For the past several days our team has been searching for ministry partners in many ways. We have been throughout the city visiting different churches and organizations and walked the streets talking to people and asking for any direction we can find. One of the coolest and most productive ways that we have found ministry is what we call ATL (ask the Lord). We get together as a team and have a time of worship and prayer. During this time we write down anything that comes to our minds, and share this with the group. If during this time someone has a vision or feeling that they feel like may be God leading us somewhere, we go with it.
I will try to make this clearer with an example. On Thursday of this week we had not yet found a ministry and were still a little confused as to what exactly we were supposed to do here. We had visited the site where the majority of refugees were but had not gained access to the center or made contact with anyone that could get us in. As a team we went to the park by our place (the one that overlooks the city) we worshiped and prayed together for over an hour. During this time we each shared our thoughts. I could not stop thinking about these certain refugees under a bridge that I had walked past but did not speak to. I don’t know if I was just feeling guilty for walking past so many people and not saying anything, but for some reason the bridge stuck out in my mind. I shared this with the group and they asked if I wanted to go back there that day. I said, “Yes, I think we should.” Four of us headed down to the metro station and left for Porta de la Chappelle.
Upon arriving there were many more refugees than we had seen the day before, and we began walking through towards the bridge I had thought of. On the way we ran into one of the other teams and talked for a bit. They told us they had just been in that direction and not many people were there but there were many Afghan refugees that they had met down another street. One thing you need to understand is that these refugees have travelled from all over Africa and the Middle East, and each one has a different story of their journey and why they fled their country. So we headed in the direction they pointed us, but we did not end up meeting the Afghan refugees. Before we got to them we saw a group under a bridge kicking around a flat soccer ball. We walked up and began to talk with them and attempt to kick the ball around. None of us were any good at this, which got a good laugh out of them. As we began talking with the men there, we asked where they were from, and how they ended up in France.
Some of the men spoke English, and were able to begin telling their stories. We ended up spending some time with them and learning that they were all from Eritrea, a small African country that borders Sudan. I sat down with one man, Mikyel, and he began telling me about the terrible things going on in his country. He spoke about the government forcing young men to become soldiers and taking away any opportunity for education or work. He spent two years in prison without cause, and upon escaping fled the country to the Sudan. After a long car ride across Sudan he made it to Libya where he walked day and night for 30 days until reaching the Mediterranean Sea. There he got onto a small boat with 96 other refugees. They went 3 days with no food or water out on the Sea before being allowed to come ashore in Italy. He spent time in Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands, each of which denied his applications for work visas. He made his way to England, who had promised to accept 3000 refugees, but closed the gates after 300 and sent the others away. Now, after four years away from his family, he is in Paris under a bridge with 40 of his countrymen, waiting in line to see if France will allow him to stay and work and gain education. Each of them had a different and difficult story of how they ended up there. Some had been away from their families for as long as eleven years, with no hope of seeing them again. “This is not possible with the Eritrean government,” one man explained.
The next day I returned to the underpass, this time I brought a deck of cards with me. They were excited to see this, and asked if I knew how to play rummy. I said yes…but I was wrong! They play a very different form of rummy than I ever have. There are only two players, and you start with 14 cards. The rest of the rules I am still trying to catch on to… We sat on one of the mattresses that was laying in the street. In their little area there are about 30 mattresses and maybe 15 tents, along-side heaps of trash and debris. We played for a few hours. At any one time there were probably 4 men trying to help me play my hand, which meant they were moving the cards around and when I thought I had something I could play they said no no no no, and my confusion would increase. I left the cards with them when I headed home around 9:30 that night.
The next day I returned again, greeted by hugs, handshakes, and fist-bumps. One of the better English speakers said, “Matt, welcome to our hotel!” Waving his arms as if to show off the endless lines of tents and dirty mattresses. As we talked that day I learned that many of these men spoke at least four languages, so I asked if they could teach me a little. One of the men took my notebook and began teaching me conversational Arabic. As they were speaking to each other I asked what language they use, and if they could teach me that as well. Their language is called Teigreinja, so I learned a few of their phrases as well. We played more cards and talked about how long the process could be for them to gain French citizenship. They asked if I was a Christian, to which I answered yes and asked about them. They are also Christians, Orthodox to be specific. We talked a while about different denominations, Catholic, Orthodox, and protestant. I have really enjoyed getting to know these men on a personal level, and look forward to spending more time with them in the next few weeks and hopefully learning more about their culture and language.
I write all of this to try and convey the human side of these refugees. Before we left yesterday the men thanked us for stopping and talking to them, they said most people treat them like animals. Even those who provide food do not talk to them or try to learn their stories. One of my teammates said along the way that the saddest thing they saw there was the lack of help for the thousands of refugees. The organization providing the most care is called “Utopia” and is a largely atheist humanitarian group. This group was doing a lot to help people, but charge a fee to volunteer, and asked us not to share the gospel at all if we were to work with them. A couple of ladies had organized small groups of people to serve tea and coffee which some of my teammates have gotten connected to. So where was the church? I will tell you when I see them, but I have a feeling they are at home getting the same false information about who these refugees are that I once believed. Whatever you believe, these are people, with stories, families, games, friendships, and testimonies…but no place to call home.
I learned a lot about the crisis of our time in the past week, but I also learned a lot about my relationship with God. I met my new friends because our team prayed together. Whether you believe that God put the bridge in my head or not, I wouldn’t have spoken up and said I feel like we should go back and talk to those that we looked over without that time of prayer with my team.
Any way sorry this was sort of a long blog, I know I can ramble sometimes. I am sure there will be many more stories to come throughout this year.
