Merry Christmas

Several years ago, while on a writing assignment in Chiang Mai, Thailand, I visited an international church during the Advent season. Although the graceful palm trees, deep pink bougainvilleas, and warm, if not hot, temperatures challenged my expectations of the backdrop necessary for Christmas, the story I heard that day was the very essence of the true meaning of Christmas. It was shared by a guest preacher, a missionary working among Thailand’s tribal peoples.

Shortly beforehand, the missionary had traveled to a remote district to visit contacts that had been made in earlier trips there. This time, his young son—perhaps three or four years old—had accompanied him. Unfortunately, the boy had tripped and fallen as he walked alongside his father, and the resulting cut on his face was deep and required stitches. Although the missionary quickly located a primitive medical clinic, no anesthesia was available there—only the suturing materials. Despite the awful pain he knew would be inflicted on his son, the father agreed to the procedure anyway. Without it, the lad could risk serious infection and be disfigured for life.

“Daddy! Daddy!” the little boy shrieked in pain and terror as the clinician somehow managed to stitch the wound as his father pressed his muscular torso across the boy’s body to keep him still on the examining table. “Stop! Why are you doing this to me?”

How could the father possibly explain to him so he could understand that it was out of his love for his firstborn that he was allowing the pain—even participating in it? He couldn’t. Instead, his sobs shook his bulky frame and his tears wet the boy’s soft skin beneath him.

“Oh, my son, my son,” the missionary exhaled a word with each sob.

“If you only knew how much I love you. If you could only understand that I am holding you now in love, even allowing this pain because I love you. You simply can’t understand, my beloved boy. But know this: I’ll not leave you alone in your pain,” he repeated again and again in his heart.

Even the sound of his father’s voice, intended to soothe, only seemed to antagonize the boy—when he could hear it over his wailing. “If you love me, if you care, why don’t you stop?” the screams seemed to accuse. “You could stop this all in an instant.”

So the father, out of boundless, matchless, incomprehensible, even unrequited love, silently enveloped the writhing, agonizing body of his toddler until the horrific time finally passed. It was a big chance he took on the outcome—not whether the outward scar would heal, but whether the far more painful, costly, and dangerous scars to the heart would ever mend. He couldn’t help but wonder; still his faith was even stronger than this doubt that the boy would emerge knowing, without question, the truth of the father’s never-ending love for him. And on this unshakable truth, the boy would live out all the days of his life as God had ordained each one of them to be.

“The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him ‘Immanuel’—which means ‘God with us’ (Matthew 1:23, NIV).

May you know the powerful message of Christmas this year: In love, God with us—always, forever, no matter what.

Arguing with God

Hanajima-san, our Japanese mother

“I have to tell you that I’ve been doing a lot of arguing with God,” kimono-clad Hanajima-san told me at the airport on Tuesday. Although mostly confined to a wheelchair, she was insistent that her son drive her husband and her to the airport so that she could see us off to the United States for our consultations at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center.

“What have you been arguing with God about?” I asked, chuckling at the image of this diminutive Japanese woman shaking her fist at God.

“About you,” she answered immediately. “I just don’t understand why my prayers for you aren’t being answered and why you have to suffer so much.”

Although I assured her that I’m not suffering, just extremely fatigued, and reminded her that whatever God allows, he allows from a heart of love for his children, this faithful Christian woman for more than 50 years wore skepticism on her face as if it were the white powdery makeup Japanese are most fond of wearing.

Perhaps this woman I call my Japanese mother will have more words with God after she gets this update:

1)Surgery is no longer an option because my cancer is now in a progressive state. A cancerous tumor (though small) is now evident on my remaining right kidney;
2)Three drug therapies that have shown the most promise with renal cell carcinoma (RCC) have failed for me in the past year, leaving fewer and fewer treatment options. Dr. Tannir, my main oncologist, now recommends an experimental combination of two cancer drugs (one oral and one administered by IV) that have shown some success (10%) in controlling and shrinking RCC. Two of his patients have even gone into remission with this combo chemo treatment. A two-month regimen will be enough time to determine whether this works for me; and,
3)Bernie and I have decided that I will remain in the U.S. for this two-month period and the follow-up checks at M. D. Anderson in early January. I will take treatment in Anderson and stay at my parents’ house while Bernie returns to Japan until Christmas.

Needless to say, we need your prayers now as much as ever. Pray especially that the new treatment will stop the cancer growth, shrink the tumors, and send the cancer into remission. Secondly, please pray that through all of this, God’s glory will be shown and we will continue to have opportunities to testify to his love, mercy, and power both in Japan and the United States. (We were encouraged that Dr. Tannir continued to affirm our calling as missionaries in Japan.)

By the way, as uncharacteristic as it seems for me—one who has never been reticent about arguing what I think is a valid point—I am not arguing with God. Disappointed with the news? Of course I am. But I cling to God’s words of promise written in Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” They were true before this visit to M. D. Anderson and they are true today as well.

New Every Morning

Tamagawa Church of God, where we serve as interim pastors

God’s faithfulness . . .
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him’” (Lamentations 3:22-24, NIV).

We dedicate this newsletter to praising God for his faithfulness. While we cannot even begin to enumerate all the ways we see God’s faithfulness—indeed, every new morning brings testimony to our faithful God—we want to share three places where we have most experienced this during the past month.

. . . At Tamagawa Seigakuin
September was an exciting and busy month of celebrating God’s faithfulness for 60 years at Tamagawa Seigakuin, the girls’ junior/senior high school where Bernie is headmaster. Since 1950, the school has graduated some 10,450 young women and has developed a wonderful reputation for being not only a school that is strong academically, but more importantly, for being a school that has remained faithful to its Christian mission. Special activities to mark the 60th anniversary included the commissioning of a song by a well-known Japanese-Korean singer/song writer that was featured on a CD of the Tama Sei choir produced by the school. Even more noteworthy about this CD is the fact that the majority of its numbers were composed by second year Tama Sei high school girls as a part of their music classes. (They chose words from the Bible, especially Psalms, and set these to their own musical compositions.)

Other special activities during September included the annual two-day school festival, a kind of homecoming-like event that welcomed well over 6,000 visitors to sample special presentations of Tama Sei’s music (vocal choir, band, hand bell choir, guitar/mandolin club, signing/praise team), sports (including kendo, traditional Japanese fencing with bamboo poles), and many examples of the arts (modern dance, calligraphy, flower arranging, and tea ceremony). Each of the month-long celebratory events was an opportunity to praise God for his faithfulness over 60 years at Tamagawa Seigakuin.

. . . At Tamagawa Church
Just up the street from the school is Tamagawa Church of God, where Bernie and Cheryl are interim pastors. This church began in classrooms of Tamagawa Seigakuin, shortly after the founding of the school. Then, 57 years ago, it moved into its own building at the present location. It was a joy to celebrate God’s faithfulness during these years in a special anniversary worship service. This was combined with honoring the congregation’s senior members in a “Silver Day” observance the day before a national holiday to recognize the same. (“Silvers,” as they are called in Japan, comprise a significant part of Japan’s population. In 2009, more than 22% of the population was at least 65 years old. Estimates are that 25% of the population will be “silver” by 2014.)

. . . In our personal lives
What a roller coaster we are riding on this cancer journey! In our last newsletter, we reported from a “high,” praising God for his faithfulness as Cheryl’s health was the best it had been in a long time. This month we are still praising God for his faithfulness, but we seem to be on the “down” side of the roller coaster. The stomach-wrenching feelings are all too real and, frankly, not particularly welcome.

In early September, after fatigue suddenly returned (accompanied by low grade fever, pain, and coughing), we decided to request a CT scan in Japan to help determine whether we should return to M.D. Anderson Cancer Center earlier than our scheduled November appointments. Scan results on October 5 did indeed support a change in plans. The main tumor is growing, albeit slowly, and there are now suspicious spots on her right kidney and liver that could be cancer metastasis, although the doctor only questioned this possibility. As a result, we will be traveling to Houston on October 19 and have tests and consultations on October 20-21. Needless to say, we ask your prayers for wisdom for the doctors and for us. Of course, we also continue to pray for complete healing for Cheryl.

