Christmas in Grasse

So yes, despite the many attempts on my life made by various groups of bandits and ninja pirates, I did in fact survive Christmas and even got to spend it with some cool people. Christmas is a great time to spend with family, and though I missed out on that aspect I did get to hang out with some awesome people and experience a traditional French Christmas with a French family.

Vincent and Nichole are a married couple working with Justus and CA here in the south of France. Vincent (or Vinny) is a true Frenchman born in Orange, while his lovely (and quite pregnant) wife Nichole is as Scottish as they get. Well, actually I'm not sure about that, but her accent is amazing. Combined they make a great couple, Vinny wearing his Christmas kilt made my night.

Vinny's family was there as well, his parents speaking absolutely no English and his sister kind enough to speak a little with me, made for a very French Christmas. To top it off we had Foie Gras, duck liver turned pate (and they kill the duck by over-feeding it during the course of two weeks). That, the foie gras, and the live oysters made it quite memorable. The liver spread was good, the oysters I'll try to avoid in the future. But spending all day at the table isn't a bad Christmas tradition no matter what you eat.


It was a great time, I absolutely loved it there. Their house is practically a mansion, three stories with a swimming pool, crazy huge for a guy who's spent the last three months in tiny Euro-apartments. It was just nice to relax outside of Nice and to crash/watch movies for a few days. I'll add pictures but you can look at more now if you want by clicking on the link under "photo albums" on the right.

And sorry this blog's kind of cliche, here I did and where I did it blog blah blah; I'm getting kind of bored with the regular re-counting of events. I'll have to come up with something more creative in the future. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Forgiveness

This is something I've been thinking on for a while, and will continue to do so. But I figured I'd share it and effectively end the decline in monthly Blog posts. Hope it helps someone think this through as well.

And if all you want is pretty pictures, scroll down, look at other blogs in the archives, or go to the Photo Albums link on the right side of the page. Peace.

Forgiveness

I always thought I was good at forgiving people, I don’t know why I thought this, I just always figured I was pretty good at it. I figure it was because I’m supposed to be good at it. As a Christian one of the marks of having a life touched by the forgiveness of God is the ability to better forgive others. This stems from the recognition of exactly how much I’ve been forgiven.

I don’t think I’ve ever really come to terms with exactly how much I’ve been forgiven, and I’m still working it out.

The other day I was talking to my dad and this situation from a few months ago came up when talking about a mutual friend. This person had called me during a day of celebration to essentially accuse me of taking advantage of them and wrest an apology from me. Needless to say, the day was effectively tarnished and the relationship effectively ruined. At least so it would have seemed.

Regardless I put it behind me, thinking that if all it took to call my character into question was a minor misunderstanding then the friendship must never have been that good anyways. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I felt that if their immediate response was to call me up and accuse me of doing them harm, instead of trying to figure things out by asking me first, then what was the point? They had asked why I had done it at least, I suppose, but I felt that their mind was made up as to my guilt before the conversation even started.

So I put it behind me, like I said. Honestly there are few things that can put me off like the questioning of my character or integrity, both of which I try to maintain as best I can. Unfortunately I think my reaction to their being called into question only revealed at what level of importance I place them – a little too highly.

Either way I felt wronged and didn’t bother to try and see it from their point of view. After talking with my dad he had some good points about that, and how restitution should be made. But what was most profound about the discussion was the revelation of how much bitterness I really have held onto over the whole thing. How it hadn’t just up and left, and saying “well I forgive so and so” didn’t really amount to forgiving anyone for anything.

It also started to help me realize just how many other things I was holding onto, so many little things over the years.

I’d just read Luke, and in chapter 17 Jesus tells his disciples that they need to forgive everyone, even if they wrong them 7 times a day, every day, they need to forgive them. The change from verse 4 to 5 seemed odd at best. It says “One day the apostles said to the Lord, ‘We need more faith; tell us how to get it.’” (NLT)

At the time I was a bit confused at the seeming lack of transition. I was thinking ‘where did this come from?’

In talking to my dad I related that for as simple a thing as forgiveness seemed to be, it certainly was difficult to do (I have a lot of forgiving to do I’m realizing). He replied – not knowing I’d just read Luke mind you – that this was the reason the disciples came to Jesus and asked for more faith following His instructions on forgiveness. It’s counterintuitive to forgive people. We hold onto our bitterness as if it were a driving force in our lives.

At least I do. I don’t want to; as Neil T. Anderson puts it “it’s better to live in the freedom of forgiveness than under the bondage of bitterness.” Alliterations aside, this is really true. When I’ve managed to truly forgive someone or experience someone’s forgiveness it’s been the most freeing thing in the world. It’s healing, plain and simple.

The end of Spiderman 3 (though I’m not the biggest fan of the movie) is great for this reason: it’s rife with forgiveness. That’s why it’s moving to see the Hobgoblin die, or to watch the Sandman disappear into the distance: there’s forgiveness and it changes everything for each character involved. Once your bitterness dissolves you realize just how poisonous it really was, the lies that it’s what you want are revealed for what they are, and in my case they lead me to want more freedom.

