Outside I hear the slow rev of engines, tires swishing through water along the wet streets of Paris, French mumblings, and trees rustling their leaves. Each day here, I see people lugging around baguettes, the backs of my teammates heads as we walk our many miles around the city, balconies wishing they existed in a jungle, cafe tables filled with locals either reading or conversing with friends, beautiful buildings and artworks, and croissants, English bulldogs and people reading the newspaper…. but I’ve also seen trash that missed the can by 1 inch then progressively spread to the entirety of Paris, shoes sprawled on the side of roads, husband and wife sleeping on the streets with their children and all their belongings equating to about one backpack full of things, a man lying on the street with a cane passed out from intoxication, two homeless children and their mom staked out in the middle of an intersection, and refugees trying to maintain normalcy of life but moved to and fro between different areas just to get sleep. Today I smell fresh laundry, and rain; but most days I smell urine stained streets, and strange smells of body odor and weird foods.
Paris is simultaneously the city of lights, with a glimmering Eiffel Tower in the distance over soft green and tan fields, and a city of darkness, with a covering of oppression.
I’ve seen people without any hope, and I’ve met people with an overflow of hope.
We walked up to the bridge of Port De La Chapelle, which was only a day before filled with over 300 refugees. Now, there were only about 30 men, standing around, blank looks on their faces, quiet closed off conversations and dimmed eyes. We walked up and tried making conversation, but even those who spoke English said they didn’t understand. So we kept walking, a few feet down, when we came upon Jamal. He had made his way to Paris from Sudan; he had that familiar sort of face, one that lights up a room, a natural leader who leads with compassion and integrity, and who genuinely maintains hope in the midst of darkness. Immediately, he smiled at us and told us about himself, and invited us in to his life. He had been traveling from Sudan, to Libya, to Italy for two years, and just the night before arrived in Paris. The night immediately after everyone was moved to camps. We talked with him about his journey, and couldn’t help but notice how joyful he was.
Meanwhile, another man joined our conversation, and another, and then one man came up and suggested Elaine play a song. He wanted a ‘sad’ song, which we interpreted as a melancholy song to match the tone of the area. So Elaine started playing “It is Well”. The lyrics to this song and the story behind it were so perfect for the journey many of the refugees have faced. We went through a series of worship songs, that drew those who were sitting on the outskirts in, and the atmosphere completely shifted. Before, people were minding their own; I felt the numbness, and the isolation, but as soon as worship came in, things shifted. People joined in and started clapping, and smiling, and even though they didn’t understand most of the song, I believe the Holy Spirit moves in mysterious ways and that they felt the presence of the Spirit, through His peace, and comfort. I looked around at faces of smiles, and eyes that now retained a small hint of something, as Elaine moved on to a Bob Marley song… everyone joined in singing, “Don’t worry, about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright.” After a while, we sat down and just hung out for the next couple of hours having laughs, conversations and sharing the love God has poured out on us. God made a way through music to bring everyone together and open people up.
(Picture cred. Patrick)
The next morning, a few of my team wanted to go earlier than normal to the Port De La Chapelle area. As we walked up we heard someone yell, “Hey!” It was Jamal again! He was watching a group playing soccer and motioned for us to join him inside the rec center area. The morning was cool, and we watched the game and chatted with him. He told us about his second night in Paris, that every time he would close his eyes the police would tell him to get up, so he had had no sleep at all. Yet he was still smiling, and laughing. He said we had brought him so much joy yesterday with the music, that it changed his day, and that he felt joy now that he saw us again… Holy Spirit! We hung out with him that morning, as he shared about his life, his fiancé, his mother, his friends, his many boat, trains, and bus rides to lead him to this spot. He shared that he would marry his fiancée one day when she could come to Paris, that he would find a job and eventually get a passport to go other places, that he would see his family again and he shared his many hopes with us. I watched him as he talked, and I couldn’t help but thank the Lord.
It is all too easy to see the situation of the refugees and feel hopeless. It’s SO easy to become discouraged and question how things will get better for them. But God used this man to encourage me personally. God made me remember the simple act of worshipping Him. And how entire atmospheres change from the presence of God showing up; and that many, just like Jamal, were brought joy through worship, even though they didn’t know the God we sang to or some even the words we sung. Jamal could sense what we carried with us, and we were able to encourage him in his hopes. To us and to others, it may look a lot like hanging out, but simply put that’s fellowship and that’s what Jesus did. He went and ate with people, talked with them, and the number of times people told me that they wished this was what life looked like all the time, “Everyone being together, peacefully, from all different places, singing and talking” struck me. Just being with another person and sharing with them that your hope comes from Jesus and that you enjoy being with them is ministry. Explaining that you have joy from Jesus, and that He is why you smile, whether that clicks with them or not, is ministry. Jamal and how he has so much hope throughout his hardships, reminded me that hope is powerful to other people.
Now, my goal is to see hope where it seems to have disappeared, and to bring worship into dark places so that the Lord can plant and water His seeds. Worship isn’t always music either, rather its the praise we give to God, and it’s the letting go of things we can’t control while trusting the One who is in control.
We came back the next day to see Jamal but he wasn’t there. So we joined hands to pray for him, and we have an overwhelming sense that God has His hand on this man’s life. If plans worked out like they should have, he would’ve gotten to Paris a week earlier and already been in the camp, and we wouldn’t have met him. If we went to Chapelle later that afternoon we wouldn’t have gotten to share a beautiful morning with just him. God has perfect timing, and so now we wait. We trust and we intercede and we believe that Jamal will continue to meet people who carry the Holy Spirit in them to bring him encouragement, and we are believing that he will come to know our Father who has so much love for him.
Prayer requests:
For atmospheres to continue to change as He goes before, after and with us.
For a man named Amin who shared his love and passion for geology, and whose favorite smell is yellow stone, to discover that the creator of the universe created the most precious thing to him, US, out of his favorite things.. dust from the ground haha.
Also specifically for Afet, Abraham, and Zadeen to come to know Jesus!
Pray that the workers at the camps would share the love of Jesus, and know how to run things well. Pray for God to continue to do amazing things and for patience while we plant seeds.
Thanks for your support and encouragement. Love to you all.