Despite CT scan results that were less than favorable, we affirm what Cheryl wrote in early September as she looked back on one year since her cancer had recurred:

God is worthy of praise. Always. Forever. No matter what CT scans and blood tests show and doctors proclaim. No matter how I feel. No matter what. None of these change or challenge the always faithful, always powerful, always in control God. So I join the Old Testament prophet Habakkuk to proclaim, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (3:17-18).

Thank you for joining us in praying AND in praising our faithful God,

Good News

We're smiling, along with our granddaughter, Hosanna.

“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart” (Isaiah 40:11).

How we sense we are being carried close to the heart of God! Even before we’d sent out all the updates from Cheryl’s CT scan results on October 5, God was answering the prayers we’d requested be lifted up—so much so that we had to update the update and revise the prayer requests along the way.

Here is the good news about how God is already answering prayers:

1) M. D. Anderson moved up our appointments from November to October 20-21;
2) We were able to get airplane reservations for October 19;
3) Without Bernie’s asking, the executive committee of Tamagawa Seigakuin told Bernie that they would cover for him to be gone until November 5, excusing him not only from the day-to-day but also from rushing back for a scheduled trip to Korea during the last week of October;
4) Just this morning, Cheryl was able to get her ticket upgraded to business class with miles, making the long return flight much easier on her physically;
5) A pastor called last night and offered to drive us to the airport on October 19. This means we’ll not have to navigate two-three hours of stairs, trains, changes, and walking with our suitcases from our local station to Narita Airport; and,
6) We have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of e-mails and phone calls (some from people we don’t even know) that assure us of God’s wonderful care for us through his people, the church.

As you continue praying for Cheryl’s healing, please also pray for consultations with the surgeon on October 20 and the kidney oncologist on October 21. Pray especially for their wisdom and ours at this time. While we don’t know whether surgery is still an option or even the best way to respond to the current situation, we feel that we’ve come to the crux time in Cheryl’s treatment. And, if not surgery, how should we proceed from here? We desire most to experience God’s guiding hand in all decisions that will be made.

Of course, we also desire for Cheryl to be able to return to Japan as soon as possible. There is still so much to accomplish in this country that has been our home and mission field for 30+ years. Our prayer is that God is glorified in Japan through us and even through our cancer journey. Thank you for joining us in the battle through your fervent and believing prayers.

The Latest Update on Cheryl

The roller coaster ride continues. Mind you, I’ve never been a fan of roller coasters.

Bernie and I met with the doctor today to hear the results of a CT scan I had on October 1. Considering how I’ve been feeling for the past three weeks or so, I wasn’t surprised with this news:

1) The main tumor continues to grow, albeit slowly;
2) A lesion in the right kidney that has been unchanged for years has grown somewhat;
3) Something has appeared in my liver but the radiologist cannot say what, although metastasis is a possibility; and,
4) My doctor says my cancer is now in a “progressive” situation (which he called serious) and he is urging me to go the States as soon as possible.

As you continue to pray for my healing, here are a few other specific prayer requests:

1) That M.D. Anderson Cancer Clinic will be willing to move up my scheduled appointments from November 8-10 to sometime in the next two weeks;
2) That we will be able to make all the necessary arrangements to enable us to go quickly;
3) That our going will not cause great trouble for those who will have to cover for us at Tamagawa Seigakuin, Tamagawa Church, and in other areas of our responsibilities here in Japan; and,
4) That the doctors will have wisdom in knowing what course of treatment should be followed at this point.

Despite CT scan results that were less than favorable, we affirm what I wrote one month ago as I looked back on one year since my cancer had recurred:

God is worthy of praise. Always. Forever. No matter what CT scans and blood tests show and doctors proclaim. No matter how I feel. No matter what. None of these change or challenge the always faithful, always powerful, always in control God. So I join the Old Testament prophet Habakkuk to proclaim, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (3:17-18).

Please join us in praying AND in praising our faithful God.

End of September Thoughts

Bernie and Mike sing at Tamagawa Seigakuin's 2010 school festival.

September used to be one of my favorite months. Notice the past tense.

When I was a child, September meant the start of school. Not that I was eager for the summer holidays to end, but I did look forward to some new clothes, a new lunch box, and meeting my friends again for the new school year. September always spelled new and exciting to me, even if year after year our first assignment back was to write, “What I Did during My Summer Vacation.” (Although I didn’t voice it out loud, I did often wonder why teachers couldn’t be more creative in assigning paragraph topics.)

But that was a long time ago. These days I’m starting to think that it might be good just to jump from August right into October—at least if the last two Septembers are indicative of what the month is going to hold for me in the future.

It was early September 2009 that I learned my cancer had recurred. Then while waiting for test results to determine which course of treatment would be recommended, I found myself shadowboxing with fear, an opponent that was definitely present even if I couldn’t see it. In our sparring, I also discovered many opportunities to doubt God and his good plans for my life. I’m grateful that I emerged from that September stronger than ever in my faith, but I did have some scars to show from the battles.

I remember one day in particular. Despite feeling weak physically, I attended the annual school festival at Tamagawa Seigakuin. I’d be there only an hour or two at most, or so I thought. I knew I had a fever that was getting higher, but I couldn’t go home immediately. Complicating matters further, I met an acquaintance who offered to introduce me to a faith healer. Let me say it clearly: the Bible teaches that God is a healing God; it instructs us to ask him for healing; and I believe God can and does heal, even miraculously, even cancer. So there shouldn’t have been any problems.

But when I showed interest in her suggestion, my Christian friend lowered her voice conspiratorially and told me that this faith healer was Buddhist, adding, “But that’s okay. We all believe in the same God.” Do you realize what you’re saying? I wanted to shout out loud in my shock. Instead, I recoiled from her involuntarily as if she had the plague. Although I did accept the faith healer’s calling card from her, I asked Bernie to burn it later that evening. I felt strongly that I had to get rid of the evil I’d carried into my home. We also prayed together, asking God to put his shield of protection around us. As we did, peace returned to my troubled heart even as my high fever finally broke. Even now, more than a year later, I’m convinced my faith was on trial that day.

And this year? The trial continues, but in more subtle ways. After six relatively “healthy” weeks in which it was sometimes easy to forget that I have cancer, my oasis in the cancer journey has come to an end, at least for the time being. Fatigue has returned and, more recently, pain has become its companion. On top of this, I’m coughing again and running a low grade fever most days. All of this is right on the heels of my writing a victorious blog on September 4 in which I testified about the wonderful lessons God had taught me in the year since my cancer recurred. Those lessons haven’t changed, but it is definitely harder to share them jubilantly when I’m not feeling good and when doubts have begun assailing me once again. The trial is not over.

Needless to say, I’ll be glad to put yet another difficult September behind me and to enter October tomorrow. Of course, I have no way of knowing what October will hold. Yet these words of Paul renew my confidence and restore my hope:

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

One Year Later

Bernie and Cheryl, September 4, 2010

September 4, 2009. One year ago today. It was the day a doctor told me he suspected my cancer had returned. He was right.

In looking back over this incredible year, I’m grateful for so much, not the least of which is the fact that I’m much healthier today than then—and that, even though I still battle cancer. I’m also grateful for the lessons God has taught me as we have journeyed these past twelve months. Some, if not most, are lessons yet in progress. (I seem to be a slow learner who requires application after application for a lesson to really be absorbed.) Without any specific order, here are ten I’ve been learning in this past year:

1) Patience. I’d far rather just jump right to healing, but it’s been a year of wait, wait, and wait some more. I’m still waiting. After the cancer recurred, I had to wait a very long three-plus weeks before I could start taking the first anti-cancer medicine. Every two weeks thereafter I waited for the results of tests to show if the drug was being effective. When in March 2010 a CT scan showed that Sutent had stopped working, I had to wait another endless three weeks before the second drug, Afinitor, became available in Japan. What really tested my patience (and faith) was that throughout this wait my body was weakening noticeably. Most recently, I’ve been waiting since May to see whether doctors will set a surgery date as a way that I might become “cancer free.”