Clearly I’m not alone, as the good news of the availability of God’s forgiveness that started the early church and inspired the New Testament of the Bible has touched so many lives throughout the ages. To truly understand God’s forgiveness is to experience real freedom, and it’s no wonder people have flocked to the cross for centuries. It’s a beacon of forgiveness in the shadow of what we deserve.

Now, I want to better understand my forgiveness. In realizing just how much bitterness can be created over a minor insult to my integrity I wonder how much hurt I’ve caused God by my lack of belief in His integrity, in His faithfulness. And that’s just for starters. As I look at it through these new lenses I’m crushed, because I realize that what hurt I’ve done Him is ten times worse; because unlike me He is perfect and His integrity is unquestionable.

Here he’s been so generous and given me so much and I turn and spit in His face in one way or another. Similar to the situation I find myself in with my friend. And yet, He has forgiven me. How much more should I forgive the minor insults I receive in my life, especially when they seem or are merited at the time?

What a mix of joy and sorrow, to know that I am forgiven and to recognize how much I must forgive. I only hope I can learn to forgive, and that the Lord gives me more faith, for it is considered no great thing in Christ’s kingdom to forgive.

As he continues to talk in Chapter 17 we see that as a servant isn’t praised for carrying out his duties in the household as he is expected to, neither should we expect any extra honor for doing as we’re expected. Forgiveness, in Christ’s Kingdom, is a given. Now I just need to get better at it. Hopefully this current situation works itself out, and I manage to stand to what’s expected. In the meantime, it’s about time I wrestled with what baggage I have and attain God’s freedom in His forgiveness.

Alternate Profile

Jaymus Bartholomus Swansonimonimus was born in the year of our Lord 1985 in Pullman, Washington under the sign "Caution, Volatile Chemicals." He later shortened his name in 1992 to Jay Swanson, so as to avoid capture by the Nazi party based out of Northern Idaho. Many dispute the validity of this story, mainly because they’re Nazis.

Jay Swanson has been reported to have moved recently to Nice, France causing the value of the dollar to plummet. He is recorded in the Encyclopedia Britannica as being the most handsome and eligible bachelor in the World as of 1998. But don’t bother trying to verify that in the Encyclopedia, the Nazi’s paid a good amount of money to slander Jay’s name and have it removed from all Encyclopedias.
Damn Nazis.

Next time

OK, so I know I promised a blog about Noah but that will have to wait. My neighbor Solweig was particularly offended that I hadn’t written a blog about her, so here goes. Oh, and remember if you want more pictures to check out the links to "Photo Albums" on the right.

Solweig (pronounced sol – vegg) is my little blonde French neighbor who is majoring in tourism at the university here in Nice. She’s 23, from a small town near Avignon, and claims I’m the first Christian she’s ever known. That said, she’s the first French girl with a non-French name I’ve known. So I guess that makes us even.

Aside from hanging out and watching movies, Solweig and I are masters of brochures. She had a project for one of her classes wherein she had to make a “prospectus” (a.k.a. brochure) for a local hotel with pictures and everything. Being the nice guy that I am, I ended up doing all of the work.

We went to a cool little place called Hôtel Windsor, and though it sounds British I assure you, it’s quite French. The rooms are cool because each has been painted uniquely by a different artist at one point or another in the past. So we got a nice tour of the place, checked out a bunch of rooms, and then made the prospectus.

This room was radtacular

It turned out. I guess she got an A+ on it (I’m that good in French too I suppose) but I’m still waiting for the thank you dinner to happen. It got cancelled due to her friend’s illness… or something like that. I suppose I’ll survive; I’ll just keep eating pasta.

And that’s about it on Solweig. And gents, she’s quite single as well =)

I'll get photos up as soon as the internet stops hating me.

Christmas Fire

OK, now for a little post about Justus. And later I'll do one on Noah, who deserves many words for his handsomeness. But for now, Justus.

Justus is a cool guy working for CA, as I've said, who's married to the beautiful Samantha and is father to three hyperactive and hilarious munchkins. I went to a Christmas party with Justus last night out in the country about an hour outside of Nice.

It was nice because we had a sweet bonfire, chili, and even some carols sung around the fire. I got to finally meet Vincent and his wife Nichole, Justus' team mates here in France, and I must say they were pretty dang cool.

Justus and I stood out on the street waving people in for the first hour or so that we were there, and considering that it's the first night that has dropped below freezing it was kind of a challenge. I was cold, I can tell you that much.

I like Justus though because he's a good, honest guy. And he's from SoCal, we even went to the same church in San Diego a bit, so he's definitely all good ;) I just feel like there aren't enough real people like Justus, who are willing to be themselves and (even though he's apologetic about it some) show their faults. There's a lot to be learned from people like that who are willing to be themselves even when it's not pretty. Not to say Justus isn't pretty, he is. He's just honest with his struggles in a way I've found rare in my time here in France. It's invaluable.

As for the Christmas party, it was mostly comprised of friends of the team, and most of them were families with young children so the place was pretty crazy. It was fun to meet people I'd heard about and put faces to names. I'll tell you what though, if you're gonna hand out marshmallows for roasting you'd better be sure that each kid gets his or her own. Some serious amounts of screaming and malcontent can arise from those little puffy sugar cubes (they're not so much round here as they are cubular... or cubical... something).

