Grace
Today was a long day. I just got off the bus, packed with tired businessmen and high school students, and walked past the ramen shop and hair salon, around the corner and up the hill to our apartment. The moon is fuzzy now, hidden behind thick clouds; microscopic snowflakes kissed my face like dewdrops.
Outside it looks like a lunar landscape - snow everywhere, in piles, drifts, covering everything in icy, caked white. You can't tell the sidewalk from the street or where curb starts and finishes. It's just one big, rough spread of white, flat and endless like a rippled hockey rink.
As I walked home, breath misting under frosty starlight, I couldn't help thinking how my life is like these streets - sometimes so shapeless, void, nebulous. I always thought in black and white and absolutes, but now I often have more questions than answers, more choices than I know how to make.
So many times I am stepping out, like tonight, on a thin layer of faith and praying that God will direct my path and make His will clear.
He does, He does... but sometimes not until I take the first step. And with that step comes faith, which Hebrews 11:6 says I must have to please Him.
I'm used to hearing God in the loud, the gripping, the fantastic. But here I feel often so lost in the quietness of His leading. Sometimes I don't know if I'm standing on sidewalk or street or parking lot, all buried beneath mounds of ice. I think if only I could just get down on my hands and knees and touch the ground with my open hands, put my ear to the earth and hear the faintest whisper, the tiniest sound - THEN I would know!
And the mystery of it all - it is only then that I do hear, can hear, with my face to the ground and my knees bent in humility (which also comes from Him)...
Today was such a day, tiring, over-scheduled, noisy. A Japanese lesson, a university party for part-time teachers, lesson planning, an English class (all of which, of course, are on the opposite sides of town!)
The highlight of it all: I left the university meeting late, dodged through the subway station and switched trains left and right, ran up the stairs and down snowy streets for the Katsuis' house (still decorated with Christmas lights).
I burst in at 8:00, way behind schedule, with their dinner half-eaten and two new people - a Christian friend of the mother, Noriko, and the friend's daughter - who I had never met. My salad was waiting for me on the table.
Could it get any worse?
But God, God, in His grace...
I scarfed down salad and rice as they finished dessert, feeling helpless inside (not sure how to teach!), and then eight-year-old Tochinori ran to the cabinet and started rummaging through papers.
He said something in Japanese and dropped a little hand-drawn British flag next to my rice plate.
In a flash I remembered - he had drawn it for me last week, painstakingly, with blue and red markers - and I had forgotten it. But he hadn't! He was beaming.
Then he and Yui, the friend's seven-year-old daughter, who smiled shyly at me from beneath black pigtails, ran back to his room and returned with a string of paper flags from around the world.
"It's present," he said, dropping it proudly next to my plate, still beaming. Yui handed me three sheets of stationary paper, echoing his words with another beautiful shy smile.
I don't know how it happened, but the next thing I knew everyone was sitting around the table with paper and pencil and the two English and Japanese children's Bibles open to the creation story.
"Light," they repeated, working hard on their l's and t's. "Day."
Tochi and Yui copied my pencil drawings of suns and stars and gripped their pencils hard as they wrote the English letters. Tochi crossed his d's out and redid them over and over again.
Then the door opened, and in came the father from work - eating rice and stew while he watched quietly, nodding.
My heart pounded as we continued - "Darkness. Earth. God."
The father nodded. And smiled.
He even answered one of the questions and, when we closed the Bibles, bowed deeply from his chair. "Thank you so much for coming."
The other heads turned toward me politely and bowed, too. For the first time all evening it was quiet. I was speechless.
An inexperienced, impatient American girl, teaching the Bible around a dining room table to a Buddhist family of four and two friends... How else but by God's grace? Were it up to me, I would have canned the whole idea long ago and moved to Guam.
That grace silenced my roiling thoughts as Noriko walked me (with snow blowing) back to the subway station, as I watched the tired businessmen slumped sleeping on the subway, and as I thought of Tochi's British flag tucked safely in my bag.
Barrenness and lostness, all around me, curves in the road I cannot see. The way is often not clear.
But on nights like tonight I am keenly aware that wherever I put my foot, He is there...
Perhaps before I sleep tonight I will put my face to the ground and listen for His voice.
Pray that the Katsuis will come to know God as the Creator of their lives, their salvation, and their hope. Pray that by this time next year the Buddhist altar and picture in their bathroom will be replaced with Bible verses and the cross of Christ. Pray that they, too, will know God's abundant grace.
Monday, January 28, 2002
Sunday, January 27, 2002
With All My Heart...