“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14). Waiting requires patience, which doesn’t come easily to me. Perhaps this is why I’m being given so many opportunities to learn this lesson.

2) God is worthy of praise. Always. Forever. No matter what CT scans and blood tests show and doctors proclaim. No matter how I feel. No matter what. None of these change or challenge the always faithful, always powerful, always in control God. I join the Old Testament prophet Habakkuk to proclaim, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (3:17-18).

3) My trust is in God. It is not in percentages: the efficacy rate of a certain drug, the chances that surgery will get all of the cancer, survival rates for renal cell carcinoma, and more. My trust is in God, my Father, whose word never fails because he is “the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Hebrews 13:8).

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear . . . . Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth” (Psalm 46:1, 2, 10).

4) And a related lesson: doctors don’t know everything. Even their guesses—educated though they may be—are only guesses. Will this particular medicine work? What treatment is best? Should they perform surgery? How about radiation? How long will I live? Only God knows. I am so happy that my trust is in him.

5) My husband stands beside me “for better, for worse, in sickness, in health.” Never have my wedding vows been so meaningful; never has Bernie’s love been so real. I don’t have cancer—we have cancer. We travel the journey and fight the battle together.

6) The family of God is truly amazing. “Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint” (Isaiah 40:30-31). How often during this year Bernie has commented that it is the prayers of the family of God around the world that provide the updraft for the eagle to soar. A prayer partner in Missouri said it a different way when she wrote, “When you can’t pray, remember that we’re praying for you.”

7) The cancer journey shouldn’t be walked alone. It’s a journey for the whole family—both one’s blood family and the wider family of God too. Why would anyone choose to go inward, silently bearing the burden while trying to keep a stiff upper lip and a smile on the face? Why would anyone choose to walk alone? It happens often in Japan where people are so private about personal matters. Solo journeys may be adventuresome and break Guinness world records, but the cancer walk should not be attempted alone.

8) God’s Word is powerful and full of promise and hope. It is the way God has spoken to me most often this year. I have been renewed, strengthened, comforted, challenged, nourished, and sometimes chastised. Jesus quoted the Old Testament in Matthew 4:4 when he answered Satan’s temptations: “Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.” Neither do I live by anti-cancer medicines. Far more important is the Word of God—something I’ve “known” my whole life, but never as I have known it this past year.

9) What you don’t know won’t kill you. Cancer kills, of course; a lack of knowledge doesn’t. Therefore, even as I pray for healing, I pray for my doctors (who’ve studied and are knowledgeable, but only to a degree). I’ve chosen not to focus on the cancer itself. Instead, I want to focus on the Lord and on walking with him. “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things,” Paul wrote in Philippians 4:8. It is good advice for me—the very best.

10) My worth doesn’t stem from what I do. It is based on who I am: God’s beloved child. So many scriptures testify to this fact, yet I confess I’ve often acted like the more productive I am, the worthier I am. If you look at my date book, I’ve not accomplished much during this year. Instead, I’ve been with the Lord in his school of learning and I’ve come out in a much better place and with much greater understanding of God. It’s a far more stable place to be for I stand on a foundation that cannot be moved. It’s a new kind of productivity that I’ve discovered: delighting myself at Jesus’ feet even if I accomplish nothing else during the day. It is enough.

“Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:4-7).

Back in the Harvest Field

August in Japan means neighborhood summer festivals.

The charge
“The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field,” (Matthew 9:37-38, NIV).

We don’t know if these words in Matthew inspired William J. Henry in 1897 to compose the words and music to the song, I Cannot Be Idle: “I cannot be idle for Jesus says, ‘Go and work in my harvest today; And then at the evening when labor is done, whatever is right I will pay.’ Then away to the work I will go and join in the reaping of grain. And back from the harvest with beautiful sheaves, I’ll come with rejoicing again.”

But both Jesus’ charge and the words of this old Church of God hymn are reverberating in our hearts this morning, our first Monday back in Japan after a three-month medical leave of absence. It is good to unpack and settle back into the apartment we’ve lived in for the past seven years. It is even better to be back in the harvest field God first called us to in 1976. Even though we’ve lived in four different Japanese cities since then (Saga, Fukuoka, Kobe, and Tokyo), God’s call on our lives hasn’t changed. We thank him for his grace and call, even as we thank you for your prayers and other support that have enabled us to be obedient to God here in Japan. Please do pray with us that we will see the promise of a plentiful harvest fulfilled.

An update on Cheryl
During our three months in the United States, we visited M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston three different times. Our most recent visit in early August resulted in the good news that Votrient, the drug Cheryl began on June 10, is being effective in the fight against cancer. For the first time since she began taking anti-cancer medications in September 2009, the main tumor in the cavity where the left kidney was is dying on the inside. We had expected the medicine to work by shrinking the tumors. (In fact, the main tumor somehow managed to grow a little, despite what is happening inside.) But God can work any way he decides—and even without our understanding—so we are looking ahead in faith that come November (Cheryl’s next visit to Houston) the situation will be even better. Could it be the doctors will discover that the main tumor is dead and there is no evidence of any of the smaller tumors that are now in the abdominal wall? Please pray with us to this end.

By the way, we reported in the last newsletter that Cheryl was experiencing great difficulty in adjusting to Votrient. Praise God that this is no longer her situation. Although she does have some digestive issues and must be careful to conserve her energy, she no longer deals with pain, fevers, and the other more distressing side effects. Praise God for answering prayer and for working in Cheryl’s body through Votrient—something confirmed again by the most recent blood tests which showed all the important numbers rising into the “normal” range. Needless to say, we are rejoicing!

For your further prayers
Now that we’re back in Japan, our focus has shifted from medical treatments to the harvest field. As such, Bernie preached at Tamagawa Church on Sunday following our arrival late Friday, August 20. We were grateful to discover he’d not forgotten his Japanese during our long time away and for the warm welcome we received (in more ways than one). Not only were temperatures nearing 100 degrees that morning (we are SO grateful for air conditioning at church and in our apartment), but the typically reserved Japanese congregants were outspoken and demonstrative in their joy at our return. Please pray for us as we continue to pastor Tamagawa Church and mentor our associate, Fujiwara-sensei, until she is ordained and can lead the church herself.

The next day—today—Bernie was in his office at Tamagawa Seigakuin. September promises to be both exciting and busy for the school as it celebrates its 60th anniversary through a number of special activities. Pray with us that these will bring glory to God and serve as a great testimony of his love to all who participate, including the as many as 6,500 visitors who will attend the annual school festival on September 18 and 20.

We also look forward to resuming our monthly home meeting, Praise Time, on September 13. We understand a new woman will join the group that day. She has recently been diagnosed with lung and brain cancer. Please pray that Cheryl’s own cancer journey will be a witness of hope for her and lead her to accept the only true and lasting source of all hope, Jesus Christ.

Finally, please pray for Will and Mandy Johnson, our newest staff members in Japan. They too arrived on August 20. Pray for their transition to life in Japan, their teaching assignments at Tamagawa Seigakuin, and their service at Tamagawa Church.

Not a Chance Encounter

Emma. I met her poolside, overlooking the beautiful ocean of Mexico’s Cozumel resort island where we were vacationing. We were unlikely conversation partners: she, in her mid-twenties, on her honeymoon, and holding a can of beer in her right hand while occasionally drawing in from the cigarette in her left; me, enjoying the solitude and quiet of the sinking sun whose pink, red, and orange hues were gradually transforming the western sky into an exquisite palette of breathtaking beauty.

Actually, I wasn’t in the mood for talking with anyone, especially one so obviously “different” from myself. Only a short time earlier, I’d given into the tears that had threatened all day. It was the last day of our vacation, but more than that, it was only one week before we were to return to Japan. (It’s always hard to say good-bye, no matter how many times we do it since returning to Tokyo means facing a lifestyle and locality I’ve never yet in seven years grown to appreciate. The transition never comes easily.)