Some spiced wine and apple crumble made it truly festive, and Barney's Christmas tree (it was at Barney's house) was spectacular for a guy who hasn't seen a good Christmas tree yet this season.

We only burned a few bottles and other odds and ends, I promise. The pitcher pictured above had some serious cracks in it after being left too close to the fire. It was a good time. We even had a visit form Spiderman (he's smaller in person). But one thing is for sure, I miss apple crumble.

Slacker

I realized that each month I've been here the number of posts on my blog has dropped progressively by one, and I was going to try to rectify that this month. Looks like I'm on the route to failure on that.

I also realized I've posted fewer pictures, so I was hoping to change that too (as people prefer pretty pictures to rambling rants). But instead of posting tons of pictures I posted links to my albums on facebook on the right side of my blog. You can click on them and check out my photos even if you don't have a facebook account. I was going to at least post a few, but I'm having serious internet problems so if there aren't any pictures in this when you read it just click on the albums on Facebook for now.

I've had a number of trips and met some cool people, and I'm not sure really what to write about. But I did visit John Mark in Antibes, along with his loverly room mates...

I'll tell you a little about two guys who are progressively enriching my life, how about that? I met John Mark, a tall baseball player from Tennessee, when I was getting my medical exam with the other assistants in Nice. Turned out he was a Christian and was looking for a church, and thusthat relationship was started .

The other is Justus (of whom I have yet to get a photo, he's illusive), a church planter with CA here near Nice in a town called Sophia-Antipolis. He's a great guy as well who I got hooked up with through Rob and his connections with CA.

We've been doing a little weekly Bible study that's turned more and more into a discussion hour, and it's been really good. Reading large chunks of scripture together every week and then talking about it, praying together... it's been great.

Jon Mark is the current champion of the group, however, as he had a recent hunting experience quite unlike any he'd ever had in America. And he's an accomplished hunter.


After boar hunting (yes, boar hunting), the French family that took him out went after birds and ended up shooting a bunch of small, sparrow-like creatures. They brought them home, plucked the feathers off, and threw them in the oven.

They then proceeded to sit down and eat the entire bird. They weren't like pheasants, or ducks, they were seriously little bitty birds and there were three to a plate. And when I say entire bird, I mean entire bird. JM said he was a bit shocked because they didn't just pull off the meat (the breast of the bird being about the size of his thumbnail), they bit straight in. He knew he was in for it when the dad just took a bird and bit its head off, chewed the skull up nicely, and swallowed.

What he'd gotten himself into he wasn't sure, but the manly man that he is he proceeded to eat the birds set before him. He wondered why no one was eating the toast on the table when suddenly the guy next to him cracked a bird's rib cage open, scooped out the entrails, and spread them on the toast like jam.

And so JM did the same and choked all it down. John Mark Walls is a true southern hero. And he's quite single ladies ;)

And that'll do for today. I'll try to get more on the internets here as soon as I can. And don't forget to click on the links to photo albums on facebook if you're in the mood for some French photos.

A letter to a friend

The following is a letter to a friend that came out of a dialog we had a while back. I hope it's worth your while too, I figured I could at least share it.

So I’ll try to write my thoughts out as succinctly as I can. We all know how well that usually turns out.

Basically what I was hearing in our conversation were similar things that I’ve thought and struggled with in the past, and some I still do. I think the key is to go back to what God intends and then to contrast that with what we believe to see where the lies we believe lie (so to speak). Believing, of course, being inherently different than simply knowing by the fact that our beliefs shape our actions and feelings in ways that what we simply know never could.

Like I said, God created Adam perfect, but created him with one apparent ‘flaw’ which was loneliness. Adam searched throughout creation and didn’t find a suitable companion, and so God made him one. Thus loneliness isn’t bad at all, it’s the one area of our lives where we lack but do not sin in the lacking. So to desire a husband is far from wrong, it’s how God created you to be. It not only drives you towards a husband, but more importantly drives you to seek the company of the Trinity.

Secondly, the idea that you can somehow find the right husband by sticking your head in the sand really doesn’t make much sense when you think about it. I agree that we need to be searching after God first and foremost, and that He should always take precedence over everything; even a spouse. The way it was put to me once was to chase after God as hard as you could, and as you were doing so to look around and see who was running with you. That was how they said to find your spouse, to see who was chasing after God as hard as you were.

But you’ve gotta take the time to look around. God created you to do so, the desire is there. To deny it in some attempt at holiness is foolish. I often do this while staring obstinately at God, when He’s telling me to look around and it ends up quite self-defeating. My friend Dave said that if you want to find a rose, you’ve got to look in a rose garden; meaning that if you want better odds at finding the right spouse you need to go where they’re more likely to be. Like church, or your local butcher’s shop (you wouldn’t believe how cute the girls there are). But the key is that you go, you look, and you see what God has for you.