I am sitting here at the computer still in my pajamas, my face wet with tears, trying to figure out how to say what is bursting in my heart. I came home late last night to find your package on the table and was shouting, jumping around before I realized it was almost 10 and I had two phone calls to make (one to a Japanese girl who is deciding today whether or not to move in with a 40-year-old man). It's been a rough time lately - being sick, having some "problems" with the Walkers related to my job description, not doing anything I came here to do and not seeing even a tiny piece of fruit... This morning I got up after being on the phone half the night, tired, frustrated, knowing I can't quit but not really wanting to be here, either... I was in my room praying, weeping, hen I remembered that I hadn't gotten to check out the video letter when I got in last night in all the turmoil (I'll probably hear back from my Japanese friend tonight or tomorrow).
So I came out and popped it in... And you will never, EVER, EVER, EVER know how much it meant to me! Just to see your faces and hear your prayers!! I'm crying again just thinking about it. The verses you used - oh, how could you have known that they were exactly what I needed to hear at this exact moment! You didn't - but God did! I don't think I've ever been in such a spiritual desert - and yet at noon today, a Sunday, God used you to send His manna.
I miss your faces so much, your words, your life, the unity we have together as God's children, the things we shared (and still share) together because God allowed our paths to cross...
There wasn't a minute during that video that my eyes were dry. I miss you all sooooo much! So much! I wish you knew. All I can say is how incredibly precious you all are, how much you've changed my life and guided me closer to the Father...
Oh, the treasures in heaven you have even if I can't give you much back here on earth!
I love you so much and am more moved by this than anything I can think of during my entire six months in Japan.
I wish all missionaries were as blessed as I am to have people like you in my life.
Thank you - along with all the things I can't find words to say!
jenny
I am sitting here at the computer still in my pajamas, my face wet with tears, trying to figure out how to say what is bursting in my heart. I came home late last night to find your package on the table and was shouting, jumping around before I realized it was almost 10 and I had two phone calls to make (one to a Japanese girl who is deciding today whether or not to move in with a 40-year-old man). It's been a rough time lately - being sick, having some "problems" with the Walkers related to my job description, not doing anything I came here to do and not seeing even a tiny piece of fruit... This morning I got up after being on the phone half the night, tired, frustrated, knowing I can't quit but not really wanting to be here, either... I was in my room praying, weeping, hen I remembered that I hadn't gotten to check out the video letter when I got in last night in all the turmoil (I'll probably hear back from my Japanese friend tonight or tomorrow).
So I came out and popped it in... And you will never, EVER, EVER, EVER know how much it meant to me! Just to see your faces and hear your prayers!! I'm crying again just thinking about it. The verses you used - oh, how could you have known that they were exactly what I needed to hear at this exact moment! You didn't - but God did! I don't think I've ever been in such a spiritual desert - and yet at noon today, a Sunday, God used you to send His manna.
I miss your faces so much, your words, your life, the unity we have together as God's children, the things we shared (and still share) together because God allowed our paths to cross...
There wasn't a minute during that video that my eyes were dry. I miss you all sooooo much! So much! I wish you knew. All I can say is how incredibly precious you all are, how much you've changed my life and guided me closer to the Father...
Oh, the treasures in heaven you have even if I can't give you much back here on earth!
I love you so much and am more moved by this than anything I can think of during my entire six months in Japan.
I wish all missionaries were as blessed as I am to have people like you in my life.
Thank you - along with all the things I can't find words to say!
jenny
Friday, January 25, 2002
He Remembers!
This Christmas was so much different here in Sapporo, with two feet of snow, dinner with a missionary family, seeing mail trucks come and go on Christmas Day. We had a feast at the Cookseys' house, and a couple days later I ate squid, beans and radishes as part of a New Year meal.
But you know what I missed the most?
I kept remembering our own secret family tradition of sitting around the table on Christmas Day eating all kinds of cheese, sausage, crackers, this incredible sweet-hot mustard - enough to give you a heart attack on the spot. But the heart attack never happened, so each year my family (first four of us, then three of us) watched Christmas movies and ate cheese together. Very festive. You'd have to be there.
But Christmas in Japan was different. Christmas Day came and went, then New Year's Day, and then the slump after New Year's when universities are closed and classes are finished. What to do...?
On a day like this I found a package slip with my name on it in the mailbox, and went to pick up the wrapped cardboard box from a snowy post office window.
Inside was a letter from my friend Mike, and - would you believe - six different kinds of cheese, a jar of strawberry preserves, and (I'm not making this up) a small jar labeled "sweet-hot mustard."