I’d been ignoring the reality of the passing days and what was coming, but with only a week remaining, I couldn’t pretend time didn’t matter any longer. So the tears had come, first only a couple escaping down my cheeks, and then suddenly a torrent was shaking my shoulders. Bernie sat with me on the couch, delaying his snorkeling to stay with me until the flood subsided. Shortly, I made my way outside to be comforted by the approaching sunset.

Alone and drinking in the peacefulness of the landscape, I was reminding myself to hold it close to my heart so that I will be able to conjure up the comforting memory when I feel irritated by 27 million people soon crowding me unmercifully in Tokyo. And here came Emma.

“Buenas noches,” she greeted me cheerfully. I smiled and responded, “Hi,” in English, signaling that I wasn’t Mexican and couldn’t converse with her in Spanish. Apparently she couldn’t have gone much further herself because she breathed a sigh of relief and immediately switched into English. Sitting down on the edge of the elevated pool area, she struck up a conversation. One topic led to another and before long I was answering an oft-repeated question when someone discovers we’ve lived in Japan for 30-plus years.

“Wow! That’s a long time,” Emma marveled at our tenure, telling me that she was only 26 years old herself. “You must have been really young when you went. Wasn’t that scary?”

“When you’re young, you never imagine there’s something you can’t do,” I replied with a laugh, even as a voice inside told me not to miss this opportunity to share the real reason we went to Japan. It wasn’t just that we were young—I was 21 and Bernie 22—and looking for adventure; the main reason was God’s call upon our lives.

“Actually, we’re Christian missionaries,” I told Emma. “That’s why we went to Japan and that’s why we’ve stayed so long.”

As I expected, there was a momentary pause in the conversation as if Emma was wondering what she’d gotten herself into and evaluating whether she wanted to go any further. To my surprise, she proceeded to tell me that she is an agnostic who wonders whether atheists just might be right about the non-existence of God. Nevertheless, she is very curious about religion and has her own repertoire of religious experiences, including infant baptism in the Lutheran church and rebaptism in a Pentecostal church as a teenager.

What in the world can I say that will make any difference to Emma? I prayed silently as we conversed. In the end, I shared with my new friend that knowing God is not about religion, but about relationship. I urged her to continue keeping her ears open because God so desires an intimate relationship that he is pursing her, even through our talk. I also thanked her for our conversation after she thanked me for not judging her.

“It was a gift to me,” I assured her. Noting the quizzical expression on her face, I added, “It’s been a tough day, but the God I believe in and trust just used you to encourage me.”

Whether or not Emma can understand, I have no doubt that this was not a chance encounter. Through a confused agnostic, God reminded me of his desire to use me as his hands, feet, listening ears, and heart—even in Mexico. And most especially in Japan.

You've Got to be Kidding!

Bernie and Cheryl, grateful for times with our grandchildren

“You’ve got to be kidding!” That’s the first thought that crossed my mind when I stepped on the scales at the doctor’s office and discovered I’d lost another two-and-a-half pounds since my previous visit two weeks earlier. I wasn’t happy with the news. In fact, my shoulders sagged with discouragement and tears welled up in my eyes—a really amazing reaction, considering that I’ve counted calories and worried about my weight all of my adult life.

Despite great diligence on my part, weight has always hounded me like ants drawn to the sticky sweetness left on a picnic table after a mid-summer watermelon feed. Born with a sweet tooth, I’ve been especially susceptible to chocolate, a delectable delight that has always lured me like a siren’s song. In fact, I’ve often quipped that I’d have to die in order to lose weight. That joke doesn’t seem so funny anymore—too close for comfort, I’m sure.

And besides, I’m quite alive and well, thank you very much. But, without much appetite and battling some digestion issues (side effects of the cancer drug I began in June), sometimes even the thought of food is enough to nauseate me. Needless to say, eating has become a chore—necessary, I know, but downright hard, nevertheless. Even ice cream and chocolate no longer have allure for me!

Off the scales, I entered the examination room, had my vitals checked, and then waited for the doctor. That he was only running fifteen minutes behind schedule wasn’t the only surprise I encountered there. Being told that my blood work showed I’m malnourished and that he wanted to prescribe an appetite-stimulating drug was far more shocking than either a mostly-on-time doctor or further weight loss.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” I mumbled to myself, shaking my head in wonder. After all, I am familiar with appetite suppressors, have even tried some—without success, I might add. But appetite stimulants? They are as unknown to me as Russian or Arabic.

All of this is to say that the cancer journey continues to be one of new and unexpected experiences, only some of which I understand and none of which I control. I am reminded of the psalmist’s thoughts:

“Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain” (Psalm 139:1-6).

And I am grateful that it is enough that God knows, even when—especially when—I don’t.

Lessons through My Grandson

Waiting for the apples to turn red

Being a top student was always important to me in my school years. If I wasn’t going to win awards for my athletic prowess, my musical abilities, or my inventive genius, at least I could stand tall when grades were handed out. And I did.

Which is why it’s such a surprise to me that I’m so slow in learning some of life’s most important lessons—not the ABCs, but far more valuable things like trust, patience, and perseverance. The Lord, using my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson, is determined that I have every opportunity to catch up where I’m behind in my lessons.

“Coco, how’re you feeling?” Little Ben asked me as he walked into my bedroom where I was sitting, exhausted, in a chair.

“Not so good,” I responded, adding, “That’s why Coco’s a little sad today—because I don’t feel good.”

Without missing a beat and with all the certainty of an experienced and learned elder, Benjamin continued, “Jesus will help you.”

Smiling at my grandson for reminding me of such a fundamental truth—no matter the pain, how could I have lost my focus?—I hugged him and said, “You’re absolutely right! Jesus will help Coco feel better so I don’t have to be sad.”

“That’s awesome!” Benjamin returned. I wanted to hug him again, but he giggled as he escaped my reach and ran out of the room. End of the lesson, but I was left with a warm glow that, I suddenly realized, had uplifted both my sad spirit and my tired body. I knew I’d been visited by the Lord himself to restore my trust in him and his unconditional love and perfect plan for my life.

A few days later, it was time for yet another lesson. Benjamin and I discovered an apple tree at the back of the apartment complex where our families are spending the summer—and it was loaded with fruit. Benjamin wanted to begin eating immediately, but I explained that since the apples were still mostly green, it was too soon to pick them.

“Well, let’s wait,” he replied matter-of-factly. “We can wait till the apples turn red.”

“But that happens a little bit by a little bit,” I protested. To which Benjamin responded without the slightest bit of frustration as he sat down on the concrete parking block in front of the tree, “Little bit by little bit. We can wait.”

How long will you wait? I wondered to myself as I sat down beside him, facing the apple tree and its not-going-to-be-red-for-a-long-time fruit. What patience! More than that, what trust! With little concept of time, Benjamin was willing to sit and wait expectantly simply because he believed me when I told him the apples will turn red little bit by little bit. No doubts in his mind that what I said was true—just because I said so.

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see,” we’re told in Hebrews 11:1. I think of God’s promises of healing and answers to prayer—for all of us, for me. I realize again that I need to sit quietly more often—even on a concrete parking block—and wait patiently for the Lord to fulfill his words. If a two-year-old can do it, why can’t I?

Cycling in the Mountains

Johnson family reunion--first of two family reunions this summer

Words of uplifting
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

We’d lived in Japan for less than three months when we took our first bicycle road trip. Young, naive, and still believing that anyone with enough determination can accomplish anything, it never occurred to us that we couldn’t read Japanese (and thus, not a map in Kyushu, the southernmost main island of this country). Perhaps, if we’d thought it through ahead of time, we’d have considered that our lack of language and our hand-drawn (and definitely not-to-scale) map might be less than helpful during this 10-day cycling adventure through the mountains, rice paddies, and pottery villages of northwestern Kyushu. Perhaps this experience set the positive tone for the following 30+ years we’ve lived in Japan. Although we ran out of money before we made it back to Saga, our home and starting point, we discovered the graciousness of the Japanese people doesn’t allow them to turn their backs to needy strangers who appear at their front doors.