That’s part of the preparatory part as well, I think; the process of becoming a better spouse for whomever we’re meant to marry (if you believe in ‘the one’). We’re refined by the stress and hardship generated as we approach people and are accepted or rejected. We learn that people’s ideas of us can’t be what we base our self worth on, because if it is then our value will never be very high. That we can’t seek them out for consistency and real joy; that happiness gained from relationships is real and good but subject to sudden change.

I think that the process of falling in love and having our hearts broken, though unadvisable in one sense, is also very good in another. We learn that way that only God will satisfy and be the lover of our souls. I was kind of shocked by the idea actually when Dr. Eckman (very closely linked to Crusade) asked us at Project in San Diego whether or not we’d fallen in love. Of course none of us being engaged we were a bit awkward and sort of offered up the “we haven’t found the one” answer. He was shocked by our response and asked what was wrong with us? Falling in love was great and a beautiful part of life!

Besides, falling in love lands on an entirely different plane than even the best of friendships. I’m a proponent of saving your heart as best as you can for marriage, obviously, but like I said as well: even when you’re headed towards marriage it’s no certain thing until the deal is done. You can’t remain emotionally, spiritually, and even physically detached until your wedding day! You won’t know who you’re marrying!

By the time you get married you’re already headed down a path that only leads deeper if taken with the Lord at the helm. You can’t avoid getting hurt in the process, and you can’t know if this is the one or not until the rings are on and the licenses signed. Well, that’s not entirely true, you can know before then but like I said, engagement is merely a formality on the way to marriage. Love requires risk.

God took huge risks on us from the beginning, from allowing us to make choices to giving us the option of accepting His Son’s sacrifice for us on the cross. Especially since He knew that many of us would reject Him. We’re afraid of the possibility of getting rejected. God knew He would be rejected, but He chose to love anyways. Love requires that you put yourself out there and allow the other person to make their decision to accept or reject you without manipulation. You can’t control them, you can’t control all of the situations; you have to do your best to guard your heart and still take a plunge.

But the question remains, how do you guard your heart? I think this is another area where misnomers reign. First of all, guarding your heart doesn’t mean burying it and sitting on it, as I think we often do. Lord knows I’ve spent plenty of time with my own heart as deep as I could put it in the rockiest ground I could find. The problem was that I never really did that good of a job guarding it like that. Some pretty girl would come along and I’d kind of scratch the surface, ready to dig my heart out as soon as it was time.

The problem is that we’re no good at guarding anything, let alone our hearts. We don’t really know the proper times to hold it back or to give a little away. The trick, I believe, is to let go of your heart and give it to God entirely. Let Him hold onto it, and let Him give it to your meant-to-be. I know that this sounds cryptic, and in the same way we tend to place it in our early goals as Christians; at least it’s in our list of intentions whether or not we really understand what we’re saying. But as for me, I don’t think I really believed this was the best way for a long time.

I may have agreed with anyone who said it, and may have in fact known it to be true. They might say “you need to put your trust in God” or “you need to give God your heart” but it meant little to nothing to me most of the time. I’d nod and go ‘mmm hmmm’ in agreement, but I didn’t really believe so far as my actions were concerned. I still took matters into my own hands, starting and stopping relationships where I thought was necessary and putting my own boundaries on things. All the while I maintained control; I did and said what I thought I should when I thought I should, and the results were more often than not disastrous.

Ultimately we need to be willing to trust the Lord and to listen to Him in these things. It’s what we really want anyways, and it frees us to have fun and make friends. If you can only find your value in what God thinks of you you’ll be so free. You can be free to be who God made you to be and not worry about whether or not people like you. Why would you when you realize that the God of the Universe loves you enough to have sent his son to die on a cross for you?

That’s the ultimate acceptance. Often we think that if we could only gain acceptance by some person we look up to, or someone we’re attracted to, then we’ll really have value. For example, when I left home and wound up at New Community I wasn’t used to being in a church where the pastor was so hard to get to. He strives to be accessible, but having such a large church with so many people vying for his attention he can’t be everywhere at once. I grew up a pastor’s kid for Pete’s sake! It was easy to get his ear, but Rob? Not so much. The man is a bit busier, and I don’t have the sonship to fall back on when I want time with him.

So what did I do my freshman year of college? Did I say “well, God has created me to be who I am and has accepted me as I am. I am loved, accepted, doted on, relished, and taught by God Himself. Even if Rob doesn’t know my name what does that matter to me? He’s just some dude and can’t even compare to the greatness of God.”?

No. I said “What the hell is this guy’s problem? Doesn’t he know how awesome I am? I’ll show him!” And so began a long, pointless attempt to gain Rob’s affection. Why pointless? Not because I don’t relish Rob’s affection, he’s good at snuggling. No, because Rob’s affection falls short and proves insufficient as often as it proves sufficient. He’s not unique in this, all people fail and fall short of our expectations (unless we lower our expectations to the point that they simply can’t fail because it’s physically impossible).

I had to find myself in God; my value in the church body didn’t rely on recognition from a pastor but on recognition from God Himself. Talk about swinging things out of proportion! But somehow we do this with spouses and potential spouses as well.

