I glanced around Place de la République and noticed that all my teammates were engaged in conversations. My partner, Lindsay, had walked away for a moment, so I was looking for a bystander who might be interested in the show that had ended a few minutes ago. Neither she nor I could speak French and we didn’t have a translator, so all we could do was interrupt a stranger and desperately use one of the only French phrases we knew: “Parlez-vous anglais?” (“Do you speak English?”) If the answer was no (as it often was), we would shyly smile and thank them, walking away dejected, having made no difference for God’s kingdom.

I continued to look around at the mixture of people. This was our first day of outreach – we needed to witness to people! We only had barely two weeks to witness to the Parisian peoples!

I silently prayed, Please, God, let us minister to people. My heart yearned for a victory.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a teenager coming in my direction on a skateboard. He made eye contact with me, and I hesitated for half a second. (We had been warned during training that this area was predominantly male, and that some men could get very inappropriate with women, so girls were to use very careful discernment and try to only minister to women.) That thought flashed across my mind, but something inside me propelled me forward. It’s a miracle I didn’t scare him – I practically lunged forward to make sure he stopped, and then blurted out my best attempt at a “Bonjour!”

He skidded to a stop and offered a confused smile. I asked him in broken French if he spoke English and, much to my excitement, he said yes, that he was learning English in school.

After a brief conversation, I learned that my new friend’s name was Milan. He was 13 years old with very kind eyes and a shy smile. I told him about the show that our team put together a few times every afternoon that included dances and live art and mime and music.

It was quickly apparent that he had a pure heart with honest intentions. He shared that his dad was Muslim and his mom was a Christian. When I told him that we were a group of Christians and that our show revolved around the gospel, his response was, “I know. I’m coming to watch so I can decide.”

Woah – what?! This 13-year-old had the maturity to come and decide for himself who he was going to serve instead of just assuming the faith of his parents. I was blown away.

Dumbfounded, I said, “Oh. Wow. Okay. Well, the next show will be in about 15 or 20 minutes, so you are welcome to go skate for a while and come back.” In response, Milan smiled, nodded, then walked over to the perimeter of our ground stage and sat down with his skateboard to wait until the next show started. I laughed to myself at his persistence.

While he waited, I introduced my French friend Sy to Milan, hoping that if they talked in Milan’s mother tongue he would feel more comfortable and welcome. I walked away as they got to know a little about each other.

After a little while, the show started again. The performers worked together to present the gospel through different artistic performances, and sporadically volunteers from different teams would share the gospel or their own personal testimony. As always, it was a beautiful display for the kingdom, and we could tell Holy Spirit was drawing people near from all walks of life to hear the Good News.

I wandered over to where Milan was, and cautiously asked what he thought. Beaming, he announced, “I am going to bring my family back tomorrow!” I was overjoyed!

We didn’t get to have much more conversation that evening, but I excitedly anticipated the following day when the Lord would unfold the rest of Milan’s story.

The following day, my team and I walked up the steps from the underground train station into the sunshine and soft breeze. My stomach felt like it had butterflies – I was so excited to see how the day would unfold!

Immediately my friend, Brielle, pointed to a group of skateboarders off in the distance at la République and said, “Milan’s here again!”

I glanced in the direction she was pointing and recognized Milan instantly. I smiled to myself and decided that since we had not even set up our ground stage yet, I wouldn’t go interrupt his skateboarding. I would quickly find out, to my surprise, I wouldn’t have to…

Our team dispersed to find something quick to eat before the first show, and when I returned Milan was sitting there, waiting patiently with a smile. Our stage still wasn’t set up! I laughed and told him that the first show wouldn’t start for quite a while, but he was content to wait.

I asked him where his family was. He said both of his parents unfortunately had to work all evening, and that on the next day his family was leaving for their summer vacation, so I wouldn’t get to see him again.

Later, Sy got to talk to him again, and she arranged for her sister to get Milan’s contact information so he could join her church right there in the city!

In between running around and attempting to evangelize countless other strangers, I would glance across the crowds, find Milan talking with Sy or with someone else, and smile. His presence was like a banner of victory on display for the enemy to see. This innocent youth decided on his own to choose a path contrary to what the majority of his culture insists on. Jesus is so worthy!

After two shows, Milan came up to me and announced that he had to leave, so we needed to say goodbye. “But I’m dancing in the next show!” I exclaimed, disappointed.

“You are?” Milan asked.

I realized he was considering staying, so I explained that one of our teams was doing a flash mob, and everyone was welcome to join in and dance with us. He agreed to stay to watch our dance, and then he would have to leave.

A handful of minutes later, our dance started and we all trickled in on our cues. This dance was so much fun and full of high energy, so towards the end when Sy AND Milan jumped into our line beside me to join our dance, I practically flew off the ground with joy! We laughed and danced and sang, brothers and sisters side-by-side in the Lord.

After our dance ended, Sy and I said goodbye to our little brother, Milan. I told him I would message Sy in a couple of months to ask if he had joined her sister’s church, and he responded by saying that next year when I came back, I had to find him once again at Place de la République.

God’s love and grace is so irresistible that when Holy Spirit draws a soul to gaze upon His glory, the soul almost faints at the relief and joy of seeing its Creator. What else could a heart do but love Him? worship Him? praise Him? And He invites us to walk in communion with Him as a Father walks with His children. I don’t have the words to explain the joy of watching our family expand across cultures and languages. It is truly an honor.

Until next year, my little French brother ♡