I was all settled in. After the eight-hour flight, two days of orientation, and a long week at the hotel on some quiet street in Paris, I was ready for my semester abroad. During the first week at the American University of Paris (AUP), students held a “club fair” reminiscent of the huge Club Fest at NYU. Instead of the Coles Sports Center, the AUP club fair was squeezed into a twenty by twenty university bar. After signing my name under the “Knitting Club,” the “Japan Club,” and the “Salsa Club,” I felt like I was still missing something. I missed my NYU fellowships, and most of all, where was an English-speaking church around here?

The next morning, I went online and Googled, French-style. “English speaking church.” Enter. A list of churches popped up and I clicked on “The American Church in Paris.” How straightforward could the name get? There it was, a picture of the church, and an address telling that it was a block from AUP campus. Perfect, I thought, it must be God’s way of helping me to go to church regularly in Paris. That weekend, I took the RER train to Pont de l’Alma, a station off of the golden Invalides and the Seine. It took me a total of five minutes to see the beautiful architecture that makes me wish I were an architecture major. I remember vividly how my first service was. The praise was a mix between traditional and contemporary, with organ playing and guitar jamming. People were extremely but not excessively friendly, but all seemed to enjoy worshipping God in their own ways. When it was time for the sermon, a woman pastor stood at the podium and delivered her concise message. At the end of the service, newcomers were invited to the backroom for some fresh croissants and tea/coffee. I talked to a couple of college students and exchanged contact information. Although I was thankful that God gave me a church where I felt comfortable in, I did not feel like I had found “the one.”

Surprisingly, I found a home at the iconic church that invokes memories of my childhood, the first time I saw postcards of Paris and the famous Disney movie, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. C’est vrai, I fell in love with the Cath’drale de Notre Dame. Although always filled with tourists during the Sunday mass, somehow I felt more at home and in touch with God and myself inside the gigantic but exquisite cathedral. During praise, little kids were invited to the stage to sit with the priest and elder, the way Jesus told the children to sit with him. Although my French is not good enough to completely understand the lyrics or the sermon, I was able to get the message through the slideshow projected on the screen. Besides, the interior of the cathedral, with the light shining through the stain glass, makes it almost impossible to not feel the presence of God. I ended up going to the Sunday mass at the Cathedral more often than the American Church. However, perhaps the most invaluable part of my spiritual life in Paris is how every time I see the Cathedral, I immediately stop that moment in life, and think about what God has done in my life. It’s nice to have something to remind us of God’s love and grace in our everyday lives. Not to mention, it’s the Cath’drale de Notre Dame, where Quasimodo lived!