But God really is the coolest, most beautiful, most accomplished, most loving, caring, bad ass guy around (if you don’t believe me about being bad ass, read Revelations, He has a sword shooting out of his MOUTH). If we truly saw Him as He was and then saw that He accepted us not just into His clique, but into His family we would truly be changed. We wouldn’t care that Billy Joe didn’t think that we were cool or that Suzie Cue didn’t laugh at our jokes. So what? I’m loved and accepted by God. Let them ridicule me, they don’t know jack.

And so I think that instead of focusing on what you shouldn’t do, like date some guy, you should focus on what you should do, like lose yourself in Christ. Just let yourself go and fall in love with Him. You won’t regret it. Do this by finding out who He really is, and what He’s done for you (stuff you already know but need to place in your heart). And then one day some guy will ask you on a date and for some reason you’ll think “yeah, sounds nice.” And it might lead to marriage, it might not, but your heart will be Jesus’ and you’ll be able to have a fun time and learn a lot without getting hurt as much in the process.

And then, someday, you’ll think to yourself “I’d rather not live life without this person. In fact, to do so would be stupid.” And he’ll think the same thing since he’s chasing God, and Jesus will allow you to share each others’ hearts a little bit now, and a little more later, and then you’ll get married, and you’ll share some more. But your heart will always belong to Jesus, because He deserves it. And He’s a much better steward of it than you or I.

And then, when your perfect little hubby hurts you badly, you’ll remember that God loves you so much, and through that you’ll be able to forgive him, and he’ll be most appreciative. And then when you hurt him and are scared that he’ll never want you back, you’ll experience the same grace that only someone whose heart belongs to God can give. Because of that power, you’ll succeed in marriage and push forward forever into God together. In fact, if you can find your identity in Christ, you’ll find the whole of life to be infinitely easier. That’s a free life; that’s the abundant life we’ve been promised. Claim it.

We drink the cheap stuff

I am Jack’s bloated sense of relaxation. I must say that the trips I’ve been taking have been nice. Swinging through Switzerland to visit Bavaria (Southern Germany for the stereotypical American reading this) was sweet. I have to say that the Alps are about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, at least as you cross from Switzerland to Germany. Tall, imposing peaks surrounded by perfectly green little farms leads one to believe that a living fairy tale may have been discovered.

Anna

Spending a few days in Passau, I got to hang out with my friend Bianca and John’s fiancée Anna. This was to be a test of Anna’s worthiness to marry John, and so I put her to the test. I attempted to re-create an experience of living with John as best I could. First thing was first, I kicked her out of her apartment, demanding my own bed, laundry service, and chocolate at any hour of the night. She maintained her composure.

Bianca

I then proceeded to break her dishes so as to see her reaction. I did this subtly, one dish at a time until she had none left. Once again, surprisingly, she passed. I figured that I should come up with something more devious, something only John Dalbey would conceive of doing. What better than to eat all of her food, poop on her table and light her hair on fire within a total of 9 minutes and 32 seconds? Even John has a hard time beating his original record of 9:38.

She simply restocked the fridge, cleaned up the poop and grabbed a wig from a rack in her closet (apparently John had done this enough to prepare her thoroughly). My tests complete, I was forced to admit that she was worthy of marrying John.

In all honesty, she is a rad girl and was more than accommodating the whole time I was there. She even let me wear her coat at one point, and my friend Amber stay the night, and was a constant companion. She asks good questions too, which is perfect because John likes to hear himself talk. As do I. As do I…

Amber and I checked out Passau, met up with friends from Eastern (yes, people do leave Cheney occasionally) including my buddy Dan from German classes and Barbara, a German student who lived in Cheney last year. I also discovered that Barbara's new apartment is in the exact same part, nay, exact same street, nay! Exact same building that I stayed in the last time I was in Passau. The odds? We were clearly surprised (though by the time the photo got taken genuine surprise was replaced by cheesy "wow" looks).

wow!

We then went to Austria, walked through Ingling, and found a table covered in apples with a box that said “Take a bag and leave a Euro” (in German). We did, and did, and had a bag of apples to show for it. We then hit the train for Lausanne, Switzerland.

Austrian signs are always cooler

And Austrian apfels are tasty even if tiny.

13 hours, 5 trains (one of which was absurdly late) later we found ourselves in the international capital of the Olympics. Or the Olympic Capital of the World. Or the World Capital of the Olympic Games. Or something along those lines.

The Swiss know how to do croissants - with chocolate!

If my expression doesn't say it all then you need to just eat one and see what wonders await.

Without much time to kill we strolled down to lake Geneva and checked out the Olympic Museum before parting ways. I headed home to Nice, and after a total of 29 hours of travel arrived back in Nice at 11PM, ready to crash and stay crashed for some time.

Swiss boat? Complete with bottle opener.

He jumped over my hand? WTF?!

A week went by, I taught, had fun. I’ve been teaching my kids about Thanksgiving using a little tool I like to call “Thanksgiving Jeopardy.” I have a few favorite questions, not least of which is “This is how many legs a turkey has.”

