Geneva Part IV

As I told you, I parted well with my roommates with a nice breakfast and thankfulness that God had provided me with such unexpected friends. Little did I know that this theme was still to continue (as it has this entire spring break!)

The English speaking Lutheran church I had scoped out earlier in the week was in the old part of town in a square next to St. Pierre's Cathedral, so I used my free public transit pass to lug myself and my suitcases all the way down the lake shore and into town. I was pleased with how close I was able to get myself by switching trains and buses- it's like I was almost familiar with the system in this city!

I arrived to church early and saw the German speaking service getting out and a nice little old lady approached me and said something in German, then asked me if I knew Jesus in English. I smiled and said, "Yes, in fact I'm about to go to the English service here!" And she tottered off with a smile that looked like she had just saved my soul... hahaha so funny.

I didn't see Marian, but I went to the office she had directed me to and found their music minister there (a man from Michigan) and told him that Marian said I could leave my luggage in their during the service. He helped stow it for me and led me back to the sanctuary where the English speaking members were gathering. It was such a random mix of people! As the lady from Kentucky sitting next to me explained, English is kind of a lingua franca for a lot of peoples and while it's not their first language, a lot of people know it better than they know French or German, so we had piles of Asians, Africans, and even some from South America.

The service was so cool- traditional Lutheran liturgy in form, but all the songs and little segue music things were in various languages as well as English- really random Indonesian toungues and all sorts of stuff. Plus, they went to the tune that the people of that language would have sung it in. You could tell it was a church that was very involved in the world. An African American pastor, Peter E. Matthews, was a guest preacher, and he delivered and excellent sermon that got us all very excited0 you know how they preach with lots of response from the crowd. The Swiss may be white people but they're better at responding to a black preacher than most white Americans (specifically Taylor students).

After the service, they had the classic "gathering and meeting time" but it wasn't just tea and coffee! They had loads of good cakes and amazing cookies and all sorts of stuff. Plus about fifteen people came up and introduced themselves to me (since during the service, visitors stand and tell a little about themselves) everyone was curious about the missions minor in Ireland. I got to talking with a Filipino man name Ernesto Arellano and he introduced me to a lot of people and was just a great guy to talk to. As the morning got on, I realized that they were having a farewell luncheon for one of their elders, an American named Morgan. Not wanting to impose, I headed up to get my luggage when Marian intercepted me and invited me to stay for the luncheon, joking that I could claim I was Morgan's cousin from America. Again, such wonderful hospitality! My afternoon plans included chilling at a cafe in the train station until my boarding time.

We had some fantastic food made by "church ladies" (you know the type- the ones that cook really really well)and Ernesto and I talked with a few more people, including Pastor Matthews who took an interest in what I had to say about the missions program at Taylor and what I was doing in Ireland. He gave me his card with his website and then went on to tell me a little about my new friend Ernesto. It turns out that Ernesto is a successful missionary in the Philippines who started a phenomenal school to educate poor farmers while helping them grow their crop. It's one of the biggest "poor" schools in his country and has grades higher (on national tests) than most government run schools. I had no idea I had been befriended by a famous missionary!

However, our conversation was cut short by the farewell ceremonies for Morgan: people toasted him and all sorts of good things, but the words I most heard were things like, "Morgan you were the first person to greet me here and make me feel so welcome; I'll never forget how nice my first service here was." Morgan also caught onto the trend in the toasts and finally told the people that as he left, he was passing the torch to them and that it was their responsibility to seek out the lonely looking new people and to talk with them and make friends with them. I can personally vouch for the fact that they are already doing that very well. As things wound up, we sang a song for him about picking up our bags and leaving, then about God being in all the new places in all the new faces... something mildly cheesy like that. But it rang so true with me as the theme of my entire spring break. I kept the words to the song, but unfortunately sent them home with souvenirs with my parents so maybe one day I'll come back and edit this post with the song lyrics, but it was really very touching, especially for me in light of the past two weeks of my life.

Edit: my mom found the lyrics for me and emailed them:

When we lift our pack and go,
when we seek another country moving far from all we know,
when we long to journey free:
God is in the other place, God is in another's face,
in the faith we travel by, God is in the other place.

Through the loneliness of night,
through the sky's uncharted spaces not a sparrow falls in flight
but a loving God will care:
God is in the other place, God is in another's face,
in the faith we travel by, God is in the other place.

Sons and daughters must depart,
friends will go on other's journeys, only constant is the heart
that can trust its God to be:
God is in the other place, God is in another's face,
in the faith we travel by, God is in the other place.
In the hands outstretched to greet,
through the open doors of strangers there is love we yet can meet
and believe that Christ is there:
God is in the other place, God is in another's face,
in the faith we travel by, God is in the other place.

My train was coming soon and Ernesto walked me to the train station to say goodbye. The ride to Paris was full of me sleeping and the rest of the travel was just that: travel- tiring, awkward, stressful, and long. I saw the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, ate at a McDonald's on the Champs Elysees (purely for the fact that when someone asks me to go to McDs in the future, I can snobbishly turn them down saying that the last McDs I went to was on the Champs Elysees in Paris and I wouldn't lower myself to anything else.... nah, just kidding but things like that amuse me anyway).
I was thrilled to see Dublin under my airplane wing again (and I took a picture of all of Howth peninsula- funny how those cliffs it took us three hours to hike fit in the tiny camera frame). The bus ride to Galway was long and tedious, but my heart leapt for joy when I saw that green dome of the cathedral in the distance! I knew I was almost home... I struggled with my bags from the bus station to An Tobar Nua, climbed the stairs and collapsed on the floor. I was so glad to be back safe and sound where I speak the language and I know people well, but I was also so thankful for all the ways God provided for me when I was away from all the goodness here.