Dublin—Day 3

A great day!

Missed the alarm and woke up five minutes before we had to walk out the door to go to church. I’ve never seen a group of six people get ready so fast in my life!

Went to Trinity Church with Leasel, and I was excited to know four out of the five songs they sang. The message was good as well. After church, we had some tea and finger foods in the reception hall, then headed back to the hostel to catch up on showers, lunches, and e-mails.

From there, Becca, Aubrey, Nathan, Kyle and I decided to explore some of the city.

This began as a simple task. After a trip to McDonald’s (where, much to my delight, they did indeed have a Euro Menu), some cheesy souvenir shopping, and some Irish-music enjoying, we stumbled into a bookstore. If you know me, you know I love books, and I was interested in some particularly Irish books. The nice man at the bookstore we went to politely informed us that we could find such books at a bookstore about fifteen minutes walking distance from our location.

“Not a bad walk,” we thought, and decided to pursue this bookstore. Along the way, we listened to more Irish music, walked into more souvenir shops, and took our time. We felt a bit lost, so we went into another store to ask another polite Irish man where this particular bookstore was located, and he delightfully informed us that we were heading in the wrong direction, and so we turned around. Along the way, we stopped to ask for more directions, and another man told us to head in yet another direction. By now, it had grown much colder than the beautiful blue-sky day into which we had originally ventured. The sky was gray, and some tiny mists of rain had begun sputtering. After a frightful adventure through a shopping mall to find a restroom (which is not actually called a restroom here, but a “loo (sp?), toilet, or jacks), we decided to continue looking for this elusive bookstore.

It was now after six o’clock, and I was afraid the bookstore might be closed already. Furthermore, I felt completely responsible for taking the group on this inevitably fruitless journey. 

When we finally found the bookstore, it was indeed closed (“But at least now we know where it is!” Becca said, encouragingly), and it was now 6:30. We had told Kelly we’d be back at the hostel by six o’clock to meet her for dinner, and we were certain she was worried about us.  We began walking toward the river, because if we could find the river, we could find the hostel. This seemed like completely infallible logic. 

Surroundings became increasingly unfamiliar. And then more so. And then more so.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of walking, we decided to ask an older gentleman, who informed us that we had been walking in the opposite direction of the river for quite some time. By now it was raining—lightly, but raining nonetheless—and I was getting quite cold. 

We decide to hail a taxi, and Nathan asked him about how far we were. “Very far” was the only explanation I heard. After all, we had been walking for a sum total of three hours! With stops along the way, but still!

So we asked if he could give us a ride back to the hostel, but he could not because there were five of us, and told us we should wait for a van taxi. 

It wasn’t long before we ran into the street to stop a van taxi. Finally warm and dry(er), the nive taxi driver headed in the direction of our hostel. He could obviously tell we were not Irish, and began to question us accordingly: “Where are you from? Why are you here? How much drinking have you done?” “None yet!” was Kyle and Nathan’s response. “Seriously?” asked the taxi driver, and this introduced a semi-uncomfortable conversation, in the midst of which Nathan said something reminiscent of “No, we’re clean,” (Don’t worry, I slapped his arm for it). We told the taxi driver we were working with Dublin Christian Mission and The Lighthouse, and that we were doing missions work in Dublin for the duration of our stay. After telling us where the best Fish & Chips in town could be found, he dropped us just a block away from our hostel. 

Upon getting out of the taxi, he said to Kyle “Thanks for not trying to convert me!” and went on his merry way. 

After getting a good laugh of just how lost we had gotten ourselves, we nabbed Kelly from the hostel (by the way, she wasn’t worried about us. She thought we forgot about her), we walked (more walking!) to our restaurant destination. 

Fish & Chips with super vinegary ketchup and canned Coca-Colas filled our hungry bellies and stimulated our minds for some intriguing conversation about what being self-aware means and how the ministry could be so much better than it is.

I also learned something about myself—apparently, some people can’t tell when I’m joking. Here’s the thing: I’m not much of a kidder, because I’m not funny. But I can be really sarcastic. But I suppose some people just take my sarcasm seriously, which is discouraging. I just need a better kidder face. 

Here’s another thing: I am critical of the ministry and those in it, because God asks excellence of us. I refuse to sit back and say “Well, we’re only human, this is as good as it’s going to get.” God is so much bigger than that. I expect excellence from the ministry in which I’m involved. No one is perfect, but we should be ever striving for perfection.

 

I have a heart for lost people. My heart is broken for them, and I get super defensive when the Church lets them down. I have been there. My dear Church, I know we can be better. Let’s try harder. Let’s shake up our game. 

Also, on the topic of self-awareness: I consider myself self-aware. I am articulate in my own feelings and thought processes, and I know my triggers and boundaries. It’s not always easy to share these things about which you are self-aware with others, however. And sometimes, you don’t have to share those things. But I think as a body of ministers and believers, it’s very important that we can confide in each other our triggers and boundaries. How can we grow as a unit if we are avoidant and hesitant to share those things?

I am speaking to myself also. There are things I long to share with certain people, but I don’t feel I can. I am too afraid that they are not going to understand, so I keep quiet, and maintain brokenheartedness and sometimes even resentment within myself. Why have we created an environment in which people don’t feel they can be honest about absolutely anything?

It shouldn’t be this way. People will tell you that you can’t change the Church, but you can. She is the Bride of Christ, and sometimes the Bride needs a facelift. I think now is one of those times. The Church should be a please of safety and welcome, not intense fear of rejection.

These things are weighing heavily on my mind. Unfortunately, I’m also muddled with frustration in my own personal life. But these things will get better. “All things work together for good for those who love God.”