But I think my true favorite is “True or False: Americans eat too much on Thanksgiving.” To which the first team to raise their hands inevitably and gleefully says “True!” (or sometimes “Yes!” And occasionally “Aaagh!”). To which I inevitably and gleefully say “FALSE! You can never eat too much on Thanksgiving!” Oh the French, they have so much to learn.

Then this weekend Kate, Jenny, Nathalie, my roommate Noah and I went up into the Alps to hang out in some little mountain villages. The road up was narrow and winding, and I’m not one to get car sick that often. Not that it was that bad I suppose; once I fell asleep I was golden. We stayed at St. Martin Vésoubie, Vésoubie being the name of the valley. Need I say it was beautiful? Nay, I need not.

We took photos of St. Martin late the first night, and I came away with some decent shots.

The next morning I found myself alone in the cabin, and thus decided to hike up the mountain to Venanson, another old village, but way up on the cliffs.

It took a while, especially since the trail eluded me. Thus, in one of those moments you don’t tell your mom about until after you’ve completed your trek, I used the long, winding, shoulderless road all the way to the top. I only almost got hit by cars twice… honest.

Having reached the top I chilled, took photos, read my Bible while overlooking a gorgeous valley, and waited for my friends to catch up using their silly car. We had sandwiches, laughed, and then went home.

And by home I mean Nathalie and I walked home to discover that Noah and gang had not gone home in the car, with the keys to the cabin. So we kept walking to St. Martin, found them, walked around and then drove home. That night we went back to St. Martin with Sebastian, as he had finally arrived by bus, and took more night shots.

Unfortunately Nathalie got sick, which ended things a bit early. We got her home, tucked away, and then packed up ourselves. The next day we drove home, Noah at the wheel, and thankfully didn’t die as we were overly packed in and had only one or two close calls… honest.

Um... I'm on break

I know I have to write a blog about traveling through Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, but I have a lot on my mind. To say that the situations facing me are convoluted would be kind of an understatement, my future hangs in the balance and there's a lot going on. I feel like things are far too profound right now, every thought and feeling swaying me one way or the other.

And yet, at the core of who I am I remain calm. My emotions peak and plummet, racing to the heights of happiness only to be forced to halt by changing circumstances. Whatever I'm going through, it's weird and difficult, but revealing.

I'm not as strong, self-assured, or manageable as I might have thought. If God were to leave me, to remove His strong yet gracious hand, I'd be in serious trouble. And thank God that He won't, despite my irrational fears that He may. I'm being challenged in ways I thought I was untouchable, my determination, passion, and security in God all shown for the weak shadows that they are. Shadows of something they were meant to be, of a difference that Jesus made up for me.

And so now I feel vulnerable, weak, and alone. Not because I am alone, but because what I lack is being revealed to me in areas I thought I was sufficient; even if I would never have admitted such thoughts to myself. And now I sit, staring at these shadows cast in front of me, witnessing a corrosion of my pride, my self-reliance, my capability, and know that it's the best thing that could happen to me now.

It's an answer to prayer too, as the pattern of my life would have it. Often God answers such prayers in ways unexpected, and right now humility is being dished out from directions in which I hadn't thought to look. Oh how I revel in it, though at times the enemy uses it against me, casting guilt and doubt over all that he can.

But I won't turn back, I won't give up on my God in whom I believe all things good, true and holy are to be found. To do so would be folly, for who else can know my heart and cater to its needs? Who else can direct my path to greater heights than I have ever known?

Only the creator of the mountain can effectively guide one to the most beautiful views, and the maker of the heart catalyze the joys felt in the accomplishment of getting there. It would be foolish of me to view the hardship along the way as punishment, or as too much to bear; for he certainly knows what I can and can't handle, and He is good. He is good. So let rejoicing be found in trial!

Only the fools of the world can say such things, and it is in God's goodness that He chooses us to suffer for Him, and with Him. I will suffer, for in the greater suffering I face the better and more beautiful the end result in my life. The harder the climb, the greater the glory for God and the joy for us both. I resign myself to His loving and caring hands, to whatever ends He has intended for me, for whatever trials. For though I may cry and scream and beg and plead, God is good, and His ways are true.

To turn back now would be to fail; I do enough of that as it is. And as I finish this little message, I recognize that in a few months time I may read this with a great sense of irony, reflecting on events that I currently know nothing about. But how can I care? I must count the cost, and I must plunge ahead. My life is not my own, and I won't look back if God gives me the strength.

My life is not my own, it belongs to my God. For He is my God, and He demands all things of me. But how great the reward at the end of the trials, and how worth the pain and suffering and how worth the dying. The dying to myself, casting off all that is of the world and not of me, of what God created me to be. I must become all that Christ is, but only God can accomplish this in me. The paradoxes never end.

And neither will my suffering, not until Christ comes again to reign in His Kingdom and gives me rest. Gives me peace eternal, and joy, and freedom and excitement that I have only caught but the smallest shimmering glimpse of! What a glorious day, when my sins are finally absolved and my heart is healed! My body is glorified and my eternal tasks set upon, for then I shall finally be free to work with Jesus in ways I can only dream of now.

