Serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in northern France, southern Belgium and Luxembourg.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Do you believe in the wind?

So this story starts with two young, attractive men on a tram, slightly past 9:00 on a Friday evening. Only one other person was on the tram, and he got off one or two stops after the attractive young men got on. As he did so, the red-headed, slightly-more-attractive young man thought to himself, "I should have talked to that man. I hope I'll be able to find someone else to talk to on this tram ride home." Little did he know to what extent his wish would come true.

One stop later, a few people got on. Among them was a man with a mustache-goatee combo sitting on his face and a beer can sitting in his hand. He walked up to us (okay yes, this story is about us) and asked, "What are you guys? Mormons? Jehovah's Witnesses?" After we informed him that we were Mormons, this man took it upon himself to express his feelings toward our church in a most colourful manner.
Apparently his sister had joined the church, and this man was upset that she didn't go drinking with them anymore. He proceeded to say many things--some of which were false claims against the church, while others detailed his violent feelings toward...well, everyone who wasn't like him.

After he realized that attacking the church wouldn't ruffle our feathers very much, he decided to change his approach by attacking the core beliefs of religious people in general. "How can you believe there is a God?" he asked as derisively as he could manage. "You can't see Him so He's not there."

Then I got an idea. I looked at this man and said, "Monsieur, I'm going to ask you a question. Do you believe in the wind?"

He quickly answered, "Well yes, because although I can't see the wind, I can feel it."

Perfect. I looked him in the eyes and told him, "I have felt God in my life."

For the first time since I had met him, he stayed quiet. For about half a second, that is. Then he chose to ignore everything I had said, offered to fight us at the next stop, informed us that he knew more than we did, and finally got off the tram.

There was an awkward silence as all the other French people around us (the tram had gotten full near the end of our conversation) stared at the ground in shame because of what their compatriot had been doing.
Then we smiled at them and said "It happens." That broke the awkwardness a little. We wished everyone a good night and got off the tram to walk safely to our home in beautiful Strasbourg.

The end.

One of my favourite amis (Toussaint) and one of my favourite less-actives from back in my days in Liège.

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