"My mom got these things in a Christmas package and didn't want them," Mike had written. "So I decided to send them to you since you probably don't get much cheese in Japan."
Oh, how He remembers...
This Christmas was so much different here in Sapporo, with two feet of snow, dinner with a missionary family, seeing mail trucks come and go on Christmas Day. We had a feast at the Cookseys' house, and a couple days later I ate squid, beans and radishes as part of a New Year meal.
But you know what I missed the most?
I kept remembering our own secret family tradition of sitting around the table on Christmas Day eating all kinds of cheese, sausage, crackers, this incredible sweet-hot mustard - enough to give you a heart attack on the spot. But the heart attack never happened, so each year my family (first four of us, then three of us) watched Christmas movies and ate cheese together. Very festive. You'd have to be there.
But Christmas in Japan was different. Christmas Day came and went, then New Year's Day, and then the slump after New Year's when universities are closed and classes are finished. What to do...?
On a day like this I found a package slip with my name on it in the mailbox, and went to pick up the wrapped cardboard box from a snowy post office window.
Inside was a letter from my friend Mike, and - would you believe - six different kinds of cheese, a jar of strawberry preserves, and (I'm not making this up) a small jar labeled "sweet-hot mustard."
"My mom got these things in a Christmas package and didn't want them," Mike had written. "So I decided to send them to you since you probably don't get much cheese in Japan."
Oh, how He remembers...
Thursday, January 24, 2002
Who Will Build...?
"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none." - Ezekiel 22:30
Takako and I had just spent a peaceful afternoon in her church friend's small third-floor apartment getting our hair cut. Her friend was beautiful and skilled with the scissors; she had left a beautician job to stay home with her bright-eyed seven-year-old son (one of the first Japanese children, incidentally, not to be afraid of me).
Her apartment was warm even though snowdrifts piled high outside, and it smelled pleasantly of fragrant hair rinses and green tea.
Takako and I had finished our hot cocoa and were about to leave for the evening when her friend said, "Let's pray first."
"I want to pray, too," Takako said. "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
As the three of us knelt together on the rug by the coffee table, praying softly in Japanese (and me in English), I wanted to weep at those all-too familiar words: "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
Something like anger rose in me as we prayed, thinking of all the radiant Japanese Christian women I know who are married to or dating non-Christian Japanese men.
Where are the Japanese men of God?
As I knelt there next to this kind beautician, her lips moving in prayer, I remembered woman after woman whose husband does not share her faith.
I could name only two Japanese Christian women dating Christians... and one of those men is not Japanese.
"I'm so lonely," I remember a new Japanese Christian guy saying after returning to Japan. "Almost all the people at church are old women."
In some Sapporo churches, women seem to outnumber men three to one. I remember the day I stopped asking, "Is your husband a Christian?" because I knew the answer would be no.
I can name only two Japanese pastors in Sapporo. But I can name three Korean pastors, three American pastors, one Mexican...
And year after year children grow up without the influence of godly fathers, brothers, grandfathers, male teachers and role models.
Who will build up the wall in Japan?
Please take a minute and pray for the Japanese Christian men you know - Keigo, Atsushi, Mr. Kenji, Masahiro, the evangelical movement among former yakuza (Japanese mafia) members, to get you started... Even if you don't know them, the Lord does.
Brothers in Christ, I ask you to search your hearts! Could God be calling you to Japan? As I write there are six journeymen in Japan - all women. Not a single man!
Who will teach the young men to love Jesus?
Who will show teenage guys that happiness is not found in alcohol and the meaning of life is not found in a corner office?
Who will be the role model for beautiful little black-eyed boys with unruly hair and a life of crucial choices stretched out before them?
Who will build up the wall and stand before God in the gap on behalf of Japan?
Christian men, generations of Japanese are waiting for you...
"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none." - Ezekiel 22:30
Takako and I had just spent a peaceful afternoon in her church friend's small third-floor apartment getting our hair cut. Her friend was beautiful and skilled with the scissors; she had left a beautician job to stay home with her bright-eyed seven-year-old son (one of the first Japanese children, incidentally, not to be afraid of me).
Her apartment was warm even though snowdrifts piled high outside, and it smelled pleasantly of fragrant hair rinses and green tea.
Takako and I had finished our hot cocoa and were about to leave for the evening when her friend said, "Let's pray first."
"I want to pray, too," Takako said. "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
As the three of us knelt together on the rug by the coffee table, praying softly in Japanese (and me in English), I wanted to weep at those all-too familiar words: "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
Something like anger rose in me as we prayed, thinking of all the radiant Japanese Christian women I know who are married to or dating non-Christian Japanese men.
