The city of love isnt so lovely
...but filled with hatred against Americans. As I walked the streets daily either passing out bibles to street corners and local apartment buildings or simply just walking to the local French market down the street, I often got looks of disgust, repulsion, and often frowns of dislike. This was definitely a prominent feeling of isolation not only for the fact that we didn’t fit in as French people, but because of the fact that to them, we really had no place in their country. I have always grown up as a Methodist, so going with a Southern Baptist church to do mission work overseas was quite a different experience. Not only was I outnumbered strictly by the count of the different denominations, but I also wasn’t exactly used to all of the rules, authority and things we had to follow, which in turn pushed me further away from understanding how things went. Although the isolated feeling here wasn’t as strict as the one given by the French people themselves, it was still a harsh feeling that I had to get used to over the extended period of time I was there. Imagine yourself sitting on a playground surrounded by plenty of children who don’t speak your language, look like you or even act like you do; imagine how awkward it may feel to have these children jumping all over you wanting to play and screaming at you in their foreign language things that you don’t even know. This was yet another feeling of solitude that was not only frustrating, but seemed a little unfair. While there, we often asked the question, “How can they send us overseas and make us try to talk to people about Jesus when they don’t even understand our primary ...