Not only did funds challenge us, but the never-ending mountains did, too. I clearly remember one day when it seemed we did little but cycle upwards. Flying down the roads once we’d finally cleared the passes was exhilarating—but this joy was always short-lived. Mostly we strained to keep up enough momentum to continue pedaling and to keep our eyes on that next bend in the road; surely the elusive crest would be just around the corner. But the vista at the turn revealed only that the mountaintop hasn’t been reached yet. Again and again, the next corner became the next goal where usually we discovered another challenging curve to conquer. Was victory even possible?

While he wasn’t on a cycling trip with us in Kyushu, Joshua certainly could have understood our feelings as we battled the mountains, exhaustion, and doubts that our hopes and dreams could be realized. Would he be able to lead the children of Israel to victory? Or would defeat be his legacy?

An update on Cheryl
Today, nearly 35 years later, we’re identifying with all these emotions and questions once again. During the month since we’ve been in the United States for medical leave, we’ve heard, “This medicine isn’t doing what we’d hoped it would” (the second anti-cancer drug), “but there’s another new medicine we can try.” Then, “We don’t think your cancer is metastatic, and surgery could leave you ‘cancer-free.’” Followed by, “This is morbid surgery—very invasive surgery with difficult side effects, including paralysis.”

At the same time, since beginning the new medicine on June 10, Cheryl has been in near-constant pain in her lower abdomen and left flank while also running daily low-grade fevers; she’s experienced dizziness, nausea, and other side effects that she’s not dealt with to date (but no mouth sores!); and general to overwhelming fatigue has become her constant companion. (A blood transfusion in Houston gave her some color once again, but didn’t do anything to restore her energy level.) Needless to say, the questions and doubts have been more evident of late. Thank you for standing with us in prayer and for helping us keep going in the midst of the sometimes confusing array of emotions and questions that we’re confronted with day by day. Please keep praying.

Looking ahead
Currently Cheryl is being seen by a local oncologist for the day-to-day questions and concerns that arise. At the same time, she is a patient at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, where she’ll be seen on August 3-4 for follow-up testing and consultations. The big questions to be answered at that time will be: Has the Votrient (anti-cancer #3) been effective in suppressing or reducing the tumors? Should surgery be scheduled to remove the tumors? If so, when? If the Votrient isn’t working, what should the next step be? Please pray for us to have wisdom in facing these (and other) questions.

But there are some less weighty things we’re also anticipating. We’ll be participating in activities of North American Convention, June 25-30, here in Anderson and look forward to meeting many of our prayer supporters there. We’re also eager to see the debut of In a Besieged City, the 15th in a series of international testimonies books Cheryl has compiled and edited since 1993, as well as publication of the soft-cover edition of Into All the World, first published in hard back in 2009. A Barton family reunion in mid-July and spending the month of July with Stephanie, Donald, Little Ben, and Hosanna will also be joyful and renewing experiences for us. Thanks for your prayers to surround and support us through all our times in Indiana, Missouri, and Texas.

A Ridiculous Raincoat

It was a rainy spring day. Everyone I met on my way to the train station was outfitted with umbrellas, rain boots, and raincoats, or some combination thereof. (I didn’t even own an umbrella and rain paraphernalia until we moved to Japan. Walking in the rain is not something anyone would choose to do in the United States. Rather, Americans simply jump in a car and avoid the weather--in the process, getting fat for lack of exercise, I might add).

In any case, my story is about a particular woman I passed who was walking her dog. Nothing unusual about that. After all, dogs must be walked even on rainy days. But wearing an aqua and blue checked raincoat? The dog, I mean, not the woman. Her coat was apricot-colored.

But at least she was walking the dog in the old-fashioned and, in my opinion, correct way. Only weeks ago my heart was warmed by seeing a family of three out for a walk. With his right hand pushing the stroller, the father was holding his little son’s hand in his left. The mother was holding the toddler’s other hand in her right, while also pushing the stroller with her left. I smiled, remembering such walks when our own son was that age. It was a cozy sight.

Until I noticed that the stroller wasn’t empty as it should have been with the not-yet-two-year-old boy walking. Riding inside it was the family’s dog. My smile faded quickly, replaced I’m sure by an incredulous look. The image I’d been enjoying was completely spoiled.

So, as I said, at least the woman in my neighborhood was actually walking her dog that morning, even if it was wearing a ridiculous raincoat. The dog wasn’t riding in a baby stroller or being paraded in its own specially-made-for-doggie pram. They do make them in Japan. In fact, for a mere $250 or so, you can get one near our house at a store called Harness Dog. In the same place, you can also purchase an outfit for poochie fit for the ball. You can also buy your own matching clothes. (And our kids used to roll their eyes when Bernie and I wore matching tee shirts!)

Although I have seen a dog wearing diapers in Jiyugaoka, I didn't see any on display when I walked into Harness Dog—not to admire the merchandise but to get the disturbing facts about how dogs often are treated in Japan. Better than children, I sometimes think. After all, how is it possible to spend such amazing sums of money on dogs, cute as they may be, when children under five years old are starving at the rate of 12 per minute?

“They’re not my children,” some might argue. “If people don’t have the money to raise them properly, they shouldn’t have so many children.” It may be a valid argument, but it doesn’t change the fact that in many countries, children routinely go to bed hungry or gaze listlessly with unseeing, sunken eyes at the world around them—until they die for want of only a small fraction of the food the developed world consumes and/or throws away daily. I simply cannot look the other way.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked,” Jesus told his followers in Luke 12:48. To ignore is to disobey.

Of course, it’s not enough to scowl at dressed-to-kill dogs carried in their “mothers’” arms on a shopping outing or a visit to a dog café to share tea. (This is not an exaggeration.) This is why for more than 30 years we’ve sponsored children through Children of Promise. (Currently we support two girls in India and another in Myanmar.) This Church of God child sponsorship program provides for the daily physical, spiritual, and educational needs of more than 3,800 children in 23 countries of the world. And there are many other excellent sponsorship programs that are also helping to alleviate the plight of destitute children in our world. If everyone would get involved and just do something—and I don’t mean dressing the dog in a ridiculous raincoat and going for a walk.

When Missions is Spelled ABCs

A colleague as she teaches English to plant seeds for faith in children's hearts

“A missionary is someone who goes to another country to tell people about Jesus.”

This, or some variation of it, is what we usually hear from children in America when we visit their churches and ask if they know what a missionary is. Typically, the places they imagine missionaries go have lions, elephants, zebras, and other wild animals roaming freely, bringing an element of danger into the definition. Just as commonly, children (and many adults as well) also imagine desperately poor people begging for food, their sunken eyes and bony, stick-like frames a testimony to the dire straits in which they barely survive. Missionaries go to their lands and give them food—both the Bread of Life to satisfy spiritually and bread with calories to provide for them physically. This is the work of a “real” missionary.

We’ve been missionaries for more than 30 years and we’ve yet to see a gazelle, rhino, or such animal except in the zoo (although once there was a monkey that came down from Kobe’s Rokko Mountains and into our neighborhood, pausing shortly on our verandah to preen). It’s an entirely different world here in Japan, a nation that refashioned itself from the ashes of World War II into a modern economic miracle. We don’t fight wild animals and muddy, pot-holed roads to go to work—only unbelievably crowded trains and gridlocked highways. Every modern convenience is available at the snap of the fingers. Even the homeless of Tokyo are not gaunt for lack of food.

With Japan as it is today, perhaps some might wonder if there really is work for a missionary here. With less than 1% of Japanese Christian after more than 150 years of Protestant missions, the answer is an obvious yes. But just as obvious is the fact that methodology must fit Japan in the same way that it must fit the needs, culture, and realities of any other location and people anywhere else in the world.

Using English as an outreach tool has been one method of evangelism used successfully in Japan ever since Commodore Matthew Perry of the United States steamed into Shimoda Port on the Izu Peninsula in 1854 and demanded that Japan end its 213-year-old isolationist policy and open up to the West. From that moment onwards—with the exception of the World War II years when English was banned in all schools—teaching English has been one of the most common methods of evangelism employed by missionaries of all church denominations and sending agencies operating throughout the nation. More recently, even classes for babies and their mothers have been employed.