Where are the Japanese men of God?
As I knelt there next to this kind beautician, her lips moving in prayer, I remembered woman after woman whose husband does not share her faith.
I could name only two Japanese Christian women dating Christians... and one of those men is not Japanese.
"I'm so lonely," I remember a new Japanese Christian guy saying after returning to Japan. "Almost all the people at church are old women."
In some Sapporo churches, women seem to outnumber men three to one. I remember the day I stopped asking, "Is your husband a Christian?" because I knew the answer would be no.
I can name only two Japanese pastors in Sapporo. But I can name three Korean pastors, three American pastors, one Mexican...
And year after year children grow up without the influence of godly fathers, brothers, grandfathers, male teachers and role models.
Who will build up the wall in Japan?
Please take a minute and pray for the Japanese Christian men you know - Keigo, Atsushi, Mr. Kenji, Masahiro, the evangelical movement among former yakuza (Japanese mafia) members, to get you started... Even if you don't know them, the Lord does.
Brothers in Christ, I ask you to search your hearts! Could God be calling you to Japan? As I write there are six journeymen in Japan - all women. Not a single man!
Who will teach the young men to love Jesus?
Who will show teenage guys that happiness is not found in alcohol and the meaning of life is not found in a corner office?
Who will be the role model for beautiful little black-eyed boys with unruly hair and a life of crucial choices stretched out before them?
Who will build up the wall and stand before God in the gap on behalf of Japan?
Christian men, generations of Japanese are waiting for you...
Who Will Build...?
"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none." - Ezekiel 22:30
Takako and I had just spent a peaceful afternoon in her church friend's small third-floor apartment getting our hair cut. Her friend was beautiful and skilled with the scissors; she had left a beautician job to stay home with her bright-eyed seven-year-old son (one of the first Japanese children, incidentally, not to be afraid of me).
Her apartment was warm even though snowdrifts piled high outside, and it smelled pleasantly of fragrant hair rinses and green tea.
Takako and I had finished our hot cocoa and were about to leave for the evening when her friend said, "Let's pray first."
"I want to pray, too," Takako said. "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
As the three of us knelt together on the rug by the coffee table, praying softly in Japanese (and me in English), I wanted to weep at those all-too familiar words: "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
Something like anger rose in me as we prayed, thinking of all the radiant Japanese Christian women I know who are married to or dating non-Christian Japanese men.
Where are the Japanese men of God?
As I knelt there next to this kind beautician, her lips moving in prayer, I remembered woman after woman whose husband does not share her faith.
I could name only two Japanese Christian women dating Christians... and one of those men is not Japanese.
"I'm so lonely," I remember a new Japanese Christian guy saying after returning to Japan. "Almost all the people at church are old women."
In some Sapporo churches, women seem to outnumber men three to one. I remember the day I stopped asking, "Is your husband a Christian?" because I knew the answer would be no.
I can name only two Japanese pastors in Sapporo. But I can name three Korean pastors, three American pastors, one Mexican...
And year after year children grow up without the influence of godly fathers, brothers, grandfathers, male teachers and role models.
Who will build up the wall in Japan?
Please take a minute and pray for the Japanese Christian men you know - Keigo, Atsushi, Mr. Kenji, Masahiro, the evangelical movement among former yakuza (Japanese mafia) members, to get you started... Even if you don't know them, the Lord does.
Brothers in Christ, I ask you to search your hearts! Could God be calling you to Japan? As I write there are six journeymen in Japan - all women. Not a single man!
Who will teach the young men to love Jesus?
Who will show teenage guys that happiness is not found in alcohol and the meaning of life is not found in a corner office?
Who will be the role model for beautiful little black-eyed boys with unruly hair and a life of crucial choices stretched out before them?
Who will build up the wall and stand before God in the gap on behalf of Japan?
Christian men, generations of Japanese are waiting for you...
"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none." - Ezekiel 22:30
Takako and I had just spent a peaceful afternoon in her church friend's small third-floor apartment getting our hair cut. Her friend was beautiful and skilled with the scissors; she had left a beautician job to stay home with her bright-eyed seven-year-old son (one of the first Japanese children, incidentally, not to be afraid of me).
Her apartment was warm even though snowdrifts piled high outside, and it smelled pleasantly of fragrant hair rinses and green tea.
Takako and I had finished our hot cocoa and were about to leave for the evening when her friend said, "Let's pray first."
