“I never zink church like zis” said the French man sitting beside us at the 9 am church service. We had befriended this fellow 23-year old on our girls night out the prior evening. I had noticed his French passport on the bar and having only recently returned from my study abroad, had to practice my French with him. I urged Ava, my friend sitting closest to him, to strike up a conversation.
Of course, the man was quickly entranced by Ava’s Southern charm and willingly conversed with her. Anne and I gawked at each other as we eavesdropped; the man named Lucas had recently left his family’s vineyard in Bordeaux to study viticulture in Virginia. In typical French fashion, Lucas attempted to flatter Ava with many poorly-translated, explicit compliments and did not wait long before asking Ava on a date for the next day.
She chuckled nervously and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry but I cannot. I have church tomorrow.” He looked defeated. I felt bad for the guy — how was he supposed to know American women were not used to such a forward pursuit? New in town and far from home, he was probably lonely. And, I still hadn’t gotten to practice my French … I leaned over the bar and yelled, “But you should come with us!”
Given his liking for explicit vocabulary and his citizenship to such a secular nation, I was doubtful he would accept my offer. But to all of our surprise, he lit up and said, “I will come! I never been before but zis will make my granmozer very happy.”
We debriefed on the car ride home.
“Well, I guess that’s one way to evangelize,” Anne said.
“Flirt to convert, babyyy,” I teased.
“Good grief … But who knows, maybe this will be the only time he ever goes to church. I hope he encounters God,” Ava replied.
So, here I was, at church, wedged between Ava and the man we met at the bar; she had requested I act as a physical buffer to Lucas’ French candor. As I listened to the sermon, I tried to imagine what the pastor’s words sounded like to someone who had never been to church before, let alone who had a limited English vocabulary. I was embarrassingly struck by how much church jargon was assumed knowledge. I looked over to find the kind Frenchman frantically Google translating words like “wilderness” and “covenant.”
I smiled with admiration for his valiant efforts, but pondered sorrowfully how many people find themselves in his shoes, lost within a foreign religious world. With its own vocabulary, unspoken rituals, and “cannibalistic” practices (my friend coined communion as such when I brought her to church with me), church is quite unusual. Even for a native English speaker! I often wonder whether such a steep learning curve is necessary, whether it’s possible to invite people into God’s love without requiring them to first purchase a dictionary.
I contemplated this further on a recent visit to Asheville, North Carolina. My friends and I were discussing the pervasive presence of voodoo and crystal shops in the area when one of my friends said, “I would love to live here but the lack of Christian community here really deters me.” I pushed back. “But don’t you think that if Jesus were here today, he would befriend the very people who feel desperate and defeated enough to want to cling to voodoo and crystals for help? Wouldn’t he love the very people that we are so ‘afraid’ and ‘judgmental’ of?” Our conversation made me think about how many people fail to hear the good news, simply because Christians deem them as “a bad influence.” As if simply being around “those people” will somehow defile them (cf. Mk 7:17-19).
Obviously the company of fellow believers is an encouragement on this winding path of life, but I wonder whether this blessing of Christian community can become a justification for insularity, avoiding others — loving others — that think differently than us? I sure have.
What if we were able to love like Lucas? To be forward and direct with our appreciation. To be open-minded and willing to experience something new. To listen and try our best to understand. The pull of the status quo is strong, the fear of the unknown, stronger. But the risk of love surely demands, at a minimum, the tolerance of awkward unfamiliarity. I don’t know whether God used Google Translate to speak to Lucas and I definitely don’t know what he meant by “I never zink church like zis,” but what I do know is the Lord used his open mind to open mine.
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4 responses to “Learning About Love From a Frenchman”
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Love this—thank you Harmony!
Harmony, this is amazing.
Thank you Deanna!! I miss you dearly and I insist on grabbing coffee when I’m back in Cville soon!
Thank you Cali! (: