Spring Thaw

Early April, and the snow is almost gone. The rooftops are dry and bare, the skyline a smooth blue. The streets and sidewalks are clear, buds are forming at the ends of tree branches, and I actually saw patches of green grass from a bus window today. It's amazing to see the same roadsides that were solid white and glutted with several feet of snow now covered with plants that somehow managed to survive the winter.

I, the foreigner, and often the skeptic, am amazed that anything could still be alive under all that snow.

But here is grass, and there a plant, and even an occasional yellow crocus poking its way through the mud.

Could there be something still stirring even in my heart? For Japan, for the gospel, for the Lord?


* * * * *


The air is not so cold now, and most Japanese have stopped wearing scarves and gloves. I still wear my beautiful black wool winter coat, but I have finally retired the long-laced combat boots that saw me faithfully through about five months of snow and ice. My blue scarf and blue-striped gloves have been hanging unused for several weeks now, a tell-tale sign that spring is here. The coat will be retired in a few weeks, too, if that long.

I felt a little pang of sorrow as I laced up my boots for one of the last times. True, I will be glad to go coat- and boot-free, to trade the endless, dirty snow for fresh spring breeze.

But I will miss the solid feel of a good pair of boots laced snugly against my ankles, the sturdy footsteps and smell of black leather.

Gratitude for a good thing at the right time; saying an unflinching "yes" to what comes next.

So much I need to learn.


* * * * *


If you search carefully you can still see the snow, either in dirty, gravel-covered piles used for dumping or in streaked patches in the woods.

Even more interesting are all the relics that were once buried under mounds of snow and now lay open to the outside - old bicycles, broken umbrellas, gloves and socks, calcified remains of drink cans, cigarettes and other trash.

I wonder how often I have tried to hide my flaws, my sins against brothers and sisters, only to have them leer at me months (or years) later - still undealt with, still unresolved.

I give thanks for a God who accepts my apology, cleans away my mess and changes my heart.

Done and done.

What a good God.


* * * * *


One such piece of litter caught my eye as I went running near the apartment last week: an old cigarette box with the name "HOPE" emblazoned across the front. Nothing else, just "HOPE."

(A strange name for cigarettes!) Nevertheless, there it was - an odd and strangely-timed message, but a message pondered and received nonetheless.

Purpose is elusive here; faith and courage seem, at times, far off.

What else is there but hope?

"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful" (Hebrews 10:23).

"And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us..." Romans 5:2-5).

"...Those who hope in me will not be disappointed" (Isaiah 49:23).

I may not have many glory stories, flashy credentials or answers to my questions.

But I do have hope.

So do you (if you want it).

His name is Jesus.

Thank you for praying!