"I want to pray, too," Takako said. "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
As the three of us knelt together on the rug by the coffee table, praying softly in Japanese (and me in English), I wanted to weep at those all-too familiar words: "I'll pray for your husband to become a Christian."
Something like anger rose in me as we prayed, thinking of all the radiant Japanese Christian women I know who are married to or dating non-Christian Japanese men.
Where are the Japanese men of God?
As I knelt there next to this kind beautician, her lips moving in prayer, I remembered woman after woman whose husband does not share her faith.
I could name only two Japanese Christian women dating Christians... and one of those men is not Japanese.
"I'm so lonely," I remember a new Japanese Christian guy saying after returning to Japan. "Almost all the people at church are old women."
In some Sapporo churches, women seem to outnumber men three to one. I remember the day I stopped asking, "Is your husband a Christian?" because I knew the answer would be no.
I can name only two Japanese pastors in Sapporo. But I can name three Korean pastors, three American pastors, one Mexican...
And year after year children grow up without the influence of godly fathers, brothers, grandfathers, male teachers and role models.
Who will build up the wall in Japan?
Please take a minute and pray for the Japanese Christian men you know - Keigo, Atsushi, Mr. Kenji, Masahiro, the evangelical movement among former yakuza (Japanese mafia) members, to get you started... Even if you don't know them, the Lord does.
Brothers in Christ, I ask you to search your hearts! Could God be calling you to Japan? As I write there are six journeymen in Japan - all women. Not a single man!
Who will teach the young men to love Jesus?
Who will show teenage guys that happiness is not found in alcohol and the meaning of life is not found in a corner office?
Who will be the role model for beautiful little black-eyed boys with unruly hair and a life of crucial choices stretched out before them?
Who will build up the wall and stand before God in the gap on behalf of Japan?
Christian men, generations of Japanese are waiting for you...
Wednesday, January 23, 2002
You Are the Gift!
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." - Proverbs 13:12.
My hands are still shaking. I was in the middle of cooking dinner when the postal worker rang the doorbell - and handed me a package wrapped in brown paper.
I have experienced joy in my life, excitement and surprises, but after being in Japan for six months, few things rival the thrill of a postmarked package with my name on it.
Do I savor the moment or rip open the box?
I choose to RIP.
My hands are shaking so much I can hardly hold the scissors to cut the tape. Inside, wrapped in newspaper, are treasures from the United States: a bottle of vanilla extract, taco seasoning packets, a box of heavenly smelling tea, and two letters - one written by nine-year-old Lily Kubota who wants to be a missionary to Japan.
I am shouting now, jumping up and down, dancing in circles while I smell breath after breath of that beautifully fragrant tea. A package! A package!
And the most wonderful part is that YOU SENT IT!! You remembered me! I am moved almost tears as I think of the little hands that wrote the letter, the person who wrapped everything in newspaper and weighed it at the post office.
Perhaps one of my greatest blessings of being in Japan is seeing your precious love in action!
I think of so many people who shower me with their kindness: my dear friend Mike Rew who clips out and mails newspaper comics every two weeks, Vicki DeLand who is keeping my cat, Dan and Mary Lou Kline who call me and pray over the phone as I hang on their every word.
You have sent me graduation announcements (Ben and ReNee), wedding invitations, programs and pictures (too many to list!) and emailed me photos of new babies and new husbands. You have mailed me cheese and Christmas cards.
You have emailed me news from "back home," made me laugh, sent me Bible verses for encouragement, even asked my opinion even from miles away. Never in my life have those four little words "I'm praying for you" meant so much!
And then there are those of you who don't have time to email but you PRAY for me - and the Lord knows it. He hears. He answers. And I am blessed.
How can I thank you enough for your love poured out on me when I could never deserve it? What a beautiful picture of grace -and mercy - that paints a living picture for me of our Lord!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
I can hardly sit down to eat my dinner (made with Indian spices given by Ani Verghese) after opening the box. I can't wait to look at it all again, and a third time, and a fourth time, and read the letters, hang them up in my room...
You, my friends, my family, those close to my heart... God has given me many gifts here in Japan, but you are at the top of the list!
* * * * *
"I have come from the darkness to the light of the Lord;
I have come from the night to the day.
He has guided my footsteps in the truth of His Word;
By His love He has shown me the way.
In the light of His presence all temptation depart,
And the shadows of doubt are cast aside.
With the radiance of sunshine He has entered my heart,
Where His Spirit of love abides.
I have come from the darkness to the light,
To the light of redemption from sin.
O my soul will rejoice in His might,
For my Savior dwells within."