It’s a valid method, too. The woman Bernie baptized recently in Kobe is just one example to illustrate. About three years ago, she joined the English-Bible classes at Tarumi Church. The missionary teacher soon discovered that she had deep questions about the Bible and faith in Jesus Christ. In fact, the woman’s questions were so earnest that the missionary soon encouraged her to step over the line from being an interested spectator to becoming a Christian. (Come to find out, she’d attended such classes at two other churches before moving to Tarumi.) Finally on April 28, after years of English-Bible classes and myriads of questions, the 60-something woman was able to declare publicly her intention to live as a Christian for the rest of her life.

Church English-Bible classes taught by missionaries play an essential role in the journey to faith for many Japanese. Emphasizing building relationships with students more than the fine points of English grammar, these classes aren't the only tool for missions in Japan, but they are one that works. We look forward to playing a role in many more harvest stories that emerge from English-Bible classes in our churches in the future. The ABCs have never seemed so exciting.

A Promise for the Family

The cover of Cheryl's 15th international testimonies book,

scheduled for publication in June

Never giving up
[The jailer] then brought [Paul and Silas] out and asked, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ They replied, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved—you and your household. . . . The jailer brought them into his house and set a meal before them; he was filled with joy because he had come to believe in God—he and his whole family” (Acts 16:30-31, 34, NIV).

How many years would you believe this promise of salvation for your family without seeing some results? We once heard the testimony of a Japanese woman who prayed faithfully for her husband for 50 years before he was saved. We were amazed.

But then on April 25, Bernie had the privilege of baptizing a woman in her mid-60s named Nose-san (Noh-say-sahn). Sitting on the front row of the sanctuary to witness this joyful occasion was her 90-year-old mother (who looked 70 at most). She had prayed for Nose-san’s salvation from her daughter's birth. As the years passed, surely she was tempted to think that her earnest prayers weren’t making any difference. Still she never gave up, and her prayers were answered. Through the English-Bible classes at Tarumi Church—and particularly through conversations with Millie Michael, our special assignment missionary there at the time—Nose-san was finally able to commit her life to the Lord. It might never have happened without her mother’s persistent and believing prayers.

Also present for the celebration was Nose-san’s daughter. Perhaps she’ll be the next person baptized at Tarumi Church as a result of the prayers of mother and grandmother and their belief that Paul and Silas’ words were both for the jailer’s family and for theirs.

An update on Cheryl
We also are never giving up on the power of prayer for Cheryl’s healing from cancer. Thank you for praying with us and for us. We are so grateful that Cheryl was able to begin taking a brand new medicine, Afinitor, on April 20. (The Swiss-made anti-cancer drug only became available in Japan on April 16 and in the United States in March 2009.)

At this point, one week after beginning the daily dosage of Afinitor, Cheryl’s blood test on April 27 was most encouraging. The CRP (C-reactive protein) in her blood—which seems to be an indicator of cancer activity in her body—dropped from a way-too-high 28.29 to 15.85. (Normal is 0 to 0.2.) Additionally, although her hemoglobin count is still quite low, one week of Afinitor has helped it to rise slightly, which may be why Cheryl says she can “smell” energy just around the corner. The three weeks between drugs taxed her body quite significantly, especially her energy level, so it is wonderful to see that the hemoglobin count is on the upswing.

Please do continue praying for us, especially that we will know God’s guidance in the decisions that most likely will face us at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center shortly. Cheryl is scheduled for a consultation with a kidney surgeon on May 26 to hear his opinion about whether or not there is a surgical option for her. Then on June 2, she will have a battery of almost every medical test known to mankind. (Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration, but with tests beginning at 8:15 a.m. and going until after 3 p.m., it seems like every possible test in existence has been scheduled.) The next day, on June 3, Bernie and Cheryl will meet with her kidney cancer specialist to discuss all related consultations and test findings to determine the best course of action onwards. No doubt our heads will be spinning with the volume of information that comes our way. Truly we need God’s wisdom in order to know which way he is leading us. Thank you for your continued and faithful prayers.

Additional prayer requests
●Pray for the Holy Spirit to touch hearts during the three special Bible camps for Tamagawa Seigakuin students between May 12-14.
●Please pray for Pastor Fujiwara as she teaches Bernie’s Bible classes at Tamagawa Seigakuin while the Bartons are on medical leave from May 19-August 19. Pray also for Fujiwara-sensei as she carries full responsibility for Tamagawa Church in our absence.
●Pray for the new special assignment missionary couple who will come to Japan on August 19 to begin their new assignments at Tamagawa Seigakuin and Tamagawa Church. In the space of the next few weeks, they will be graduating from university, getting married, taking an on line course in TOEFL (teaching of English as a foreign language), applying with the Japanese government for certification to receive their visas, and more. Needless to say, they have much on their plates and would appreciate your prayer.
●Pray for the successful and on-time publication of In a Besieged City, the 15th in a series of international testimonies books Cheryl has compiled and edited since 1993. (On time means in plenty of time for its debut at North American Convention in late June.)

We are so thankful for your prayers!

For This I Have Jesus

God's words to me in the desert,

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified;

do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you

wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9).

If I were caught up on my daily Bible readings, I wouldn’t have encountered today’s passage from Psalm 66:1-15. (I should have read this more than a week ago.) But because I am behind, I read verses about praising God and telling others of all he has done for me. It was exactly what I needed. Instead of dwelling in the land of no motivation, no energy, no enthusiasm, and a whole bunch of other negatives, I was reminded again this morning that the key to unlocking the door of this cruel prison that has ensnared me is to focus not on cancer (nor on yet another gray, rainy day) but on praising God for who he is.

The accompanying devotional piece was not lengthy—only five very short paragraphs—but they packed a tremendously powerful punch at the very place where my heart struggles more than I wish: fear, doubt, and negativity. The writer told of an evangelistic meeting in Ireland where the speaker was explaining about abiding in Christ and trusting him completely and unconditionally, no matter the circumstance. My reading speed slowed immediately so that I could drink deeply of the words I needed as much as a thirsty, exhausted traveler craves water in the desert. I was especially drawn to the speaker’s concluding thought in his message about how abiding and trusting in Jesus “means that in every circumstance you can keep on saying, ‘For this I have Jesus.’”

Some people think seeking Jesus in difficult times means that they themselves are weak. (And who likes to be weak and vulnerable?) But Jesus tried to correct such a mistaken idea by saying, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick” (Matthew 9:12). In other words, when we recognize and admit our sickness—physical, emotional, and/or spiritual—we are blessed because we know where we can find help. Reassured and comforted, our hearts resound, “For this I have Jesus.”

In my case, I am coughing (again), running a fever daily (I’m so thankful for my friend who brought me 1,500 tablets of Ibuprofen from the States), lagging in energy and “get up and go” (as my mother would say), and generally feeling quite distant from the me I used to know and be. I’m also waiting on delivery of my new anti-cancer drug, Afinitor, debuting this month in Japan. I’m in my third week between drugs, and I’ve never been good at waiting for anything, especially something that has “life or death” written into the equation. It’s hard to keep my thoughts from running ahead of what I know (I need this new medicine and I’ll get it on April 20) and what I only conjecture whenever I feel a small twinge of pain (cancer is taking over my body).

But in all of this I remember, “For this I have Jesus.” And I rejoice in God’s faithfulness in the midst of this now one-year-old cancer journey. How could I walk it alone? I'm so grateful that I don’t have to.

The Battle Is Not Yours

Our missionary staff in the mountains of Gunma Prefecture

Cancer theme verses
“This is what the Lord says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s. . . . You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you’” (2 Chronicles 20:15, 17, NIV).

Shortly after Cheryl’s cancer recurred in September 2009, a friend visited to share some verses from 2 Chronicles 20 that God had given her for Cheryl. Since then, they have become our “cancer theme verses,” especially verses 15 and 17 above. Indeed, we are seeing the Lord fight the cancer battle both with and for us. We are also seeing his deliverance from day to day. Praise the Lord!

