A Month in Trier, Germany
For the past month, my husband and I have been working from home—but “home” has looked a little different lately. We’ve been living in an Airbnb in Trier, Germany, a city steeped in history and unlike anything we’ve experienced in Arizona.
Arizona is a beautiful place with deserts, mountains, a few rivers, and of course, the Grand Canyon. But you don’t just turn a corner and find a Roman wall, or stumble upon a centuries-old church. In Trier, you do. Here, every street whispers of history. It’s not uncommon to walk past a building, only to realize part of it is made from stones once part of a Roman bath or fortress.
The Porta Nigra. It was a Roman gate from around the 2nd century. Then someone decided to build a church around it! Then Napoleon was going to order it all taken down, but decided to just get rid of the church and keep the old gate.
History here isn’t just preserved—it’s been reused, reimagined, and reborn through the ages. When the Roman Empire fell, medieval builders dismantled the baths, burial sites, and basilicas, repurposing them into castles, forts, and defensive walls. When those generations passed, their works were altered or destroyed, and yet another layer of civilization was added. And of course, Trier bore the scars of World War II, with much of the city damaged by bombing. Most of what we see today has been reconstructed—fragments and foundations of what once was, stretching back as far as the 2nd century AD.
And in the midst of this ancient yet new city, faith endures.
Liebefrauenkirche
Liebfrauenkirche ceiling
There’s a basilica here where Constantine himself once held court. The Liebfrauenkirche (Church of Our Lady), from the 13th century, took my breath away. Built in the shape of a twelve-petaled rose, it’s one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen. French architects helped build it, a storm took out some of the tower in the 1600’s, and it was partially destroyed during World War II. Even through all of that, its restoration is stunning.
We’ve visited most every church in Trier—St. Paulin. St. Irminen. Trier Cathedral. St. Antonius. St. Gangolf. St. Martin. We step into each one and are awestruck by their grandeur, by the stories of their history, and by the reverence in their quiet halls. It’s a kind of beauty we don’t often encounter in our corner of the Sonoran Desert.
As I walked the aisles of these ancient sanctuaries, I often wondered: Is God pleased with all this ostentatiousness? When David asked to build a temple, God was pleased. The Jewish temple was a marvel! And yet, Jesus didn’t build monuments. He taught on hillsides. He healed by roadsides. He visited the temple, but mostly, He was out among the people. Serving. Loving. Redeeming.
Each of the churches we visited in Trier has ministries still alive today, reaching into the community. That continuity—of place, of purpose, of faith through the centuries—is humbling to witness. It’s not just worshipping in places that inspire awe and reverence, it’s living out the mission of the faith.
Missionaries often talk about culture shock, and we are experiencing a bit of that now. There’s a rhythm to life here—walking to the farmers market on Tuesdays and Fridays, biking beside the Mosel River, catching trains for weekend adventures. It’s slower. Older. More rooted. Returning to our car-dependent, fast-paced life in the States will feel like a jolt, I’m sure.
But the deeper constant, the one that holds steady across time and space, is God. Not just in the church buildings—though they are glorious—but in our everyday walk.
Wherever we go, to God be the glory!
Laurie Van Dyke
President, MMOL
Related Posts
You must be logged in to post a comment.