-Marian Wood Chaplin, Copyright 1964 by Broadman press.
Sapporo is often dark. Even as I write those thick, marbled clouds I love so much are stretched across the western horizon, tinged with grey and violet. The weather is fickle here - sunshine for a moment, and then snow blowing the next. I have learned two things in Sapporo: Always carry and umbrella, and always, always be prepared.
When I packed up my belongings in Richmond, I tried to be prepared, too. I packed wool sweaters, theology books and an entire pound of ground red pepper. But one thing I couldn't prepare for was the darkness and despair that lies as thick in Sapporo as the layers of fallen snow.
Darkness... Because millions of Japanese do not know the Savior.
A bizarre thing happened as I unpacked my life in Japan. I started with high hopes, praying daily for Sapporo and my apartment neighbors, too excited to sleep and certain that big things would happen any minute. I carried Japanese Bibles in my bag at all times and gave them to taxi drivers, interested teenagers, anyone I spoke to.
Now, six months later, I smile as I remember my passion. Part of my smile is at my newness and excitement, but part of it is wistful... wishing, if the truth were known, that I could have it back again - even for a day.
"Something happens to people here," I remember a foreign Sapporo friend saying over the phone. "After a while the darkness is so heavy you feel like you can't even pray."
No wonder my prayers have become like bread crusts, thin and dry. I stopped carrying Japanese Bibles months ago. Even the university clubs I loved so much are closed until April, leaving me with one-on-one English classes and quiet, cloudy, winter mornings to ponder my fate. On these moments my mind slips back to sunny Mexico and Brazil, seeing people accept Christ left and right, and I wonder...
It was on such a morning that Dan Kline, a dear Richmond friend, called me with some words of encouragement and the song listed above. The words exploded in my head like fireworks: "In the light of His presence all temptation depart/ And the shadows of doubt are cast aside. With the radiance of sunshine He has entered my heart/ Where His Spirit of love abides."
"Jesus," Dan was saying. "The answer is Jesus."
If anyone had reason to despair, it was Jesus. Not only did He leave behind the ultimate joy - the Father's presence, but He was "despised and rejected by men, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed Him not" (Isaiah 50:3).
Jesus was not what you would call, from human eyes, a ministry success. He was misunderstood, taken out of context, and even His own family did not believe Him. His closest friends repeatedly disappointed and deserted Him. He died like a common thief with His own followers not understanding His death or believing His resurrection.
Talk about darkness!
But what a revelation to see that God is not put out by darkness: "If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hid me and the light become night around me,' EVEN THE DARKNESS WILL NOT BE DARK TO YOU, the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You" (Psalm 139:11-12).
No wonder the same Christ who dwells in us calls Himself the "Light of the World" - for light is the only thing that can dispel darkness.
And no matter how dark the darkness, a little light changes it all. But all the darkness in the universe cannot snuff out light.
As I opened my Bible to Matthew by lamplight, I was transfixed by Christ - a coming announced by angels and a desert evangelist, a life started by running from kings and learning carpentry.
The result?
Two thousand years later His name is still proclaimed.
With every beat of my heart, His light is here - here in dark Sapporo, whether I feel it or not. He gives me the courage to get up one more morning, the grace to bend to new assignments and accept disappointments, and the desperate desire to get on my knees and ask for help.
If Christ is in you, you have the Light!
His way is not easy. The narrow road demands difficult choices, giving up our own dreams, and letting go of what we hold dear.
But I would rather live a thousand lives of agony than to be without His light for a second.
"Is being a missionary here worth it?" I remember asking an American university teacher, a Christian, here in Sapporo.
"If even one person comes to the Lord, it's worth it," he said. "But what if no one comes to the Lord?"
We were both silent.
"I still think it is," he replied slowly. "Because the message is still worth proclaiming."
And what a message!
Stay true - His light WILL shine through!
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." - Proverbs 13:12.
My hands are still shaking. I was in the middle of cooking dinner when the postal worker rang the doorbell - and handed me a package wrapped in brown paper.
I have experienced joy in my life, excitement and surprises, but after being in Japan for six months, few things rival the thrill of a postmarked package with my name on it.
Do I savor the moment or rip open the box?
I choose to RIP.
My hands are shaking so much I can hardly hold the scissors to cut the tape. Inside, wrapped in newspaper, are treasures from the United States: a bottle of vanilla extract, taco seasoning packets, a box of heavenly smelling tea, and two letters - one written by nine-year-old Lily Kubota who wants to be a missionary to Japan.