An update on Cheryl
Although we reported in our last newsletter about Cheryl’s “deliverance” from M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston to return to Japan on March 1, the news shortly afterwards was not as we’d hoped. A CT scan on March 23 revealed that the tumor in the void where the kidney once was has begun growing again, confirming the Japanese doctor’s suspicions that the anti-cancer drug Sutent is no longer working for Cheryl. Our Japanese doctor apologized that he had only one other drug to offer us. However, since the alternative attacks the cancer in the same way as Sutent, it seemed unlikely to us that this was a good “next step” in this cancer journey.

When we contacted Houston, we learned of a new drug, Afinitor, which was released in the U.S. in March, 2009—the very month the cancer was first discovered. With some investigating on both sides of the ocean, we learned that this new drug is to be released in April (this month) in Japan. Talk about timing! Just when the Sutent has stopped being effective, the only clinically proven drug that currently exists as the “next treatment” for patients like Cheryl (where Sutent has failed) has become available in Japan. Needless to say, we are standing firm and watching the Lord deliver! We are amazed.

Please pray that Cheryl will indeed get the medicine on April 20, as promised by the drug company. (She may be the first person to get Afinitor in all of Japan, says her doctor.) Pray also that the time lag between the Sutent and Afinitor will not allow the cancer to make great strides in her body. Unfortunately, she has begun running a low grade fever and is quite tired most days, neither of which are good. However, we know that God is faithful and in control, and we are praising him. Please praise him with us.

Spring staff meeting
Thanks for your prayers for our spring staff meeting, March 29-31. We greatly appreciated the presence of Don and Caroline Armstrong (in the photo, far right, back row), our regional coordinators for the Asia-Pacific region. It was their first visit to Japan, and we think we did them well, especially in encouraging the cherry trees to be at full bloom just for them. (Since you can see the remains of winter at our retreat center in the mountains, no cherry trees were in bloom there, but for the rest of their 12-day visit, the pale pink blossoms cooperated wonderfully.) Our staff members were encouraged by the Armstrongs’ visit and by our close fellowship together.

Additional prayer requests
●Please pray for the new girls who entered Tamagawa Seigakuin on April 7. Pray that the Lord will touch their hearts in life-changing ways during their Tama Sei careers.
●The kindergarten at Tamagawa Church welcomes its new 3-year-old class on April 12. Pray that seeds planted in their tender hearts will take root and blossom.
●April 18 is Tamagawa Church’s annual business meeting. In his pastor’s message, Bernie will encourage the congregation to take some practical steps towards becoming more outward-looking. Pray that this may also become the congregation’s vision; and,
●Pray that all the necessary preparations for our 3-month home assignment/medical leave from May 19 will go smoothly and that everything will be accomplished on time.

A Gentle Reminder

Celebrating more signs of spring in Tokyo

“Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth. Sing to the Lord, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples. For great is the Lord and most worthy of praise” (Psalm 96:1-4).

As I was walking from Showa Hospital to the train station after seeing my doctor today, the Lord reminded me that he is worthy of praise—no matter what. It was a gentle reminder, but pointed nevertheless. The news the doctor had for me wasn’t all that good: my CRP continues to rise (it’s now as high as it’s been since I first began taking the anti-cancer drug, Sutent, in September); a CT scan yesterday shows that the tumor that has grown in the vacuum from where my kidney was removed is now advancing again (3 mm. since my last CT scan on February 9); and my doctor believes the Sutent is no longer being effective enough in fighting the cancer in my body.

I would have preferred to hear much different news. But in the short five-minute walk from the hospital to the train station, the Lord reminded me that he is yet God, yet in control, yet omniscient, yet omnipresent, and still the same yesterday, today, and forever. He is indeed most worthy of praise!

As such, Bernie and I do praise the Lord even as we ask for your prayers for wisdom in the next two weeks as we need to decide what to do from here. Now that I have doctors both in Japan and Houston, Texas, it seems even more complicated to know what to do. Consultation with “both sides” is required, and I’ve not been having good luck at all with making contact with M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston during this past month. Please pray that the Lord will cut through all the bureaucracy that seems to be binding everything so tightly and shine his light clearly on the path we should follow.

Thank you for fighting this fight with us.

Now That's Cold!

Spring's coming!

Earlier this month, I awoke in my bed feeling cold one night, despite four layers of covers, including an electric blanket on low. Our bedroom is unheated—in fact, like the Japanese, we don’t have central heating in our apartment and use only space heaters to warm whichever room we’re in at the time, but never overnight or when we go out. Then we dutifully switch off the heat so as not to chance an accidental fire. With city structures built more closely together than grains of sand on a beach, anyone’s fire can quickly escalate to everyone’s fire. Hence the Japanese are extra cautious about fire prevention. But our bedroom was no colder that early morning hour than ever. Dressed in two layers of pajamas and socks, I shouldn’t have been cold. But I was.

Mostly I was sleepy, but slumber eluded me. Even snuggling with Bernie and, with covers pulled over my head, nestling like a hibernating bear didn’t help me warm up and will myself back to sleep. Having just returned from the United States, my rational mind announced that I was victim to jet lag. (Japan is 14 hours ahead of America’s Eastern Time zone.) But that certainly didn’t pacify my need for sleep.

Instead, completely awake by now, I began recalling other cold experiences in Japan—like the time I brought in the frozen laundry from our outside clothes lines at our Tarumi house. My jeans were so stiff that they literally stood on the kitchen floor. It looked like an invisible man, minus feet, was standing directly in front of me (until the warmish room melted and collapsed the jeans in a heap on the floor). “Now that’s cold!” I admonished myself firmly for feeling cold in my toasty bed.

In that same old, drafty house where blowing wind outside moved our curtains inside--even with doors and windows shut as tightly as possible--we also found a skiff of ice on the tops of bowls or glasses left overnight in the sink with water in them. “Now that’s cold!” I chided myself years later for having become such a weather wimp.

Years before, we visited a co-worker in her apartment one winter’s day. Instead of answering the door, we heard Janet holler, “Come on in!” Doffing our shoes at the front door in good Japanese custom, we followed her voice and stepped into her freezing bedroom (no heat at all, ever). There we exploded with laughter at the sight of her. Janet was bundled under so many layers of blankets that we could hardly see any form at all in her bed. What we could see was her red face (from the cold), her head (sheathed in a knit cap), and her gloved hands holding the book she was trying to read. “Now that’s cold!” I said, trying to convince myself that I had nothing at all to complain about in Tokyo.

In quick succession, I also remembered two other experiences with cold in Japan. The Christmas following Kobe’s Great Hanshin Earthquake of January 1995, we joined church members to Christmas carol in one of the many temporary housing neighborhoods constructed after the quake. I felt like the inside of my mouth froze every time I opened it—which is necessary to sing. I was soon shivering so violently that I had the vibrato of a great opera star, though I couldn’t stay anywhere close to pitch. The now-familiar refrain repeated itself in my mind, “Now that’s cold!”

Then there was the time one early February that we attended the Sapporo Snow Festival on Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido. The name of the annual event that features ice sculptures of famous people, landmarks, and anime characters should have given me an important clue: it’s going to be cold. But I had no other winter clothes than those I wore in more temperate Kobe. It was only minutes—maybe seconds—after arriving at Chitose Airport that I realized next time, I’d go to the beach. “Now that’s cold!” I agreed with my head as I snuggled further down in my covers.

Several nights later, I again awoke too early this morning. Same cold bedroom. Same bed layered with the same covers. But this time, I was too hot. Instead of being frustrated, however, I rejoiced. Spring arrives one week from today. I for one am ready to bid winter goodbye.

Smiling as I Remember

Traveling with Susan by boat in Vietnam

Two months ago today, my friend Susan succumbed to cancer on January 7, 2010. Within two years of age, we had many things in common: we were both fellow missionaries to Asia under the Church of God; we were from neighboring states in Midwest America; we were alumni of the same university; we both fought cancer; and we both loved photography and traveling, often together. In fact, we were traveling companions in Vietnam, Taiwan, China, India, Lebanon, and England.

Bernie and I remember our 2004 trip to China with Susan, Choki(our adopted Chinese daughter), and Rachelle(a co-worker in Japan). We had so many funny experiences together during that two-week trip, but the best one was on a sleeper train from Beijing to Shenyang. We had five top bunks in the second-class sleeping cars. Bernie and I were in the first cubicle with six bunks, Choki and Rachelle were in the second cubicle, and Susan was assigned to the third.

