Interesting Sleeping Arrangements

While some my find sleeping on a straw mat on the second story of a scary old Japanese farmhouse unusual accommodations, that's just another day living with Steve. In canvassing two major islands in this country, I've also had the chance to sleep in a church sanctuary and on a couch in a storage closet. Runner-up for most interesting sleeping arrangement was the night train I took to Hokkaido, the northernmost island of Japan.

But by far the most unusual has been in Sapporo, in the capsule hotel (yes, it's exactly what it sounds like). Always concerned with economizing space, the Japanese have found an accommodating solution. Why pay for a full-sized hotel room, when all you really wanted was the bed? It's only about 20 bucks a night, but I would have paid twice that much just for the experience.

Here's how it works:

There's no space for luggage, so put all your stuff in one of these (I had to really wrestle to get my big hiking bag in.)

Then change into a set of these bad boys. This is what you get to wear inside the building.

Next, go soak in the public bath (no photos here! Don't worry, it's males-only, and only awkward if you stop to think about it.)

Forget something? Everything you think you might need (and a few things you don't) is provided. Toothbrushes come with toothpaste already applied. Just add water!

Room service.

Nope, those aren't washing machines... That's your home for the night!

TVs come with headphones so you don't disturb your neighbors.

And good night!

Altars at Bethel

I recently had a conversation with my friend Sonoko about a sermon she had prepared on Genesis 35, Jacob's return to Bethel and the importance of place. Jacob had first passed through Bethel while running for his life from Esau. It was there that he saw the ladder ascending into heaven and made a somewhat self-serving vow to follow the Lord. His return to Bethel years later had some similarities--again there was an altar and a vision of God. Yet it is the differences that are more striking. Rather than all alone with nothing but his staff, he has great wealth, a large family, and many servants. Rather that fleeing for his life from Esau's wrath, he had reconciled with his brother, and come to settle his flocks. Rather than a first encounter with the Lord, he had come recognize and trust God's voice. Even his name was different. Bethel for him was a place for reflection on God's blessings, and rededication to his service (Gen. 35:2-4). And the place became so significant to his relationship with God, that the Lord even revealed himself as "the God of Bethel" (Gen. 31:13).

In some ways, Japan has become a sort of Bethel for me. When I left the first time, at the age of 13, I was merely beginning my discipleship. Each subsequent return marked a significant phase in my discipleship, and now I am at the point of making disciples of others. When I left Okayama four years ago, it was to receive more training. Now I am at the point of training others. God has provided in many ways. Visits to the river where I played as a boy or the place where I lived as a missionary have been like tiny altars scattered across the landscape of my discipleship.

Yet even a greater testimony to God's goodness has been the way in which the places themselves have changed. When I left Okayama four years ago, our church was meeting in a tiny room above a coffee shop. Now, what was then nothing but rice fields has become an attractive, two-story church building. I had tried to start a coffee ministry when I was there, but with little success. But now they convert the sanctuary into a fashionable cafe every weekend. The fact that a church can be both fashionable and welcoming has so surprised the Japanese public that our pastor was interviewed on local television by national celebrities as tasted the church's wares.

As I worshiped together with this growing congregation, my charge to them was to stay faithful. Yet I myself was reminded of how faithful God has been. He has brought me through many joys and hardships in the last four years alone. He has built me up in America while building up the Church in Japan. He has used me even in my absence, as several ladies in the church told me exactly what I had preached on over five years ago, and how it was still impacting them. From this altar of thanks I move forward with the flocks and herds I have to serve the Lord in other places yet.

Happy Father's Day

Father's Day is actually a pretty big deal in Japan, at least in the shops. Another interesting cultural tidbit is that fruit makes a nice gift on any occasion. And it's not size or taste that counts, but appearance. A quick walk through a local department store reviewed the following fruits for Father's Day. I've included the prices for your convenience.

Box of Red Grapes (single cluster): $84

Box of Green Grapes (single cluster): $105

Single Red Mango: $105

Perhaps the sign says it best.

At these prices I'm afraid I can only afford a slice of eggplant for you, Dad. Hope you like the card at least. Happy Father's Day!

A Rare Opportunity

As I travel up and the main island of Japan, I've been offering to help out in whatever ministries the friends I visit are involved in. Up until now, this has been limited to talking with church members, hanging out with youth, and occasionally giving my testimony. However, my friend Madoka's church takes their Bible studies very seriously, and right from the beginning I've had the opportunity to help out, not only with fellowship, but also teaching a Bible study and even teaching and encouraging some of the leaders. These opportunities come at most a day in advance, so I've been kept on my toes the whole time.

The most unexpected (and by far the most fun) opportunity was to teach Greek to the ladies' prayer group. This group of about 20 women meets weekly for prayer and a lengthy Bible study, and when they found out that a "Greek professor from America's finest Evangelical seminary" was in their midst, I was quickly recruited to come and join them. Madoka (also a Trinity grad) had taught some of them the alphabet and a few words during a summer camp a year or so ago, and apparently some of the ladies (and even several children) became quite enthusiastic about keeping up the study on their own. I was able to dig up a few of my old Greek handouts and translate them into Japanese, and together we translated a short passage from Greek into Japanese, and discussing the nuances and exegetical significance of the grammar. They all took this quite seriously, and you'll notice in the photo above that they even had me wear two microphones so that both the audio and video of this historic lecture could be preserved for the posterity of the church.

I'm thrilled to see a church that is so excited about God's word that they're willing to commit this much time and energy into study, and I encouraged them to keep up their study of the Bible, as well as of the Greek language. At the same time, I also discussed with them some of the theological implications of the New Testament's being written in Greek. Namely, that God spoke to real people in the everyday language of an actual era of history. Our God is a God who works in human history, and comes to us at our level. The curse of Babel, unlike the other punishments and curses in the Bible, is never undone. Rather, the various languages of the world are blessed at Pentecost and preserved even into eternity (Rev. 7:9). Though other religions require that we go to where God is, whether by good works or religious rites or even a change in culture and language, the heart of the gospel is just the opposite. Our God came to us where we are--actually in space time and history. He meets us as we are, and then from there, by the grace of the cross, he transforms us into what we ought to be. Thus, even the study of Greek reminds us of the kind of God we worship--one who translated himself into flesh to dwell among us--and of the privilege we have of worshiping him in our mother tongues for all eternity.

Mr. Shimoyama, and other encounters with grace

Of the many people and places I was hoping to visit, one of the non-negotiables was a tiny shop, not much bigger than some walk-in closets, crammed between an octopus stand and an antique store in the rural town of Okayama. Barrels of coffee beans line either side, making it almost impossible to enter, let alone move around. I stumbled across Shimoyama-san's coffee shop when I got lost one day when I lived in Okayama, but I soon became a regular customer. Despite the language barrier at the time, he and I became fast friends through our shared love of good coffee. As my Japanese abilities increased, we began to discuss coffee, philosophy, politics, and religion over a cup or two as he custom-roasted some of the best coffee beans I've found anywhere in the world. I've had the opportunity to share the gospel with him piecemeal over my two years in Okayama, but it still hasn't quite sunk in yet. However, I had become quite close to him and his family, and we had even kept in touch somewhat over the last four years I've been at Trinity.

I wasn't able to contact Shimoyama-san to let him know that I was in Japan, so I decided to just walk into his shop instead. The look on his face was priceless as midway through his welcome he realized who I was. We enjoyed several cups of coffee together as he roasted my usual order and caught up over the past four years. Because of the heavy rain (rainy season just started), there were hardly any customers, so we were able to talk for quite a long time. Right in the middle of the conversation he asked me a question that lead into a full-blown explanation of the gospel from start to finish. Knowing that my time here is so limited, I was thrilled to have the chance to share my faith clearly one more time. I'm certain that he understood it. I'll be having dinner with him and his family this Saturday, so please pray for this next encounter.

Before I left the shop, I asked for some of the chaff left over from roasting the beans (the roasting process produces a lot of chaff), to use as a visual aid for the lesson I was preparing to teach the high school students at Madoka's church. The lesson is on Psalm 1, which says that the wicked are blown away like chaff, in contrast to the tree planted by streams of water, which stands firm. This afforded the opportunity to briefly share this Psalm with him as well.

I left the shop, exuding gratitude and the smell of coffee, and as the rain grew worse, I found a bench under an awning to sit and work on my lesson. However, before to long a woman approached me and asked what I was reading. I said it was a Bible and to my surprise, rather than being scared off, she sat down and asked me what it said. I read her Psalm 1, and she told me it brought tears to her eyes. We talked for a while about this Psalm and about the gospel. She was very moved, and told me that today was her birthday, and that she thought God must have sent me to meet her.

Bible study with the youth group went very well tonight (they loved the illustration of the chaff), and I had the chance to encourage some others in their study of the Bible after that. But what sticks out to me most at the end of the day is how well today's encounters illustrate the main point of my lesson from Psalm 1--that all of us have chosen to walk in the way of the wicked, and that it is by the grace of Jesus Christ alone that we are not only set on the path of the righteous again, but also made to bear fruit. God used the rain and other coincidences to direct my path to these chance encounters, and though I have little to offer on my own, he has given me a profound and powerfully moving story--the story of his gospel--to share with all who ask. Somehow he transformed this less-than-worthless chaff into a deeply rooted tree, and I am grateful to be the one through whom he chose to work today.