I am shouting now, jumping up and down, dancing in circles while I smell breath after breath of that beautifully fragrant tea. A package! A package!
And the most wonderful part is that YOU SENT IT!! You remembered me! I am moved almost tears as I think of the little hands that wrote the letter, the person who wrapped everything in newspaper and weighed it at the post office.
Perhaps one of my greatest blessings of being in Japan is seeing your precious love in action!
I think of so many people who shower me with their kindness: my dear friend Mike Rew who clips out and mails newspaper comics every two weeks, Vicki DeLand who is keeping my cat, Dan and Mary Lou Kline who call me and pray over the phone as I hang on their every word.
You have sent me graduation announcements (Ben and ReNee), wedding invitations, programs and pictures (too many to list!) and emailed me photos of new babies and new husbands. You have mailed me cheese and Christmas cards.
You have emailed me news from "back home," made me laugh, sent me Bible verses for encouragement, even asked my opinion even from miles away. Never in my life have those four little words "I'm praying for you" meant so much!
And then there are those of you who don't have time to email but you PRAY for me - and the Lord knows it. He hears. He answers. And I am blessed.
How can I thank you enough for your love poured out on me when I could never deserve it? What a beautiful picture of grace -and mercy - that paints a living picture for me of our Lord!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
I can hardly sit down to eat my dinner (made with Indian spices given by Ani Verghese) after opening the box. I can't wait to look at it all again, and a third time, and a fourth time, and read the letters, hang them up in my room...
You, my friends, my family, those close to my heart... God has given me many gifts here in Japan, but you are at the top of the list!
* * * * *
"I have come from the darkness to the light of the Lord;
I have come from the night to the day.
He has guided my footsteps in the truth of His Word;
By His love He has shown me the way.
In the light of His presence all temptation depart,
And the shadows of doubt are cast aside.
With the radiance of sunshine He has entered my heart,
Where His Spirit of love abides.
I have come from the darkness to the light,
To the light of redemption from sin.
O my soul will rejoice in His might,
For my Savior dwells within."
-Marian Wood Chaplin, Copyright 1964 by Broadman press.
Sapporo is often dark. Even as I write those thick, marbled clouds I love so much are stretched across the western horizon, tinged with grey and violet. The weather is fickle here - sunshine for a moment, and then snow blowing the next. I have learned two things in Sapporo: Always carry and umbrella, and always, always be prepared.
When I packed up my belongings in Richmond, I tried to be prepared, too. I packed wool sweaters, theology books and an entire pound of ground red pepper. But one thing I couldn't prepare for was the darkness and despair that lies as thick in Sapporo as the layers of fallen snow.
Darkness... Because millions of Japanese do not know the Savior.
A bizarre thing happened as I unpacked my life in Japan. I started with high hopes, praying daily for Sapporo and my apartment neighbors, too excited to sleep and certain that big things would happen any minute. I carried Japanese Bibles in my bag at all times and gave them to taxi drivers, interested teenagers, anyone I spoke to.
Now, six months later, I smile as I remember my passion. Part of my smile is at my newness and excitement, but part of it is wistful... wishing, if the truth were known, that I could have it back again - even for a day.
"Something happens to people here," I remember a foreign Sapporo friend saying over the phone. "After a while the darkness is so heavy you feel like you can't even pray."
No wonder my prayers have become like bread crusts, thin and dry. I stopped carrying Japanese Bibles months ago. Even the university clubs I loved so much are closed until April, leaving me with one-on-one English classes and quiet, cloudy, winter mornings to ponder my fate. On these moments my mind slips back to sunny Mexico and Brazil, seeing people accept Christ left and right, and I wonder...
It was on such a morning that Dan Kline, a dear Richmond friend, called me with some words of encouragement and the song listed above. The words exploded in my head like fireworks: "In the light of His presence all temptation depart/ And the shadows of doubt are cast aside. With the radiance of sunshine He has entered my heart/ Where His Spirit of love abides."
"Jesus," Dan was saying. "The answer is Jesus."
If anyone had reason to despair, it was Jesus. Not only did He leave behind the ultimate joy - the Father's presence, but He was "despised and rejected by men, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed Him not" (Isaiah 50:3).
Jesus was not what you would call, from human eyes, a ministry success. He was misunderstood, taken out of context, and even His own family did not believe Him. His closest friends repeatedly disappointed and deserted Him. He died like a common thief with His own followers not understanding His death or believing His resurrection.
Talk about darkness!
But what a revelation to see that God is not put out by darkness: "If I say, 'Surely the darkness will hid me and the light become night around me,' EVEN THE DARKNESS WILL NOT BE DARK TO YOU, the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You" (Psalm 139:11-12).
