speaking of. So, it’s 2:25, the taxi ride would’ve taken about 10 minutes anyways, and by the time I got there he would have been in his meeting. None of this mattered anyway though because the taxi driver couldn’t help me without an address. So I went to plan B.

The Field!

The Stands!

I took the bus to the stadium, watched the session, spoke to the coach, and then headed back to the train station. I didn’t have anyway to contact the pastor without wifi, so I was just going to email him when I got back to my hotel. I started walking back, and I thought I recognized a section of the sidewalk from the night before that was sectioned off for construction. Could I be near the church? If so, I might as well stop by to see if the pastor was still there! I decided if I saw one more familiar thing that I was going to try and find the church. I kept walking, and pretty soon I passed a garage that I definitely recognized from last night. I turned around, and turned on the street that was my best guess for where the church was (the whole area looked a lot different during the day). Unfortunately, nothing I saw on that road looked familiar. I was about to turn around when out of the corner of my eye I saw a man jump out of his car and run into his house as if he had forgotten something, and then reemerge with a bag seconds later. It was the man from the night before! Which meant…the church was right around the corner! The chances of that happening – of me turning the corner at exactly that moment, of him forgetting his bag at exactly that moment, of me practically (although completely accidentally) breaking into his house the night before – slim to none. Actually I would put that at 0.

I went up to the church, and this time the front gate was open. I walked in, and there directly to my right, was the pastor working in his office. I walked in, he recognized me, and I asked him if he was free – he was leaving in 10 MINUTES. I literally caught him just in time. We set up a meeting for today, and he also invited me to the Young Adult Group they have on Friday nights.

Saw this on the way back...never knew I was into painting but I'll take it!

So far, the past few days have been reminiscent of The Amazing Race. I have an overall objective, I have a plan, I follow my plan, but I run into problems, which turn into perfect coincidences, which lead me to completing my objective in a better way than I would have thought.

The journey continues…

Mercredi (21.1.15) - Restaurants 101

The past couple of days have gone by quickly!

Dinner Tuesday night - "Barbecue"

I am currently taking three online courses during B-term of this semester, so needless to say what with the flights and trying to find a place to stay and such, I had fallen behind on my work. However, I gave my professors a heads up that this would probably happen, and thankfully they have been very gracious and understanding towards my situation. Still, the entire day yesterday (Wednesday) was spent catching up on that work!

By about 5:30, I only had one assignment left to complete, but I was hungry, so I went on trusty google (which has been invaluable so far to a foreigner like me) and searched for some relatively cheap restaurants nearby. My room does not have a kitchen or anything, so I have been relying on restaurants since my arrival. The only problem was – ALL of them were CLOSED. Great news right? It turns out, restaurants in France will actually close shop between 12 and 2, and reopen no earlier than 6:30! So, I took that as a sign, and decided to finish my last assignment. By the time I was done, it was around 6:30, so I walked to the nearest restaurant – an Italian place (there are A LOT of pizza places in this community…) which actually happened to be directly behind the hotel. Little did I know, I was in for quite an experience…

As soon as I walked in it felt like I was tip-toeing on glass. I have tried to be very sensitive to culture, and so I was very afraid of doing something that would out me as a foreigner – but especially as an American – in a negative way. I was one of the first customers of the evening, and I was shown to a table for two next to the window. She gave me the menu, and after a brief look I ordered an “Italian Pizza”, the only known quantity that seemed filling. After only about a five minute wait, the waitress came over with my pizza, and it was by far the healthiest pizza I've ever had. Unfortunately, I had to fight the urge to pick it up and eat it like I usually would, because I didn't know what they would think about that. So, for the first time in my entire life, I ate my pizza with a fork and knife. (I feel ridiculous just writing that.)

I finished my meal, and I didn’t know how they did the bill or how tips worked, so I just waited for someone else to finish so I could watch them or for her to come over and tell me what to do. As I waited, I noticed that the radio seemed to rotate between French and American songs. In fact, once I started paying attention, the first song I heard was “All About That Base”. I took comfort in likely being the only one in the restaurant who understood the words! Also, I noticed that I wasn’t the only one eating alone. In America, going out to a sit down restaurant alone is like going to the movies alone – you just don’t do it (well I do both of those things, but that’s beside the point). But here, at least 1/3 of the tables were only occupied by one person. There was also a tree in the middle of the restaurant...

A tree...

Eventually, she came over, and without saying a word she handed me a dessert menu. I was already pretty much decided against getting any, 1) I can count on one hand the number of times that I’ve actually gotten dessert at a restaurant, and 2) I didn’t have enough money for dessert. So, my plan was to look at the menu, and when she came back I would tell her that I didn’t think I would have enough money to get anything. Bad move. Her response was (in a confused/offended/annoyed tone), “No dessert? Not even coffee huh?” I could just see her going home and complaining to her husband: “One of the customers today got a meal and he DIDN’T EVEN GET DESSERT. He was probably American. There they go again, always having to do things their own way. This is why we don’t like them.” I had broken the glass. In an effort to explain myself, I told her that I was staying at the hotel next door, and that I only had €10 to spend that night because I didn’t know where/how I was eating the next day. Apparently, I had chosen the right restaurant, because people staying at my hotel got a 20% discount at that restaurant. So, she did some math, and found a dessert that if I got it would come out to €10,24. Thank God for that discount! Let’s just say I ate there again tonight and I got a meal, dessert, and tea. We’re friends now.