Echoes of Truth

After four years, I was able to see my old friend Kazu again. Here is a picture of us in a Japanese market, and yes, that is a chilled cucumber on a stick that we're eating like it's a popsicle.

Kazu had been a great encouragement to me when I was in Okayama, and had been extremely involved in our church. Though he had not expressed complete faith in Jesus yet, we had talked several times about when he would like to confess faith and be baptized. A lot has changed in four years, and he has since graduated, found a job, moved to a new area, gotten married, and is now expecting his first child. We enjoyed catching up over the past years and reminiscing about old times. I fear, however, that what seed the birds have not snatched up, the thorns, that is, the cares of the world, have crowded out.

Kazu took me to visit Ise-jingu, one of Japan's most famous shrines, dedicated to the Sun God, Amaterasu. This ancient shrine is surrounded by forest and rivers, with a breathtaking view of the mountains. As spacious as the grounds leading up to the shrine are, it is always crowded with people. When we finally made our way up to the altar, where there was a long line of people waiting to toss a few coins into the offering box and then offer up their prayers, I was surprised at what I saw. Most shinto shrines have an ornate offering box set in gold, with a huge, colorful altar behind it. However, at this most holy shrine, there was nothing but a white curtain. The shrine itself was only ever opened every couple of years, and the altar is completely hidden from view.

I have to admit that after three hours of driving followed by a long hike to the top of the hill, I was a little disappointed. However, during the three-hour drive back, the chance I had been praying for share the gospel with my friend one more time finally occurred to me. I was reminded of another curtain that was likewise put in place to separate the secular from the Most Holy. Separated as we are, all our best works, like the worthless coins tossed into the open mouth of an empty crate, bring us no closer to our object or the presence of the one who can truly hear our prayers and help us. So long as the curtain is in place, our prayers fall on deaf ears, and we remain outside with all that is unclean and utterly powerless to change our state. But one who belonged inside came outside to be with us. He made an offering, not of coins, which are of little value and are themselves tainted by the secular world, but of the most precious thing in the world--himself. And at the moment of his death, the curtain was torn from top to bottom.

"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water" (Heb. 10:19-22).

Yet my words were heard with polite interest, and little more. Please pray that more and more in Japan would come in through the new and living way. Both in the US and in Japan, a shroud remains over the hearts of many, blocking out both law and gospel. How many here have everything they could want from the world, yet forfeit their souls in the bargain!

SonRise Cafe

Last week I was able to meet several Japanese friends from a Japanese prayer group we had at Trinity. Though I had hoped to encourage them in their work back in Japan, I found that overwhelmingly I was the one being encouraged. Steve and I met Sonoko (pictured above) at SonRise Cafe, a coffee shop that the missionaries I worked with in Okayama are now helping to run in the Tokyo area. I had tried to start an evangelistic coffee house ministry when I was serving with them, but it never quite took off. It was a real privilege to see this dream of mine finally realized by these partners in ministry.

Getting Started

The past few days have seen me following Steve around in his work and ministry as I recover from jetlag and a cold and reenter the rhythm (circadian and otherwise) of Japanese life. Highlights include joining the Wednesday night prayer meeting (directly from the airport, luggage and all), sitting in on English classes, talking with students, and sharing my testimony during Bible studies. Sharing my testimony was something Steve sprang on me the morning of, as we were walking to the train station. My Japanese still feels pretty rusty, and I wasn't sure I had done a very good job, but something I said must have struck the Bible study leader, because she commented on it afterwards, and then the next asked me if I would share again for a different class. I shared about the sense of homelessness I feel as an American raised in Japan—whichever country I'm in, I feel like a gaijin, or foreigner. But in Jesus Christ I have found my true home and a sense of belonging.

Here are a few snapshots of life and ministry with Steve:

A quick trip to the local ramen shop was a top priority!

And no visit to Japan is complete without a trip to Mister Donuts. The flyer under my plate is advertising strawberry sherbet sauce on cold noodles. I defy you to find that at your local donut shop!!

Baseball and frisbee in the park with some of the youth from the church.

The one picture I wish I had is of something that happened as Steve and I were walking home from church last night. As we walked by a Shinto shrine on our way to the train station, two sumo wrestlers passed us on their bicycles, heading for the local convenience store (I'm not making this up!). The only thing that could make this scene more stereotypically Japanese is that Steve had just bought some manga (Japanese comics).