My hat pressed up against the rising black bars. We had just been denied entrance to the new refugee center. My refugee friends, just having been moved, were inside and I had told them I would come – I would play soccer with them. Over and over Weliad confirmed that we would meet at 2:00. “You come back tomorrow,” he said. I can perfectly see it. My heart aches for letting them down. Over and over again they had been let down. They were told of a better life in Europe, but they slept cold on the streets. They were told they would be given passports and papers, and for some it’s been years. They were told that France was better than Italy, but they arrived to similar conditions. They were told England is the ultimate goal, but the UK shut their doors. They have hoped and they have been let down, over and over again. I stood on the outside of the bars getting glimpses of the Sudanese, Iranian, and Afghani men who I longed to be with but couldn’t reach. I glimpsed what it was like to be denied entrance.
A few days ago, our ministry changed. We discovered that the police were going to round up all of the refugees at Porte de la Chapel, where we had been ministering, and disburse them to 16 different camps around France. This was joyful news because there was talk that our friends would get off the streets, be fingerprinted, and receive official documentation – what they had been waiting for. This will hopefully lead to placement in a longer-term home and some relief from all of the pain and embarrassment they are feeling.
Excitingly, God opened the door for my squad and I to be a part of opening one of the new temporary refugee centers and we spent 24 hours setting up for their arrival.
Here are a few pictures of the new center: 
After we welcomed the refugees, got them to their quarters, fed them, and cleaned, we went home for some much needed sleep. Eagerly, I returned the next day to see my friends, but guards prevented my entrance.
I have such a small comprehension of what refugees face. So many of the men I have gotten to know walked for months or years from the Middle East and Africa – fleeing war and death all around them, escaping a target on their family from the Taliban, evading child soldier recruitment. They ran from life threatening conditions and through many horrors. They’ve shown me their scars. Many forced to go through Libya said that the Libyan men would kill in an instance if you had no money to give them. Some faced tortuous time in jail and watched friends/ brothers die.
If they made it to Europe, they faced more heartache. As men who long to be respected, they are treated like outcasts. They are dirty and hungry – too embarrassed to walk into the cafe because of their stench. They were educated at the university, but there is no recognition of their degree here.There is no feeling of normalcy.
The need here is huge, the pain in their stories, unimaginable. It has been my joy to get to know them and help them, even in such small ways. Praise God that prayer is powerful and as I leave I will be able to continue ministry through interceding for them.
Here are some pictures of my ministry so far:
We frequented the soccer field by Porte de la Chapelle for some proper futbol games with the refugees.
I taught English to Sudanese refugee men for hours.
Andrew and I got to share the Gospel and answer questions with two new friends and we will meet again before we leave Paris.
