Suffering for Jesus

A few weeks ago my dad asked me and Paul, “So when are you going to start suffering for Jesus?”

We were in the midst of a conversation about our plans for the coming weeks. Plans to visit Paris, followed by a weekend trip with my family and many other good things. Our life in Germany was going well, but like all adventurers we eventually get stuck in a mud hole.

Today, I would say, was the first day of suffering.

Don’t get worried about having to about bailing us out or recalling us home to California. Paul and I still have a roof over our heads, access to food and water, and a community which supports and loves us. In many ways it is very tempting not to write about today at all as our ‘sufferings’ seem trivial, but I think it would defeat the purpose of this blog if I only wrote about the good stuff. I don’t want to paint any adventure of Jesus as simple or plastic-faced-happy. I will leave that image of Christianity to others.

The truth is today was just one of those days which started out crappy, got better, got worse, got better, and got worse again. Paul and I had made plans for Christmas shopping and a relaxing stroll through the city Weihnachtsmark (Christmas Market). These plans were over thrown earlier this week as we realized I needed some paperwork for my job and we needed to register Paul for school. So we were already off schedule when we planning our day yesterday. 

Then last night all I dreamed about was Trier and my grandmother who I still miss very instensly. This morning didn’t go so well when I woke up.

From there the day just got more discouraging. 

I need a tax ID so my boss can register me as his employee. So last night I looked up in Düsseldorf’s city website where I can get one. The website said the Bürgerbüro (Citizens Office), so this morning we went there. I was immediately told I need to go to the Finanzamt (Financial Office) in another part of town. I also need a Sozialversicherungnummer (Social Insurance Number) and since I have never worked in Germany I don’t have one. Aparently, the only way to get one is to buy insurance. So I will also have to wait on that one as well.

While we were there we decided to see how long the wait would be to inquire about Paul’s work permit. He turned in the paper work for his job last week and was told it could take up to four weeks to process. This puts Paul’s job in jeopardy as the manager most likely won’t hold the job for four weeks. It is a frustrating catch twenty two as the Ausländersamt won’t give Paul a work permit until he has a job but very few places will hire him without one. We waited for about forty-five minutes and then gave up.

Next stop was the Volkshochschule (Community College) to try and register Paul for a beginners German class. The problem is that he has to take a placement test before they will register him, even though we want to sign him up for the first class. The test is not until later this afternoon.

So Paul and I decided to try and rush to the Altstadt (Old Town) and get our Christmas shopping done. Now we were under a time crunch and it wasn’t very fun in the beginning but eventually we got our grove back (this is the first “got better” part of our day). We even found a new favorite restaurant which serves Lebanese food.

 Paul and I decide to head back to the school to take this test. We arrive early so we decided to stop by the Ausländersamt one more time too. This time we had a little bit more luck in the fact that no one else was there so we didn’t have to wait long. That was all the luck we had though. When one of the workers asked what we wanted I explained we were just trying to see if we could get an update on Paul’s work permit. She said the permit takes 6-8 weeks and not to contact them, they would contact us. Frustrating. 

I left feeling a little more hopeless than I expected. 

Next was the test for Paul’s language class. Now, I also decided to take the test since I am considering applying to a program at the university. The results were a disaster.

See, we know Paul doesn’t speak, read, or write in German. So we went in knowing this was just another hoop for him to jump through in order to get his visa. It’s a good thing for him to have to take a German class; he needs to learn German. The test was a formality and went how we expected it to.

I, on the other hand, supposedly speak, read, and write in German. 

The test kicked my ass.

Hard.

I scored much much lower than I thought I would. The test was all about grammer and half of the instructions I didn’t fully understand what they wanted. When I sat across from the man correcting the test he said to me, “Du hast deine Abschluß im Germanistik gemacht? Wenn war das? Es ist ein Schame, viellecht hast du viel vergessen?”

“You have a degree in German? When did you do that? It’s a shame, maybe you forgot alot?”

I left the school feeling like someone had just knifed me. Poor Paul tried to break the tension and be joking but I simply told him he wasn’t allowed to talk. I just wanted to cry; to mourn this skill which I thought I had.

Really what I wanted was to go to my mom’s house and sit on her couch. I wanted to tell her what a horrible and discouraging day I had and that I didn’t know what to do. I wanted her to pat my hand and hug me and tell me it would be alright.

My mom’s house is thousands of miles away.

Standing on the streets of Düsseldorf I began to think about my dad’s words and suffering for Jesus. The truth is, this adventure is difficult. It would be so much easier to be in California where I am considered a well educated and intelligent person who can clearly communicate complexe ideas. It would be easier to be in a place where Paul and I don’t need permits or visas in order to get jobs to support ourselves. It would be more comforting to have my mom, dad, siblings and friends close by. People I know will always sympathize and be ready to drown my sorrows with red wine and love. It would be so much easier if things were like before.

As I was processing all this I began to think of the other Paul, the apostel. He is one of the people who may have suffered the most for Jesus and had the greatest impact on the world. Paul suffered in ways we Boctors can barely fathom; but tonight I wondered if his thoughts were the same as mine.

I wonder if beyond the hunger and imprisionment the most haunting thought was that life was easier before. I wonder if remembering how easy it was to have servant prepare his meals ever added an extra sharpness to his hunger. I wonder if in the darkness of his cell the memory of a cushion for his head made the stone floor harder.

Thankfully, my Paul and I don’t have to know hunger and imprisionment just bureaucrats and formalities. We trust God that He brought us here for a reason and we will be able to stay as long as He wants us here. Adventures have good days and bad days; we will continue to choose to trust the Author of our story.

 

PS. The evening did get better. We finished most of our Christmas shopping and did eventually get to stroll through the city.