Lunch Invitation
Several months ago, I mentioned on my blog that the evangelism pastor at my church didn’t seem to like me very much. He was always cold and on certain occasions even rude. I was very frustrated by his seeming dislike of me (what’s not to like!?!), so I asked you to pray about it, and I started to pray about it.
Slowly in October and November, I noticed small changes: we had a long conversation at the fall pastor’s convention, and I got to know his wife while working in the coffeebus. I also observed his manner with other people and determined that his reactions to me weren’t as personal as I’d taken them to be; his personality is just very serious and stiff, which makes him seem cold to others as well.
Of the three pastors at my church, I have a good relationship with only one, the youth pastor Patrick. He’s from Kinchasa, Congo and very progressive. He and his wife have warmly encouraged me to get involved with the youth group and given me opportunities to speak to the youth about missions and Muslims. The other two pastors, though, have been a different story. I never gave up praying, though.
A few weeks ago, the evangelism pastor’s wife asked me at church if I would come for dinner one Sunday. Churches in France have their Sunday “night” services in the afternoon, and ours is at 3:30 pm. That leaves a perfect window for lunch between the two services on Sunday. I agreed and we set the date—yesterday.
There were others invited, as it turned out: another single woman my age, who is the secretary of the French Bible College nearby; and a former pastor and his wife who live about 45 minutes away. So we made a merry party of six at the lunch table.
The food, the conviviality, the conversation—I’m not sure what made the biggest impression on me. Madame Pasteur* prepared a sort of quiche and a salad for the first course. The quiche was in a pie crust, dark brown and steaming hot. It smelled of onions, mushrooms, and black olives. I really liked the taste, too, but I kept thinking, “I taste something fishy in this.” I wondered if there could be tuna in it, but that seemed like an odd combination. As it turns out, it was anchovies! (I can now add that to my mental list of things I’ve eaten as a sacrifice to missions.) The main course, sausage-stuffed rabbit and green beans, was amazing! Unlike the anchovies, I have no qualms about eating rabbit.
The atmosphere was so relaxed; it was obvious they all knew each other very well. We talked about various countries we’ve visited and the types of foreign food we’ve eaten. Our hosts told us funny stories about how they met and fell in love. {Apparently back in the day in French churches, a young man had to go to his pastor first, if he was interested in a certain girl in the church. The pastor would then set “rules” and the relationship would progress under his watchful eye. Mr. Pasteur* told us that when he came as a young intern to his first church, he became interested in Arlette, his now-wife, and he told the senior pastor. The senior pastor had him transferred to another church the very next day! He refused to allow Mr. Pasteur to contact Arlette for six months, to see if their amour could stand that test. At the end of six months, he was allowed to write her letters, (“Dear Sister in Christ”) which her parents read first and then passed on to her. I suppose that it worked out eventually, since 38 years and four children later, they were telling us the story.}
Mr. Pasteur was so charming and congenial, I almost felt like he was a different man. He teased me about not drinking wine like the rest of them, and presented me with a Coke to drink with my meal (the French think Americans love Coke—I never have the heart to say that I don’t really drink Coke and would prefer water). He served me the first portion of every course and asked me enough questions to keep me in the conversations that jumped from one topic to the next. He was the perfect host.
I thoroughly enjoyed the day. I give credit to the Lord, who opened the door for this invitation and I really felt a unity in Christ during the whole meal. Thank you for your prayers for me and my relationships with the leadership of the French AG; God is making a way for me.
*not their real names.
In other news . . . has anyone noticed that I talk about food a lot on this blog? I think I've been influenced by the French with their food obsession.
Slowly in October and November, I noticed small changes: we had a long conversation at the fall pastor’s convention, and I got to know his wife while working in the coffeebus. I also observed his manner with other people and determined that his reactions to me weren’t as personal as I’d taken them to be; his personality is just very serious and stiff, which makes him seem cold to others as well.
Of the three pastors at my church, I have a good relationship with only one, the youth pastor Patrick. He’s from Kinchasa, Congo and very progressive. He and his wife have warmly encouraged me to get involved with the youth group and given me opportunities to speak to the youth about missions and Muslims. The other two pastors, though, have been a different story. I never gave up praying, though.
A few weeks ago, the evangelism pastor’s wife asked me at church if I would come for dinner one Sunday. Churches in France have their Sunday “night” services in the afternoon, and ours is at 3:30 pm. That leaves a perfect window for lunch between the two services on Sunday. I agreed and we set the date—yesterday.
There were others invited, as it turned out: another single woman my age, who is the secretary of the French Bible College nearby; and a former pastor and his wife who live about 45 minutes away. So we made a merry party of six at the lunch table.
The food, the conviviality, the conversation—I’m not sure what made the biggest impression on me. Madame Pasteur* prepared a sort of quiche and a salad for the first course. The quiche was in a pie crust, dark brown and steaming hot. It smelled of onions, mushrooms, and black olives. I really liked the taste, too, but I kept thinking, “I taste something fishy in this.” I wondered if there could be tuna in it, but that seemed like an odd combination. As it turns out, it was anchovies! (I can now add that to my mental list of things I’ve eaten as a sacrifice to missions.) The main course, sausage-stuffed rabbit and green beans, was amazing! Unlike the anchovies, I have no qualms about eating rabbit.
The atmosphere was so relaxed; it was obvious they all knew each other very well. We talked about various countries we’ve visited and the types of foreign food we’ve eaten. Our hosts told us funny stories about how they met and fell in love. {Apparently back in the day in French churches, a young man had to go to his pastor first, if he was interested in a certain girl in the church. The pastor would then set “rules” and the relationship would progress under his watchful eye. Mr. Pasteur* told us that when he came as a young intern to his first church, he became interested in Arlette, his now-wife, and he told the senior pastor. The senior pastor had him transferred to another church the very next day! He refused to allow Mr. Pasteur to contact Arlette for six months, to see if their amour could stand that test. At the end of six months, he was allowed to write her letters, (“Dear Sister in Christ”) which her parents read first and then passed on to her. I suppose that it worked out eventually, since 38 years and four children later, they were telling us the story.}
Mr. Pasteur was so charming and congenial, I almost felt like he was a different man. He teased me about not drinking wine like the rest of them, and presented me with a Coke to drink with my meal (the French think Americans love Coke—I never have the heart to say that I don’t really drink Coke and would prefer water). He served me the first portion of every course and asked me enough questions to keep me in the conversations that jumped from one topic to the next. He was the perfect host.
I thoroughly enjoyed the day. I give credit to the Lord, who opened the door for this invitation and I really felt a unity in Christ during the whole meal. Thank you for your prayers for me and my relationships with the leadership of the French AG; God is making a way for me.
*not their real names.
In other news . . . has anyone noticed that I talk about food a lot on this blog? I think I've been influenced by the French with their food obsession.