Witnessing At 30,000 Feet In French

I flew back from Philadelphia this weekend for a business trip. After I boarded the plane, the stewardess informed me that I would have to move chairs. Apparently, the FAA frowns upon people with large medical boots sitting in the exit row seats (courtesy a nice sprained ankle from volleyball). She spoke to the two young men sitting across across the aisle from me, and asked if they would be willing to switch our chairs. They were happy to move and get a little more legroom.

When I switched chairs with them, I picked up a hint of an accent from one of them. Curious, I asked where they were from. The young man said that he was from France, heading home to Paris. "Oh," I said, "I speak a little bit of French. I learned it about 10 years ago and haven't used it much since then."

I started to have a conversation with the young man, named Rafael, in French. We talked about how he and his buddy were on their way home from going to Disneyworld. He was 20 years old, had just finished school, and was serving as a waiter in a restaurant. He had been to San Francisco before, and was thinking of being a waiter in New York City. We also talked about how he and his mother had traveled to Japan once before, and they could not find anyone there who could speak English, let alone French, in Tokyo. I recalled my travels to him of going to Japan for my honeymoon, laughing about the language differences that I encountered as well.

The captain came over the loudspeaker and said that our plane would be delayed for 15 minutes due to too much air traffic over New York, and they were trying to manage all of the flights. As we sat there for a few minutes, I knew that I needed to share my faith with Rafael.

"J'ai un question pour vous. Quand vous etes mort, que pensez-vous d'ou vous pouvez aller?"

("I have a question for you. When you are dead, where do you think you would go?")

"Je ne sais pas," il a dit.

("I don't know," he said.)

We spoke for the next 20 minutes, as I shared the Law and God's grace to him, almost all in French. I had to use English here and there, for words like "sin" and "repentance," but he would quickly provide me with their translations or equivalents. And sometimes I could remember one word in French, but not the antonym, and he would help me out, like, "What do you call it when you say something that isn't the truth?" and he would give me the word for, "to tell a lie," in French.

By the time I was nearing the end of our conversation, he asked me, "How many years did you say you learned French?" I told him that I took it for four years in high school, and that that was well over 10 years ago, and I haven't practiced much. "No way," he said, "you shouldn't be able to speak this well after so long."

I gave Rafael a couple of million-dollar bill tracts, and he was grateful for our chat. He needed to catch some rest, because he had only two hours sleep, and the flight to Paris would likely give him jet lag.

After we got off of the plane, and started walking into the terminal, a large black man came up behind me and said something. I couldn't quite pick it up due to the noise, so I had to have him repeat it twice. "Je parle le francais aussi. Je viens de l'Haiti," he spoke with a smile ("I speak French, too. I come from Haiti."). It turned out that I was speaking loud enough in the airplane
for Rafael and his buddy to hear me, there was another French speaker who was also listening to my Gospel presentation as well.

Pray for Rafael, his buddy, and the Haitian man and his wife.

Breaking Up Fights

I went by the skate park to try to find someone with whom I spoke on Monday. (That is another story in itself, and hopefully I'll have some video up soon.) I was expecting a quick in-and-out. Go to the park, find the guy, talk to him, and take off. Instead, I found myself in the heat of conflict.

As I approached the alcove in the middle of the park, there was a group of five boys, all about 17 or 18, who were scoping me out. I knew that something was in the works in their minds, because I've had some training on detecting possible problems and being aware of my environment. So, it was only a matter of time before one of them spoke up.

"Hey!" said one, stepping up rather brazenly towards me. His friends retreated slightly to the benches to chuckle and watch what would happen next. "I've got some religious questions for you." I said that I welcome such questions. He crossed his arms, and began quizzing me, hoping to find a fault, something I could not answer. "You know how long the Bible has been in English, right? So what if the translators of it got something wrong a thousand years ago or so?"

"Well, first," I said, "You have to remember that a thousand years ago, English didn't exist. There was a proto-language called 'Englisc' that was its predecessor." This caught him off-guard. Then, I walked him through some of the points I made in this post, talking about how an omnipotent God who could speak the world into existence should not have problems with making people write down words properly for a few thousand years.

As we continued on with question after question, while his friends listened from a distance, I got to know Cody and I sensed an opportunity to start into presenting God's Law to him. As we walked through the Commandments, he sensed that he was in trouble in the eyes of God. Suddenly, he went from an adversarial type of conversation to more of a dialogue and polite chat. His questions became more geared towards clearing up misconceptions he had instead of finding flaws and trying to best me. When one of his friends came by and said, "Dude, how's it going? Is he winning?" he said that I was taking him to school instead.

By the end of our chat, Cody realized that his lack of trust/faith in God was something important, and that it would be his undoing should he died. I recommended that he get right with God before he dies, and he agreed. He wanted to know where I go to church, and I shared it with him.

Not seeing the person for whom I was looking, I started to leave the skate park when I saw a wave of kids progress in one direction. I recognized that sort of mass migration, and knew that it could only mean one thing--a fight was about to start.

Two boys were squaring off, chest to chest in the parking lot, talking smack to each other. I walked up and stood in between them. "That's enough," I said. They split up, but people continued to linger in the parking lot, expecting something to break out. I made a quick call to my friends at the police department, and about 10 minutes later, a K-9 officer came by. It's amazing how quickly kids disperse when the law shows up.

And it's amazing how quickly the Law can also break up fights.