OH FOR THAT DAY! I can't wait, my chest quivers and my eyes water, to see Christ in His glory, I can lose myself in the image. To be captured in His loving gaze, his outstretched arms, to join with Him in all He has planned for me. To hear "well done, good and faithful servant." This is what I live for, and may it be ever present in my mind.

To Jesus be the Power, the Glory, and the Kingdom forever and ever. AMEN.

To Passau!

Prepare for a long blog, I’m gonna leave out pictures if I can help it, though maybe I’ll put them all in at the end for you if I have time. Today has been a long day, and I figure I’ll recount it along with some of my reflections as well. Yesterday was my only day of University classes all year; I went with my friend Rory to his French history class. It was fun because we all dressed up and made quite a scene (Halloween isn’t so big here). It was boring though because, well, it was boring.

I’m currently on the train between Munich and Passau (Germany), the last leg of 15 hours of travel for today. What a day it’s been too. Last night was a crazy Halloween party which didn’t end until after I had left. I didn’t get to bed until 12:30am, and wished I’d done so sooner. At 4:40am I got up, and made my way across a large park to the tram stop from which I would take the tram to the train station and catch my train at 5:58am.

Of course, it wouldn’t be one of my regular days of travel if things were as easy as all that, and naturally it turns out that today was a holiday in France. This meant that the first tram wouldn’t arrive until 6:07, 9 minutes later than my train was leaving. This left me with one option: walk.

So, not knowing Grenoble to save my life, I did. I checked the bus/tram routes on the maps at the stop, figured out the general direction, and headed off down the street. I asked a security guard if I was headed the right way and was assured by the drunk man standing next to him that I was in fact not. Thankfully the security guard called him an idiot and told me I was indeed on the correct path. I kept walking, checking on the maps at each stop to be sure that I was in fact advancing towards the station.

Finally I made it there with plenty of time to spare, and got ready to wait. It was at this time that I was approached by a beggar named Mike who asked if I spoke English. I did, and he asked if I had any coins for him. As ‘luck’ would have it, due to the trams not running, I had a Euro and thirty cents in my pocket which I figured was actually meant for him. When asked if I had just a little bit more I replied that I didn’t, and that he was lucky it was a holiday or I would have had no change at all.

We proceeded to talk for the next twenty minutes, and by “we” I really mean “he.” His accent was Irish due to his Irish mother but he assured me he was most certainly English. We talked, he told me stories of automatic tents and his friend in the hospital who he repeatedly told me he planned on visiting. “Because a friend’s a friend, and that’s what friends are for.” I couldn’t agree more, especially with the fact that he thought taking cigarettes to his friend might be a bad idea.

He planned on leaving Grenoble, though, and getting to Italy. I won’t tell you what words he used to describe Grenoble, but he didn’t seem fond of it. He bemoaned getting kicked off the train for not having a ticket, the reason for which he was in Grenoble, and I said that at least he had a jacket. Mine got left behind (for which I still think I’m an idiot). He offered me his, to which I replied that, as he had said, all he had otherwise was his T-shirt and that didn’t seem enough.

Eventually he was so determined to repay my generosity with a bit of his own that he bought me a hot chocolate. So my Euro returned to me in chocolate form, at least it won’t go towards his alcoholism, which he wasn’t shy to describe in full detail. The hand-motions and sound effects alone were worth remembering. We took some pictures together, he told me not to have sex with too many German girls (but in a slightly different way) and sent me on the way with many a pat on the back (and face) and plenty of shouted bits of advice as I walked away.

I got on the TGV, and slept. Arriving in Geneva I looked at my itinerary (scribbled on a piece of paper by the guy working the ticket counter in Grenoble) and tried to figure out where my train to Zurich would be. The nice part about the Eurail pass is that if you don’t need to reserve a seat you can just get on the train without a ticket; the downside is, I discovered, that sometimes French ticket salespeople would rather scribble out an itinerary than print it.

Thankfully I found the platform without much trouble and got on my train. As we sped away from Geneva I listened to the list of stops as they were recited by the conductor over the intercom, and realized to my increasing delight that Zurich was not in fact on the route. Checking my phone I realized that my train, which was supposed to leave at 8:46, had apparently left at 8:36. My mistake was suddenly revealed.

See, the problem is that I live in France. France, if you aren’t aware, is not renowned for its high levels of efficiency. This is because they don’t know what “efficiency” is unless you’re talking about finishing a bottle of wine or getting to the bottom of one's politics. Despite being a glaring generalization, this is generally true. The Swiss, however, are well known for their efficiency. I did not account for this unfortunately.

When I had gotten on my train, used to being able to board up to 20 minutes or more in advance, I had assumed the same would be true here. It was at my platform, it was as early as they ever are, it was going in the right direction. I hadn’t realized that the Swiss are efficient enough to run trains 10 minutes apart if they see fit, and thus I unwittingly and quite erringly stepped onto the wrong train and sped off in quite the wrong direction.

Asking the girl across from me various questions, I realized this with a growing sense of “aw crap” growing in my stomach. And so, I got up and got off that train and headed back to Geneva. This is the other benefit of my pass, I can just ride whatever train I want at no extra cost, t’is lovely.

