This morning was crazy. I got ready for church, and took the bus from my house to the old port, where I change buses. I then got on the other bus (2) that drops me off right in front of my church. About halfway to the church, the bus turned in a direction different from its usual route. At this point, I was thinking that maybe the bus is taking a different way, or I have a really bad memory. I decided to wait patiently for my stop while keenly looking out and around at the neighborhoods and surroundings-- trying to recognize anything and everything that I could. I rode this bus around for one hour as it took me into the most "dangerous" neighborhoods (more run down and described by my co-workers as the places that the police don't even like to go). This bus then took me to one of the main roads in Marseille (la Canabiere) and stopped itself there.
It was 11:15 AM, and I was frustrated. I asked the bus driver why he didn't go to my stop. He told me that there was a serious accident on that street, and he could not drive there. So he decided to take a detour that wasn't even close to where I would need to get off, and not tell anyone who got on the bus about this new plan. I would not have gotten on the bus if i knew he wasn't going to go to my stop at all.
He told me to take the metro down to the old port, where I'd gotten on this bus one hour ago, and try another bus. I just sat there and cried. He said that there would probably be no other bus that can go there today. I don't know the town well enough to know how else I could get there without having to walk through some shady areas alone. Also considering that by the time I would be able to get to church, it would be over, I was just frustrated. The service would be over (maybe), but there was actually still a practice afterwards for the resurrection day dance.
I had to make a decision in this moment. I could either go home because it was too late or I could take the metro to the train station and walk through a more dangerous neighborhood alone praying that I wouldn't be attacked. I cried A LOT because I honestly didn't know what to do. I cried because my cowardly flesh just wanted to give up and go home. I cried because I could not bring myself to just go home; I felt like this was a time that called for trusting in the Lord and perseverance. I just cried and prayed for awhile asking God for help and direction.
I began walking towards the metro not knowing which direction I'd end up taking the metro: home or towards church (plan B). I went towards church. I got off at the train station, grabbed a chicken sandwich, and stopped to pray some more. There was a war going on in me.
On the one hand, I was being consumed with fears about getting attacked, getting mugged and having no way to get home since my bus pass would've been stolen, more fears about the fact my phone stopped working this past Friday which means I'd have no way to call 911 in case of an emergency, etc. I had thoughts that it would be wiser to go home since it was late anyways.
On the other hand, I thought it wouldn't be right to go home because of these fears that were fears of things other than God. Going home because of these fears would show God that I am putting Him in a box. If I get attacked, I get attacked, if i die, i die, but I will get to go to heaven. Plus, if someone wants to attack or harass me, I can open up my Bible in hand and share truth with them.
Before I knew it, I was up and walking to the church. I didn't get lost and I was crying like baby the whole way there clenching my Bible in my hand because I was so scared and knew that this was right, which means I also knew that there was no way I was going to just go home.
I got to church and was embarrassed about how late I was; I didn't want to go in because of my pride, and I could've turned back around and gone home from there. However, after pacing around outside of the entrance to the sanctuary for awhile, I took a step inside and was welcomed by my brothers and sisters in Christ there. It was a very difficult step to make, and I was still crying.
This morning was a battle. Lots of crying and praying. I could've literally just stayed at the train station all day long going back and forth on what I should do.
I was undoubtedly spiritually attacked with fear and thoughts of how people may judge my extreme tardiness once I finally arrived to the church enough to make me almost go back home from there. But God did His thing and there I spent the afternoon laughing and being restored in fellowship with my French church family.
Praise God!
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