No wonder the same Christ who dwells in us calls Himself the "Light of the World" - for light is the only thing that can dispel darkness.
And no matter how dark the darkness, a little light changes it all. But all the darkness in the universe cannot snuff out light.
As I opened my Bible to Matthew by lamplight, I was transfixed by Christ - a coming announced by angels and a desert evangelist, a life started by running from kings and learning carpentry.
The result?
Two thousand years later His name is still proclaimed.
With every beat of my heart, His light is here - here in dark Sapporo, whether I feel it or not. He gives me the courage to get up one more morning, the grace to bend to new assignments and accept disappointments, and the desperate desire to get on my knees and ask for help.
If Christ is in you, you have the Light!
His way is not easy. The narrow road demands difficult choices, giving up our own dreams, and letting go of what we hold dear.
But I would rather live a thousand lives of agony than to be without His light for a second.
"Is being a missionary here worth it?" I remember asking an American university teacher, a Christian, here in Sapporo.
"If even one person comes to the Lord, it's worth it," he said. "But what if no one comes to the Lord?"
We were both silent.
"I still think it is," he replied slowly. "Because the message is still worth proclaiming."
And what a message!
Stay true - His light WILL shine through!
Tuesday, January 8, 2002
Antibiotics and a Surprise
I've been sick for about two weeks straight now, so yesterday night I gave in and went to a Japanese doctor (after hearing horror stories and how they can charge the equivalent of a hundred dollars for one visit). Kathy, a missionary in our neighborhood, said she had gone to a good one, so she drove me to the clinic.
(Incidentally, nurses wear pale pink, not white, here. Or at least at this clinic).
The doctor was, as Kathy said, gentle and polite. He spoke softly and smiled when he talked. He asked me all kinds of questions about allergies, my sore throat, and then, seemingly out of nowhere: "Are you a Christian?"
"Yes, she is," Kathy said in Japanese for me. "She's a missionary."
He nodded and made a note of it on his medical chart.
He then pulled out some sheets about allergens in Sapporo (particularly cedar trees) and prescribed antibiotics and a good anti-allergy medication. I was still puzzling about his "Christian" question.
"Are you a Christian, too?" Kathy asked the doctor.
His face was kind. "Oh, no," he replied. "But I have friends who are."
He gave me a bottle of drops for my ears, and the visit was over.
Out in the lobby (still sniffling and coughing) I waited for the receptionist to call us to pay. Kathy took the sheet to the front, spoke to the lady in pink, and nodded.
"We can go," she said to me in English. "He didn't charge you."
Here's something I wrote for a ministry team in Tokyo (hence the trip in November) that was recently published in the Texas Baptist Standard, a Southern Baptist newpaper in Texas. You can see it here:
Texas Baptists urged to tell Japanese students about Christ while in U.S.
I love writing sooooooooooo much!! And about JAPAN!
jenny :)
I've been sick for about two weeks straight now, so yesterday night I gave in and went to a Japanese doctor (after hearing horror stories and how they can charge the equivalent of a hundred dollars for one visit). Kathy, a missionary in our neighborhood, said she had gone to a good one, so she drove me to the clinic.
(Incidentally, nurses wear pale pink, not white, here. Or at least at this clinic).
The doctor was, as Kathy said, gentle and polite. He spoke softly and smiled when he talked. He asked me all kinds of questions about allergies, my sore throat, and then, seemingly out of nowhere: "Are you a Christian?"
"Yes, she is," Kathy said in Japanese for me. "She's a missionary."
He nodded and made a note of it on his medical chart.
He then pulled out some sheets about allergens in Sapporo (particularly cedar trees) and prescribed antibiotics and a good anti-allergy medication. I was still puzzling about his "Christian" question.
"Are you a Christian, too?" Kathy asked the doctor.
His face was kind. "Oh, no," he replied. "But I have friends who are."
He gave me a bottle of drops for my ears, and the visit was over.
Out in the lobby (still sniffling and coughing) I waited for the receptionist to call us to pay. Kathy took the sheet to the front, spoke to the lady in pink, and nodded.
"We can go," she said to me in English. "He didn't charge you."
Here's something I wrote for a ministry team in Tokyo (hence the trip in November) that was recently published in the Texas Baptist Standard, a Southern Baptist newpaper in Texas. You can see it here:
Texas Baptists urged to tell Japanese students about Christ while in U.S.
I love writing sooooooooooo much!! And about JAPAN!
jenny :)
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