Arriving in Geneva I found another train leaving for Zurich exactly an hour after the other one was supposed to. And thankfully, in the process, found a train going to Munich instead of Wels, Austria which cut my travel time by 2 hours and the cost by 95 Euros (which translates to around $140). I got on the train to Zurich, and sat down to read. Stealing a glance outside to lake Geneva on my right and endless vineyards on my left I decided that this was prettier country that I had seen so far.

A while into the ride a pretty girl dressed all in black with earbuds dangling around her neck came and asked if she could sit across from me. My own earbuds being in place and blasting music forced me to rely on the context of the situation, and so I motioned to the seat with a “bien sur” forgetting that I was traversing into German-speaking territory. This transition has proved difficult so far, my German is... oh how you say... rusty? But after a minute we caught each others’ eyes and, I’m not sure how exactly, began to talk. Of course we had to figure out in which language, I explained in German that my French was way better, and so we started speaking French (hers of course still outstripping mine shamelessly).

What followed was an experience unique to the Christian life. We started out on the usual subjects, who we were and where we were from, what we did and where we were going. But soon the conversation moved towards God. I think that the DeVinci Code came up, which started us talking about the need for truth, and how everyone is searching for it. Like I said, what occurred then was something that I love, we fenced with our minds.

That might sound weird, but it’s true. I would say it’s similar to when Serif fights Neo in the Matrix Reloaded (although a much less forced, and lower budget situation). Serif says that you don’t truly know someone until you fight them, and in the same way we sized each other up with our wits, seeing what each truly believed without asking outright or stating where we stood. Constantly (though with difficulty, because though my French is taking leaps and bounds I’m still lacking a lot of vocab) we approached the same plane, discussing things and refining each others’ arguments, recognizing belief for belief.

I don’t know if she viewed it the same way, but for me it was a Godsend. Over here I’ve been feeling more and more like a member of a dying breed, as though all sense has left mankind and I’m left standing in the midst of a complete lack of rationality. To sit and simply reason through life and the purposes therein with someone who had obviously thought it through, and had done so honestly, was refreshing. It was a blessing that is hard to describe without sounding weird to those of you who have no idea about what I’m talking, and corny to those of you who do.

All I know is that I saw a kindred spirit in a world filled with people opposed to our way of living, and it gave me hope. Not to say that I’m despairing, but it was reassuring and God timed it perfectly considering where my thoughts were taking me on the subject this morning. I had felt fairly alone for a while until that moment, and I’m grateful God saw fit in His divine way of knowing to provide that conversation for me.

We parted ways in Zurich, and from there I headed to Munich. In vain attempts I tried to get some free WiFi, but everywhere it was protected. I needed it because Anna and Bianca, friends in Passau, both think that I’m getting there at 11:30PM, and now I’m getting there two hours earlier. Giving up I got on the train to Munich and simply read the whole way. The countryside leaving the Swiss Alps and entering the German is absolutely breathtaking. I wish I could drive through and take the time to stop every fifty clicks or so. It’s amazingly green, and never the same twice.

The alps I’d seen around Grenoble, and managed to see through the haze all morning in Geneva and central Switzerland hadn’t won much of my attention. They were cool, but not much different than the Rockies back home (nor did they really compare to the might of the Rockies mind you). But when I started heading north, wow. They looked like a jagged, chipped and mangled razor blade. It seemed as though they formed great, impregnable walls that surrounded the countryside through which we traveled. They were distant, and yet ominous at the same time. I loved them. I want to get closer to them, to see them and study them and be inspired by them.

Needless to say, I couldn’t help but be put in regular states of awe at the countryside as we swept past. I wish I could have gotten out and taken pictures. I arrived in Munich, sleeping actually, and discovered that the station had changed a fair amount. Thankfully someone woke me up when we arrived, but I was quite disoriented when I got off. I didn’t really recognize things at first as it had been two years since I'd last been there, but as soon as I did I realized that things had changed.

The signage was all new, more high-tech and all around nicer. But something had changed for the worse... I was hoping to use the internet café that had been there years before to alert Anna and Bianca to my early arrival, but discovered that it had been replaced by a Burger King. This was oddly ironic as I hate Burger King, and haven’t seen one since I left America due to the fact that the French share my distaste for the 'king.' I knew I liked France for a reason. So yet again Burger King foiled my plans leaving me disgusted and dissatisfied, as usual.

Thankfully I found an internet café across the street, and I can only hope that Anna or Bianca have gotten my message. I bought a Kebap, which was yet again different than any I had eaten before, and got on the train a good 30 minutes early. It’s nice and warm in here, like Nice, not like freezing Grenoble/Geneva/Zurich/Munich and I assume Passau. I’m going to really be missing my jacket soon.

Now, however, the radiator by my foot is practically melting my shoe off. I could use a little cool air now, but I doubt anyone in here would appreciate me opening the window. Oh well. And my battery is going to die soon, so I suppose I’ll have to end this little (a.k.a. overly-long) blog. If you made it this far, congratulations.

On the tram to school

In class

These seats look exactly like they did the last time I went to Passau, very different from any other train I've been in.

I made it! And only 15 hours of travel later!