The real adventure however happened after dinner. I got back to my room around 8, and my dad told me that he had been looking at the Church’s website, and that from what he could gather they had something going on at the church. Earlier that day, I had e-mailed the pastor letting him know I was in town, but I had still received no answer. The problem was that where I am staying right now is the cheapest hotel around at €38 a night (including breakfast – which is just bread, but I eat A LOT of it, so I’m actually pretty full by the time I’m done), but that’s still not something my budget through my stipend can sustain for a whole month, let alone three, and I was already running out of money because my stipend hadn’t come yet. So, meeting him tonight could prove beneficial because there was a chance he might suggest a host family or cheaper housing for me.

Seeing the church in real life was crazy!

I checked the website for myself, and they had an outreach dinner that they have every Wednesday night from 7:30-10 pm. If I left soon, after the 40 minute walk I would be able to make it in time for the last hour. Perfect. I got dressed, got my directions set on my phone, and I left around 8:20. I got there exactly 40 minutes later with no problem, and it was crazy to see the church in real life, after seeing it on google images so many times! But again, there was only one problem: the gate was shut. I tried opening it without making a scene. No such luck. The bulletin on the wall told me that I was there on the right day, at the right time. I was cold, hungry, tired, and a little confused. I crossed the street to look at it from a greater distance, to see if there were any entrances I couldn’t see from up close. Still nothing. I went back to the church, and walked around the corner, still praying for a way in, because it was 9 at night, and if no one was inside, I had a 40 minute walk back to my hotel, in the cold, in the dark, and alone. Prime conditions for getting jumped. As I rounded the corner though, I saw a gate, and I thought I had my way in. I prayed again, and the gate was unlocked! I walked up the stairs, and I could see that there was a light on inside! So, I tried the door handle without knocking, because if a church is open then usually the door will be unlocked and (at least in America) you don’t have to knock. But, the door was locked. Another dead end. As I turned to walk back down the stairs, a man with a very angry face on swung the door open and yelled “Hey! What’s going on?” “Is this the church?” I asked. “No! This isn’t the church!” He slammed the door in my face. Apparently, the buildings are set up a bit differently, so what I thought was the side of the church was actually someone’s house…oops. My first week and I’ve already tried breaking into a house. I went back to the gate at the front of the church, tried it again, but I finally accepted the fact that no one was there. 

So, after a seemingly wasted hour of walking and breaking and entering, I made the long trek across the highway back to my hotel. My first attempt had clearly been unsuccessful. Or had it...?

This is a McDonald's ad I saw on the way back. Notice the disclaimer at the bottom: "For your health, practice physical activity regularly." I just feel like you shouldn't have to put that on the bottom of a food advertisement. You might as well instead just write at the bottom - "THIS FOOD WILL MAKE YOU FAT." I thought it was funny...(but then again knowing me that probably means it's not, and that I need to go to sleep.)

20.1.15

My first night in France was spent in the city of Tours, a midpoint between Paris and my first church. It was a quaint, personal room with all the accommodations (shower, TV, wifi), and the time that wasn't spent sending e-mails and preparing for the week ahead was spent watching the African Cup of Nations on CANAL+Sport...

Taking off in Pittsburgh...

On our way up...

An ocean of clouds

Hotel room in Tours - I was well taken care of

 

French continental breakfast! The two necessities for life in France: Bread and Nutella!

A (very) little taste of home - eggs and sausage #bless

On the wall of the dining room in the hotel...!! :)

 My mindset so far has been that the French hate Americans, and they especially hate when Americans try to speak French (perhaps I just adopted this mindset as a sort of coping mechanism). The experiences I've had so far however have started to break down this point of view. There hasn't been any sort of mind blowing encounter as of yet, but the people I have encountered have been genuinely nice. It seems as if they are just more of a no-nonsense culture than a culture of American-haters! They seem logical, caring, and somewhat accepting (granted, I didn't stay long enough in Paris to meet anyone!). As long as I do not act like a stereotypical American, people seem to assume that I am not one. And although my French definitely needs some work, I have had no problems getting around, asking for things or answering questions - which I am measuring by the fact that I haven't gotten lost yet, and that no one has told me to quit trying and speak English! Honestly, I think I'll be alright here.

The journey continues...

The Mission Begins

As I looked at the GPS on my personal screen, it started to sink in how ridiculous what I'm trying to do is. I realize that I am not the first college student to go overseas, but my situation is definitely unique. Many have gone, but most of them with a friend or mentor - someone who at least knows their way around the country. Others have chosen to go to a country that speaks their native language. 

Like many missionaries who follow His call, I have none of these luxuries.  

At first, this realization left me lonely. And though I'm sure I am bound to experience many other bouts of loneliness during my time here, this one was quelled by the inevitable excitement that comes from looking out of a plane window. As we crossed the Atlantic Ocean, we also hovered over an ocean of clouds. Earlier, on my flight from Pittsburgh to Philly, I was amazed by the beauty of the clouds beneath me. Now since night had fallen, I could no longer see them. But what I could see was the stars, and as I had never seen them before. Unencumbered by pollution or the clouds beneath, the stars were unveiled before me in their glory. The first thought that came to mind was - "I didn't know there even were that many stars!" My second thought was, "Who is this God?!" It was one of the most beautiful sights I've beheld in my life. 

"For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities--his eternal power and divine nature--have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse." - Romans 1:20

After 3,886 miles of traveling, we safely arrived at Charles de Gaulle at 7:19 in the morning, (1:19 back home).  There was some light snow, but nothing colder than I was used to.

And with that, I was in France. Not a soul in this country cares about me, not a soul in this country (that I know of) has ever met me. Just a few churches who know what I look like and are willing to let me serve and minister with them. What else could I ask for in terms of adventure?!

The mission begins, the journey continues...

Pittsburgh Airport family photo!

Taking off in Philadelphia...

Landing in Paris!