After the overhead lights went out for the night, Bernie, Choki, and Rachelle all went to sleep; Susan and I were reading by the light of our small bed lamps. Before she turned out her lamp for the night, Susan climbed down from the top bunk and headed past Choki/Rachelle’s and our cubicles for the toilet at the end of the car. So far so good. But on her way back, Susan got confused about which cubicle to enter—but she didn’t know that immediately. Quietly, so as not to awaken anyone, she climbed up the end of the three-tiered beds to the top and began to crawl from the foot-end to the head-end so that she could snuggle for the night. But something was strange; no matter how she pawed at the covers, she couldn’t get them pulled back. What in the world was the matter?

Suddenly, the bed lamp snapped on and Choki peered up from under the covers. “Soo-san?” Choki spoke up with surprise in her voice. (They’d only met a few days before, so how was she to know what Susan was up to?) Choki wasn’t the only one who was surprised! With apologies and surely a red face (if we could have seen it), Susan shifted into reverse, all the time trying to keep her head down low enough so as not to bang it on the low roof of the train. (It is impossible to sit up straight in those sleeper bunks.) She made as quick an exit as she could, all the time trying not to burst out laughing at her mistake. Remembering that my light had still been on, she retreated to our cubicle without exploding, but when she related the incident, we were both unsuccessful in muffling our laughter. Roused from his sleep by our giggling, Bernie was soon a part of the laughter.

To this day, whenever we are with Choki (who lives in Japan) and remember that great trip with Susan, one of our favorite lines is, “Soo-san?”

Today I’m smiling as I remember Susan. I’m also thanking God for her life.

Immeasurably More

Bernie presenting diplomas at Tamagawa Seigakuin's

2009 graduation ceremonies

Giving glory to God
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen” (Ephesians 3:20-21, NIV).

Our newsletter is a little late this month—on purpose. We wanted to be able to give you the latest news on Cheryl’s cancer journey, a journey that began one year ago when she was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma in March 2009. What an incredible year it has been! Following removal of her left kidney in April 2009, the cancer recurred in September, less than six months later. Since September, she has been taking Sutent, an oral chemotherapy that is proving to be effective in fighting the cancer, with a goal of sending it into remission. It will be a life-long fight, but God is proving himself faithful day by day as we live hopefully in him. Join us in giving glory to God.

An update on Cheryl
We are praising God for the wonderful result of our visit to MD Anderson Cancer Center, Houston, TX, on February 25-26. What we heard was “immeasurably more” than we had dared to hope for. In fact, the only news that could have been better was hearing that Cheryl was cancer-free We almost had to be shooed out of the doctor’s office and told, “Go home!” because we just kept sitting there and expecting the “bad news” to come. There was none (and we finally did set the doctor free by going home). In short, this is what we learned:

■The time may come when Sutent no longer works to suppress the cancer, but there is no reason to think that this is that time since all the CT scans and other medical tests continue to show no increased cancer activity;
■To help with the side effects (that seem to have increased in intensity), the doctor recommends changing the six-week cycle of four weeks on, two weeks off to two weeks on, one week off. At the end of six weeks, Cheryl will have taken the same amount of medicine—just in a way that should be easier on her body;
■One of the side effects of Sutent is heart stress, and this is showing up in Cheryl in elevated blood pressure. As a result, she was given blood pressure medicine.
■She has been accepted as a patient at MD Anderson and, assuming things continue as they are, we will return to Houston in three months for her next CT scan. (This is perfect timing as we will be back in the U.S. for a three-month home assignment from late May.) In the meantime, she will continue seeing the doctor in Japan for regular check ups;
■On the U.S. end, the doctor will consult with colleagues about the possibility of treating the tumor with surgery and/or focused radiation. He told us that this treatment is available in Japan, suggesting the possibility of it being done here (since it would be so much cheaper and because the treatment and care Cheryl’s already received in Japan has been very good);

Here’s how you can pray with us:

►For the Sutent to continue working to suppress the cancer;
►For Cheryl’s blood pressure to return to the normal range and the water on her heart to dissipate; and,
►For her energy to be restored so that the upcoming three months will be productive and ministry assignments completed before we begin home assignment.

Additional prayer requests
●On March 15, Tamagawa Seigakuin will graduate some 190 seniors in its 59th graduation ceremonies. Please pray for these girls as they venture “into the world,” that they will not forget their introduction to Jesus Christ at Tama Sei and that many will eventually give their hearts to the Lord.
●With the end of the school year in March and the beginning of a new school year in April, these are especially busy months for Bernie. Please pray that he will find the energy, strength, and inspiration for the extra load that always falls on him at this time.
●A new church year begins on April 1 at Tamagawa Church, where we will begin our second of three years in an interim pastoral assignment. Please pray for the church’s pastoral team—Bernie, Cheryl, and Fujiwara-sensei—as we make specific plans this month for the upcoming year. (This is a special challenge in that we’ll be in the States three months for home assignment.)
●Please pray for our annual spring staff meeting, March 29-31. We look forward to getting to know our new regional coordinators, Don and Caroline Armstrong, as well as to spiritual and physical renewal (and a lot of good food) at the retreat center in the mountains outside of Tokyo.

The Best Medicine, Part 2

The offending--and currently empty--fire extinguisher

It must have been to test my resolve. Just how good was my ability to laugh, especially in situations that, at first glance, seemed anything but funny? Was I really taking my “medicine” faithfully? The results of this test would provide a fail-proof answer.

I’d been sitting at the hospital, waiting for my appointment with Dr. M., when I completed my last blog on a scrap of paper. Extolling the healing properties of laughter, I’d signed off cheerily with, “I think I’m due for another dose [of laughter] right now.” In retrospect, I’d clearly walked into a trap. Little did I know what I’d encounter when I got home.

Doing the laundry in Japan is no complicated ordeal even though we have only cold water for our doll-sized, but fully automatic washer and have to hang our laundry on the verandah, even in the snow—unless I hang it all over the dining and living rooms, taking advantage of the space heaters to speed the drying process. We don’t use lye soap, scrub boards or ringer washers, so doing the laundry is really no big deal. Usually.

Things were different on February 16. I’d hardly gotten home from the hospital when disaster struck, thoroughly disrupting the usually tame laundry task, not to mention the whole house. As I reached for the laundry tub on the shelf above the washing machine, I inadvertently bumped it into the fire extinguisher, whose “home” was also the same shelf. Before I could jump to catch it, the extinguisher hit the floor and exploded, shooting a cloud of gray smoke and fine particles into the kitchen. (Our laundry room—also my office—is at the end of the kitchen.)

Within moments, a cloud hung over the kitchen and dining area that reminded me of the mushroom clouds of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Certainly it wasn’t that bad, but from inside the “storm,” it did indeed seem devastating. The only thing I could think to do was to call Bernie at school, just down the street in the next block. I certainly did not think of laughing. Thankfully, Bernie was able to come immediately and help with the first clean up. (Note the word “first.”) He also insisted that I put on a mask in order to quit ingesting the fine particles that were falling as if a snowstorm had blown through suddenly.

As with Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the “devastation” in our dining room and kitchen continued long after the cloud had dispersed. No matter how many times I cleaned, particles continued to appear on shelves, floors, counters, and furniture. Frankly, I think we’ll still be cleaning up weeks from now. And to think that I used to think fire extinguishers were filled with foam!

Now Bernie and I are arguing over whether we really need a fire extinguisher. After all, we’ve never ever had a fire, but the problems wrought by that innocent-looking extinguisher were overwhelming. In fact, a friend of a friend had a similar experience and concluded that next time, she’ll let the fire have the house rather than deal with the extinguisher. But since we live in an apartment in a church that houses a pre-school, we must, by law, have a fire extinguisher, so I guess I’ve lost the argument.

And I failed the laughter test, too. I still believe laughter is the best medicine, but honestly, I hope my next opportunity to prove my words doesn’t come along too soon.